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“Ha! I finally gotcha, ya devil! You’ve been terrorizing my house way too long,” Grandpa yelled as he pulled the string in the cold room, switching off the light.
Eddy hold up a dead mouse in the mousetrap. He was caught head. His eyes were still wide open.
“What's going on, Grandpa?” Jordon asked, running into the hallway.
Jordon knew Grandpa well. He was always fiddling with one thing or another. Even in the middle of the night, he could hear his grandmother telling his grandpa to leave things until morning and to go to bed.
After a while, Grandma just let him be. After over thirty years she decided she would leave well enough alone and let him do as he pleased. If things got out of hand, she made Uncle Roy deal with it.
Grandpa came out of the cold room where Grandma kept food she wanted cool like onions, a sack of potatoes, wines, homemade pasta sauce, homemade jams, and pickled stuff.
When Jordon saw what Grandpa was holding, and that he was grinning from ear to ear, his knees felt weak. They almost buckled underneath him.
“No!” he screamed. “No!” How could he be so stupid? “Why did you go into the cold room, mouse? You know better!” Jordon was heartbroken beyond words.
Grandpa ran to his side, but Jordon bolted through the front door without a backward glance.
“What’s wrong with that boy?” Grandpa shook his head and went back to the trap. He opened the door to the garage and threw the dead mouse in the trash, then tied the garbage bag securely.
“Jordon!” He yelled, pushing open the front door and then the screen door.
But there was no Jordon in sight.
Jordon ran up the road. He was running away. He wanted to get the image out of his mind... those eyes looking at him. He couldn’t believe his little friend was caught in the mousetrap. He couldn’t believe his best friend was dead, killed by his grandfather. There was just nothing sadder in the world.
The afternoon sun caused the shadows of the hundred year old oak tree to look like a big afro. The thought of resting there didn’t even cross Jordon’s mind. He kept running, past the park, the school, and the pond.
Blinded by tears, he squeezed his eyes tight and lost his footing. Breathless, Jordon found himself on Marion McGuire’s front lawn, face down. At first, he just lay there and curled his right arm under his head. He needed to rest. He was too tired to get up, and he was too upset to care.
Marion McGuire was bending over in her front garden, plucking weeds from her petunias. She heard the thump and thought the grandkids were playing basketball against the garage again.
She didn’t look up right away, but when she raised her head, she saw something from the corner of her eye. She straightened up to investigate. She saw the little boy lying on the grass.
She put away her watering can and garden gloves and walked toward him. “Are you okay, young man?” She touched his shoulder with her dry, cracked, wrinkled hands.
Jordon pushed her hand away.
She noticed blood seeping from a nasty bruise on his elbow. “You’re bleeding! What happened? Did you fall?”
The boy only looked at the wound and said nothing to either confirm or deny what had happened to him.
“Come on inside and let me put a dressing on that wound before you get an infection and need your arm amputated.”
Jordon was embarrassed, tired, and angry. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to some woman asking him questions. “I’m fine.”
“No, you are not,” she insisted.
He helped himself up to his feet.
Marion noticed another bruise on Jordon’s right knee. “Oh my, you have another bruise here. You’re really banged up.”
She led the boy up to the porch where she could examine him to make sure there were no broken bones.
The little grey-haired man sitting on the porch looked up from reading the newspaper. He saw Jordon and recognized him as Eddy ’s grandson. He knew the boy’s father was in Afghanistan.
He stood up to take a good look at the boy. “He’s a tough kid,” he said. “He’ll be fine. Give the boy a cookie,” he told his wife and went back to reading.
Marion led the boy into the kitchen and hopped off to her medicine cabinet to retrieve her first aid supplies. She came through the door with a handful of stuff.
Jordon winced as she cleaned the wounds with alcohol on a cotton swab.
After she washed the wound, she reached for the flap of skin that had pushed to the side and used it to cover the wound, which was red. She wrapped it with a massive Band-Aid.
