The Nanny Diaries (25 page)

THE NANNY DIARIES

gofor it. Here's thething,Nan.We're reallynotlookingtohire whitewomen rightnow."

She is so comfortable with this statement that I'm tempted to ask how many openings they have for white, feminist bitches. Even more bizarre, why a person of color might have a better time discussing theirmaternalissueswith complete strangers.Whitestrangers,nonetheless.

Richard stands, soaked with sweat and coughing a smoker's cough. "We have just gotten way too many resumesfrom whitegirls.You don't speakKorean,doyou?" I shakemyhead,speechless.

"Nan, we're trying to model diversity here, to represent an ideal community. SNOWFLAKE, HEEL!" Snowflake wanders back from where he has been sniffing around my bag. He passes me with his head down,swallowing thelastof mypeanuts.

I look at both of their very white faces against the backdrop of bright rainbows painted on the peeling wall behindthem. "Well,thankyoufortheopportunity,youhave avery interestingorganizationhere."I quicklygathermythings.

They walk me to the door. "Yeah, maybe next semester, we'll be doing some fund-raising work on the EastSide.Wouldyoubeinterestedinthat?" I pictureintroducingReenatoMrs. X attheMetsoshecan askher abouther rage.

"I'm really looking for fieldwork right now. Thanks, though." I get out the door and go directly to Burger King for an extra large fries and a Coke. Folded into an immobile red seat I sigh deeply, comparing Reenaand Richard with Janeand Mrs. X. Somewhereout there must be peoplewho believe in a middle ground between demanding children to "feel their rage" and overprogramming children so everyone can pretend they don't have any. I take a long sip of my soda.Apparently, I'm not going to be findingitanytime

soon.

"See, if I have two jellybeans and you have one jellybean, together we have three jellybeans!" I hold outthejellybeans tomakemypoint.

"I like the white ones and the ones that taste like banana. How do they do that, Nanny? How do they makeittastelikebanana?" Grayerlinesup thecoloredcandylikerailroadtracksonhis bedroomcarpet.

"I dunno, G. Maybe they mush up a banana and they mush up the jelly and then they mush it all togetherandcookitin a beanshape?"

"Yeah! A bean shape!" So much for math. "Nanny, try this one!" Yesterday's peony arrangement came

with aGrayer-sizetinofjellybeans.

"How about the green ones? How do they make those? We both hear the door slam. Only three hours

late,notbad.?

"DADDY!!" HerunsoutoftheroomandI followintothehall.

"Hey,sport.Where's yourmother?" HepatsGrayer ontheheadwhile looseninghistie.

"Here I am," she says and we all turn. She is wearing a powder-blue pencil skirt, kitten heels, a

cashmere V-neck sweater, eye shadow, mascara, and blush. Va-voom. If this were the first time my husband had been home in three weeks, I'd get dolled up, too. She smiles shakily beneath her rose lipstick.

"Well, let's get this started," he says, barely glancing at her before heading to the living room where Jane left her charts and diagrams. Grayer and his mother scamper in behind Mr. X and I am left behind inthefronthall. I take aseatonthebench,resumingmyroleaslady-in-waiting.

"Darling," Mrs. X begins with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Shall I have Connie get you a drink? Or perhaps some coffee? CONNIE!" I jump about three feet and Connie comes flying out of the kitchen, herhandsstill wet.

"Jesus,doyouhavetobesoshrill?No. I justate," Mr. X says.

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Connie stops just short of entering the room. We exchange glances and I make room for her on the

bench.

"Oh. Oh, all right. So, Grayer, Mommy and Daddy want to talk to you about where you're going to

schoolnextyear."Mrs. Xattempts a secondopening.

"I'm goingtoCollegiate,"Grayer offers,trying tobehelpful.

"No,sweetie. Mommy andDaddyhavedecidedthatyouaregoingtoSt. Bernard's."

"Burnurd?" he asks. There is a moment of silence. "Can we play trains now? Daddy, I got a new train,

it's red."

"So,sweetie.You can't wearthebluesweatshirt anymore, okay?" shesays. Connierollshereyes atme.

"Why?"

"BecauseitsaysCollegiateonitandyou're goingtoSt. Bernard's? Mr. Xsays withexasperation.

"ButI likeit."

