The Nanny Diaries (15 page)

"You've been a lifesaver,"shegushes. "Oh,onemorething.IsGrayer doingchemistry?"

"Chemistry?"

"Yeah, Mr. Xtoldmetogobuyhim achemistrysetandsomeGuccislippers."

"Right."We bothlaugh. "The Lion King,"I say. "Heloves anything todowithTheLion King,Aladdin,

Winnie-the-Pooh.He's four."

"Thanks again, Nanny. Merry Christmas!" After clicking off I take one last look around at the tower of

cashmere sweaters, each one wrapped with tissue and individually stored in its> own clear drawer, the wall of shoes, each stuffed with a satin triangle, the racks of fall, winter, and spring suits, going from lightest to darkest, from left to right. I tentatively pull open a drawer. Each pair of panties, every bra, every pair of stockings, is individually packed in a Ziplock baggy and labeled: "Bra, Hanro, white," "Stockings,Fogal,black."

The doorbell rings and I jump about sixteen feet, panting with relief when I hear Grayer let Henry, Allison's father, in. I slide the drawer shut and walk calmly out to the hall, where a bemused Henry is watchingGrayer andAllisontrying totageachotherwith theirscarves.

"Okay, Ally, I have to get dinner started. Let's get it together." He finally catches her, steadying her

betweenhis kneestotieherscarf.

I handover hersmall lodencoatasHenrysecuresherhatandushersher intothevestibule.

"Saygood-bye toAllison,Grayer."I nudgehimandhewavesfreneticallywith bothhands.

"Good-bye, Gray-er. Thank you for a lovely afternoon! Au revoir, Nanny!" she cries as the elevator

opens.

THE NANNY DIARIES

"Thanks, Nan," Henry says, turning and accidentally swinging one ofAllison's boots right into another

memberof theXfamily.

"Oh!" Mrs. X flinches.

"I'm sosorry,"Henrysays,asAllisonburiesherheadinhis neck.

"No,please,I'm fine. Didyou all have agoodtime?"

"Yes!" Grayer andAllisonshout.

"Well," Henry says, "I better get back and start dinner. Richard'11 be home soon and I need to get the

ornamentsdown."

"Your nanny's dayoff?" sheaskswith a knowingsmile.

"Oh,wedon't have a nanny?

"You havetwodaddiestodothehigh-ups?" Grayer interruptshim.

"Mygoodness,"Mrs. Xsays quickly, "however doyoumanage?"

"Well, youknow,they're onlythisageonce."

"Yes." Shelooks a littlepinched. "Grayer,saygood-bye!"

"I alreadydid,Mommy.You're late."

Thedoorslidesshut.

Much later that night I ride down in the elevator half-asleep, entertaining the fantasy of walking along

the Seine humming "La Vie en Rose." It's twenty past twelve on the twenty-second. Only twenty-four

morehours togountil amonthoffandmoneyinmypocket.

" 'Night, James," I say to the doorman, just as he opens the door for H. H., rosy cheeked and carrying a

FoodEmporiumbag.

"Hey,there. Justgetoffwork?" heasks, smiling.

"Yup." Pleasedon't letme havesteamedchardbetweenmyteeth.

"Thatwassomefinewassailing.You trainhim?"

"Impressed?" I askcarefully withmyupperlip curleddown.

Enoughpatter,wheristhedate?

"Listen," he says, loosening his scarf, "are you doing anything right now, 'cause I just have to run

upstairs. Mymom's in aChristmas bakingfrenzyandweranoutof vanilla."

Oh.Now?

Okay,nowworksforme.

"Yeah, great."As thenumbers go from one toeleven and back again I quickly run tothebeveled mirror

andgroomlike a madwoman.I hopeI'm notboring.I hopehe's notboring.I trytoremember ifI shaved this morning. Ugh, I'll be so bummed if he's boring. And let's try not sleeping with him. Tonight. I'm applying afurtive swipeoflip glossastheelevatorapproaches "L."

"Hey,haveyoueatenyet?" heasksasJamesopensthedoor forus.

" 'Night, James," I call over my shoulder. "It depends on what you mean by eating. If you consider a

fistful of Goldfishand a fewdrytortellini amealthenI'm stuffed."

"Whatare youupfor?"

