The June before the wedding was the best June she could remember.
Not because of anything specific. Not because of any event she could point to and say: there, that day. More because of the quality of the accumulation — the way the ordinary had stacked up into something that had weight.
She'd finished her second clinical placement. Enfermeira Sousa had written in her evaluation: demonstrates clinical intuition unusual at this stage. Has a particular ability to hear what patients are not saying, which is rarer than the ability to hear what they are. This was the closest to effusive that Enfermeira Sousa appeared to get in writing, and Camila had read it three times and then put it in the folder with the nursing forms and the blue folder with the custody agreement and the photograph of Dan
