Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

afternoon.Gotit?"Twelve headsnodsolemnly.

"Butwhatiftherewas a warandtheonlyplacetogoforsafetywasbythepooland?

"What's yourname?" I askthefreckledbrunetwith glasses.

"Ronald."

"Ronald, no more silly questions. If there's a war we go to the shed. Okay, everyone, go play!" I run

inside, looking out every window I pass to make sure no one is even creeping toward the pool, to find

Grayer's artkit.

I set up crayons, construction paper, and scotch tape on the patio table. "Okay, listen up! I want you all

tocomeover here,oneat atime, andtellme yourname."

"Arden," asmall girlinOshKoshB'Goshtellsme.

I write "ARDEN" and a big "1" on her impromptu name tag and then tape it to her shirt. "Okay,Arden,

you're one. Everytime I callout 'Headcount!'youshout 'One!'Gotthat?All youhaveto

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remember is 'one.'" She climbs up into mylap and becomes myassistant, passing me the tapeand pens,

alternately.

For an hour everyone runs around on the grass, some play with Grayer's toys, others just chase each

other,while I look out atthefog-covered ocean.Every fifteenminutes I call out "HEADCOUNT!" and

theysoundoff.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Silence. 1 tensetorundowntothepool.

"Jessy,you're four,dummy."

"Four!" a small voice squeaks.

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"Grayer!"

"Nine!"

"Ten!"

"Eleven!"

"Twelve!"

"Okay, time for lunch!" I survey the troops. I am wary about leaving them outside while I inspect the

supplies. "Everyone inside!"

"Awww!"

"Come on,we canplayoutsideafter lunch."I slidethewobbling

glass doorclosedafter number 12.

"Nanny,what's forlunch?I'm reallyreally hungry,"Grayer asks.

"1 dunno. Let's go take a look." Grayer follows me into the kitchen, leaving 7,9, and 3, who are turning

thelivingroomcouch

into afort.

I pull open the fridge. "Okay, let's see what we've got!" Umm, three fat-free yogurts, a box of

SnackWell's, aloafof fat-freesourdough,mustard,brie,localjam,and a zucchini.

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"Okay, troops! Listen up!" Eleven hungry faces look up at me from their various tasks in the group

mission to destroy the living room. "Here are the choices: we have jam sandwiches, but you may not

like the bread. Or we have brie sandwiches, but you may not like the cheese. Or we have Cheerios, but

no sugar to sprinkle on top. So, I would like you to come in the kitchen one at a time to taste the bread

andthecheeseandseewhichoneyouwant."

"I wantpeanutbutterandjelly!" Ronaldshouts.

I turn around and shoot him a quick Look of Death. "This is war, Ronald. And in war you get the

supplies your commanding officer sends you." I salute him. "So let's all be good soldiers and eat the cheese." I'm making the last sandwich when the first raindrops fall, blanketing the sliding doors with a thick

sheetofwater.

"Bye, Carson!" Grayer andI call outastheSpendersbegintopullout ofthedriveway Sundaynight.

"Bye, Grayer!" she calls back from her car seatand then puts her right thumb up to her nose and waves her fingers at me. Despite my best efforts all weekend I was evidently never able to work my way back intohergoodgracesafter "taking"herprivacy.

"Grayer, are you ready?" Mrs. X comes outside in a green and cream silk coat, Prada's signature look thisspring,puttinginher rightpearlearring.

"Mommy,canI bringmyKokichu?" heasks.

We've beeninvited over for a "casualSundaysupper" attheHomers' andGrayer feels he needs tocome

equippedwith somethingtoshare,sinceEllie,their four-year-old,has a guineapig.

"I supposethat'll be okay. Whydon't we leave it in the car when we get there and then I'll let you know ifit's okaytobringitout?Nanny,whydon't yourunupstairs andchange?"

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"I am changed," I say, glancing down to confirm that I am still wearing clean chinos and a white

turtlenecksweater.

"Oh.Well, I supposeit's okay.You'll probablybeoutsidewith thechildrenmost of thetime, anyway."

