Mabel on Her Own

Mabel had insisted that she go to the Evergreen assisted living facility No way was she going to intrude into the lives of her children and grandchildren. Over the years, too often she had witnessed the strain in families when they lost their privacy, modified their routines, and made over their lives to accommodate returning adult children, often encumbered with child, or as would have been Mabel’s case, taking in an aging parent or grandparent who could no longer live alone. Too many stove burners left on, doors left unlocked, forgetfulness, and increasingly, falls, made it impossible for Mabel to continue to live in the brick rambler her husband Charles had built for her forty years before.

She loved that house. Every bush, every tree, every stick of furniture, even the stains on the carpet were reminders to her of the contentment and happiness she had had living there, birthing her children and molding them into the fine men and woman they had become, well except for Jimmy, but Mabel still held out hopes for him. But now it was time to move on, and though the pleas from her family were sincere and finances were not an issue, Mabel knew better than they the stresses that would surely follow. And if that were not enough of a reason, the ace kicker was that Mabel valued her own independence too much to relinquish it to family members, no matter how well meaning they might be.

And so it was that Mabel became a resident at Evergreen Living Facility. She flourished in the company of other aging men and women who had a common history with her. People who remembered the war, the big one, World War II.; those who had lived before television, who knew all about “The Green Hornet”, CC Camps, hobo jungles, and tin foil; people who enjoyed Rook card games and women who knew how to quilt. She was popular there and that popularity expanded three-fold after she hit the State Lottery for $20,000 and started helping some less well off residents and staff with some of their money problems. She kept a record of those with whom she shared her largess in her Little Black Book which she kept in a drawer by her bedside. Her records showed that she still had 7,234 dollars left to give away.

The staff was professional, efficient, and kind. Together, that is the residents and the staff; they made a large family, mostly happy but with enough human foibles to keep life interesting.

That first winter there was a cold one, and icy. Mabel mentioned to her Rook partners that it seemed like winters had become colder in the last couple of decades, and that it was probably because of global burning. After some discussion, it was sorted out that she meant global warming which might be caused by excessive burning of rainforests…”Whatever” she finally summarized. “It’s really cold, and last nights ice storm is causing all kinds of problems. For those of you who have your hearing aids turned up, that cracking sound you hear every once in a while is a pine tree breaking because it can’t handle the weight of all the ice.”

Later, back in her room, Mabel saw another result of the cold icy weather. She caught a quick glimpse of a small field mouse scurrying over the base of her floor lamp and disappearing behind her arm chair. Mice, who can zip through mazes that would stymie most people, aren’t dumb, and this one wasn’t either. Somehow he had found ingress

into the Evergreen facility, and ultimately into Mabel’s room. Mabel wasn’t afraid of mice, but she did think of them as germ carriers. She still remembered the stories in history class of how the Black Death, carried by fleas, which were in turn carried by mice, had almost wiped out the European continent.

Therefore, the next morning when Mabel went to breakfast, she reported to the departing night manager that field mice had come in from the cold and were in her room. Mrs. Stabler listened politely, but told Mabel that Evergreen did not have any mice of any kind and that Mabel, therefore, had to be mistaken. “You know you’ve been having problems with the floaters in your eyes” she was told. And so Mabel was rebuffed.

Later that day, at afternoon tea, Mabel sought out the day manager. “There’s a field mouse in my room” she intoned. “He probably came in because of the cold. I’d like for you to get someone to remove it.” The day manager, who obviously took the same “polite” pills that the night manager took, listened thoughtfully. But she advised Mabel, that Evergreen has never had mice. “We have a contract with the Webster Parish Pest Exterminator Company”, she said, “who comes in monthly to spray for insects, and make sure that we don’t have mice or any other creatures. Never, in the twelve years that I’ve been here have they, any of the residents, or any of the staff ever seen a mouse. I don’t doubt that you think you saw something, but I assure you, you don’t have to worry about it being a mouse. Oh, and we’re not haunted either!” she smilingly said before patting Mabel reassuringly on the arm and departing to her office

“No Mice, huh?” Mabel said under her breath as she walked over to the house phone. Moments later she was talking to her oldest son Joseph who owned a furniture store less that a mile from Evergreen. “Joey“, she said. “I need for you to come by after work and take me to the Wal-Mart. I need to buy some things.

She insisted that Joey pick her up after she‘d eaten dinner -about 6:30 she‘d said - turning him down on his invitation to take her out for dinner. Joey meant well, but he didn’t understand that jalapeno seasoned greasy catfish was no longer a tolerable treat, and that barbeque soaked in Louisiana hot sauce could well send her from assisted living to intensive care. And she knew full well that her daughter-in-law wasn’t going to cook vegetables for her, because she’d given up cooking years before and considered all the fast food places around town to be gifts from heaven.

At the Wal-Mart, Mabel picked up some perfumed tissues and some nail polish. But what she really went there for was a mouse trap. She found them, but she had to buy a packet of three of them to get one. For bait, she bought a package of M&M chocolate covered peanuts. She opened the package, took one of the traps to her room, and left two of the traps in the trash can by the entrance to Evergreen. She hadn’t mentioned the mice to Joey, because she didn’t want him saying anything to Evergreen staff.. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, thank you!

Back in the room, Mabel very carefully set the spring on the mouse trap. She didn’t remember the spring being so strong. Don’t know whether the spring’s stronger or I’m weaker, she thought to herself. She also reflected for a moment that she had never got to see Agatha Christie’s Mouse Trap in London, even though she had visited there twice for that purpose. But something else had caught their eye that one time, and she and Charles had ended up going to a different play that, by mutual consent, they had walked out on after the first act. The other time, they had not been able to get tickets to the Mouse Trap and they filled the time pubbing.

But back to the mouse trap at hand. She ever so carefully wedged an M&M chocolate covered peanut onto the trigger of the trap. Anything that could break a mouse’s back could break a senior citizen’s finger she surmised. Then, careful not to jiggle the trap and prematurely trigger it in her hand, she placed the trap on the floor between the wall and the base of her standing floor lamp.

Mabel went to bed, turned off the lights, and had hardly had time to find a comfortable position to sleep in, when she heard a loud snap in her room. She didn’t need to see it, she knew her problem was solved, and with that comfort, fell asleep.

The next morning, Mabel picked up her breakfast and brought it back to her room on the breakfast tray. All morning she had carefully avoided looking toward the trap because she didn’t want it on her mind while eating breakfast. But now that she had finished eating, it was time to deal with the mouse.

Sure ‘nuff, her field mouse had perished in quest of the treat. Mabel wondered whether he was after the chocolate or the peanut. But either one, there he was. She pulled back the lethal spring and took the mouse from the trap, using a perfumed tissue in her hand to keep from actually touching the thing. She took all the dishes off the breakfast tray, made a small bed of tissues on the tray and placed the mouse on the bed of tissues. Then she carefully folded the linen napkin from breakfast like a folded sheet, and placed the folded napkin over the mouse leaving his head protruding face up - like he was sleeping and tucked in for the night. And there on her coffee table she left him.

An hour or so later the day manager was walking past Mabel’s room when Mabel called to her. “Ms Peavy, could you come in for a moment?” Ms Peavy could and did.

As Ms Peavy took a chair to sit down, she glanced down at tray for only a second and then did a double take jumping up from the chair. “What is that?” she shrieked.

“What? That?” Mabel asked casually and came closer to get a better look. “That must be a Martian, cause there sure the hell aint no mice in the Evergreen Living Facility!”

Ms Peavy was a good sport. And it was she who told the tale of Mabel’s Martian at every opportunity.