Victoria is especially lethargic today. I wasn’t able to feed her any of her lunch, and dinner is going just as badly. She seems listless as I offer her spoonfuls of puréed carrots. On the plus side, she hasn’t given me any dirty looks for what happened last night.
I still can’t quite understand how that water glass tipped over. Maybe I don’t want to know.
I’ve been feeding her unsuccessfully for close to an hour when Adam peeks his head in. “Is this a good time to give her some medications?”
Victoria’s eyes widen at his statement. This is the most awake she has seemed all day.
“Give me another twenty minutes,” I say. He nods. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
Victoria had a mouthful of carrots and some of them drip out of the right side of her mouth. I try to clean it away with a napkin, but she pushes me away. “Sylvie,” she says.
I’ve noticed that whenever she says my name, she wants to tell me something important. “Yes?”
“Nub.” Her blue eyes are like saucers. “Adam nub.”
I know now that she’s talking about a gun. But I don’t know what she’s talking about. I have not seen a gun in this house. I’d think she was making it up if I didn’t see that bullet hole.
“You…” She points at the wall. “Nub. In the…”
I watch her face. She’s struggling to come up with a word. It looks so frustrating. She knows exactly what she wants to say, but she can’t say it. I can almost see the wheels turning in her brain, but she’s not going anywhere.
“Coppit,” she finally says triumphantly.
Well, great. I still have no idea what she’s talking about. “Carpet?” “No. No.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment then opens them.
“Coppit. Coppit. The… coppit.”
No matter how many times she says it, it’s still a nonsense word. But then I look at where she’s pointing. She’s not pointing at the wall. She’s
pointing at her closet. “Closet?” I ask.
She nods vigorously. “Yes. Adam coppit.”
Is she trying to tell me there’s a gun in her husband’s closet?
Well, maybe there is. And if so, is it that big a deal? I can imagine wanting to have a gun out here for protection. If he has a gun in his closet, that’s his business. It’s not like he’s keeping it on a holster and swinging it around.
But there’s a pleading look in Victoria’s eyes. She wants me to get the gun. But I can’t do that. He would fire me.
Anyway, I trust Adam to have a gun. It’s not that big a deal. “It’s okay,” I tell Victoria. “I’ll take care of it.”
But I already know I’m going to do nothing.
