Verity(39)

My head jerks toward the office door. I’m jumpy, even now, and all I hear is April in the kitchen talking to someone. She uses the same calming tone when she speaks to Verity, like she’s trying to coax her back to life. I’ve never heard Jeremy speak to his wife. But he did admit to being angry at her. Does he still love her? Does he sit in her room and tell her how much he misses the sound of her voice? That seems like something he would do. Or would have done. But now?

He cares for her, helps feed her sometimes, but I’ve never actually seen him speak directly to her. It makes me wonder if he doesn’t believe she’s in there at all anymore. As if the person he cares for is no longer his wife.

Maybe he’s able to separate his anger and disappointment toward Verity from the woman he cares for, because he no longer feels they’re the same person.

I go to the kitchen because I’m hungry, but also because I’m curious to watch April as she interacts with Verity. I’m curious to see if Verity has any sort of physical response to her interaction.

April is seated at the table with Verity’s lunch. I open the refrigerator and watch as she feeds her. Verity’s jaw moves back and forth, almost robotically, after April feeds her a spoonful of mashed potatoes. It’s always soft foods. Mashed potatoes, apple sauce, blended vegetables. Hospital foods, bland and easy to ingest. I grab a cup of Crew’s pudding and then sit at the table with April and Verity. April acknowledges me with a fleeting glance and a nod, but nothing else.

After eating a few bites of the pudding, I decide to try making small talk with this woman who refuses to interact with me.

“How long have you been a nurse?”

April pulls the spoon out of Verity’s mouth and dips it back into the potatoes. “Long enough to be in the single-digit countdown to retirement.”

“Nice.”

“You’re my favorite patient, though,” April says to Verity. “By far.”

She’s directing her answers at Verity, even though I’m the one asking the questions.

“How long have you worked with Verity?”

Again, April answers toward Verity. “How long have we been doing this now?” she asks, as if Verity is going to answer her. “Four weeks?” She looks at me. “Yeah, I was officially hired about four weeks ago.”

“Did you know the family? Before Verity’s accident?”

“No.” April wipes Verity’s mouth and then places the tray of food on the table. “Can I speak with you for a moment?” She nudges her head toward the hallway.

I pause, wondering why we need to leave the kitchen in order for her to have a conversation with me. I stand up, though, and follow her out. I lean against the wall and spoon another bite of pudding into my mouth as April shoves her hands into the pockets of her scrub top.

“I don’t expect you to know this, especially if you’ve never been around someone in Verity’s condition. But it’s not respectful to discuss people like her as though they aren’t right in front of you.”

I’m gripping my spoon, about to pull it out of my mouth. I pause for a moment, then shove the spoon back into the pudding cup. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing.”

“It’s easy to do, especially if you believe the person can’t acknowledge you. Verity’s brain doesn’t process like it used to, obviously, but we don’t know how much she does process. Just watch how you word things in her presence.”

I stand up straight, pulling away from my casual position against the wall. I had no idea I was being insulting.

“Of course,” I say, nodding.

April smiles, and it’s actually genuine for once.

Luckily, our awkward moment ends thanks to Crew. He runs through the back door, cupping something in his hands. He rushes between me and April, into the kitchen. April follows him.

“Mom,” Crew says, excitedly. “Mom, Mom, I found a turtle.”

He stands in front of her, holding the turtle up for her to see. He runs his fingers over its shell. “Mom, look at him.” He’s holding it up higher now, trying to get Verity to make eye contact with the turtle. Of course she doesn’t. He’s only five, so he probably can’t even process all the reasons she can no longer speak to him or look at him or react to his excitement. I immediately hurt for him, knowing he’s probably still waiting for her to fully recover.

“Crew,” I say, walking over to him. “Let me see your turtle.”

He turns and holds it up for me. “He’s not a snapping turtle. Daddy said those kind have marks on their necks.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s really awesome. Let’s go outside and find something to put him in.”

Crew jumps with excitement, then brushes past me. I follow him out of the house and help him search around the property until he finds an old red bucket to put him in. Then Crew plops down on the grass and brings the bucket onto his lap.

I sit down next to him, partly because I’m starting to feel really bad for this kid, but also because we have a clear view of Jeremy from this spot in the yard as he works on the dock.

“Daddy said I can’t have another turtle because I killed my last turtle.”

I swing my head toward Crew.

“You killed him? How did you kill him?”