A Monday in July, 11:24 AM

Chopping onions has its perks, especially when the sting in your eyes feels strangely therapeutic.

I slept in today for the first time in a while and woke up craving a clubhouse sandwich. Now I'm enjoying my time alone in the little yellow kitchen.

Until the front door opens at my back.

"I'm here to kidnap Patrick, hon. Is he ready?"

Sigh. Raveena.

I don't pause my vigorous chopping; the onion mound on the cutting board is starting to look like a small hillock. "He's on a safari hunt for his hat," I tell her.

It's Monday, an unusual day off for the two of them, but they've planned for it. Raveena is whisking Pat off to see some old country singer they both adore from the 1960s. A part of me envies their escape, their ability to just...drive away from Middlebridge for a day.

Raveena's steps come around, her presence filling the kitchen, then over my shoulder with the scent of honey and spice.

"That's some interesting chopping technique you've got there," she comments, leaning in to inspect my work.

Normally, her comments would have me rolling my eyes, but today, I'm oddly serene—must be the ten-hour sleep acting like a buffer.

"Thanks for the critique, Nurse Patel," I say, finally setting the knife down and turning to face her. "I'll have you know; this is avant-garde."

Her gaze zeroes in on the makeshift bandage encircling my forearm, tattered remnants from the gala night.

"No more asking—I'm cleaning that. Get on the island."

With a sigh, I think about telling her to leave me alone but I'm both too tired and too rested to act on it.

"I'll be right back," Raveena says, heading toward the garage with a purpose.

I wash my onion hands, dry them on my jeans, and hop up onto the kitchen island like a patient awaiting a diagnosis.

When Raveena returns, the first aid kit in her hands is an extension of herself—35 years of nursing distilled into one small, battered box.

She begins by washing her hands, then takes my arm and carefully unwinds my attempt at first aid, tsking under her breath.

"You've done quite a number on this." Her experienced hands make quick work of the tape and gauze. "Why aren't you at work today, hon?"

"Mrs. Jones cancelled my shift," I say.

She'd called here last night and told me I wasn't needed today. I'd been about to ask why my shift was cancelled, but she'd hung up.

Raveena uses a cotton ball with antiseptic on my arm. I can't see exactly, but it stings. "Would you like to come with us today? To the concert? I'm sure your uncle would be pleased to have you."

A chance to escape Middlebridge for a day is tempting, but escape isn't what I need, not really.

"Thanks, but I'll stay," I say, glancing out the kitchen window where the new AC unit hums away. "Pat asked me to pick up some things from the drugstore. And it's Monday."

"Monday?" Raveena pauses, the bandage half-applied.

I smile a little. "Grey and I have this tradition. Bell River walks on Mondays after work."

Raveena studies me for a moment, then nods, her hands resuming their work. "Yes, I believe Patrick's mentioned that a time or two. That river is a gorgeous place." Her hands are steady as she applies a clear ointment with a swab. "Well, how's Greyson, then?"

I watch her work, twisting my body to see the back of my arm. "He's...keeping busy."

It's been a weekend since his release filled with tentative steps back to something resembling normalcy. He's taken longer shifts at the shop and come home more tired. We've talked through our windows each night, just easy, dumb stuff.

It's almost normal save the cuts on him. And me. But those are healing too.

Raveena's hands are firm as she holds my arm. "And how are you doing with all the talk?"

The truth? I'm angry. It's getting to me. It really is.

"I'm fine."

"Good. It's already dying down, hon. Believe me, the hospital's seen its share of gossip, and this? It'll pass. It already is. This might sting," she warns as she dabs on more ointment, this one a dark orange.

I close my eyes and brace for the pain...that never comes. I open one eye. "Still waiting for the agony. Should I just start screaming now?"

Raveena rolls her eyes as she finishes up with that one. Then she sets new gauze and banding around my arm that's much more comfortable than what I'd done.

She inspects her handiwork critically. "You did a decent job keeping it clean, though two stitches would have been best."

Coming from Raveena, this is high praise.

I shrug, my smile becoming easier. "Had to make sure it met Nurse Extraordinaire Raveena Patel's high standards."

She smacks my head. "Drama queen and smart aleck. Lord help your uncle these days."

I grin as she packs up the first aid kit. "Fine. What I meant was thank you."

She hums, sliding her eyes up to me with a glint.

Pat makes his grand entrance into the kitchen wearing a cowboy hat, boots and jeans, his grin stretching from ear to ear under that moustache, looking more ready for a rodeo than a concert. My immediate reaction is a groan, but it quickly turns into laughter as Raveena grabs his arm and they start a little two-step right there on the linoleum floor.

As they head for the door, Pat's voice floats back. "Don't forget the list on the fridge, sweetheart!"

I nod, even as they slip out, my smile fading.

I make quick work of my sandwich, eating in silence, staring out the kitchen window. As I clean up, I stare at the fridge, the list now hanging over my head.

Hiding forever isn't an option. Two days as a hermit has been plenty, thank you very much. My body, my life, they're mine, and I'm not cowering anymore.

With a deep breath, I adjust the straps of my blue tank top and tuck my hair behind my ears. Plucking the list off the fridge, I go for the door.

Middlebridge might be small, but I'm not.

The midday sun is warm on my shoulders as I approach the drugstore doors about fifteen minutes of walking later. My skin is more freckles than not by this point in July. Sunscreen is at the top of the list I clutch in my hand—a good thing, considering.

I push open the door to the drugstore, the bell tinkling overhead like it's cheering me on. Grabbing a basket, I toss in a quick salute to Otis, the owner, whose gaze pinches at the corners with a blend of pity and something akin to reproof.

