Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

She smiles. "Frankly, Nanny, I just don't feel that your heart's in it anymore and I think Grayer can sensethat, too.We need someone who can give Grayer their full commitment, don't you agree? I mean, for the money we're paying you, with the new baby coming, we should really have someone more professional."Shestands. "I'll give you ahand,soyoudon't wakeGrayer."

She follows me toward the stairs. I walk up ahead of her, frantically running through scenarios that mightgiveme achancetosay

THE NANNY DIARIES

good-bye to him. She comes behind me into the small room and stands between our beds with crossed arms, watching me carefully as I hastily stuff my things into my bag, awkwardly moving around her in thecrampedspace.

Grayer moansinhis sleepandrolls over. I achetowakehim.

I finish collecting my things in her shadow and sling my bag up over my shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of Grover's hand in a tightfist floppedover theside of the bed, the Batman Band-Aid sticking out beneathhispushed-up pajamasleeve.

She gestures for me to walk past her to the door. Before I can help it, I reach out to smooth the damp hair off his forehead. She grabs my hand an inch from his face and whispers through clenched teeth, "Betternottowakehim." Shemaneuversmetothestairs.

As I startdown aheadof her myeyes fill with tears, causing the stairs to pitch beneath me and I have to grip thebanister tosteadymyself. Shebumps againstthebackofmybag.

"I... I... I justwanted?Myvoice iscoming outinlittle gulps. I turnuptofaceher.

"What?" she hisses, leaning menacingly forward. I pull back, the weight of my bag drawing me off balance as I start to fall. She instinctively reaches out and grabs my arm, swinging me against the banister asI rightmyself. We faceeachother,eye toeye onthesamestep. "What?" shechallengesme.

"She wasintheapartment," I say. "I justthoughtyoushouldknow,I mean,I?

"You fucking child." She comes back at me in this two-and-a-half-foot space with all theforce of years of suppressedrageand humiliation. "You. Have no idea.Whatyou're talkingabout. Is thatclear?" Each wordfeelslike apunch. "And I'd bevery careful. If I were you.Howyouregardour family?

Mr. X honks the car from the driveway, startling the puppy, who begins a round of sharp barking from thekitchen.Aswe reachthe

bottomofthestairsthenoisewakesGrayer. "Nanny!" hecries out. "NAAANNYYY!!"

Mrs. X pushes past me. "Ugh, thatdog,"she mutters, marchingto the kitchen. She shoves the swinging dooropenandthedogboundsout,yappingfiercelyather.

"Just takeit,"shesays, roughlyliftingthepuppyupbyherribcage.

"I couldn't?

"NANNY,COMEHERE. I NEEDTHELIGHTON. NANNY,WHEREAREYOU?"

"I said, take it." Mrs. X. thrusts her out at me. Her paws flail for solid ground, forcing me to

instinctively receive her before she's dropped. Mrs. X jerks the front door open, grabbing her purse off the side table. She pulls her checkbook out and scribbles furiously while I look over toward the stairs. "Here."Shehandsmethecheck.

I turnand walk past her onto the gravel driveway, as Grayer's increasinglyhysterical cries echo out into thedarkness.

"NAAAANNNNYYYY!INEEEEEEDYOOOOUl/171717!"

"Have a good trip!" she calls out from the doorway as I make my way shakily down the path lit by the

Rover's headlights,willing mykneesnottogive out.

I getinthefrontseatandtrytosteadymyhandsasI pulltheseatbeltacrossthepuppyandmyself. "Oh," Mr. X says, looking at her. "Yeah, I guess Grayer's a little young. Maybe in a few years." He

starts thecar and peels out of thedriveway, and before I can lookback to fix the house in mymind, it is eclipsedbythewoodsasheracesthecaracrosstheempty countryroads. He pulls into the deserted ferry dock and I open the door to get out. "Well," he says as if it's just

occurredtohim. "GoodluckwiththeMCATs. hey're a killer!" Assoonasthedoorslams, hepeelsoutoftheparkinglotand THE NANNY DIARIES drives away. I walk slowly into the nearly empty ferry terminal and look around for the schedule. The

nextferryisn't foranhour.

