Love In Twenty And Five

DAY FOUR

Mike felt his body stiffen as the elevator doors parted, his eyes coming to rest on the halls of the third floor.

After his experience here yesterday, he was almost certain he couldn't return; hearing all of those women speak so boldly about their loss nearly broke him, forcing him to confront his own loss until it drove him to the verge of insanity. Needing a distraction from his emotions, he had been somewhat thankful for the bridal shower and had been even more surprised to find that the bride to be was Eden.

Mike hated to admit it, but he had a good time in Eden's bridal shower last night. For the first time in his life, he didn't need to drink to forget his loss, he just needed to be in the presence of a bunch of women having a good time. However, when Judie dropped him off at his apartment, and he was all alone, he found that he couldn't fall asleep without indulging in innumerable cans of beer.

Cautiously, he took a step out of the elevator, pushing the janitorial cart. Unfortunately, he needed to keep working as a janitor until God-knows-when he would be required to dress up as Santa. But at least he knew what room those women held their grief meetings, and the time of the meeting. He would not make the mistake of walking in on them again.

He stopped before a door and jarred his knuckles on it softly. Pushing the door open, he stuck his head in. “I'm here for the trash.”

The room was empty but for the presence of a still figure on the bed.

Hoping to dash in and out without being noticed, he slipped in through the door and silently made his way to the trashcan by the window.

“Are you the trash-man?” A small voice called from behind him.

Turning from the trash, he turned to the little boy who was most likely six, lying with his back to the bed, and his eyes fixed on Mike. He appeared pale, his skin more white than Mike thought he had ever seen, with several machines connected to him.

“I'm the janitor,” he said.

“What's the difference?” The kid eyed him suspiciously.

Mike paused, his mind scrambling for possible answers. Really, what was the difference? Chuckling, he shrugged. “I'm not sure there is a difference.”

A small smile settled on the boy's face. “My mum says I'm smart.”

“And I agree with your mother. Who, by the way, should be here. Where is she?” He glanced briefly around.

“Somewhere crying.”

“Um,” Mike shook his head, unsure of what to say next. Should he get the trash and get out, or should he stay and continue this conversation with a kid, when he wasn't even sure he knew where it was going? He didn’t recall speaking with making kids since Maddie died, as a matter of fact, he didn’t recall having many conversations with anybody since she died.

Stepping forward, he settled on the chair beside the kid. “Who says your mum's crying? Maybe she's eating pizza? Maybe she went for a spar? She could have gone to get you a gift for Christmas?”

“I haven't made my list for Christmas yet. I haven't even seen Santa.” He shrugged.

“Well, between me and you buddy, I have it on good authority that he just left the North Pole. He'll be here shortly.”

“Really?!” His brown eyes lighted up with delight.

“Sure.” Mike smiled, nodding.

“Cool! How soon's he gonna get here?”

“Oh, that's classified information, buddy.” Mike rose to his feet. “But I have to get back to the trash, seeing as I'm trash-man and all.” He motioned to the trashcan. “Are you gonna be alright until your mum gets back?”