I don’t correct her.
She already knows.I should be relieved that I don’t have to keep pretending, but another part worries about what Amelia will think when she finds out her little sister figured us out.
I start the car, letting the low rev of the engine fill the silence.“So, is this something you have to do all semester?”
Nodding, she stares out the window.“Yeah.We have to volunteer somewhere, and I picked the retirement village.”She hesitates, her fingers tapping against her knee.“After seeing my mom sick—helpless—it made me think.There’s probably a lot of other people in the same situation.Ones who can’t take care of their yards or go grocery shopping and can’t afford to hire someone to do it.I figured maybe it’d help to have someone looking out for them.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect.
I grip the steering wheel, my mind drifting back to the hospital hallways and whispered updates.Back to the moment my father collapsed, helpless as his heart gave out right in front of me.
I know what she means.
Loss changes you.
It shifts your entire perspective, makes you see things you never noticed before.But I wasn’t like Hazel.I was focused on grades, on med school, on getting everything right.I wasn’t thinking about giving back.I was just trying to push forward.
Hazel, though.She already gets it.
I glance at her as she stares out the window, lost in thought.
She’s already thinking about others in a way most people don’t.
That’s rare.
And damn, I envy it.
We pull into the parking lot of the retirement village, a quiet, well-kept space lined with trimmed hedges and a small garden by the entrance.A few older residents sit on the porch, chatting, enjoying the sun.
Hazel unbuckles her seatbelt.“Alright, we better check in.”
“Lead the way.”
Inside, the air smells of pine and lavender.A receptionist greets us with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up when she sees Hazel.
“We’re so excited to have you,” she says.“Honestly, this is such a lovely program.I’m sure you’ll be missed once your time is up.”
Hazel smiles.“I’m glad I can help.”
The receptionist beams.“We’re so happy to have you, Dr.Pierce.”
“Please call me, Adrian,” I offer, and she nods.
I’ve noticed lately, the whispers have stopped.No more sideways glances, no more hushed conversations when I pass.It’s peaceful.
The receptionist hands Hazel a list and a small map with names circled.“These residents are struggling the most right now.Since there are two of you, you might get through more than one today, but it’s entirely up to you.”
Hazel studies the list, nodding.“We’ll see what we can do.”
We step out into the courtyard, and I let her take the lead.
“Any particular place you want to start?”I ask.
“Not really.”She shrugs.“I figured we’d start with the closest and work our way around.See what they need help with.”
“Good plan,” I say.
“Maybe one of us could help with groceries, and the other could do something festive,” I suggest.
