The Nanny Diaries (3 page)

"You, silly!" Hedrags itbackupthehill, passinghis motherasshestrolls downtoretrievethehat.

"I'm sorry," she says, brushing dust off the striped brim as she approaches me. "I hope he didn't bother

you."Sheholdsherhandout toblockthesunfromher paleblueeyes.

"No,notatall."

"Oh,butyourskirt? Sheglancesdown.

"No bigdeal," I laugh,dustingoffthemarkthehoopleftonthefabric. "I workwith kids, soI'm usedto

beingbangedup."

"Oh, you do?" She angles her body so her back is to her husband and a blond woman who stands off to

thesideof thephotographerholding a juiceboxforthe boy. His nanny,I presume. "Aroundhere?"

"Actually,thefamily moved toLondonover thesummer,so?

"We're ready!" thefathercalls impatiently.

"Coming!" she calls back brightly. She turns to me, tilting her delicately featured face away from him.

She lowers her voice. "Well, we're actually looking for someone who might want to help us out part-time."

"Really? Part-time wouldbegreat,becauseI have afull courseloadthissemester?

19

"What's thebest waytoreachyou?"

I rummage through my backpack for a pen and a scrap of notebook on which I can scribble down my information. "Here you go." I pass her the paper and she discreetly slips it in the pocket of her shift, beforeadjustingtheheadbandinher long,darkhair.

"Wonderful." She smiles graciously. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you. I'll be in touch." She takes a fewstepsup thehill andthenturnsaround. "Oh,howsillyof me.'m Mrs. X."

1 return the smile before she goes back to take her place in the contrived tableau. The sun filters through the leaves, creating dappled sunshine on the three figures. Her husband, in a white seersucker suit,standssquarelyinthemiddle,hishandontheboy's head,assheslidesinbesidethem.

The blond woman steps forward with a comb and the little boy waves to me, causing her to turn and follow his gaze.As she shields her eyes to get a better look at me I turn and continue on myway across thepark.

My grandmother greets me in her entryway in a linen Mao Tse-tung outfit and pearls. "Darling! Come in. 1 was just finishing my tai-chi." She gives me a kiss on both cheeks and a solid hug for good measure. "Honey, you're damp. Would you like to shower?" There is nothing better than being offered Grandma's buffetof amenities.

"Maybe just acoldwashcloth?"

"I know what you need." She takes my hand, weaving her fingers through mine, and leads me to her guest powder room. I've always adored howthe small lights of theantique crystal chandelier illume the rich peach chintz. But my favorite part is the framed French paper dolls. When I was little I would set up a salon under the sink, for which Grandma would provide real tea and topics for the discussions I wouldleadwith all of mylovely Frenchguests.

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She places my hands under the faucet and runs cool water over my wrists. "Pressure points for distributing fire," she says as she sits down on the toilet seat, crossing her legs. She's right; I begin to cooldownimmediately.

"Haveyoueaten?" sheasks.

"I hadbreakfast."

"Whataboutlunch?"

"It's onlyeleven, Gran."

"Is it? I've beenup since four.ThankGodforEuropeor I'd havenoonetotalkto till eight."

I smile. "Howhaveyoubeen?"

"I've been seventy-four for two months, that's how I've been." She points her toes like a dancer and slightly lifts the hem of her pants. "It's called Sappho. had it done atArden's this morning?what do youthink?Tootoo?" Shewigglesher coraltoes.

"Gorgeous,very sexy. Okay,asmuchasI wouldlovetospendtherestof thedayinhereI've gottodrag myself downtown and make my offering to the Tuition Gods." I turn off the sink and shake my hands dramatically over thebasin.

She hands me a towel. "You know, I don't remember having a single conversation like the ones you describe when I was at Vassar." She is referring to my endless history of tete-a-tetes with the administrative staffatNYU.

I follow behind her into the kitchen. "Today I'm prepared. I've got my Social Security card, my driver's license, my passport, a Xerox copy of my birth certificate, every piece of mail I've ever received from NYU, and my letter of acceptance. This time I won't be told I don't go there, haven't completed the last semester, haven't paid my tuition from last year, haven't paid my library fees, don't have the correct ID number,SocialSecuritynumber,proof of myaddress,therightforms, orsimply don't exist."

