The Nanny Diaries (6 page)

I crane my head, trying to locate the woman, to be sure if it was Caitlin. But the other side of Park Avenueisnowempty,savefor a maintenanceman polishing a brass hydrant.

"Not you!" Grayer draaaaags himself all the way across the courtyard, as if he were marching toward certaindeath.

"Hey,Grayer. Howwasschool?"

"Yucky."

"Yucky?Whatwasyuckyaboutit?" 1 unpinthehomework, pass offthejuice.

"Nothing."

"Nothingwasyucky?" Buckleinstroller,unwrappears.

"I don't wanttotalktoyou."

I kneel in front of the stroller and look him squarely in the eyes. "Look, Grayer, I know you don't like me verymuch."

"I HATEYOU!" I am light. I am clarity. I am wearing a big,pinkdress.

"And that's okay, you haven't known me very long. But I like you a lot." He starts to kick his leg out at me. "I knowyoumissCaitlin." Hefreezesatthesoundof her nameandI catchhis foot

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firmly in my hand. "It's okay to miss Caitlin. Missing her shows that you love her. But being mean to

me hurts myfeelings and I knowCaitlin would never want you to hurt anyone's feelings. So, as long as

we're together,let's havefun."Hiseyes arelikesaucers.

As we headout of the courtyard the rainthat's been threatening all morning finally breaks and I have to

pushGrayer backup to721ParkAvenueasif I'm intheStroller Olympics.

"Weeeeeeee!" he cries and I make race-car noises and steer sharply around puddles all the way home. By the time we get into the lobby we're both soaked and I pray Mrs. X isn't home to see how I've exposedher childtopneumonia.

"I sure am wet.Areyouwet,Grayer?"

"I suream. I sure am wet."He's smiling, buthis teetharestartingtochatter.

"We're gonna get you rightupstairs and into a hot bath. Ever had lunchinthe bath, Grayer?" I steer him

intotheelevator.

"Wait! Holdit!" a malevoice shoutsfromaroundthecorner.

I slamthestrollerintomyankletryingtoangleitawayfromthe door. "Ow,sh. ot!"

"Hey, thanks," he says. I look up from my ankle. The rain has plastered his brown, chin-length hair and

frayedblueT-shirt tohis six-foot frame. Oh,my.

Astheelevator closes hecrouchesdowntospeakdirectly tothestroller. "Hey,Grayer!Whassup?"

"She's wet."Grayer pointsbehindhim.

"Hi,wet girl.AreyouGrayer's girlfriend?" Hesmiles atme,tuckinghis damphairbehindhis ear.

"He's notsureif he's readytomakethatkindof commitment," I say.

"Well, Grayer,don't lether getaway."If youtriedtocatchme,I promise I wouldrunvery slowly.

We arrive attheninthfloorwaytoosoon. "Have a greatafternoon,guys," hesaysaswe getout.

"You, too!" I cry asthedoorslidesclosed.Whoareyou?

"Grayer,whois he?" Stroller unclasped,wetshirtoff.

"Helives upstairs. Hegoestobigboy's school."Shoesoff,pantsoff,grablunchbag.

"Oh,yeah?Whichone?" Follow nakedtushtobathroom, turnontap.

He thinks for a moment. "Where the boatsgo.With the lighthouse."Okaaay.Two syllables, soundslike

...

"Harbor?" I query.

"Yeah, he goes to Harbard." Hello, I can totally do Boston, especially with the shuttle. We could

alternateweekends... Jesus!EARTHTONANNY,COME IN,NANNY.'

"Okay, Grayer, let's get you in the tub." I heave him over the edge, letting go of my Harvard Hottie for

themoment. ."Grayer,doyouhave anickname?"

"What's anickname?"

"Aname thatpeoplecallyouthatisn't Grayer."

"Myname isGrayer X. That's myname."

"Well, let's think of one." 1 pop him in the tub and pass him his organic peanut butter and quince jelly

sandwich.He wiggleshis toes in thewater ashe munchesthesandwichandI cantell it feelsfabulously unorthodoxtohim. I lookaroundthebathroomandmyeyes landonhis blueSesameStreet toothbrush. "WhataboutGraver?" I ask.

