Nate jogged up the steps to 6 Volkner Ave, tugging his tie loose. First day on the job. It hadn’t gone bad, which was a change. Nothing but glowing reviews for him. Every answer his trainer had asked, he’d had an answer to, he had the software down, he knew where everything was, he got along with everyone. He was their dream come true.

Of course he knew the answers to his trainer’s little pop quizzes. And it didn’t hurt that he dug a little deeper into her mind to give the more advanced reply and impress her. He rarely needed to ask questions, occasionally dipping into the mind of a coworker to prompt a thought and spark his answer. And it was so easy to make small talk when you knew what everyone’s interest was and skimmed just enough off the top to be able to contribute to the conversation.

He snorted through a smile and shook his head. If life could always be this easy, he would have started intentionally using his Knack ages ago.

Scrolling through his keyring, Nate found the mail key and opened up his family’s box.

“305?” a man next to him said. “What a coincidence. I’m in 205, right below you. Name’s Nigel.”

Nate gave a half glance at the uninvited conversation. His usual response would have been a curt, ‘Good for you,’ and a cold shoulder as he walked off. Damn tourists; did they think this was Disney Land or something? But he was in a good mood. He felt great actually. Nate tucked his mail under his arm and offered a hand. “I’m Nate. Welcome to the building.”

Instead of a shake, the man opted for a high five. He chuckled apologetically. “Sorry. Not very professional of me. It’s something the kids used to do to me all the time. I used to be a teacher,” he explained, unlocking his own box. “Guess I’m feeling nostalgic.”

The pair moved to one of the counters to sort through their mail. “A teacher, huh?” Nate said as if he didn’t already know. “What subject?”

“A little of this, a little of that. How about you? Wait, let me guess. A suit and tie …” He snapped his fingers. “Bagel salesman!”

Nate couldn’t help but laugh at Nigel’s mental image of him going door to door with a briefcase of bagels. “Close. Accountant.”

“That was my second guess.” Nigel slid a letter opener into an envelope.

Nate turned to his own mail, tossing junk directly into the trash, shuffling bills to the side.

Nigel bent over a check. A tad low this quarter, he mused. He then tucked it under his arm as he went through the rest of his mail, discarding as appropriate.

Nate paused, staring into the middle distance as he double checked what he’d thought he’d overheard. He stayed frozen where he was, pretending he was very interested in a lawn mowing advertisement while Nigel finished up and exited the lobby. “See you around, neighbor.”

“Sure.” When Nigel was at the stairs, Nate finally dropped the flier from his face. What kind of teacher, retired or not, was getting fifty-thousand dollar checks from the government? Nate had been so consumed with looking for a job and new place and practicing his Knack that he hadn’t given much attention to the new mind in the apartment below.

… Quarterly checks from the government. Who did that?

Nate scooped up his mail and headed for the stairs himself. Weird. He’d have to pay closer attention to the mind in 205.

Henry rapped on the new door for apartment 205. He’d been late in properly introducing himself to the newest tenant due to a vet appointment for Buddy. Time to fix that.

The door creaked open, still settling on its new frame. The man looked out, a bit of confusion on his face. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Mr. Cunningham? My name’s Henry Neves, I’m the maintenance person for the building.” Henry extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Nigel smiled and shook Henry’s hand. “The pleasure is all mine. Maintenance you say? So you’re the chap to talk to when something breaks in here?”

Henry nodded. “Yup. You can submit a request through the formal system or just get a hold of me directly. I live down in the basement across from the laundry facilities. Or just tell me when I’m out and about and I’ll put it in myself just so building management can keep track of the work being done around here.”

“Very well then, Mr. Neves. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for taking a moment to speak with me.”

“Just Henry will be fine, Mr. Cunningham. Everything good so far?”

Nigel nodded. “Very much so. It’s a fine place, this city, even if the noise will take some getting used to.”

Henry chuckled. “Yeah, but you’ll adapt over time.”

“Got plenty of that, Henry. Well, I don’t want to keep you from the rest of the building so thank you again and I’ll remember to holler if something breaks down.”

Henry nodded. “That’s what I’m here for, sir. Have a good day now.”

“You too.” Nigel closed the door.

Job done, Henry walked back downstairs to see what was on today’s task list.

Tavian silenced his alarm. His body felt raw with exhaustion. He grabbed his glasses and tiptoed out of the room. Downstairs, he paused before rounding the corner.

“-proof do these people need for a claim?” That was Mom, her voice raised in anger.

Dad’s voice was too low to hear.

“…We have savings…they would treat you like…after all these years…” The conversation went on indiscernible.