He used to love our summer banter, back when I helped stock shelves here.

I guess the whispers reached him, too.

Straightening my spine, I breeze past him. "Fine then, be that way," I mutter under my breath, more to bolster my courage than anything.

Near the chips and candy, two men turn their attention to me, their stares lingering longer than necessary. My tank top isn't revealing, not at all, but it doesn't matter. It never will.

I force my feet to keep moving.

Note to self: maybe invest in an invisibility cloak.

Once past them, the rest of the few shoppers seem absorbed in their worlds, barely giving me a second glance. Relief washes over me in waves.

One by one, I tick items off the list: sunscreen for me, baby aspirin to thin Pat's blood, and off-brand protein bars that Raveena insists are just as good as the real thing: Trust me, I'm a nurse, now eat it. Each item I place in the basket feels like a little victory, a reclaiming of normalcy.

With every tick on my list, my smile grows. Soon, I'm perusing greeting cards, giggling at cartoon dogs cracking jokes, and thumbing through cheap makeup, feeling like my old self.

"You know, I really hate this town."

I spin around to find Adio standing there, grinning at me with those warm, dark eyes.

"I grew up in Trinidad," he says through a smile, "in a place where the community was everything. A true home. Middlebridge is not the same."

I let out a slow exhale, my eyes scanning the familiar aisles of the drugstore, and its shoppers.

"I'm starting to agree," I admit.

Adio's smile grows, a hint of pride in his eyes. "You've got backbone, Ember. We admire that about you." His gaze flicks upward to his right, and I follow it. His son is here.

Michael's back is to us. I recognize his dark brown hair, floppy and soft-looking. He's inspecting the flower section across the way. The so-called fresh flowers look more wilted than alive, but there he is, tall and broad-shouldered, in a long-sleeved bright orange and yellow reflective shirt.

We admire that about you.

We?

Turning back to Adio, I find him inspecting my arm, now neatly bandaged.

"Did the nurse finally break you down?"

A twitch of amusement pulls at my lips. "Perhaps."

"I'm not Raveena's biggest fan," he confesses in a whisper. My brows shoot up. He not-so-innocently adds, "What's wrong with that?"

I can't help but smile. Mimicking Raveena's no-nonsense tone, I say, "Listen here, we're all just one careless step away from utter disaster, didn't you know?"

Adio's deep laughter fills the space between the shelves, genuine and warm. It's a sound that makes me want to join in, so I do.

"But," he adds, once his laughter has subsided, "you have to admit, her methods may just scare the sickness right out of you. That's admirable itself."

I make a face.

Adio's laughter echoes again, lighter this time, ending with a content sigh. He clasps his hands before him. "You know, we've been fixing up your house a bit. Got the gutters cleaned out and patched up some of the roof. It's nothing fancy, but it's coming along."

I nod, but half my attention is on the strange sensation of Michael's presence nearby. It's like I can almost sense his movement through the store.

"Sounds great," I tell Adio, injecting as much enthusiasm into my voice as I can muster. Fixing a house isn't exactly thrilling to me, but I appreciate their work.

"Yeah, it's been a project. But you know, keeps us busy in the summer. I'm always dragging Michael along when he's not busy with school," Adio continues, a slight shrug lifting his broad shoulders. He scans the shelf before us, his smile fading into a frown. "Was hoping to find some aloe. Growing up, I'd just snap off a piece from the plant in the yard. Not so easy here."

I perk up at that. Turning around, I mark Otis at the cash engrossed in the latest issue of Playboy Magazine. Facing Adio, I say, "Wait here."

Shuffling down the aisle, I slip through the door that says STAFF ONLY. My feet know the way.

The back of the store is a cramped labyrinth of boxes and overstock, but I know where to go—the back wall shelves. My target is the fourth row. And there they are—two tubes of aloe gel. I grab them with a beaming smile.

I emerge back into the store and go back to Adio.

"I used to work here," I explain, my voice slightly breathy. I offer the green plastic tubes. "Voilà!"

Adio's face splits into a wide, appreciative grin, his small chuckle filling the space between us as he takes the tubes. "You should run the place. This is more than I need. Thank you, Ember."

"For your son too," I add, gesturing to the two tubes in his hands.

Adio, holding the aloe tubes, glances back toward where Michael had been. I already know he isn't there, though.

This time, Michael is near the checkout with a bottle of water on the counter, and a singular yellow daisy.

I catch a couple of young girls nearby, their eyes locked on Michael, whispering and giggling behind their hands. They seem to appreciate the view, even if he's blissfully unaware of it.

An older woman with a basket full of cans of cat food, is gesturing animatedly, probably ranting. Michael gives Otis a bill and leaves. The bell jingles softly as he goes, taking his water—and flower—with him.

The woman turns to Otis with her arms thrown out and exclaims, "That generation has no manners!"

Adio shifts beside me. "My son... he's not much for small talk. Just his way. But he's got a good head on his shoulders, I promise you that. He's always been—"

"It's okay," I say with a little smile, turning back to Adio. "I wouldn't want to listen to Mrs. Fish complain about furballs either."

Adio releases a breath and claps a hand on my shoulder. "Who the hell would?"

"Maybe her husband." I pause. "But likely not."

Adio laughs and gestures for us to head to check out if I'm all done. I am, so I go with him.

A fleeting sense of disappointment washed over me when Michael left, so brief and unexpected that it surprised me. But just as quickly as it can, it dissipated.

I do wonder about that flower, though. Who might get it. Why.

But so far, I've done well today. A walk along The Bell River with my best friend will only make it better.

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Thanks for reading We Sleep at Sunset.

Laurel's Fun Facts #11: rain does not always reach the ground.

—Laurel Montaze—

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