Dear Bridget, I Want You(8)

“I can’t stay here,” the woman protested.

I could hear her daughter say, “Mom, you don’t have a choice.” She addressed Simon, “She’s terrified of hospitals, convinced she’ll never return home if they admit her. You have no idea how hard it was to get her to agree to let me bring her here.”

It sounded like Simon took a seat on a stool before he said, “We have to get you better, Mamie. We can’t send you home like this. What can I do to make you feel more comfortable here?”

The old woman started naming a laundry list of items that she wanted for her room.

“I can go get them for you, Ma.”

“No, you can’t leave me,” Mamie insisted.

Simon interrupted their arguing, “How about this? I’m breaking for lunch soon. How about I pick up some of the items you need from CVS?”

I laughed at the idea of Simon purchasing the “Revlon Stormy Pink” lipstick and the “Jean Naté After Bath Splash Mist” she asked for.

“You would do that for me?” the old woman asked.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

Smiling, I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I loosened the Velcro from Mr. Maloney’s arm.

Simon, you fucking charmer, you.





The last thing I expected when I opened the dishwasher was to see something jump out at me. Quickly realizing it was a mouse, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I climbed on top of the kitchen table as I watched the little, furry terrorist scurrying across the wooden floor.

I yelled, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Simon and Brendan both seemed to appear at almost the same exact time.

“What’s going on, Bridget?”

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

Waving my arm, I said, “Stay back, Brendan. There’s a mouse in the kitchen.”

My son beamed. “Cool!”

“No, not cool. Mommy won’t be able to sleep with a mouse in the house.” After spotting it running past me again, I pointed and squealed. “Oh my God, there it is.”

I looked at Simon, who seemed really amused by my reaction.

“I need you to catch it and kill it, Simon.”

He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Per your request, I was supposed to be pretending I don’t live here…so perhaps, now would be a good time to disappear?”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll get it. But I’m not killing it. I’ll rescue it from this crazy kitchen and send it back into the wild.” He bent down. “If only I can find it.”

Pointing, I said, “It was just in that corner a minute ago.” I looked around. “Oh, no. Where did it go? We have to find it.”

Brendan pointed to under the table where I was standing. “Over there!”

I closed my eyes and cringed at the thought. When I opened them, Simon was on the floor. He looked so funny crawling around with his long arms and legs.

“I wasn’t expecting to play Tom and Jerry today.” When he stood up, his hair was disheveled. He was holding the mouse by the tail as its little arms and legs wiggled around aimlessly. “Got it! Come see, Brendan.” Simon then cupped the rodent as my son pet it. It was totally skeeving me out and warming my heart a bit at the same time.

Brendan looked at me. “Can I keep it?”

“No!”

“Brendan, I think it’s best for your Mum’s sake if we set it free. Go grab your coat.”

I watched from the window as Simon led Brendan to the wooded area behind our house. Simon knelt down, and I could see Brendan talking to the mouse and waving goodbye to it. Simon then rustled my son’s hair before they high-fived each other.

I fought the tears forming in my eyes as the thought occurred to me that Brendan had really been missing a male influence in his life. He was only six when Ben was killed. He could barely remember his dad already.

When they returned to the kitchen, Simon counted five singles then stuffed them into the swear jar labeled Mom.

“What’s that for?”

“Five dollars donated to Brendan’s cause for your S-word recited five times.” He turned to Brendan. “You might just get to keep that hair, after all.”

Brendan looked over at me and smiled. “I want my hair to grow like Simon’s in the front.”

I crossed my arms. “Great.”

Simon bent his head back in laughter.

After Brendan ran back to his room, I turned to Simon. “Thank you for helping with that. I definitely don’t do well with rodents.”

“You don’t say?” He placed his hands on my shoulders in a firm grip. “You alright now?”

My heart raced upon the brief contact. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m really glad you were home.”