Hemullsitover,his headcockedtooneside,his SeriousThinkingFaceon,thennods. "We'll tryit." Lord,hawmyheadaches!Whata headhaveI!Myback a t'otherside. h,myback,myback!Beshrew yourheartforsendingmeaboutTo catchmydeathwithjauntingupanddown!

. HENURSE,ROMEOANDJULIET CHAPTER TWO Multitasking Nanny,

While you. e on your play date withAlex today, please askAlex. mother who catered her lastdinner?tellherIthought Cajun?infusedAsianwas astrokeofgenius. Justtoletyouknow,theparentsareDIVORCING. Sosad. PleasemakesureGrayerdoesn. sayanythingawkward. I. lswingbyAlex. at4:30 totakeGrayer tohis orthodist. Seeyouthen?

"Nanny? Nanny?!" Mrs. X's disembodied voice calls out to me as I jog up the block toward the nursery

schoolcourtyard.

"Yes?" I say, spinningaround.

"Thisway."Thedoorof a LincolntowncarpopsopenandMrs. X's manicuredhandflagsmeover.

"I'm sogladyou're here,"I say, leaningdowntowhereshe's

seatedamid hershoppingbagsintheplushdarkness. "BecauseI needtoaskyou?

"Nanny,I justwanttoreiteratethat I'd likeyoutoalways getheretenminutesearly."

"Of course."

"Well, it's elevenfifty-five."

"I'm reallysorry. wastryingtofindGrayer's class list. I'm notsurewhichAlex?

But she's already busy rooting around in her purse. She pulls a small leather-bound notepad out of her

hobo bag. "I want to talk with you briefly about a party I'm throwing at the end of the month for the Chicago branch of Mr. X's company." She uncrosses and recrosses her legs, the lavender Prada shoes making an arc of bright color against the dark interior of the town car. "All the top executives will be there. t's a veryimportanteveningandI wantittobeperfectformyhusband."

"Soundslovely,"I say, unsurewhyI'm beingapprisedof thisfete.

ShelowershersunglassestomakesurethatI havetakeninevery word.

ShouldI bringmyformal weartothedry cleaner's?

"So, I may need you to run a few errands for me this month. It's just that I'm so overwhelmed with the

preparations and Connie's absolutely no help. So if there's anything I need I'll just leave you a note. t

reallyshouldn'tbemuch."

We both hear the heavy clank of the double doors opening behind me followed bythe growing swell of

children's laughter.

"I better run, if he sees me he'll just get all upset. Let's go, Ricardo!" she calls to the driver and he pulls

outbeforeshe's even gotherdoorclosed.

"Wait, Mrs. X,I neededtoaskyou a question?I callafter theretreatingtaillights.

TherearefourAlexandersandthreeAlexandrasinGrayer's class.

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I know. I checked. And now that Mrs. X has sped off I'm still at a complete loss as to which one is

supposedtobeourescortfortheafternoon.

Grayer,however,seems toknowexactlywho ourdateis.

"It's her. I have a play date with her," he says, pointing across the courtyard at a little girl hunkered

downover somethingintriguingatgroundlevel. I grabGrayer andmakeourwayover.

"Hi,Alex. We have aplaydatewith youthisafternoon!" I enthusiastically informher.

"Myname's Cristabelle.Alexis wearing ashirt,"shesays, pointingover atthirtyshirt-wearingchildren.

Grayer looksup atmeblankly.

"Grayer,Mommy saidyouhave a playdatewithAlex,"I say.

He shrugs. "How about Cristabelle? Cristabelle, want to have a play date?"Apparently, one play date's

asgoodasanother.

"Grover, it's not Cristabelle, sweetie. But we can have a play date with Cristabelle another day. Would

you like that?" The little girl huffs off. At the age of four she seems already to know thatif the date has

tobepostponedit probablyisn't goingtohappen.

"Okay,Grayer,think.Didn't yourmomsayanything toyouthismorning?"

"She saidI havetouse moretoothpaste."

"Alex Brandi, does that ring any bells?" I ask, trying to rattle off the names I remember from the class

list.

"Hepicks his nose."

"AlexKushman?"

"She spitsKool-Aid."Hecrackshimself up.

I sigh, looking out across the crowded courtyard. Somewhere in this chaos is another pair who shares

our plan. I get a flash of us?airport-reception style. e in a chauffeur's cap, Grayer on my shoulders,

holding abigsignthatsays "ALEX."