"Well."I thinkfor amoment. "Theonlyplaces with openkitchensrightnowarecoffeeshopsandpizza.

Takeyourpick."

"Pizzasoundsgood.Isthatokay?"

"Anything notinthisbuildingsoundsfabulous."

"Here, sit on myjacket," he says as he closes the empty pizza box.TheMetropolitan Museum steps are

coldandit's startingtoseep upthroughmyjeans.

"Thanks."I tuckhis bluefleeceundermeandlookdownFifthAvenueatthetwinklingholidaylightsof

theSlanhopeHotel. H. H. pullsthecontainerofBenandJerry's PhishFoodoutof a brownpaperbag.

"So what's itlikeworkingontheninthfloor?"

"Exhausting and weird." I look back at him. "That apartment has all the holiday warmth of a meat

lockerandGrayer has a loneStyrofoamsnowman hanginginhis closet, becauseshewon't let himputit anywhereelse."

"Yeah,she's always struckmeas alittle high-strung."

THE NANNY DIARIES

"You havenoidea,andwith theholidays it's likeworkingfor a drillsergeantwithADD?

"Come on,itcan't bethatbad."Henudgesme with his knees.

"Excuseme?"

"I usedtobaby-sit inthebuilding.You eatsomefood,playsome

games?

"Oh, my God. That is not my job at all. 1 spend more time with this kid than anybody" I slide an inch

awayfromhim onthestep.

"Whataboutontheweekends?"

"TheyhavesomebodyinConnecticut.They're only alonewith himforthedrive outandback. ndthey

do thatatnightsohe's asleep!There's nocoming together.I thoughtmaybe they were just waiting for a

holiday, but apparently not. Mrs. X is having Christmas by herself at Barneys, so she's been sending us

all over town,withtherestofAmerica, mindyou,justtogethimoutofthehouse."

"Butthere's somuchcoolstufftodowith akidthistime of year."

"He's four. He slept through the Nutcracker, the Rockettes scared the shit out of him, and he developed

some kind of weird heat rash while waiting for three hours to see Santa at Macy's. But mostly we just

standinlineforthebathroom. Everywhere. Not acabtobe

found,nota?

"Soundslikeyouhavedefinitelyearnedsomeicecream."He

handsme a spoon.

1 haveto laugh. "I'm sorry,you're thefirst grown-up without shoppingbags thatI've talkedto in a good

forty-eight hours. I'm just a little Christmased outatthemoment."

"Oh, don't say that. This is such an awesome time of year to be living in the city, all the lights and the

people." He gestures to the sparkling Christmas decorations on FifthAvenue. "It makes you appreciate thatwe're luckyenoughtolivehereyearround." I digintothecarton, tracing a swirl ofcaramel. "You're right. Upuntil twoweeksagoI wouldhavesaid

itwasmyfavoritetime ofyear."We pass thePhishFoodbackandforthandlookover atthe

wreathsintheStanhope's windowsandthelittlewhite bulbsburningontheawning.

"You seemlike a holidaykindofgirl."

I blush. "Well,ArborDayisreallywhenI go all out."

Helaughs.Oh,sweetGod,youarehot.

Heleansin. "So,doyoustill thinkI'm anasshole?"

"I never saidyouwereanasshole."I smile back.

"Just anassholebyassociation."

"Well..."AAAAAAHHH!!!!HE'S KISSINGME!!!!!

"Hi,"hesays softly,his facestill almost touchingmine.

"Hi."

"Canwe pleasestartover andputDorrian's really,reallyfarbehindus?"

I smile. "Hi,I'm Nan..."

"Nanny?Nanny!"

"Right.What?"

"Your turn. It's your turn." Poor G, this is the third time he's had to snap me back from the steps of the

Metwheremybrainhas takenuppermanent residence.

I move mygingerbreadmanfromanorangesquareto ayellow square. "Okay,Grove,butthisisthelast

gameandthenwe'vegottotryonthoseclothes." ^

"Oh,man."

"Come on, it'll befun.You cando a little fashionshowforme."Thebedis piledwith Grayer's wardrobe

from last summer and we need to figure out what, if anything, still fits so that he can be properly outfitted forhis vacation.I knowputtingtogether a resortwardrobeis hardlyhow hewantstospendhis lastafternoonwithme,butordersare orders.