Jordon thought the old lady smelled like pepper of some kind, just like the kind of rub his grandmother used when it rained. He wanted to ask her if she had pain too, but realized it would be inappropriate to ask such a question.
“There you go,” she said. “It should heal in a day or two. Don’t get it wet.”
The young boy choked on his words when trying to thank the woman for her kindness.
“You must be careful next time,” she said. “You could have really hurt yourself. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. His blue eyes were teary.
“Would you like some lemonade? How about a cookie?”
She pushed a plate toward Jordon’s hand. “This should help you feel much better,” she said with a big grandmotherly grin.
He hesitantly took the cookie. Oatmeal with lots of raisins. His absolute favorite.
It was getting late, and he realized he hadn’t had dinner yet and was starving. He remembered the smell of the crockpot simmering in the kitchen. But there was no way he was leaving these warm, sweet smelling cookies with plump raisins. Pink lemonade, with strawberry, real lemon pulp that when it bursts his entire mouth comes alive.
“What is your name?” Marion asked.
“Jordon,” he replied, cookie crumbs on his lips.
He sat happily at the dining table. He noticed the lady had just removed another batch of hot cookies from the oven.
“It’s a good thing you fell in my yard. If not for you, I would ’ve forgotten and left them in the oven. They would have been over-cooked and hard as a rock. They are just right, though,” the woman said. She used a spatula to lift and loosen them while they cooled.
“Do you want another one?” she asked.
Jordon smiled and nodded, remnants of the last cookie still in his mouth.
She handed Jordon three big, hot cookies. He was over the moon. He didn’t even feel sad anymore.
After he had finished the cookies and drank the pink lemonade with strawberry slices and ice, he was filled to the brim and a little embarrassed he’d eaten so much.
“Now, you get along so your grandparents know where you are,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jordon said.
“You’re welcome. You come visit anytime,” she said
He smiled as if to say, “I sure will anytime I smell this cookie being baked.”
He walked onto the porch to see the gray-haired man in conversation with his grandpa.
How did his grandpa know to come here?
Jordon thought maybe the man called him, or perhaps he was looking for his grandson. He must have inquired if anyone had seen him and the old man said he was there with them.
Jordon knew Grandpa and Granma would not have eaten dinner without him being home. He knew he was loved.
Jordon’s grandfather felt very sorry he had let his grandson see the dead mouse. He had no idea it would have such an effect on the little lad.
When Marion’s husband told Grandpa Eddy that Jordon was all right, that it was just mostly his pride that was hurt, his grandpa was overjoyed. He showed up at the door with the saddest face Jordon had ever seen.
“Hello, my son,” said Grandpa Eddy.
“I’m tired,” said Jordon. “I just need to sleep for a little while.”
“I didn’t know he would take it so hard,” Grandpa explained to the gray-haired man.
Grandpa Eddy rubbed Jordon's head, looked into his eyes, then knelt and hugged him so tight that Jordon thought he’d broken a rib. Grandpa took a good look at him and embraced him again. “I’m very sorry I let you see that mouse. I’m just a darn fool. I wasn’t thinking. I apologize.”
Jordon was glad his grandpa didn’t ask what happened. He knew there was no way he could hold back his tears. The loss of his little friend was very hard on him.
Jordon climbed the stairs and entered the house.
Grandpa Eddy followed in tow.
“Grandma,” called Jordon. “I’m home.
“Well!” said Grandma, her head cocked to one side, her hand on her hips. “It’s about time.” Jordon hugged her waist, and she cradled him back. Then she said, “Dinner is ready. Let’s eat.”
After dinner, Jordon tossed a bit of food out the back door and went to his room. He climbed on the bed and lay down on the comforter just staring into space.
Maybe he could invite Shane or Kirk, his friend at school, over and introduce him to his pet mouse. Perhaps his friend wouldn’t think he’s weird.
But he would will mull it over before he said anything.