"Hi, I'm Murnel."An older, uniformed woman appears before us. "This isAlex. Sorry, we had a bit of

troubletearingourselves

away from the blue goop." I notice some of it still clinging to her nylon jacket. "Alex, say hello to

Grayer,"shesaysin athickWestIndianaccent.

Afterproperintroductionswepushour chargesover toFifthAvenue. Like little oldmen inwheelchairs, theyrelaxbackintheirseats,lookaboutandoccasionallyconverse. "MyPowerRangerhas a subatomic machinegunandcancutyourPower Ranger's headoff."

Murnel and I are comparatively quiet. Despite the fact that we share the same job title, in her eyes I probably have more in common with Grayer, as there are at least fifteen years and a long subway ride fromtheBronxbetweenus.

"Howlongyoubeentakingcareof him?" Shenods downinthedirectionof Grayer's stroller.

"Amonth.Howaboutyou?"

"Oh, nearly three years now. My daughter looks after Alex's cousin, Benson, up on Seventy-second.

You knowBenson?"sheinquires.

"I don't thinkso.Isheis intheir class?"

"Benson's a girl." We bothlaugh."Andshegoestoschoolacross thepark.Howoldareyou?"

"Just turnedtwenty-one inAugust."I smile.

"Ooh, you're my son's age. I should introduce you. He's real smart, just opened his own diner out by

LaGuardia.You got aboyfriend?"

"Nope, haven't met one lately who isn't more trouble than he's worth," I say. She nods in agreement.

"Thatmust notbeaneasythingtodo. pen a restaurant,I mean."

"Well, he's a real hard worker. Gets it from his mother," she says proudly, bending over to pick up the

drainedjuiceboxAlexhas tossedintothestreet. "Mygrandson's hardworking,too,andhe's only seven.

He's doingrealwell inhisclasses."

"That's great."

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"My neighbor always says he's so good about doing his homework. he stays with him in the

afternoonstillmydaughtercangethome fromBenson,roundnine,usually."

"Nanny!I wantmorejuice!"

"Please,"I say, reachingintothestrollerbag.

"Please,"Grayermumbles asI passhim asecondjuicebox.

"Thankyou,"I correcthimandMurnelandI exchangesmiles.

I'm thelast of our crew towalkthroughAlex's front door. Thereis very little in this neighborhoodthatI

haven't seen, but I'm completely unpreparedfor the large strip of duct tape runningdown the middle of

thefronthall.

According to New York State law, if one spouse moves out the other can claim abandonment and will most likely get the apartment. Some of these places go for fifteen to twenty million, forcing years of bitter cohabitation while each spouse tries to wear down the other by, for example, bringing in their half-nakedexerciseinstructor/lover tolive.

"Okay, now you boys can play anywhere on that side," she says, gesturing to the left side of the

apartment.

"Nanny, why is there a stripe? I fix Grayer with a quick Look of Death as I unbuckle his stroller and

thenwait untilAlex isbehindme toraisemyfingertomylipsandpointtothetape.

"Alex's mommy anddaddyareplaying a game,"I whisper. "We'll talkaboutitathome."

"Mydad's notsharing,"Alexannounces.

"Now who wants grilled cheese?Alex, go show Grayer your new photongun,"Murnel says as theboys

run off. Sheturns towardthekitchen. "Makeyourself athome," shesays, rollingher eyes atthetape.

I wanderintotheliving room,whichis fauxLouisXIV meetsJackieCollins,with anice,wide stripeof

electrical tapedownthemiddletogiveit thatcertainjenesaisquoi. I sitdownonwhatI hope

is the Switzerland area of the couch and instantly recognize the work of Antonio. He's the assistant to

one of the most popular decorators and will, for a minor consideration, pop by frequently to "plump"

yourpillows. Heis,inessence, a professionalpillow plumper.

I trytoheavethetwenty-pound copyofTuscanHomes,thecurrentcoffeetablebookof choice,intomy

lap without bruising myself.After a few minutes of flipping through pictures of villas, I become aware

of a littlenoserestingonthearmof thecouch."Hey,"I quietlyacknowledgethenose.

"Hey," he replies, coming around the couch to slump face-first onto the cushion next to me, his arms