Tavian knocked on the wall and entered the living room. The couch was gone, moved upstairs to his parents room, the bed replacing it. Dad shifted on the pillows, crooked grin pulling at one side of his mouth. “Morning, moosh. Bright eyed and bushy tailed I see.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Never better.”

Mom unfolded the wheelchair while Tavian helped his Dad sit up and swivel his feet to the floor.

“Let’s wait to put the brace on,” Dad said. “It was a pain trying to change clothes yesterday.”

Tavian made a face. “You sure? What if you jostle it?”

“I’ll be okay as long as the little ones aren’t running around.”

Tavian maneuvered himself, first here, then there, trying to find the best vantage point. He wrapped his arms around Dad, hopping his demeanor masked his nervousness. He’d watched dozens of videos on how to do this. Still, he always seemed to mess it up.

Just don’t drop him.

“On three.”

It took a few tries, but at last he stood with the weight on his good leg. Tavian pivoted and lowered, or rather dropped him, into the wheelchair. Dad collapsed into the seat, breathing heavily from the exertion.

Tavian rolled him into the bathroom while Mom went upstairs to retrieve the day’s toiletries.

Tavian fidgeted with his hands as they waited. “Everything okay?”

“Just need to catch my breath. We can wait ‘til breakfast for my pills.”

“I mean, Mom sounded upset. Is something wrong?”

Dad cocked his head. “Oh, we’ve got a spy in the making, do we?”

“I only heard she sounded upset.”

“Anything else?”

“Something about money.”

Dad rubbed his jaw. “The VA’s being a little slow with the paperwork for my PT and the home nurse.” His eyes rolled ceilingward. “…and their share of the bills. Nothing you need to worry about. We’re fine.” He tried holding his toothbrush with his right hand. Grip too weak, he switched to his left. “This is temporary. Mom’s interviewing nurses. You’ll be back at school in no time.”

Hiring their own nurse meant paying out of pocket. Which, considering the stories families of other vets had shared, was worth the cost. State sponsored care was a gamble. Some nurses stole, some smoked in the house, some swore; nothing his parents would ever allow with the children. Assisted living was worse. Shared rooms made family visits difficult. Add horror stories of short staffed facilities leading to neglect and hygienic squalor. Any reputable home was a private institution, again, not covered by the VA. Plus a lengthy waiting list.

‘Sign up now, get in by the time I’m geriatric… Works out perfectly, really,’ Dad had joked.

The easiest solution had been for Mom to take time off and for Tavian, since Mom couldn’t lift Dad on her own, to miss some school. He’d only missed three days. Mom, however, was going on a month. Caring for Dad full time, work piling up, the kids with all their activities… She was going to burn herself out.

The next hour was up down up down up down as he and Mom got Dad ready. Tavian tried not to stare at the yellow-black bruising staining Dad’s back and side. It was better than when he’d seen Dad in the hospital. But it still looked gut-wrenchingly disturbing. Bio knacks took the healing process this far; now it was up to time.

Dad blew out a breath. “That was fun. Back to bed for me.”

Mom wrapped her arms around him from behind and chuckled. “No kidding.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the two of them holding each other. It was broken by the pounding of feet above. Dad snorted. “What are they doing up there, herding elephants?”

“I can go, Mom.”

“I got it, moosh. Could you handle that contraption?” She waved a hand at the leg brace. “I can’t figure out how all those straps work.”

He nodded, wondering if she’d gotten much sleep.

Dad combed his hair and examined himself in the mirror. “Starting to look human. Now if only I could get a proper shower.”

Since arriving home, Tavian had watched everything Dad did, every movement, every shift in expression, every inflection in his words, trying to keep a step ahead of discomfort and pain. Right now, he looked tired; a little excited as thumping of feet on the stairs sounded; his jaw set against pain. And something in his eyes Tavian couldn’t place. Something…

Dad rolled his head to stare at him. “What, I have a booger hanging from my nose?” All that was there was a mischievous spark. “We better don my armor.”

Tavian retrieved the brace and knelt to assist. Dad gave an involuntary yelp as Tavian eased the brace around his swollen shin.

“Sorry.” It was all Tavian could do to keep from dropping the brace and recoiling.

Dad kneaded the grimace from his brow. “It’s okay.”

Tavian let out a breath and tried again, clearing his throat. He didn’t know how to bring this up. It never seemed like the right time. Mom had too many things on her plate as it was. And Dad… It’d felt so much easier on the phone.

“I think-”

The door handle rattled, interrupting. A piece of paper slid under the door. Dad scooped the drawing up and chuckled, grin stretching ear to ear at a six-year-old’s depiction of their family complete with trees shaped like hearts.

Brace secured, Tavian stood, trying to build the nerve to broach the topic again. But Dad unlocked the door and let the girls spill in.