Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

"It's a snowman. His name is Al. He has a cold so he has to take lots of vitamin C." Grayer describes StyrofoamAl asifannouncinghimasthenextguestonLetterman.

"Ah."Shenods,shiftingtheTiffany's packagetoherhip.

"Why don't you go look for a spot for Al to hang out?" I help him up and he shuffles off toward the living roomwith his artwork heldinfrontof himlike a Fabergeegg.

I standup,brushmyself off,andfaceMrs. X,readytogive the report.

"I wish you could have seen him this morning. He was totally in his element! He loved the glitter. And hereallytookhis time with making it. You knowGiselleRutherford?"

"Jacqueline Rutherford's daughter? Of course. h, her mother is too much.When it was her turn to do snack she brought in a chef and set up an omelette bar in the music corner. I mean, really. The rule is youaresupposedtocome with thesnackprepared.Tell me,tellme."

"Well, Ms. Giselle insisted that Grayer do his snowman according to her color scheme. range, becauseshe's spendingthisChristmas inSouthBeach."

"Oh,howtacky."Hereyes arewide.

"She pulled Al right out of Grayer's hands and he landed smack in the middle of her orange glitter. I thought Grayer would lose it, but he just looked up at me and announced thatAl's orange specks were simply crumbs from all thevitamin Chehadtotakeforhis cold!"

"I thinkhejusthas a knackforcolor."Shebeginstoorganizeher bags. "So,howare finalsgoing?"

"I'm inthehome stretchandcan't wait tobedone."

Shestandsup andarches her back a little, making a fearful crackingsound. "I know,I'm justexhausted! It seemslikethelist justkeepsongrowing every year. Mr. Xhas ahugefamilyandsomanycolleagues. And it's already thesixth. I cannotwait for Lyford Cay. Cannotwait. I'm exhausted."She gathers up her bags. "Whenareyouoffuntil?"

"January twenty-sixth," I say. Just two more weeks to go and then I have a whole month off from schoolandyou.

"You should go to Europe this January. Do it while you're still a student, before you have Real Life to worryabout."

Oh, so maybe my pending Christmas bonus will cover a plane ticket to Europe? Six hours in a Teletubbycostume says I'm worthit.

Shecontinues. "You shouldseeParis whenit's snowing,there's nothingascharming."

"Except Grayer, of course!" We laugh together, as I try to sell her on her own child. The phone rings, interruptingus.

Mrs. X grabs a few more bags in each hand, tightens her arm around the Tiffany's package, and heads back toward her office. "Oh, Nanny, the tree's been set up. Why don't you and Grayer go down to the basement andbringuptheornaments?"

"Sure!" I call after her asI walk tothe living room. Thetree is a magnificentDouglasfir thatlooks asif it were growing rightout of thefloor. I closemyeyes and inhalefor a secondbefore addressingGrayer, who's having an animated exchange withAl, the lone tree decoration teetering on the very tip of a low branch.

"Hey, looks like your man Al is getting ready to jump." I reach for the bent paper clip serving as Al's lifeline.

"DON'T! He doesn't want you to touch him. Only me," he instructs. We spend the next fifteen tedious minutesrelocatingAl

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while ensuring that only Grayer's hands do all the work. I stare up at the many feet of bare greens towering above us and wonder if anyone would notice if the rest of the Xes' ornaments didn't make it onthis year.Attheratewe're going,itmightconceivablytakeGrayerwell

intohis twenties.

I lookdownathimashewhisperstoAl. "Okay,buddy,"I say, "let's gotothebasement andbringup the rest of your ornaments so they can keep Al company. They'll be there to talk him down if he gets too closetotheedgeagain." "To thebasement?" "Yup. Let's go."

"1 got toget mystuff.Got togetmyhelmet andbelt.You go tothedoorNanny, I'll meetya ... got toget theflashlight.. ." Herunstohis roomasI ringfortheelevator.

