Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

"ButI...We were ... We were justhaving fun.Pleasedon't tellJohn.You hadfun,didn't you,boys?"

"I had fun. Don't be sad." Grayer gently touches her head, patting bits of pink frosting into her blonde hair.

Tina looks at Lizzie and wipes her nose on her sleeve. "Okay, okay." She hunkers in front of the boys. "Mommy's gonna go take a bath, okay?" She pats each one on the head and then walks over to the banister. "You come back real soon, Grayer, you hear?" she murmurs to herself as she disappears down thestairs.

"Good-bye, Tina!" Grayer shouts. And with a little backward wave she's gone. I wait for Carter to protest, but he's quiet. We strip theboys and Lizzie gives me a pair of Carter's pajamas and a plastic bag forGrayer's clothes.We putonThejungleBookandtrytocleanupthekitchen.

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"Dammit," Lizzie says, scrubbingon her hands andknees. "Mr. Milton mightcome home tonightand if he sees this he'll send her back to Hazelden and it's terrible for Carter, her disappearing for weeks at a time when his father travels so much. It absolutely devastates him." Lizzie wrings out the sponge. "He askedme togo with her. oHazelden.SoI could,you know,figureout whenshewoulduseagainand intervene."

"What's she on?" 1 ask, though I already have a pretty good idea. "Coke. Alcohol. Prescription stuff whenshecan't sleep." "Howlonghasthisbeengoingonfor?"

"Oh, years," she says, squeezing out her sponge into the bucket. "I think since she came to New York. She fell in with some really posh junkies, celebrities and the like. He leaves her alone here all the time, so it's hard for her. But there's no prenup, soI guess he's just waiting for her to OD." Well, this certainly putspantiesinperspective. "I knowI shouldquit, butmyvisa extensionis attachedtothisjob.If I leave Carter it means going home and I really want to stay in America." I just wring out my sponge, not knowingwhatto say. "Here,whydon't youguys pushoff? I'll finishthis." "You sure?"

"Oh, yeah.Tomorrow it'll be something else." Grayer and Carter are loath to be parted, but we manage toget all thewaydownstairs andoutthedoor.

"Good-bye, Carter!" he shouts as I hail a cab. "Good-bye, Tina!" Since we're only going four blocks it seems ridiculous, but in addition to everything I was carrying before, I'm now sporting a plastic bag of Grayer's clothesandmyraincoatin a shoppingbagsomysweaterdoesn't shedsprinklesonit.

"Whathappenedtoyouall?" James asksashehelpsusoutof

thetaxi.

"We got in a foodfightwithTina,"Grayer explainsashepads

aheadof meinCarter'sTiggerpajamas.

21 1

Upstairs I turn on the bathwater and put some tofu dogs on the stove while Grover plays in his room.

"Hello?" a strangevoicecalls fromthemaid's room.

"Hello?"

A woman I've never seenbeforeemergesfromthedarkness,wearingConnie's uniform.

"Hello, I'm Maria," she says in a South American accent. "I was waiting for Mrs. X and must have

fallenasleep.I didn't wanttojustleaveonmyfirstdaywithoutsayinggood-bye."

"Oh ... hi. Hi, I'm Nanny. I take care of Grayer." I introduce myself for the third time today. "Actually,

Mrs. X is out to dinner and probably won't be back till late.You go on home and I'll tell her you waited

whenshegets back."

"Oh,great.Thanks."

"Whoareyou?" Grover standsblockingthedoorwayinhisbriefs.

"Grayer, this is Maria." Grayer sticks his tongue out, turns and runs back to his room. "Grayer" I turn

back toher to apologize. "I'm sorry. Please don't takeit personally. He's had a reallylong day."I gesture tomybuttercreamsoddenselfwith ahalf-smile. "ActuallyI wasjustgonnagogive himhis bath.Really, it's okaytoleave. Nottoworry."

"Thanks,"shesays,foldingher coatover herarm.

"No problem. See you tomorrow." I smile at her. I walk through the apartment, turning on lamps

Conniecleanedonlytwodays ago.

I go into Grayer's room, where he's still dancing in his underwear in front of his closet mirror. "Come

on,Baryshnikov."I plunkhiminthebath.