Afterwe putawaythegame I kneelonthefloorandhelp himin THE NANNY DIARIES andoutandinandoutofshorts,shirts,swimming trunks,andtheworld's tiniest navyblueblazer. "Owww!Toosmall! It hurts!" His arm chubhas beencompressedlike a hot-dog bunwith a rubberband

aroundthemiddlebythelittle whiteLacoste tee.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting you out, be patient." I peel him out of the shirt and hold up a stiff Brooks

Brothersoxford.

"I don't like thatone so much,"he says, shakinghis head, then, slowly, "I think . . . it's ... too .. . small,"

hesays intently.

I look down at the buttons on the sleeve and the starched collar. "Yeah. I think you're right. ay too

small. You probably shouldn't wear it anymore," I say conspiratorially, folding the offending item and

puttingit ontherejectpile.

"Nanny, I'm bored." He puts his hands on either side of my face. "No more shirts. Let's play Candy

Land!"

"Come on, just one more, G." I help him into the blazer. "Now walk down to the end of the room and

back. et me see how gorgeous you are." He looks at me like I'm crazy, but starts to walk away,

lookingbackover his shoulderevery fewstepstomakesureI'mnot

up tosomething.

"Work it, baby!" I shout when he reaches the wall. He turns and eyes me warily until I whip out an

imaginary camera and pretend to take pictures. "Come on, baby! You're fabulous. Show it off!" He

takes his jazz-hands pose at the end of the carpet. "Woohoo!" I catcall as if Marcus Shenkenberg had

justlosthis towel. Hegiggles,throwinghimself intotheshowaswemakepouty

lipsateachother.

"You're gorgeous, dahling," I say, leaning down to take off the blazer and kissing the air by both his

cheeks.

"You'll bebackreallysoon,right,Nanny?" Heshakeshis arm

free. "Tomorrow?"

"Here, let's look at the calendar again so you can see how fast it's going to go and you'll be in the

Bahamas?

1 19

"Litferrr Cay,"hecorrects.

"Right."We leanintolookattheNannyCalendarI made. "AndthenAspen,wherethere'll berealsnow

andyoucansledandmakesnowangelsand asnowman.You're goingtohaveanawesome time."

"Hello?" I hear Mrs. X call out. Grayer runs to the front hall and I take a moment to fold the last little

shirtandthenfollow him.

"Howwasyour afternoon?" sheasks brightly.

"Grayer was a very goodboy. etriedoneverything," I say, leaningagainst thedoorway. "The pile on

thebedisthestuffthatfits."

"Oh,excellent!Thankyousomuch."

Grayer is bouncing up and down in front of Mrs. X and pulling on her mink. "Come see my show!

Comeinmyroom!"

"Grayer,whathavewediscussed?Haveyouwashedyour hands?" sheasks,evadinghis grasp.

"No,"heanswers.

"Well, then, should you be touching Mommy's coat? Now, if you sit on the bench I have a surprise for

youfromDaddy."Sherummages throughhershoppingbagsasGrayerslumps ontothepaisleycushion.

Shepullsout abrightbluesweatsuit.

"Remember how you're going to big boy's school next year? Well, Daddy just loves Collegiate." She flips the sweatshirt around to reveal the orange lettering. I step forward to help Grayer pull it over his head.Shestandsbackwhile I rollthesleevesup intolittle doughnutsathis wrists.

"Oh, you are going to make your daddy so happy." Grayer, delighted, whips out his jazz hands and starts |g pose as he had done in the bedroom. "Honey, don't fling your arms about." She looks down at himinconsternation. "It's weird."

Grayer lookstome foranexplanation.

Mrs. X followshis gaze. "Grayer,it's time tosaygood-bye toNanny."

"I don't wantto."Hestandsinfrontofthedoorandcrosses his arms.

THE NANNY

I kneeldown. "It's onlyfor afewweeks,G."

"Noooooo!Don't go.You said we could play Candy Land.Nanny, you promised." The tears startto roll

downhis cheeks.

"Hey, you want your present now?" I ask. 1 go in the closet, take a deep breath, put on a big smile, and

pullouttheshoppingbagI broughtwithme.