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Mel blinked her eyes open to a sleepy-eyed Kinsley, pushing her wild curls out of her face.
“Hey, baby.” Mel smiled. Despite her desire for a moment to herself, she was glad for the interruption. Her thoughts were running crazy today, and she no longer wanted to think about Craig or what it would be like to have a real partner.
“Is Mr. Blake coming today?”
“No. Not today. This weekend it’s just us. Is that okay?”
Kinsley yawned and nodded. “Can I have some cereal?”
Sure. Mel turned and went about fixing her a bowl of fruity-o’s, when another little hand tapped her on the rump. “Why don’t you take a seat,” she said, “and I’ll get you some cereal.”
That must’ve appeased the phantom-tapper because when she turned back around, Peter and Kinsley both sat waiting for their breakfast.
She placed a bowl of cereal in front of each of them, then retrieved the coffee carafe and poured herself a steaming cup when Brady’s voice called from behind. “Mom! Mom, look what I caught. It’s a pet!”
With a frown, Mel turned around, carafe in hand, and focused her attention in the direction of his voice. In his hands, he held the glass from Mel’s bedside in one hand, and a book sandwiched on top with the other. Inside, there was something dark and small.
Mel squinted to make out the contents, then screamed. She jumped, whipping her hands up and dropping the carafe, which landed on the kitchen tile in a thunderous crash. The glass shattered, and hot coffee sprayed everywhere, including on her foot. Brady dropped the book, and the giant mouse he had captured skittered across the floor toward her, which only made her scream further. She hopped on one foot away from the vermin, her scalded toes forgotten, and inadvertently stepped on a chunk of glass.
“Aarrgh!” she screamed and reached for the injured foot just as the mouse made a beeline for the hall closet.
“No! My pet,” Brady wailed and ran after it.
“Brady, leave the mouse alone,” Mel pleaded as she pogoed her way to a kitchen chair. With shaking hands, she managed to pluck the piece of glass from her foot, eyeing the small gap beneath the closet the entire time.
Blood immediately bubbled over the surface of her skin, then trickled down her heel. Limping her way to the paper towels on the counter, she held it to the wound. “Don’t move, guys. Okay? Nobody go near the broken glass until Mommy cleans it up.”
A sulking Brady made his way back toward the table where he sat, his lower lip trembling as if he might cry.
“You didn’t get bit, did you?” Mel hurried toward him, her injured foot forgotten, and searched his hands and arms for bites and saw nothing amiss. “Brady, why on earth did you trap that mouse? Where did you even see it?”
“It was in the corner of your closet, and I trapped him with the cup, but you scared me, and I dropped him.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll find him.” And when we do, he’s dead. “But we really shouldn’t trap and keep wild things like that. They’re not meant to be contained and can bite. Mice carry a lot of germs and disease.”
“So.” His little brows scrunched, his mouth drawn into a deep scowl.
Mel knew when to pick her battles, and this was one she could drop. If she had anything to do with it, there would be no more mice to catch any time in the near future.
She stood and assessed the damage on the kitchen floor.
Great. She’d need a new coffee pot. Another thirty bucks toward something she could use elsewhere.
With a sigh, she began laying paper towels over the coffee and broken glass. Looks like if she wanted caffeine, she’d have to go out. That’d be another three bucks.
Then she thought of her last coffee run with the kids and groaned.
Well, there was a bright side. At least it wasn’t a rat.
MEL WOULD LIKE TO SAY her day improved after the coffee incident, but it didn’t. In fact, things spiraled, and it soon became clear that she was having “one of those days.”
After the escaped mouse, she tore the closet apart searching for said rodent and found nothing. What she did gain from the experience was a pounding headache, followed by Kinsley in tears, pronouncing Peter broke her favorite toy during her distraction.
Once Mel stuck her pony back together with duct tape, she moved onto the toilet that Brady complained wouldn’t flush, only to discover after removing the lid that the guts inside were broken. The little rubber plunger-like device sat askew, and the little chain that held things together had snapped.
After several phone calls to her landlord, he informed her he’d send someone first thing Monday morning to fix it. So it looked like the four of them were stuck with a toilet that didn’t flush for two whole days. Her annoyance at his inability to fix it same-day or even next-day didn’t matter. That was the thing about New York. For every renter, there was one waiting to take their place, especially in an apartment like Mel’s, which was cheap (for New York) and not entirely terrible. She could argue until she was blue in the face, but she knew from experience that it was useless.
She clicked off the call, grumbled under her breath, then placed her hands on her hips.
