The Nanny Diaries (21 page)

"Hello?" Shesoundsannoyed.

"Justine,I'm sosorry.Whatairline doeshefly?"

"American.ButNanny,I reallywouldn't..." Hervoicetrails off.

THE NANNY

ARIES

"What?"

"I'm surehe'll call. I wouldn't bother to..."

"Okay.Well, thanks,bye."

I getthenumber frominformation,becauseI don't knowwhatelsetodo.

"Hello,thankyouforcallingAmericanAirlines. ThisisWendyspeaking.HowmayI help you?"

"Hello.Yes, I'm calling to find out if thereany delays on the flights from Chicagoto NewYork tonight,

or if apassengerXchangedhis flight?"

"I'm sorry,butI can't give outinformationonparticularpassengers."

"Well, canyoutell meifthereareanydelays?"

"Holdon, I'll check."Theotherlinebeeps.

"Hello,thisistheXes'residence. MayI askwho's callingplease?" I say.

"Who's this?" a malevoiceasks.

"Hi,it's Nanny?

"Who?"

"Nanny?

"Whatever. Listen,tellMrs. X myplaneis snowedinhereinChicago. I'll callher tomorrow."

"I'm sureshe'd liketotalkto?

"Can't now."Thelinegoesdead.

I click back.

"Hello,miss?Thanksforholding.Therearenodelays.All flightsarerunningonschedule."

"Thankyou,"I say, hangingup.Shit. Shit. Shit.

1 walk slowly through the living room and go stand outside the library, where Mrs. X and Grayer are

seatedonthenavyleathercouch,studying theweatherintheMidwest.

"So staytuned,becauseafter thebreakwe'll betalkingtoCindy

in Little Springs about what it's doing on her back porch," a perky voice says from the television. I feel

queasy.

"Nanny?" Sheroundsthedoor frame,nearlyknockingintome. "It justoccurredtome. all Justineand

getthenumberof his hotel.Theweather's fine. aybehis meetingranlate."

"Urn,actually Mr. Xjustcalledontheotherline,while I wasonholdwiththeairline, andthat's whathe

said.Hismeetingranlate. Sohesaidhe'll calltomorrownightand,uh?

Sheraisesherpalmuptosilenceme. "Whydidn't youcome getme?"

"He,um,hesaidhehadtogo?

"I see."Shepressesher lipstogether. "Andwhatelse didhesay?"

I can feel small beads of perspiration rolling down my sides. "He said, um, he was just going to spend

thenightthere."I castmyeyes downtoavoidhergaze.

Shetakes a stepcloser. "Nanny,I wantyou.To tellme. Exactly.Whathesaid."

Pleasedon't makeme dothis.

"Well?" Shewaitsforananswer.

"Hesaidhewassnowedinandhe'll call youtomorrow,"I sayquietly.

Sheshudders.

I glance up. She looks as if I've just slapped her and I return my eyes to the floor. She walks back into

the library, picks up the remote and turns off the television, silencing and darkening the room. She

remains immobile, silhouetted against the lights of Park Avenue, her red silk gown shimmering in the

somberblueroom, herhandstill grippingtheremote.

Grayer's wide eyes stare up at me in the darkness from where he sits, hands carefully crossed in his lap. "Come on, Grayer. Let's get readyforbed."I extendmyhandandhewriggles offthecouchandfollows me withoutprotest.

THE NANNY DIARIES

Heisuncharacteristicallyquietwhile webrushteethandputonpajamas. 1 readhim Mais^ GoestoBed

about alittle mousewith asimple mission.

"'Maisybrushedher teeth.'Did Grayerbrushhis teeth?"

"Yes."

"'Maisywashedherfaceandhands.'Did Grayerwash his face

andhands?"

"Yes." Andsoonuntilhe's yawning andhiseyes areopening

andclosing.

I stand to kiss him on the forehead and realize his hand is clenching my sweater. I gently uncurl his

fingers. "Goodnight,

Grover."

I walk tentatively out into the cold, gray light of the marble foyer. "Mrs. X?" 1 call out. "I'm leaving.

Okay?" Noanswer.