"My, my, my." Sheopensthefridge. "Bourbon?"

"Orangejuicewouldbegreat."

"Kids." She rolls her eyes and points me to her old air conditioner sitting on the floor. "Darling, let me

getthedoormantohelpyoucarryit."

"No, Gran, I got it," I say, trying valiantly to heave the machine into my arms before slamming it back downonthetile. "Yeah,okay,I thinkI'm goingtohavetocome backlaterwith Joshandgetthis." "Joshua?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Your little blue-haired friend? He weighs five pounds

soakingwet."

"Well, unlesswe wantDadthrowinghis backoutagain,that'sabout all I havetochoosefromintheboy department." "I chant for you every morning,darling," shesays, reachingfor a glass. "Come on. Let me whip you up

someEggsBenedict."

I glanceup at theold Nelson wall clock. "I wish I hadtime, but I've gotta get downtown before the line attheregistrarisaroundtheblock." She gives me a kiss on both cheeks. "Well, then bring that Joshua by at seven and I'll feed you both a

propermeal. ou're disappearing!"

Joshgroansandrollsslowlyontohis backfromwherehehasnearly

blacked out after dropping the air conditioner outside my front door. "You lied to me," he wheezes.

"You saiditwasonthethirdfloor." "Yeah?" I say, shakingoutmylowerarms whileleaningback

againstthetop stair.

Helifts hisheadaninchoffthefloor. "Nan,thatwassix flights.

Twoflights afloor,whichmakesthistechnically,like,thesixth

floor."

"You helpedmemove outof thedorm?

"Yeah,whywasthat? Oh,right,becauseithasanel-e-va-tor."

"Well, thegoodnews isthatI'm notplanningonmovingout of

here, ever. Thisis it. You canvisit meup herewhenwe're oldand gray."I wipethesweatoffmyforehead. THE NANNY DIARIES "Forget it.'ll be hanging out on your front stoop with the rest of the blue hairs." He drops his head

backdown.

"Come on." I pull myself up by the banister. "Cold beers await." I unlock all three locks and open the

door. The apartment feels like a car that's been sitting in the hot sun and we have to step back to let the

scorchingair blowpast usintothehallway.

"Charlenemust haveclosedthewindowsbeforesheleftthismorning,"I say.

"And left the oven on," he adds, stepping behind me into the tiny entryway that also does double duty

as akitchen.

"Welcome to myfully equippedcloset. Can I toast you a bagel?" I drop mykeys next to thetwo-burner

stove.

"Whatare youpayingforthisplace?" heasks.

"You don't wanttoknow,"I say, aswepushtheair conditioneracrosstheroomtogetherinlittleshoves.

"So,where's thehotroommate?" heasks.

"Josh,not all stewardessesarehot. Somearethematronlytype."

"Is she?" Hestops.

"Don't stop." We resume pushing. "No. he's hot, but I don't like you assuming she's hot. She flew to

France or Spain or something this morning," I huff as we round the corner to my end of the L-shaped

studio.

"George!"Joshcries outingreetingtomycat,who's sprawledoutonthewarmwoodenfloorindespair.

He lifts his gray, furry head half an inch and meows plaintively. Josh straightens up and wipes his

foreheadwith thebottomof his Mr. BubbleT-shirt. "Wheredoyouwantthissucker?"

I pointtothetopof thewindow.

"What?You a crazylady."

"It's a trickI learnedontheAvenue, 'so asnotto interferewith theview.'Thosewithoutcentral air goto

greatlengthstohideit, darling,"I explainasI kickoffmysandals.

"Whatview?"

"If yousmooshyourfaceagainst thewindowandlookleftyoucanseetheriver."

"Hey, you're right." He pulls back from the glass. "Listen?this whole Josh-heaving-heavy-machinery!

up-to-balance-on-sheet-of-glass-thing,notgonnahappen,Nan.I'm getting a beer. Comeon, George." Heheadsbackto the "kitchen"and Georgestretchesup tofollow him. I usethemoment aloneto grab a clean tank top out of an open box and pull off mysweatyone.As I crouchbehind theboxes to change I catch sight of the red light from my answering machine blinking in a frenzy from the floor. The word "full" glaresup atme.

