Perri Seamore peeped through her fingers just a bit so she could see the clock on the wall. Two p.m., an hour and a half to go. Too long for that “almost time” end of shift burst of energy and too little time to finish her charting. She hadn’t even given all the meds yet. ‘Oh, good grief, just get on with it,’ she thought to herself. It was the last shift of her assignment to this hospital and she was not at all unhappy. As a prn nurse, one who takes temporary assignments for specified lengths of time, Perri had the freedom to take some time off when she needed to, and that is exactly what she was doing after today, when her contract would be fulfilled.
She had plopped down in the ergonomic chair at the nurse’s station for a breather following an incident with an elderly patient who had removed every tube and line attached to him, slinging them this way and that, and then perched precariously in the middle of his bed systematically lobbing every movable item in his room toward the door, shouting as best his worn-out lungs would allow. The IV and feeding tubes had continued to pulse liquids out onto the floor and formed a slippery mess when mixed with the large Styrofoam cup of water and paper tub of vanilla ice cream that had previously occupied the over-the-bed table.
After dealing with the ‘I don’t want to be disturbed’ physician and prying new orders out of him, the shift finally ended with the patient calmed, all tubes reinserted, tucked up in his bed and sleeping the quiet slumber of the medicated. Why these doctors could not see that they spent more time grumbling about being disturbed, for their own patient’s welfare, than they spent just listening and giving new orders, Perri couldn’t understand. She shook her head as she walked across the smelly blacktop parking lot. She hoped the nurse following her wouldn’t be too miffed by her machine-gun style recorded report. “Oh well,” she sighed aloud, “everyone does that anyway,” as she opened the door of her car. She was glad to be done with this assignment.
It was another steamy, airless day in southern Indiana. After the car had baked in the back forty all day, the steering wheel was blazing hot. It felt sticky, like it was melting. She wanted to put the top of the convertible down, but didn’t want the sun scorching her. “Just give me air conditioning.” Perri allowed the furnace-like air to billow out of the car before settling in the seat. She waited for the a/c to kick in and cool the interior down a bit before she pulled out of the green-lined parking space designated for employees. She grumped aloud that even with the window shade in place, the merciless August sun made the inside of the car seem hot enough to fire ceramics. She didn’t feel comfortable leaving her window cracked, even a small amount, since there had recently been some break-ins to cars parked at the hospital. Cameras everywhere, campus security patrolling around, and thieves still managed to break into cars and steal what they could without getting caught.
Finally, Perri was able to thread her way through the obstacle course of the hospital parking area, between islands of ornamental grasses and crusty looking begonias, to reach the main road leading away from Magnet Central Hospital. Why did they make parking lots like those maze puzzles in kids’ magazines? As she approached the stoplight it turned green and she pushed down the accelerator with the joy that comes from leaving a particularly eventful shift knowing she had time off ahead of her and that the next three days would be relaxing and fun. She was relieved she didn’t have to shut her phone off to avoid being called to come in on her days off for a while. Because no matter what, they will call. They always call.
The car cooled down about the time Perri pulled into her driveway. She eased into the one-car stall, avoiding the mower on one side and the assorted tools and stacked plastic storage containers on the other. She hadn’t found a place for many of her belongings since she moved into this house a year ago following the break up of her two-year marriage. Two whole years. It seemed longer than that in a way.
Perri hadn’t spoken at any length to Alan since the divorce was finalized. She’d seen him with the Girlfriend du Jour here and there a few times. Alan seemed to want to be seen and acknowledged, as though she still cared, and Perri limited her communications to grunted hellos or a nod of her head followed by a smirk. He actually thought she felt hurt seeing him out with his flouncy girlfriends. True enough, it had hurt when they were married, but not now. Alan seemed to hang on to the opinion that Perri wouldn’t be able to get along without him. ‘Well,’ she thought, ‘we all have our disappointments.’
It was a relief to walk into her kitchen and shut the door on the week behind her. Perri slipped her shoes off right inside the door and carried them directly to the laundry room. She put the contents of her pockets in an old cast iron bowl on a shelf, peeled off her scrubs and tossed them into the washer, and left her shoes by the dryer. The shoes looked pretty bad. They never lasted very long. The nurses were required to wear white shoes, which is the least practical color to wear. She marveled at the numerous manufacturers who insisted on putting mesh on their shoes. It didn’t serve as ventilation, but more of a catch-all for stuff you didn’t want to bring home with you. Stuff got under the mesh, stained it, and made the shoe look nasty before it was worn out. She tossed them into the washer too. She added detergent that claimed to smell like a spring morning, set the cycle for hot water, and turned it on.
After changing into her jeans and t-shirt, Perri filled the electric kettle with hot water to make tea and flipped the switch on. She knew she was supposed to use cold water but it took longer. The water boiled and she poured it over the tea bag, stirred in plenty of creamer and some sugar. She flopped down in her favorite old armchair to review her plans for the upcoming trip, starting early the next morning.
To occupy her time and mind since her divorce, Perri had been working on her family tree in the evenings when she didn’t have anything else lined up, which was almost every night. Joyce, a coworker, had suggested it, and since some of her stories about her experiences could be amusing, Perri decided to give it a try. At first it was merely a distraction, but then it became more meaningful as she uncovered more and more information.
No one else in her family seemed to have more than a passing interest in their history, which made getting information from those people difficult. Sometimes it seemed like the distant relatives she contacted to ask questions about their families were too bored and disinterested to even attempt to remember things. She had asked Mildred, a second cousin of her father’s, if she could identify the three people in a photograph taken in front of her own childhood house, a photo Mildred was actually in, but she said she really didn’t know who they were. Turns out, one of the women in the photo was Mildred’s own mother. The others she had asked promised they would but then didn’t respond. That was the last time she asked any of her extended family about photos. She didn’t understand it. People kept boxes of photos but didn’t know, or care, who was in them.
The thought of finding a treasure trove of courthouse records that answered all her brick wall questions got Perri thinking about making a trip for that. She had been planning this trip for quite a while. The actual travel itself was a minimal part of it and took the least amount of time. She and Nina, her longtime friend and frequent fellow traveler, hadn’t seen each other much in the last few months. Nina was more than happy to go along and help, so Perri had decided to combine a research trip with a Girls’ Weekend Away. They were heading for southern Kentucky in the morning. Perri had found a Bed & Breakfast within the county she needed to visit and booked a room for Friday and Saturday nights. They would need to leave early Friday morning and visit the County Clerk that day, then over the weekend they could take their time going to the cemeteries.
She only booked one room for the two of them. Truth be told, in all the years they had been doing this, one or other of them had always been at a point where money was an issue and sharing a room had been the best way to make sure they got to go on their trips. Now that this wasn’t as much of a problem, they would miss the “sleepover” appeal if they had different rooms. The trips didn’t always need to accomplish anything other than spending time together, catching up, drinking some wine, and retelling their favorite stories about each other until the wee hours of the morning.
The only somewhat complicated parts of the trip were getting to the County Clerk’s office Friday with enough time to look through documents, and deciding what documents she needed to ask for once she was there. Then they could move on to the cemeteries, which was the part Perri was looking forward to the most. It seemed every county had different rules about how to get records, who could get them, and how much it would cost. Logan County seemed to be reasonable in both their prices and requirements for obtaining records.
Perri finished her tea and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She had already packed everything she could yesterday, so all she had to do in the morning was to add her toiletries and hair dryer to the suitcase. She had packed her newer pajamas for the trip so she pulled on her raggedy nightshirt, the threadbare one with the holes that she dearly loved and climbed into bed hoping she didn’t lie awake for an hour first.