I walk down the long, dark hall to her bedroom, through the numerous hot pools of light illuminating thepaintings. Thedoor is open. "Mrs. X?" I enter her bedroomand can hearthesoundof muffledcrying coming from

behind the closed dressing-room door. "Um, Mrs. X? Grayer's asleep. Do you need anything?" Quiet.

"I'm just gonna go, okay?" I stand right up against the door and can hear her weeping quietly on the

other side. The image of her curled up on the floor in her beautiful gown makesme put myhands to my

chest.

"Nanny?" avoice,strainingtosoundcheerful,calls out. "Is

thatyou?"

"Yes." I pickupour emptywineglasses fromthebedsidetable,

carefultokeepthemfromclinking.

"Okay,yougoonahead.Seeyoutomorrow."

"Um, there's still somepizzaleft. Doyouwantme towarmitupforyou?"

"No,that's okay. Goodnight."

"Are yousure? 'Causeit's notrouble."

"No,that's reallyfine. Seeyoutomorrow."

161

"Okay, good night." I walk back down the long beige hall to the kitchen, place the glasses in the sink,

and put out a fruit plate, just in case. I decide to wait till I get downstairs to cancel their expired

reservation.

I go back into the hall, grab my coat and boots, and pull my paper heart out from Grayer's stroller

pocket. It sprinklestheblack-and-white tile with a lightdusting of red glitter. I kneeland press myhand

over thesparkles,quicklyliftingthemupandbrushingthemintomybackpack.

Herlowsobsgive wayto adeep,animal-like keeningasI gentlyclosethedoorbehindme.

They all felt that there was no sense in their living together, and that any group of people, who had met together by chance at an inn would have had more in common than they, the members of the Oblonsky family and their servants. The wife did not leave her own rooms and the husband stayed away from home all day. Thechildrenstrayed all over thehouse,notknowingwhattodowiththemselves.

. NNAKARENINA

OnMondayatnoonI wait inthe schoolcourtyard, having watchedMrs. Butters pateachof her heavily

bundledstudentsontheheadandsendthemofftowaiting nannies,andstill noGrayer.

"Mrs. Butters?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"Was Grayer inschooltoday?"

"No."Shegrins atme.

"Okay,thanks,"I say.

"Sure."

"Great."

"Well, then .. ." Shenodsher head, indicatingthis productiveexchangeis over andtoddlesback intothe

building, hervelvet patchworkscarfblowingoutbehind her. I standfor a moment,unsureofwhattodo. I am justreachingformycellphonewhensuddenlyI am dealt astunningblowtothebackof myleg.

"Hi-yaa!"

I turn to see a small woman reproving a very large boy crouched in a menacing karate stance. "No,

Darwin,"shesays, "nochoppingthepeople."

"Where's Grayer?I wanttoplaywith his toys."

"I'm sorry,canI helpyou?" I say, rubbingmyleg.

She gently pushes the boy's fingers off her face while patiently replying, "I am Sima. This is Darwin.

We weresupposedtoplaywith Grayertoday."

"I wanttoseehis toys. NOW!" her chargescreamsupatmewith bothhandsin akaratestance.

"It's nice to meet you, Sima. I'm Nanny. I guess Grayer must havestayed home today,but I didn't know

hehad a playdate. Let mejustcallhis mother."I dial thenumber,butMrs. X's voicemail picksup andI click off. "Okay, well, let's go home, then!," I say, trying to be cheerful, but unsure of what we'll find once we get there. I help Sima with Darwin's bag and we trek throughtheslush to 721.1 takean instant dislike to Darwin, as I have spent all of three minutes with him and am already in a perpetual state of flinching. Sima, on theother hand, is completely soft, almost graceful, in her efforts to deflect Darwin's chops.

I stickmykeyinthedoorandopenit slowly,calling, "Hello?I'm herewith DarwinandSima!"

"Oh, my," Sima murmurs beside me as we make eye contact. The stench of roses is overwhelming. While Mr. X failed to return from what is becoming the longest business trip on record, he has, in his absence,beensendingtwo dozenlong-stemmed rosesto721 Parkevery morningsinceValentine's Day. Mrs. X refuses to have them in her or Grayer's wing, but also can't seem to bring herself to throw them out. More than thirty vases fill the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Consequently, the air-conditioning is on, but thatonly seems to blowthe cloying stenchfrom one sideof theapartment to the other.