"That was so fun, Nanny. Remember when she threw the frosting and it hit my butt?" He convulses in

giggles again. I sit down on the toilet while he soaps up the wall, plays with his frogmen, and hums a

little Donna.

"G, you almost done?" I ask when I'm tired of using his baby comb to scrape the frosting from my

sweater.

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"Beep'beep.Toot-toot. Beep-beep.Toot-toot." Heshakeshis soapytushinthewater.

"Come on,it's late."I holdupthetowel.

"Whatdidthegirls do?"

"Who?"

"Thebadgirls.You know,Nanny,thebad,badgirls." Heshakes

his hips. "Whyare theybad?"

"Theydidn't listentotheirnannies."

Mrs. X didn't seem to noticeas shebreezedpast me toher bedroomthat,in a torrentialApril downpour,

I left wearing only a T-shirt, carrying my sweater and coat in a shopping bag. I wait for the elevator, gingerlyputtingmysweater backonsoI don't freeze. I gotasmuchfrostingoutofmyhair asI couldin the laundry room, but I'm still crumbling out a few hardened bits when the elevator door opens. "Oh, shit." He looks flustered. "Hi!" "Hi!" I can't believe it! "What are you doing here?" "Oh, man," he says, crestfallen, "I wasgoingtosurpriseyou.I hadthiswholeplan,with flowersandeverything?

"Well, mission accomplished! What happened to Canciin?" I step into the elevator, shaking at the

unexpectedsightofmy H. H. inmuddyjeansandmyNYUsweatshirt. "Thatwasjusttothrowyouoffthescent. wasgoingtobewaiting inthelobbytomorrownight. na suit. We were going to go dancing." I beam at him and he gives me a once-over. "Looks like you and Grayer havebeendoingperformance artagain."

"Well, I've just returned from the Play Date in Hell with a crackhead mom. And I'm not being metaphorical, I mean an actual crackhead. She was coked up out of her mind, determined to be Betty fuckingCrockerandwegotdraggedrightintoit?

"God, I missed you," he interrupts, grinning from ear to ear as the door opens to the lobby. He leans over towipetracesof frosting

213 gently off my eyebrow and, without a second thought, I reach my arm under his to press the button for theeleventhfloor.Thedoorpolitely slidesclosed.

It is a carnalfrostingfrenzy.

Wrapped in his navy flannel sheet, I perch on the edge of H. H.'s kitchen table as he throws a dryer

sheet in with my clothes. He closes the metal door. "Hungry?" He turns, illuminated by the light from

theneighbors'kitchen.

"Whatdoyouhave?" I askasheopensthefridge.

"My mom usually leaves a pretty stocked kitchen when she knows I'm going to be here by myself.

Tortellini?" Hebrandishes apackage.

"Ugh,ifI never seeanothertortellini? I shuffleover topeerintotherefrigeratoralongsidehim.

"Lasagna?" heasks.

"Ooooh,yes, please."

"Howaboutsomewine?"

I nod, grabbing a bottle of red and pushing the door closed with my hip. I lean against the fridge and

watchhim pullout platesandsetusup atthetableinhispolka-dot boxers. Gome.

"ShouldI heatthisup?" heasks,kissing mybareshoulderashepasses.

"Probably.Wantsomehelp?"

"No, you sit down." He hands me a wine glass. "You've had a hard day, frosting girl." He pulls

silverware outof a drawerandcarefully lays itoutonthetable.

"So,whereareyour parents?"

"TheytookmybrothertoTurkeyforhis break."

"Whyaren't youinTurkey?"I sipmywine.

"BecauseI'm here."Hesmiles.

"Hereisgood."I pour a secondglassandhandittohim.

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Helooksover atme,illuminatedbythelightfrom themicrowave. "You lookbeautiful."

"Oh, this old thing? It's a toga from the L. L. Bean collection." He laughs. "You know, I'm doing Latin

with Grayer now. HowoldwereyouwhenyoustartedLatin?"

"Umm . .. fourteen?" Hepulls thelasagnaoutof themicrowave andcomes over with twoforks.

"Well, you must have been a late bloomer, because he's four. He's wearing a tie now, have I mentioned