Minding Ben (16 page)

Ben looked up at his mom. “Finnegan tried to take my dump truck, Mommy.”

“He did?” Miriam hugged her son and looked at me. The spots on the sides of her mouth were faded, and the little craters on her cheeks were Spackled smooth with face clay. “Grace, Ben doesn't have to share his toys with anyone if he doesn't want to. It's totally up to him,” she told me.

Ule pulled her mouth into a straight line. Evie said, “Well, Caleb and Sammy don't have a choice. Is the two of them together, so them have to learn to share.”

Soon, the other sitters were packing up to go in. Evie, too, started gathering the twins' toys. I wondered how long Miriam would stay in the park. I walked over to the sandbox and asked Finnegan for Ben's dump truck, then picked up his jacket.

“No, Grace,” Ben said, “Mommy do.”

I handed her the jacket and looked again at the subway exit next to the park, expecting any minute to see Kathy's scrunchie ascending.

Evie, with the twins strapped in, turned to Ule. “You coming?”

“You go,” Ule said, “me waiting till my friend come back.”

I knelt to buckle Ben in. “Are you having lunch with us, Miriam?” I asked her.

“I've got to get back,” she said, “but I'll sit with you for a while. Hey, Ben, guess what? Mommy's going to have pizza pie with you.”

I pulled my head back just in time to avoid another busted lip from Ben as he kicked his legs.

Ule waved at me. “I'll see you when you bring him out later,” she said.

This was crazy. I was leaving Kathy's kid with a strange woman in the park. I pushed the stroller while Miriam and Ben chattered. Luckily she didn't catch it when he said, “We're leaving the baby, Grace?”

Of course she took forever to leave. It was after one when I got back to the park, pushing Ben furiously across the street as the red sign flashed
DON'T WALK
. Ule and both carriages were gone, and I cursed myself for not going upstairs first and calling Kath on her job. We raced back, and Ben said, “Wheeeee! We're going fast, Grace,” and then “Oh, fuck” when we hit a hole in the pavement.

I didn't know which apartment Ule worked in and I didn't want to ask Duke. I willed the glass elevator doors to open. “Say ‘open sesame,' Ben,” I told him. He did, and the doors opened and shut, then opened and shut again on the twenty-second floor. I fumbled with the keys, opened the apartment door, and called Kathy with Ben still strapped into the carriage. When she answered the phone and I started to cry, she laughed. “Me 'ave 'im, fool. Ule said you had left about ten minutes before with Miriam. Thanks.”

O
n Tuesday night the Bruckners ate dinner and I got a head start cleaning the kitchen, running into the dining room every so often to bring Ben juice or get fresh pepper for Sol's London broil. After a while, I heard Sol ask Miriam how she felt.

“Much better. Twelve weeks come Saturday, and after that hooray! Coffee.”

“So, Mir,” Sol asked, “what do you think? After this term full-time mama?”

A fork chinked against a plate. “I'm not sure, babe”—the raspiness of her voice clashed with the tender word—“maybe one more year.”

“Mir, this is ridiculous. The firm is mine. You haven't needed to work since ever. Just quit already. We can still have help, you know.”

I wiped the counter in slow circles, trying to hear everything. The worst possible job was with a stay-at-home mother whose main task quickly became managing you.

“Why don't you just quit?”

“Quit it, Mommy,” Ben said, and Sol replied, “Thank you, buddy.”

“I'll quit when I'm ready, okay.” She lowered her voice, but I could still hear. “I don't want anyone to say I married you for your money. You know that's what they all say anyway.”

“Who says that? Name one person.”

“Please . . . let's not pretend. Ettie. And your sister. Your father is the only one who likes me, and even he doesn't think I'm good enough for you.”

“Come on, Mir, be fair. Mom loves your spunk. She adores Ben. And Dad worships him.”

“Of course they love Ben, Sol. Look at him. He's a Bruckner. I'm lucky he was born with red hair.”

“You're talking nonsense. You don't have to show anyone anything. I can take care of you and Ben just fine. End of story. Your job's the only thing keeping us in the city.”

The counter was spotless, and my fingers were irritated from the cleanser-soaked sponge. When Sol called my name, I jumped.

“Can you clear the table? We're done.”

I moved around collecting their plates and glasses.

“So, Grace,” Sol said. “We hear you're going up to Dave's?”

Danny, of course.

“Dave? Um, no . . . I'm not going up to Dave's,” I said. “I saw him in the lobby Sunday night, and he told me to come up and see the view. I haven't gone.”