ThepuppywrigglesundermyarmandI scanthewaitingroomforanythingthatcouldserveas a carrier.

I go over to the guy who's closing up the Dunkin' Donuts counter and ask him for a bunch of plastic

bags and some string to fasten a makeshift leash. I pull all my clothes out of my tote, shove them in the

plasticbags, linethetotewith theremainingonesandplacethedoginontop.

"There you go," I say. She looks up at me and barks before hunkering down to chew on the plastic. I

slouchbackagainstthepeelingorangeseatandlookupintothefluorescentlight.

I canstill hearhimscreamingforme.

Butnobodyever knewwhatMaryPoppinsfeltaboutit, forMaryPoppinsnevertoldanybodyanything.

. ARYPOPPINS

CHAPTER TWELVE

It's Been a Pleasure

"Yo, lady!" I jolt awake. "Last stop. ort Authority!" the driver shouts from the front of the bus. I

hastily gather my things together. "I wouldn't be trying to sneak on any animals again, girlie. Or next

time you'll findyourself walkingbacktoNantucket,"hesays,leeringatmeover thesteeringwheel.

Thepuppyletsout a lowgrowl ofindignationandI stickmyhandinthetotetoquiether.

"Thanks,"I mutter. Fat gut.

Stepping down into the stench of the terminal, I squint in the brightness of the orange-tiled hallway.

The Greyhound clock reads 4:33 as I stand for a minute to get my bearings. My adrenaline completely

spent, I lower the tote to the ground between my feet and peel off my sweatshirt. The humid summer

heatisalreadytrappedinthetunnel,alongwith thestenchof commuter sweat.

I walk hurriedly up to the street level to find a cab, past closed bakeries and newsstands. Outside the

EighthAvenue exit hookers and cab drivers await their next jobs while I let the puppy out on her string

leashtopeeby asweatinggarbagecan.

"Whereto?" thecabbieasksasI slideinbehindmybags.

"Second and Ninety-third," I say, rolling down the window. I root around in the plastic bags for my

wallet andherbrown furry

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headpushesits wayout ofthetote,panting. "Nearlythere,little one.We'll betheresoon."

"Bethune?"heasks. "I thoughtyousaidUpperEast."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Ninety-third," I clarify.As I open my wallet Mrs. X's check flutters to the floor of the

cab. "Damn."I bendover toretrieveitinthedarkness.

"Paytotheorderof:Nanny.Five hundreddollars."

Five hundreddollars. Five hundreddollars?

Ten days. Sixteen hours a day. Twelve dollars an hour. So, that's like sixteen hundred dollars. o,

eighteenhundred. o,nineteenhundred!

FIVE HUNDREDDOLLARS!

"Wait, makethatseventwenty-one Park."

"Okay,lady."Hemakes a sharpU-turn. "You'repaying."

You havenoidea.

I unlock the Xes' front door and carefully push it open. The apartment is dark and silent. I put the tote

down and the puppy wriggles out of it as I drop the rest of my bags on the marble floor. "Pee

anywhere."

I reachforthedimmer on thehall switch, bathing thecenter tablein a tautcircle of light.Thespotlamp

poursbeautifulcoldripplesthroughthecut-crystal bowl.

I leanforward and rest myhands on the glass top thatprotects the brown velvet swags. Even now, even

as it's gotten this out of hand, I'm distracted from my thoughts of the Xes by the trappings of the Xes. Andreally,itstrikesme,isn't thatthepoint?

I pullbacktoseethetwoperfectpalmprintsI've leftontheglass.

Walking determinedly from room to room, I switch on the brass lamps, as if illuminating their home

will shedsomelightonhowI couldhaveworkedsohardandbeenhatedsomuch.

I openthedoortotheoffice.

MariahasstackedMrs. X'smailcarefully onherdeskjustthe

way she likes it ?envelopes, catalogs, and magazines each in separate piles. I riffle through them and