"Yes, sweetie. We'll getyou aSt. Bernard's sweatshirt."

"I liketheblueone!"

I lean in and whisper to Connie. "Oh, for the love of God, let him wear it inside out. Who cares?" She

throwsher handsup.

Mrs. X clears her throat. "Okay, sweetie. We'll talk about this later." Connie disappears back into the

kitchen.

"Daddy,come see mytrains! I'll showyou the newone. It's red and really,really fast!" Grayer flies past

me towardhisroom.

"Thatwas a complete wasteof time. Heclearlycouldcareless," Mr. X says.

"Well, Janefeltitwasimportant?sheretortsdefensively.

"Who the hell is Jane?" he asks. "Look, do you have the slightest idea of what it means to be in the

middleof amerger?I don't havetime forthis?

"I'm sorry,but?

"Do I have to be on top of everything?" he growls. "The one thing I delegated to you was his schooling

andnowit's all fuckedup."

"It was averycompetitive year!" shecries. "Grayerdoesn't playtheviolin!"

"Whatthefuckdoestheviolin havetodowith anything?"

"Maybe if you'd spend an hour of your precious time with us he might have done better in his

interviews," shespits back.

"My precious time? My precious time? I am bashing my brains out eighty hours a week so you can

stand there in your pearls, with your eight-thousand-dollar curtains and your 'charity work,' and questionhowI spendmytime?!Who's goingtopayhis tuitionbills, huh?You?" "Honey." She softens. "I know you're under a lot of pressure. Look, since you're already home, why

don't we talk about it over a nice relaxing dinner? I made a reservation at that place you love, down by the river." Her kitten heels make little clicks as she walks over to him. Her voice drops. "We could get a roomatthePierre,maybetheonewiththedoubleJacuzzibath ... I've reallymissedyou."

It's quiet for a minute and thenI distinctly hear the sound of themkissing. Their lowlaughter drifts into

thehallway.

I'm just about to sneak off to Grayer's room when Mrs. X coos{ "Should I send a donation to St.

Bernard's with thetuitioncheck,sowe getoffontherightfootwith them?"

"Therightfoot?" He's againindignant. "Correctme ifI'm wrong,buthaven't theyalreadyacceptedhim?

"Butifwehaveanotherboy?

"Look, I've got to get back to the office. The car's waiting downstairs. I'll call you later." Mr. X swiftly

passes me,still wearingtheovercoathepresumablynever took off. Thedoor slamsloudlybehindhim. "Daddy? WAIT!!!!" Grayer comes running out with his red train. "DADDY!!!" He throws himself, screaming,againstthefrontdoor.

Mrs. X walks slowly into the hall and stands for a moment, glaring through Grayer at the front door until hereyes glazeover,thenwalksrightpastbothofustoherbedroom.

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"DADDY.1.'.'" He convulses with sobs, bending over, while holding tightly onto the doorknob. "1 WANT DADDY.'.'!" I sit down on the floor and reach out to hold him. He drops his head between his danglingarmsandawayfromme. "NOOOoooo.I wantmyDADDY!!!"We heartheelevator doorslide closed. "DON'TLEAVE.'.'.'.'"

"Ssshhh, 1 know." I circle my arms to pull him onto my lap. "I know, Grove." We sit on the floor as his tearsmake adark, wetspotonthekneeofmyjeans.I rubhis backandmurmur, "It's okay,Grove. Shhh, it's okaytobesad.We'll justsithereandbesadfor alittle while."

"Okay,"hesays intomypantleg.

"Okay."

Mammy had her own method of letting her owners know exactly where she stood on all matters. She knewitwasbeneaththedignityofquality white folkstopaytheslightestattentiontowhat adarkysaid, even when she was just grumbting to herself. She knew that to uphold this dignity, they must ignore whatshesaid,even ifshestoodinthenextroomandalmost shouted.

. ONEWITHTHEWIND

Connie,

RatherthanironingGrayer. sheetstoday,I. likeyoutopackthefollowingitems for Mr. X. Hissutis Shirts Ties Underwear Socks

Andanythingelseheuses. Theseitemsshouldbepackedanddownwiththedoormanbythree o. lock. Pleaseseethatouonlyusehisluggage(seemonogram).