“Dave's fantastic.” Miriam propped her chin and smiled. “You can go up when you're done with your work here.”

This was not what I had expected. “But . . . I don't even know him.”

Sol laughed. “Don't worry. Dave's as harmless as a plant.”

How did he know?

“Well,” Miriam said, “you're safe up there. Plus, he does have the best view. Can you bring us the gelato?”

Okay, this was my chance. I'd been waiting for a week for the right time, and here they were, laughing and smiling and encouraging me to go up to some strange man's house. This had to be it. I placed the ice cream on the table. The label on which Miriam had written “don't touch!” curled on one side.

“Um, Miriam . . . Sol? I need to ask you a question, please.” Ben ran down the hall to his room. I held the back of his empty high chair. “What about the sponsorship? When would you want to start that?” There. I'd said it.

Miriam licked the back of her spoon. “Grace, let's wait and see. You've been here a week. Who knows, maybe you won't want to come back next week.”

I had to be persistent. “Wait for how long, exactly?”

“Mmmm . . . Let's wait one month,” Sol said. “If in a month everything's working out, you're comfortable and Ben's doing well, we'll go ahead and start the filing. How does that sound to you?”

That wasn't unreasonable. “Okay, thanks. By the end of April, then,” I said, with a longing glance at Ben's abandoned ice cream.

BEFORE SHE LEFT FOR
work Wednesday morning, Miriam called me into Ben's room and closed the door. She placed a pair of denim overalls on the bed. “Dress Ben in these when he gets up from his nap,” she told me. “Take cash from the money cup for a cab, and bring back receipts for both directions. Ettie's address is on the list.”

“Okay. How long should we stay?”

She chewed the corner of her lip, eating a good third of her left red splotch. “Listen, Grace”—Miriam turned to see that the door was closed all the way—“don't tell Ettie anything, okay?”

“Anything about what?”

“Anything about anything. Whatever she asks about, you just smile and tell her you don't know anything.”

I nodded.

“And make sure Ben wears the overalls, even if he doesn't want to.”

“Sure, of course.”

“Thanks, Grace,” she said. “I mean it.”

THIS TIME JANE SMILED
when she saw me. She knelt and unbuckled Ben from the carriage and managed to get a quick kiss before he ran into the apartment calling, “Choo choo.”

“Is amazing 'ow much 'im look like Sol when 'im was likkle,” she said, showing me where to park the carriage.

“You have pictures of Sol as a baby?” I asked her.

Jane stopped and cocked her head. “Me not talking 'bout some pictures, you know. Is not me self who mind Solomon from 'im born out Ettie belly? I tell you last time I been working for this family for too damn long. I mind Solomon and the next one. But this is the end.” She dusted her hands together. “Next year I am going back to sweet Jamaica. Old Jane tired stand on these two foot.”

Jesus Christ in the wilderness. Forty years of domestic labor. I tried to imagine knowing Ben's wife and children and still working for Sol and Miriam at fifty-seven.

“Miss Ettie and Nancy gone to the stores, but them soon come.” She paused outside the kitchen. “You and Ben done eat lunch already?” she asked. We had. “Okay, you can go in the back and see what Ben and the old man doing. Come to the kitchen if you want anything.”

Ben knew the drill and had run straight into the room where his grandfather's model train was set up. I followed and was greeted by Big Ben, wearing saggy denim overalls, a bulky turtleneck, and a striped cap.

“Wow,” I said, walking over, “this is amazing.” And it was. Big Ben had a real setup. The tracks rested on a platform about the size of two pool tables, with rails that looped around glassy ponds and over a river with a fancy metal bridge. The tracks snaked up steep hills with orange and red fall foliage; miniature cows grazed in cool, green pastures. Tiny people in warm winter gear clustered in the waiting areas of the two stations, while porters permanently strained under the weight of their packed trunks.

“It's not bad, is it,” said Big Ben. “Seems wrong for a grown man to be playing with toys, but I love it.” He looked down at Ben. “Let's show Grace how she runs.”

He eased the throttle, and the train slowly shunted into the station. On cue Ben called out, “All aboard!” The whistle screeched as the locomotive pulled out, leaving the people and porters on the platform despite Ben's warning. Even though Ben must have seen this circuit countless times, he leaned against the tabletop edge and followed the train's progress without missing a curve or a climb.

“I want to drive a big dump truck and a choo-choo train when I grow up. Choo choo,” Ben said.

