Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

. ONEWITHTHEWIND

CHAPTER EIGHT

Frosting ontheCake

Connie,

RatherthanironingGrayer. sheetstoday,I. likeyoutopackthefollowingitems for Mr. X. Hissutis Shirts Ties Underwear Socks

Andanythingelseheuses. Theseitemsshouldbepackedanddownwiththedoormanbythree o. lock. Pleaseseethatouonlyusehisluggage(seemonogram).

"Nanny, have you seen Grayer's bow tie? I put it out last night." Mrs. X and Grayer are due at theApril Tea forNewSt. Bernard's Families intwentyminutes. Mrs. XisrummagingthroughGrayer's drawers

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while I try to wrestle him into an ultrastarched oxford, complete with stays in the collar, and Connie, I assume, issomewherein Mr. X's closetfillinghis monogrammedluggage.

"I needanelephant," Grayersays, pointingtothesketchpadonhis diminutive table.

"Onesecond,Grayer,"1 say, "Let mebuckleyourbelt?

"No,notthatone."ShesticksherheadoutfromGrayer's walk-in closet.

"That's theoneyouputout." I add, "Onthebed.Sorry."

"It doesn't go."

Kneeling down in front of him, I look him over. luepinstriped shirt, khaki pants, white socks, brown

belt. I don't seetheproblem, butI unbucklehim.

"Here,"shesays,handingme a greenandredstripedcanvasbelt.

I pointdownatthebeltbuckle. "See,GforGrayer."

"G?" he asks, looking down. "I need my card." I reach for the bus-pass holder on the dresser, which

containsthevestigesof Mr. X's businesscard.

"No,"shesays, emerging fromthecloset. "Nottoday. It's liketheinterviews. Remember theinterviews?

Nocard."

"I wantmycard!"

"You cankeepitinyourpocketlike asecretagent," I say, tuckingitoutofsight.

"I still can't findhis f-ingbowtie."

"Nanny, I need an elephant." I pick up a gray crayon and draw an amorphous blob with big ears and a

trunk,theextentofmyartistic expertise. Shestartsthrowingties outofthecloset.

"I wanttowearmytie,"hesays, referringtotheonethathangstothefloor.

"No. Not today." She goes storming out into the entrance hall where I can hear her voice echo off the

marble. "CONNIE!CONNIE.'"

"Yes, ma'am?" Grayeris quiet,I keepmycrayoninmotion.

"I havejustspenthalfanhour lookingforGrayer's bowtie. Doyouhappentoknowwhere itis?"

"No,ma'am."

"Is ittoomuchtoaskthatyoukeeptrackofGrayer's clothes?DoI havetobeontopofeverything?The

one thing I delegate to you? She sighs heavily and then there's a moment of silence. "Why are you

standingthere?Golookforit!"

"I'm sorry,I justdon't knowwhere itcouldbe, ma'am. I putitinhis roomwith theotherones."

"Well, it's not there.And this is the second time that a piece of Grayer's clothing has gone missing this

month. Now, if you're feeling that this is all too much responsibility for you, I'm sure we can rethink

yourrolehere."

"No,ma'am. I'll lookfor it. It's justthattheclothes,needtobepackedbythreeandit's two-thirty now. If

Mr. X needsthem?

"Are you questioning who you workfor?You workfor me.AndI am telling youto lookfor thetie.And

ifthis confusesyou,pleaseletme know. Because,asfarasI canrecall,I am theonewhopays you!" I stand up shakily and start going through Grayer's closet myself. He comes and stands beside me, leaninghis headagainstmyhip.Conniejoins usinGrayer's room,pulling thecloset doorfurtheropen.

"Connie, I'll lookhere,"I saysoftly. "You takethelaundryroom."

As she crosses back through the front hall Mrs. X continues. "We could call Mr. X and see which he

gives more of a shitabout,whether his clothes get packedor whetherhis sonhas therightfuckingtie to

weartohisnewschool!Maybehe'll talktoyou.Maybehe'll takeyourcall, Connie."

"I'm sorry,ma'am." Five minutesofthorough,breathless searchinguncovers nothing.

"Anything?" Mrs. X's faceappearswhere shehasliftedthedustruffle.

"No,sorry,"I sayfromunderGrayer's bed.