"Nanny, have you seen Grayer's bow tie? I put it out last night." Mrs. X and Grayer are due at theApril Tea forNewSt. Bernard's Families intwentyminutes. Mrs. XisrummagingthroughGrayer's drawers

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while I try to wrestle him into an ultrastarched oxford, complete with stays in the collar, and Connie, I assume, issomewherein Mr. X's closetfillinghis monogrammedluggage.

"I needanelephant," Grayersays, pointingtothesketchpadonhis diminutive table.

"Onesecond,Grayer,"1 say, "Let mebuckleyourbelt?

"No,notthatone."ShesticksherheadoutfromGrayer's walk-in closet.

"That's theoneyouputout." I add, "Onthebed.Sorry."

"It doesn't go."

Kneeling down in front of him, I look him over. luepinstriped shirt, khaki pants, white socks, brown

belt. I don't seetheproblem, butI unbucklehim.

"Here,"shesays,handingme a greenandredstripedcanvasbelt.

I pointdownatthebeltbuckle. "See,GforGrayer."

"G?" he asks, looking down. "I need my card." I reach for the bus-pass holder on the dresser, which

containsthevestigesof Mr. X's businesscard.

"No,"shesays, emerging fromthecloset. "Nottoday. It's liketheinterviews. Remember theinterviews?

Nocard."

"I wantmycard!"

"You cankeepitinyourpocketlike asecretagent," I say, tuckingitoutofsight.

"I still can't findhis f-ingbowtie."

"Nanny, I need an elephant." I pick up a gray crayon and draw an amorphous blob with big ears and a

trunk,theextentofmyartistic expertise. Shestartsthrowingties outofthecloset.

"I wanttowearmytie,"hesays, referringtotheonethathangstothefloor.

"No. Not today." She goes storming out into the entrance hall where I can hear her voice echo off the

marble. "CONNIE!CONNIE.'"

"Yes, ma'am?" Grayeris quiet,I keepmycrayoninmotion.

"I havejustspenthalfanhour lookingforGrayer's bowtie. Doyouhappentoknowwhere itis?"

"No,ma'am."

"Is ittoomuchtoaskthatyoukeeptrackofGrayer's clothes?DoI havetobeontopofeverything?The

one thing I delegate to you? She sighs heavily and then there's a moment of silence. "Why are you

standingthere?Golookforit!"

"I'm sorry,I justdon't knowwhere itcouldbe, ma'am. I putitinhis roomwith theotherones."

"Well, it's not there.And this is the second time that a piece of Grayer's clothing has gone missing this

month. Now, if you're feeling that this is all too much responsibility for you, I'm sure we can rethink

yourrolehere."

"No,ma'am. I'll lookfor it. It's justthattheclothes,needtobepackedbythreeandit's two-thirty now. If

Mr. X needsthem?

"Are you questioning who you workfor?You workfor me.AndI am telling youto lookfor thetie.And

ifthis confusesyou,pleaseletme know. Because,asfarasI canrecall,I am theonewhopays you!" I stand up shakily and start going through Grayer's closet myself. He comes and stands beside me, leaninghis headagainstmyhip.Conniejoins usinGrayer's room,pulling thecloset doorfurtheropen.

"Connie, I'll lookhere,"I saysoftly. "You takethelaundryroom."

As she crosses back through the front hall Mrs. X continues. "We could call Mr. X and see which he

gives more of a shitabout,whether his clothes get packedor whetherhis sonhas therightfuckingtie to

weartohisnewschool!Maybehe'll talktoyou.Maybehe'll takeyourcall, Connie."

"I'm sorry,ma'am." Five minutesofthorough,breathless searchinguncovers nothing.

"Anything?" Mrs. X's faceappearswhere shehasliftedthedustruffle.

"No,sorry,"I sayfromunderGrayer's bed.

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"Goddammit! Grayer, come on, we have to go. Just put him in the one with the green polka dots." I

slideout onmystomach.

"I wantmydaddy's tie!" Hetriestoreachforthepegwherehis father's tiehangs.

"No, G. You canwearitlater."I gentlypull his handaway,tryingtomotivate himtowardthedoor.

"I wantitnow!" Hestartstosob,redblotchesappearingonhis face.

"Shh, please, Grove?" 1 kiss his damp cheek and he stands still, tears making their way down into the