Grayer glides back out into the vestibule just as the elevator door opens. "Oh, my God, Grove!All this for the basement?" He puts one sock-covered foot down to stop his skateboard in front of the elevator door. His bicycle helmet sits slightly askew and he has shoved a huge flashlight into his waistband, along with a yo-yo and what looks to be a monogrammed washcloth from his bathroom. "Okay, let's go,"hesays with completeauthority. "I'm thinkingwe shouldatleastbewearingshoesforthis

adventure."

"Nah,don't need 'em."Herolls insideandthedoor closes behindbothof usbeforeI cancatch it. "It's so cool down there, Nanny. Oh, man, oh, man." He nods his helmeted head in anticipation. Grayer has taken to peppering his commentary with "oh, mans" as of late, thanks to Christianson, a four-year-old of remarkable charisma who has a good foot in height over the rest of his classmates. In fact, when Al first made impact with the fateful orange glitter both Giselle's and Grayer's first utterance was a simultaneous "Oh,man."

The elevator stops at the lobby and Grayer rolls ahead of me, propelling himself with one foot, while keeping both hands on his waistband so that his packed pants don't succumb to gravity. By the time I catch up, he's already gotten Ramon to lead the way to the caged service elevator. "Ahh, Mr. Grayer. You musthaveimportantbusiness downthere,huh?"

Grayer isbusyadjustinghis toolsandoffersonly adistracted "Yup."

Ramonsmiles inhis directionandthenwinksconspiratoriallyatme. "He's veryserious,our Mr. Grayer. You got a girlfriend yet, Mr. Grayer?" The elevator jerks as we reach the basement. He slides the gate open and we step out into the bright, cold corridor, rich with the aroma of dryer sheets. "Cage 132. own to the right. Be careful now, don't get lost, or I'll have to come find you..." He winks again and, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, pulls the door closed, leaving me beneath a dangling lightbulb.

"Grayer?" I yell downthecorridor.

"Nanny! I'm waiting. Come onnnn!" I follow his voice around the maze of floor-to-ceiling cages lining the walls. Some are more packed than others, but each has the requisite luggage, ski equipment, and random pieces of bubble-wrapped furniture. I round the bend and see Grove lying on his stomach atop his skateboard under a sign that says 132, pulling himself along the wired wall by his hands. "Oh, man, it's gonna be so fun when Daddy comes home and does the tree. Caitlin gets us started and Daddy does thehigh-ups andwehavehotchocolateinthelivingroom."

"Soundspretty cool. Here, I have thekey," I say, holdingit out toward him. He jumps up anddown as I unlock the cage and then proceeds to deftly make his way in around the boxes. I let him lead as he's clearly madethistrekbeforeandI wouldn't know astoragelockerfromanEasy-Bakeoven.

I sitdownonthecoldcementandleanbackonthecagedoor

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facing that of the Xes. My parents used to daydream about storage space, sitting with both feet up on the trunk packedto bursting with our summer clothes thatserved as our coffee table. On occasion, we'd allow ourselves to talk about what we could do with one extra closet. uch as a family in Wyoming mightfantasizeaboutwinning thelottery.

"Do you know what you're looking for, Grove?" I call into the piles, as I haven't heard anything in a few minutes. Loud clanging noises break the silence. "Grayer! What's going on in there?" I start to standupashis flashlightcomes rollingoutofthedarknessandstopsatmyfeet.

"Just getting my stuffout, Nanny! Turn the light on me, I'm going to get the blue box!" I click the high beam on and point it into the cage as directed, illuminating two dirtied socks and a little khaki rear end tunnelingintothemiddleofthepile.

"Are yousurethat's safe,Grayer? I thinkmaybe I should ..."What,crawlinbehindhim?

"I got it. Oh, man, there's lotsa stuff back here. My skis! These are my skis, Nanny, for when we go to Aspirin."

"Aspen?"