"Runningthat900 numberagain?" Joshreachesover theboxtohandme aCorona.

"Practically. I put my ad up for a new position today and the mummies are restless." 1 take a swig of mybeerandslidedownbetweentheboxestohit play. A woman's voice fills the room: "Hi, this is Mimi Van Owen. I saw your ad at the league. I'm looking

for someone to help me look after my son. Just part-time, you understand. Maybe two, three, four days a week, half-days or longer and some nights or weekends, or both! Whenever you have time. But I just wantyoutoknowthatI'm veryinvolved."

"Well, that'sjustobvious, Mimi," Joshsays, slidingdowntojoinme.

"HithisisAnnSmithl'mlookingforsomeonetowatchmyfiveyearold!sonhe'snotroublereallyandwerunaveryrelaxedhousehold?

"Ouch."Joshputshis handsuptoshieldhimself andI forwardtothenextmessage.

"Hi. I'm Betty Potter. I saw your ad at the Parents League. I have a five-year-old girl, Stanton, a three!

year-old boy, Tinford, a ten-month-old, Jace,andI'm lookingforsomeonewhocanhelp me,

THE NANNY DIARIES

sinceI'm pregnantagain.Nowyoudidn't mentionyourfeeinthead,butI've beenpaying six."

"SixAmericandollars?" I askthemachine,incredulously.

"Hey, Betty, I know a crack-whore down in Washington Square Park who'd do it for a quarter." Josh

swigshis beer.

"Hi, it's Mrs. X. We met in the park this morning. Give me a call when you get a chance. I'd like to talk

moreaboutthetypeof job you're looking for. We have a girl. aitlin. ut she's lookingtocuther hours

andyoumadequiteanimpressiononour son,Grayer. Lookforwardtotalkingtoyou.Bye."

"She soundsnormal. Call her."

"You think?" I ask as the phone rings, making us both jump. I pick up the receiver. "Hello," I say in

instantnannymode,tryingtoconveyutmost respectabilitywith twosyllables.

"Hello". y mothermatchesmydeep,fancytone?how'dtheair-conditioner mission turnout?"

"Hey."I relax. "Fine?

"Wait, hold on." I hear a scuffle. "I have to keep moving Sophie. he's determined to sit two inches

from the air conditioner." I smile at the image of our fourteen-year-old springer spaniel with her ears blowing out behind her like the Red Baron. "Move it, Soph. nd now she's sitting on all the research forthegrant."

I take a sip of beer. "How's thatcoming?"

"Ugh, it's toodepressing. ell me something cheerful." Since the Republicanstook office mymother's CoalitionforWomen's Sheltersgets evenlessmoneythanitusedto.

"I gotsomefunnymessagesfrommummies-in-need," I offer.

"I thought we discussed this." Her lawyer voice is back. "Nan, you take these jobs and within days you're up atthreeinthemorningworrying if thelittle princesshas tapdancingor a jamsessionwith the DalaiLama?

"Mom. Mommm. haven't eveninterviewedyet. Besides,I'm

notgoingtobeworkingasmanyhoursthisyear,becauseI havemythesis."

"Exactly!That's exactly it. You have your thesis, just like last yearyou hadyour internship and theyear before that you had your field study. I don't understand why you won't even consider an academic job. You shouldask yourthesisprofessor if youcanassist him. Oryoucouldworkintheresearchlibrary!"

"We have been over this a million times." I roll my eyes at Josh. "Those jobs are so competitive. r. Clarkson has a graduate student on full fellowship assisting him. Besides, they only pay six dollars an hour. efore taxes. Mom, nothing I do with my clothes on is going to pay this well until I get my degree."Joshshimmies andpulls offanimaginarybra.

My mother lucked out with a research assistant position that she held on to for all four years of her undergraduate work. However, that was when housing near Columbia cost as much as I am currently payingforutilities. "DoI havetogive youtheRealEstateTalk again,Mom?"

"Then, for the love of God, be a makeup girl at Bloomingdale's. Just punch in your time card, look pretty, smile, and get your pay-check." She can't imagine that one would ever wake at threeA.M. in a cold sweat, wondering if the shipment of oil-free toner had remembered to put on its Nighttime Pull-Ups.

"Mom, I enjoyworkingwith kids. Look,it's toohottoargue."