Big Ben laid his head against the chair and worked his fingers in Ben's red curls. “You can be anything you want if it makes you happy.” And then to me, “What about you, Grace? What do you want to do?”

That question again, and I realized I still didn't have an answer. I had wanted to get away from the island and from my mother. I had wanted to come to New York. Now that I was here, I didn't know what to do, or how. I shrugged. “Go to school?”

“Grace, you have to get on the school bus,” Ben said.

His grandfather agreed. “Look into the city schools, Grace. Hunter, City, Brooklyn's good too. I used to sit on their board a long time ago. Everything was a long time ago now. But school is the right place to start.”

He closed his wet eyes, and Ben relaxed against his chest, the flame of the child's red hair burning bright against the dull gray of his grandfather's turtleneck.

LATER I MET NANCY
, another tall, redheaded Bruckner. She looked normal. You couldn't tell she was a lesbian.

“Mom, you were right. She is just gorgeous. But, Grace,” she said, “what are you doing working for Sol and Miriam? You should come down to Perry Street, to my studio. I could paint you all day long.”

“Thank you,” I said, waiting for one of them to ask me to sit down. “You are a painter?”

“Oh, and I love the way you speak.” She singsonged, “You are a pain-ter.” Then “Yep, I'm the artist in this family.”

I thought about that, being an artist, painting all day long. Walking around the city, looking for inspiration, and then coming home to put it all down on canvas. “What do you paint?”

“Oh, darling, do not get her started,” Ettie said. “Sit down and talk to us. How're Sol and Miriam doing?”

“They're good,” I managed.

Ettie snorted. “Good, is that all they are? How's Miriam feeling? Has she been shopping?”

“Mom, don't pick on Grace.”

“Is that what I'm doing? Well, sorry, Grace. I don't want to pick on you.” To Nancy, she said, “I bet you she's been buying more of those precious animal figurines. God, she must have about two hundred of those things.”

Nancy laughed. “They mean something to her, Mother. And you know Sol buys them for her too, so it's not just Miriam to blame.”

“Peasant roots.”

“Grace, you will have to excuse my mother. She's quite a snob, really,” Nancy told me.

Ettie turned to face her daughter. “Is that what you think, Nancy? That I'm a snob?”

Nancy didn't flinch, and she didn't change her tone. “You're so hard on Miriam, Mom. You won't give her a break. Not everyone comes from”—she cast one arm out at the room—“this.”

Ettie sat up. “Precisely, Nancy. Not everyone comes from this, but certainly, certainly—and even Grace from Africa I'm sure will agree with me—even if you don't come from it, once you are exposed to
this
, as you call it”—and here she mimicked Nancy's sweeping arm—“shouldn't your instincts be able to . . . to appreciate, to
want
, okay, if not want then at least to
know.
One wants objects that please the eyes, not offend. Surely you of all people agree with me, Nancy.”

Nancy eyed Ettie. “I'm not agreeing to anything, Mother. Maybe Miriam finds beauty in her figurines. Maybe it's as simple as that. Ask Grace.” Nancy turned to me. “Grace, what do you think about Miriam's collection?”

I didn't think anything, except that they collected dust.

“Now you leave Grace out of this, darling,” Ettie said, pressing her palms on the seat to push herself up. “I'll just go in and see what my boys are doing at the station.”

NANCY SHARED OUR CAB
downtown, Ben half asleep between us. She twisted in her seat, looking over at me as the car inched through heavy traffic. I glanced at her fingernails to see how long they were. At the convent where I had gone to school, the lore was that the girls with short nails were lesbians. Sure enough, Nancy's nails were cut to the quick and unpolished. I shifted a little closer to the door.

“So how long have you lived in New York?” she asked me.

“Just over a year,” I said, and because I didn't want her to question me the entire ride home, I asked her, “Is Sol older or younger than you?”

She reached over to scratch Ben's head. “Solly is my baby brother. You know, Grace, I saw the other woman Sol and Miriam interviewed, and I liked her. She seemed very prim, you know, a proper nanny for Ben.” She smiled at me. “But now I know why Mom and Dad preferred you, though.”

“Why?”

“Are you kidding me?”

I shook my head.

“Look at you. You're perfect for Mom, and Mom gets what she wants, usually. She's probably the one paying your salary, for all I know.”

I thought about this, and since Nancy seemed willing to talk, asked, “So what, Miriam didn't have a choice?”

“Of course she had a choice, darling.” Nancy patted her nephew's head. “But even if you weren't the nanny she wanted, you're the nanny she's convinced she should have.”