"Okay, everybody in thecar!" Mr. X comes by, swooping Grayer up, and carries him, sack-of-potatoes!style, outside.

As soon as we get in the car Mr. X plugs his cell phone into the dashboard and starts dictating

instructions to Justine's voice mail. The rest of us sit quietly, Grayer clutching his Kokichu, me balled

upunderthecanoestaringatmybellybutton.

As Mr. X unplugs his cell phone he sighs. "This is a really bad week for me to be away from the office.

It's terribletiming."

"ButyousaidthebeginningofJunewasgoingtobequiet?shesays.

"Well, I'm justwarningyou I'll probablyhavetogobackonThursdayfor ameeting."

Sheswallows. "Well,whenwill youbeback?"

"I'm not sure. It looks like I'll probably have to stay over the weekend to entertain the execs from

Chicago."

"I thoughtyourworkwith theChicagoofficewasdone,"shesays tightly.

"It's not that simple. Now there's the issue of layoffs, merging divisions. eorging and making this

thingrun."

Shedoesn't reply.

"Besides,I witt havebeenhere awhole week,"hesays,makinga

leftturn.

"Whyareyouturningawayfromthewater?" sheasks edgily.

We have trouble finding the house because, according to the instructions, it's on the inland side of the

mainroad.

"I just can't believe they wouldn't have an oceanview," Mrs. X says, as she forces us to round the same

trafficcircle forthethirdtime. "Give me backtheinstructions."

Heballsup thepieceofpaperandthrowsitather withouttak!

ing his eyes off the road. She smooths it out methodically on her knee. "You must have copied them

downbackward."

"Let's becrazyandjustfollowthefuckingdirections andseewherewe endup," hehisses.

"I'm starving.I'm gonnadieifI don't eat," Grayermoans.

Dusk is falling when we finally pull into the Homers' shingled, three-story house. Ferdie, their golden

retriever, is sleeping peacefully on the wraparound porch under the hammock and the crickets chirp

loudlyingreeting.JackHornerpushesthescreendoor open,wearing fadedjeansandBirkenstocks.

"Takeoffyourtie!Quick!" Mrs. Xwhispers.

"Parkanywhere!" heshoutswith a broadsmilefromtheporch.

Mr. X isdivestedofhis blazer,tie,andcufflinks beforewe canget outofthecar.

I stretchout my cramped back as I walk aroundto thetrunk.I fish the rhubarbpie Mrs. X boughtat the

supermarket this morning out of the cooler. "Here, I'll take that," she says, walking off after Mr. X,

who's holding a bottle of wine, and followed by Grayer, holding his Kokichu in front of him, like the

threewise men.

"Jack!"Themenshakehandsandclapeachotherontheback.

Elliepeeksaroundthe door. "Mom!They're here!"

Jack ushers us into the cozy living room, where one wall is completely covered in the children's art and

a macaronisculpturesitsonthecoffeetable.

Carolinecomes outofthekitchenwearingjeansand awhiteblouse, wipingherhandsonher apron. "Hi!

I'm sorry,don't shakemy hands. was just marinating the steaks." Ellie attaches herself to Caroline's

leg. "Didyouguys haveanytroublefindingtheplace?"

"Not atall, yourdirections wereperfect,"Mrs. Xquicklyresponds. "Here."Shehandsoffthepiebox.

"Oh, thank you. Hey, Elle, whydon't you showGrayer your room?" She bumps the girl gently with her

hip.

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"Wanna see my Kokichu?" He takes a step forward, proffering the fluffy ball. She looks down at the

yellow furandrunsoff,Grayer's cuetofollow,andtheyscamperupstairs.

"Nanny,whydon't yougowatch thekids?" Mrs. Xsays tome.

"Oh, they're fine. I took away Elite's Ginsu knives, so Grayer should be safe," Caroline says, laughing.

"Nanny,wouldyoulikesomewine?"

"Yes, drinks.What's your pleasure?" Jackasks.