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"Goddammit! Grayer, come on, we have to go. Just put him in the one with the green polka dots." I

slideout onmystomach.

"I wantmydaddy's tie!" Hetriestoreachforthepegwherehis father's tiehangs.

"No, G. You canwearitlater."I gentlypull his handaway,tryingtomotivate himtowardthedoor.

"I wantitnow!" Hestartstosob,redblotchesappearingonhis face.

"Shh, please, Grove?" 1 kiss his damp cheek and he stands still, tears making their way down into the

starchedcollar. I straightentheknotandgototakehiminmyarms,buthepushesme away.

"No!"Andherunsoutof theroom.

"Nanny?" Mrs. Xcalls,shrilly.

"Yes?" I walktothehall.

"We'll bebackatfourintime foriceskating.Connie?" SheshakesherheadasConnieemergesfrom the

laundryroom, asifsheis simplytoodisgustedanddisappointedtospeak. "I justdon't knowwhatto say. It seems tome we are having thesesortsof problems on a regularbasis nowandI needyou to do some seriousthinkingaboutyour commitment leveltothisjob?

Mrs. X's cellphoneemits a sharpring. "Hello?" she answers while motioning for me to help her on with her mink. "Oh, hi, Justine ... Yes, they'll be down by three ... Yes, you can tell him she's packed everything ..." She walks away from us into the vestibule. "Oh, Justine? Could you see that I get his room number at the Yale Club?... In case Grayer has an emergency and I need to get a hold of him . .. Well, why would I call you? She takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm glad you see that doesn't make any sense ... Frankly, I don't want your apology. What I want is my husband's phone number ... I refuse to discuss this with you!" She slams her cell

phoneclosedwith suchforcethatitdropstothemarble floor.

Both women kneel to grab the phone just as the elevator door opens, but Mrs. X gets there first. With a shakinghandshepicksit

I 99

up and drops it into her clutch. She puts her other hand to the floor to steady herself, her icy blue eyes even with Connie's brown ones. "We seem to be unable to communicate, Connie," she hisses through clenched teeth. "So let me be crystal clear. I want you to gather your things and get out of my house. I wantyouout ofmyhouse.That's whatI want."

Shestandswith a shakeofher minkandpushes a stunnedGrayerintotheelevator asthedoorcloses.

Conniepulls herselfup bythefoyer tableandwalkspast mebackintotheapartment.

I take a moment tocollect myself beforeslowlyshuttingthefrontdoor.

I walk through the kitchen and find Connie standing with her back to me in the maid's room, her broad shouldersquivering inthesmall space. "God,Connie.Areyouokay?" I ask quietlyinthedoorway.

She turns to me. er pain and outrage so rawly palpable on her face that I'm struck silent. She slumps downontheoldtweedfold-outcouchandundoesthetopbuttonofher whiteuniform.

"I've been here twelve years," she says, shaking her head. "I was here before her and I thought I'd be hereafter."

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask, stepping into the narrow gap between the couch and the ironingboard. "Some juicemaybe?I couldtrytogetintotheliquorcabinet."

"She wants me to leave? She wants me to leave?" I sit down on Mrs. X's steamer trunk. "I've wanted to leavesincethefirstdayshegothere," shesnorts,reachingfor a half-ironedT-shirt andwiping hereyes. "Let me tell you something. hen they went to Lyford whatever. didn't get paid. I never get paid when they go away. Not my fault they're on vacation. I'm not on vacation. I still have three kids and plenty of bills to pay. And this year. his year. he asked him to declare me! They never declare me! Where am I supposedtocome upwith thatkindof moneynow?I hadtoborrowmoneyfrom

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mymother to pay all thesetaxes."She sits back and pulls offher apron. "When Mrs. X and Grayer flew totheBahamaslastyearandI wasgoingtheretootoseemyfamily,shemademeflywith them. Grayer spilled juice all over hisself at takeoff and she didn't have a change for him and he's sitting there cold and wet and crying and she just pull on that sleep thing over her eyes and ignore him the whole flight. And I didn't getpaid forthat!Oh, was I mad. hat's whyI'm not a nanny.You ever hearaboutJackie?" I shakemyhead. "Jackie washisbabynurse,butshestayed tillGrayer wastwo."