A night-time visitor

It wasn't the time of night for visitors, so when the door creaked open, Bernard jumped. He’d been praying because the pain made it hard to sleep. A little nose twitched near the door, as a small mouse entered the stuffy room. The window hadn’t been opened since he’d come home from the hospital, a month ago. The mouse’s fine whiskers fluttered like butterfly wings. Bernard leaned toward the edge of his bed and peered at the uninvited guest. "Mother will be mad you've come, but I can use some fun," he told the mouse. The mouse crept closer. "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," he said. The mouse came closer. "Shall I tell you a story, little mouse? I love stories," Bernard said. As if the mouse understood, he imagined the mouse nod. 

"Once upon a time, I had a cat," he said. "Don't worry, he was not the sort of cat to eat fine mice, such as you," he said. The mouse wiggled his nose again. "This was before when I had hair," he said. "And when Daddy let me go to school," he said. "But now I have to rest and get better Mommy says. Anyway, one day my cat, climbed up a large telephone pole to catch a bird," he said. The boy smiled at the mouse. "Well, do you know what happened?" He imagined the mouse shake his tiny gray head. "No, I suppose you don’t know," he continued. "My cat was never seen again. That was the day the doctor called my mom. She says I have leukemia. That day, my mom was so sad, she forgot all about my cat," he said. "Well, I did not forget. And every night I wait for him, but I imagine he is in a better place. Maybe he eats the fancy fish right out of a fine bowl. What do you like to eat, little mouse?" Bernard asked. "I suppose it's cheese. Maybe swiss?" The mouse, now close enough to touch his hand. "You know, Mommy she likes to make sandwiches with that holey cheese," Bernard smiled. "Let's give you a name, how about Charlie?" The mouse seemed to like it. "I'm going to sleep now Mr. Charlie," he said. "You can sleep under my bed if you'd like. Bernard closed his eyes against the sun which peeked through the shade on his white window. An hour later his mother, a woman with kind blue eyes and a soft voice like the texture of a wild rose.

 "Hey, sweetie. It's time for breakfast and your medicine." She set the bowl of bone broth on a bedside table, wooden and sturdy. He groaned as he rolled to her. "Good morning sweetheart, time to eat," she said. He sat slightly, she brought the small blue bowl to his lips and helped him sip. "You need to keep your strength," she wiped a stray tear, like a star that shot across the sky. He used to sleep under the stars with Daddy. Their shimmers covered the sky like a heavy blue blanket. The medicine she handed him, big for a small boy. He swallowed them with water. "Your friends sent you a card." His mom handed him a colorful envelope with a marker- drawn picture.

"I miss my friends, Mom," Bernard said. 

"I know sweetie. Keep resting and you'll be strong. You know the rules, you can't have visitors until you feel better. I'm sorry, sweetheart. " She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

 "I prayed last night for a friend, Mom," he said. "Do you think God will send me one?" He asked.

 "Yes, God always hears us," she said. "He just doesn't always answer the way we expect." 

His mother left the room and wept. The tears now like rain on the windowpane, trailed on her friendly face. She folded her hands and lowered her head. 

The next night, the mouse returned and sat on the floor by the bed which Bernard had not left. "I am so tired, Mr. Charlie but it is great to see you again," he said. "I made you a bed out of my card and socks. I think it’ll be warm and cozy," he said. The mouse twitched his whiskers. "Okay, Mr. Charlie, since you insist I will tell you one story, then I have to sleep," Bernard said. 

"I am not scared to be with my cat soon. I know he went to heaven," he said. "Oh, you don't have to worry. The animals there are nice. None of them eat each other. Mom says that lions and lambs even lie in long green grass there, together. She says Heaven is a nice place where frogs croak in their throaty voices and happy, chirping birds fly high and low. Grandpa went there the year I was born," he explained. "Well, when I get there, I'm gonna meet him and we'll go fishing and lay above the stars." Bernard laid on his back and imagined the stars. Their bright lights looked back at him like stencils shone through by the moon's light. "Good night, Mr. Charlie," Bernard whispered. He closed his eyes, one more time. One last time. And they never opened again.

His father came into the room in the morning. He took off his hat, and in his sorrow, his knees hit the floor. The sadness pulled him down like weights he could not carry. He cried out from his pain inside. His wife came running and sat with him there, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

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A few weeks later, Bernard's mother entered the room. She noticed something on the floor and bent to pick it up. "How odd," she spoke to herself, "It's a bird's feather.” As she bent, her eyes traveled beneath the place where her dearest used to sleep. She got down on the floor further and found a tiny bed made from a sock and the card from Bernard’s friends. The perfect size, where a mouse could lay his head. She looked at the bird feather in her hand and it was then she knew, God had sent little Bernard a friend as he'd asked. "Thank you mouse," she said to no one in particular. She knew God answered his prayer. But hers was not answered the way she hoped, but she knew it was answered. Bernard no longer suffered, only she did. 

Somewhere in a small corner of the room, a tiny mouse scurried to an unseen place.