Mommy Mouse (sequel to City Mouse)

Chapter 29: Despair

Mouse opened the refrigerator, took out what she'd need for a monster sandwich, and shut the door. She glanced at the front of the fridge, her arms full of ham, salami, tomatoes, and cheese. It was a hodgepodge of papers, receipts, and notes, held up by all different kinds of magnets. Mouse believed that the front of the fridge should tell the story of the family it nourished, and to her this fridge-front was perfection. Leo's drawings took up most of the space, and right in the middle was the pink felt declaration he'd given her at her wedding.

"First we had each other, then we had you, now we have everything."

She stopped whatever she was doing at least once a day to look at it, to read the beautiful words and enjoy the childish writing. She loved to imagine Leo's small hand holding the Sharpie, studiously copying his wall hanging for her, his new mother. He had made a mistake on one of the letters, writing a "v" instead of the "w" in the second "we," and he'd obviously gone back in and added the second part of the letter. For some reason, seeing this, knowing how he must've fretted when he realized what he'd done, made Mouse want to cry.

She could see that the edges of the felt were starting to curl up, and one of the popsicle sticks was coming unglued. It didn't help that it was on the fridge door, which was opened a hundred times a day. Mouse put her sandwich fixings down and unclipped the pink scroll from the magnets holding it in place. There was a frame shop a few blocks from Leo's school. She decided she'd stop by and have it framed. She carefully put it between the pages of a cook book, which she left out on the counter as a reminder.

Maybe Leo would feel better, more secure, if he realized how important his words were, how important he was, to the fabric of this family.

He hadn't been happy about going to see a psychologist. 

"But why?" He looked from his mother to his father as he sat in bed. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, Leo, we're not mad, not at all," Mouse replied. She gestured toward his cast. "You're going through a lot of things right now, and it seems like you feel like you can't tell us stuff, you know? So we thought you might like to have someone you could talk to, someone you could tell anything to."

"But I don't want to," Leo said, getting tearful. Dominick had warned him about this possibility. He, too, had gone to see a therapist, right before the decision had been made for him to divide his time between his parents.

"Son, we want you to try this," Henry said firmly. "Just go see her, okay? See if you like her? And if you don't, you don't have to keep going."

"Promise?" Leo asked. "Do you promise I don't have to go back if I don't want to?" He lay down, looking up at Mouse. They both noticed that he didn't look at Henry when he spoke.

"We promise." Mouse leaned down and kissed Leo on his forehead. He shook his head and pulled her down to kiss her mouth before releasing her.

So Leo had returned to school to face the new year, and told his friends about the therapist.

"I told you."

Dominick looked around at the group of kids gathered at the top of the jungle gym as he spoke. Kerry, Noah, and Leo looked back at him.

"I don't think it's bad," Kerry said, patting Leo's arm. "My uncle's a therapist, and he helps people."

But Dominick was shaking his head. "I think it was the therapist who told my mommy and daddy that they needed a break," he announced, nodding his curly head for emphasis. "I didn't have to start living with my daddy and Leah until after I started going to see her."