After Adam goes off to bed, I sneak down to the kitchen. I peek inside the refrigerator and find all our leftovers still stuffed inside. I scan the contents for a moment and pull out the apple pie.
The apple pie is one of the only things that isn’t homemade. Adam picked it up yesterday from the supermarket. I grab a knife and cut a small slice. Then I dump it into the food processor and hit purée.
When the pie reaches the right consistency, I pour it out into a small bowl. Then I quietly sneak up the stairs to Victoria’s room.
Just because she refused to come to our awkward little Thanksgiving dinner, that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t get to eat tonight. I’m sure Adam gave her some tube feeds, but she should at least get to try some of our gigantic feast. That is, if she’s awake.
I open the door to Victoria’s room without knocking. In the dim moonlight, I can see her lying in bed, her eyes shut. She’s asleep. I tiptoe over to the lamp by her bed and turn it on. Her eyelids flutter open.
“It’s Sylvie,” I say. “I brought you some pie.”
I look down at the bowl in my hand. The pie looked so much more appetizing before it was ground up into one big mush. I wish she could try it whole, but Adam said she would choke.
“Would you like to eat some pie?” I ask.
Victoria looks down at the bowl in my hand. She’s quiet for so long, I’m almost worried that she’s falling asleep again with her eyes open. But then she speaks: “Did you…?”
“I spoke with him,” I say quickly. “It was fine. He was… nice. He’s been really nice to me.”
Victoria makes a noise I’ve never heard before, something between a laugh and a snort, but she’s not smiling. She never, ever smiles.
“Anyway.” I force a smile of my own. “Do you want pie?” “Sylvie,” she says.
I scoop up a little bit of pie with the spoon. “Yes…?”
“Get the…” She pauses to swallow her saliva. “His gun. Get it.”
What? “Victoria,” I say quietly, “I can’t…”
“Get it.” She stares straight at me. I’ve never seen a woman less interested in having a bite of pie. “Or… Or else…”
I lower the spoon. “I’m sorry.… I can’t…”
Before she can say anything else, I take the bowl of puréed pie and go back to my bedroom. I curl up under the covers and eat the pie myself. Actually, it isn’t half bad.
