Page 20 of Dear Mr. Firefighter
“No.” Bridget shook her head back and forth.
“I’ll get it.” I stood and walked to the freezer.
“Get me a spoon too.” Bridget looked over her shoulder.
“Okay.” I nodded as I grabbed three bowls and three spoons. “I guess we’re all having ice cream tonight.”
“So, what did you like about Jimmy Lawson anyway?” I looked over at Abby as I served the ice cream to the three of us.
“I don’t know.” Abby shrugged. “He plays Minecraft and I like to play that too.”
“Mine—craft?” I looked at Bridget in confusion.
“It’s the game she plays on her computer—if she finishes her homework before bedtime.” Bridget rolled her eyes.
“Ah, the building game. Okay.” I nodded in understanding. “So, you talk to him on there?”
“I used to.” Bridget took a bite of ice cream. “Not anymore though. He said he wanted a girlfriend that didn’t play video games. I’m not going to stop playing Minecraft for a boy…”
“Sounds like Jimmy Lawson wasn’t worth your time.” I suppressed a laugh. “Maybe wait until you’re older to look for your next boyfriend.”
“Nah.” A slight grin formed on the edge of Bridget’s lips. “His best friend Charlie still plays with me—and he’s cuter than Jimmy.”
“Oh lord…” Bridget looked down at her bowl and I saw her trying to hide a smile.
Yeah, we’re going to be in a lot of trouble with this one…
We ate our ice cream while Abby told me everything there was to tell about Minecraft. She had mentioned it a few times and I had seen her playing it, but I really didn’t pay much attention to what she was doing in the game. She even convinced me to come back to her room and watch for a little bit—I could even play if I wanted. I went with her and by the time she finished showing me all of the things she built in her game, she was laughing and smiling. Jimmy Lawson had become a distant memory—or possibly just replaced by Charlie, who was typing things into the box at the bottom of the screen while they played.
“Okay, I think it’s time for bed.” I looked at the clock, which had already ticked past eight o’clock.
“You haven’t told me about your date yet.” She looked at me but started shutting down her computer.
“I haven’t gone on a date.” I tilted my head to the side. “I’m going out with Chloe on Saturday.”
“I know, but you need to tell me everything that you have planned. I’ll make sure you’re doing enough to make her your wife.” Abby hopped up from her chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Let’s um—not talk about that for a while.” I chuckled under my breath. “I’m taking her to a nice restaurant. It’s our first date, so we’re going to take things slow.”
“Make sure you ask her to be your girlfriend. It’s not official until you actually ask her.” Abby gave me the most serious look a ten year old could muster.
“Uh, yeah—I’ll try to work that into the conversation.” I smiled and pointed to her pillow. “Time for bed.”
“Fine…” She crawled over and slid underneath the covers.
Even though she was up past her bedtime, she wasn’t going to let me leave without reading her a bedtime story, so I grabbed a short book and went through it as fast as possible. She fell asleep before I got to the last page. I turned out the lights and went back to the living room. Bridget was outside, and I assumed she was self-medicating with marijuana like she did most nights. I wasn’t a huge fan, but at least she only did it in the evenings after Abby was in bed. A little buzz was better than getting plastered, like our mother used to do most nights before she found Jesus.
“You ever going to quit that shit?” I looked up at Bridget as she walked into the living room.
“I’ll probably have to before Abby gets old enough to recognize the smell.” She shrugged as she sat down.
“How old were you the first time you got high?” I tensed up, actually scared of the reply since I knew she had been smoking it since she was a teenager.
“Oh, I smoked my first joint on my first date—I took care of those two firsts on the same night—along with another one…” She chuckled under her breath.
“You…” My words trailed off. “You slept with that guy? On your very first date?”
“Yeah... He was sixteen and he had a car. I was in love.” She threw her hands up. “Bad parenting, what can I say?”