BasedonwhatI've piecedtogetherfromthefloristcards, Mr. X

THE NANNY DIARIES

promised to take his wife and child out to Connecticutthis past weekend for "family time," making the last two heavenly days the first weekend I've had completely off in the month since Valentine's. "GRAYER! GRAAYYRR!" Darwin bellows at the top of his lungs before ripping away from his coat andrunninginthedirectionofGrayer's room.

"Please take your coat off and have a seat, I'll just go check with Grayer's mom and let her know that we're home." I puthis bagdownnexttothebenchinthefronthallandslipmybootsoff.

"That's okay. I'll just keep my coat on, thank you." Her smile tells me that I don't need to explain the frigid temperature or the mortuary flowers. I attempt to weave my way around the vases toward Mrs. X's office,onlytofinditempty.

I follow the sound of the boys' hyena giggles to Grayer's room, where his bed is serving as a barricade inthewarbetween apajama-clad GrayerandDarwin. "Hi,Grover."

He's busy bombing Darwin with stuffed animals and looks up only briefly to acknowledgeme. "Nanny, I'm hungry. I wantbreakfastnow!"

"You meanlunch?Where's yourmom?" Hedives toavert aflyingstuffedfrog.

"I dunno.AndI meanbreakfast!" Huh.

I find Connie in Mr. X's office, turning Grayer's fort back into a couch. The room is the messiest I've seenanypart of the apartmentsince I've been here. Small plates with leftover pizza crusts linethe floor and every Disney video is strewn about, separate from its case. "Hey, Connie. How was your weekend?" I ask. "You're lookin' at it." She gestures to the mess. "I was here all weekend. Mr. X didn't show, and she don't want to be alone with Grayer. She made me come all the way back from the Bronx ateleven Fridaynight. 1 hadtotakemykids over tomysister's.

Wouldn't even pay for a taxi. She didn't say boo to that boy all weekend." She picks up a plate. "Last night1 finallyjusttoldher I hadtogohome, butshedidn't likeit."

"Oh,myGod,Connie,I'm sosorry.Thatsucks. Sheshould've calledme. couldatleasthavedonethe nights."

"What?Andletthelikesof youknowshecan't get herown husbandhome?"

"Whereis she?"

She points me toward the master bedroom. "Her Highnesscame in an hour ago and went straight to her

room."

I knock on the door. "Mrs. X?" I ask tentatively. I push it open and it takes a moment for my eyes to

adjust to the darkness. She is sitting on the ecru carpet, surrounded by shopping bags, her flannel

nightgownpeekingoutfromunderher furcoat.Theheavygrosgrainshadesaredrawn.

"Couldyou close the door?" She leans back against the bureau, breathing deeply into a wad of lavender

tissue paper pulled from one of the bags. She wipes her nose and looks up at the ceiling. Afraid that

anything thatI askwill bethewrongquestion,I wait forher tolead.

Shestaresoffintothedarknessandthenasks in a flatvoice, "Howwasyourweekend,Nanny?"

"Okay?

"We had a great weekend. It was ... fun. Connecticut was beautiful. We went sledding. You should've

seenGrayer andhis father. It wasadorable. Really, a greatweekend."

O-kaaay.

"Nanny,is thereany wayyou could come tomorrowmorning and just..." She seems exhausted. "Maybe

helpGrayer getofftoschool. He's justso ... Hewantedhis pinkpantsandI didn't havethestrength?

"I SHOTYOU!YOUSHOULDBEDEAD!"

"NO!YOUAREDEAD!DIE!DIE!"

THE NANNY DIARIES

Theboys' voicesgetlouder,asdoesthesoundofstuffedanimals beingpelteddownthehall.

"Nanny,takethemout. Just. .. takethemtothemuseumorsomething. 1 can't... I needto?

"DIE NOW!I SAID DIE!"

"Absolutely.We cantotallytakethemout. CanI getyouany?

"No.Please,justgo."Hervoice catchesandshegrabs moretissuefromherbags.

As I gingerly close the door behind me, Grayer jumps out at the far end of the long hall. His eyes go to

thedoorandthentome. Hehurls hisWinnie-the-Poohatmyheadwith a littletoomuchforce.