The Nanny Diaries Part 12

"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.

"Thisis foryou,MerryChristmas!" I say, handingMrs. XtheBergdorf'sbox.

"You shouldn'thave,"shesays, settingitdownonthetable. "Oh,yes, wehavesomethingforyou,too."

I looksurprised. "Oh,no."

"Grayer, go get Nanny's present." He runs off. I pull the other box out of the bag. "And this is for Grayer."

"Nanny, here's your present, Nanny. Merry Christmas, Nanny!" He comes running in holding a Saks boxandthrustsitatme.

"Oh,thankyou!"

"Where's mine?!Where's mine?!" Hejumpsup anddown.

"Your mom has it and you can open it after I leave." 1 quickly pull on my coat as Mrs. X is already holdingtheelevator.

"MerryChristmas," shesaysasI getin.

"Bye, Nanny!" hesays,wavingwildly,like amarionette.

"Bye, Grayer,MerryChristmas!"

I can't even wait till I get outside. I'm imagining Paris and handbagsand manytrips to Cambridge. First I openthegifttag.

J Lonjui/,l JCcA^" I ripthewrappingpaper,pulltheboxapart,andstartgrabbingfistfuls oftissue.

There's no envelope. Oh, my G.o.d, there's no envelope! I shake the box upside down. Tons of tissue comes cluttering out andthensomething blackand furry falls totheelevator floor with a thud.I drop to myknees,like adogover a bone. I reachdown, pushingthe messI've madeasidetouncover mytreasureand .it's earm.u.f.fs. Onlyearm.u.f.fs.

Justearm.u.f.fs.

Earm.u.f.fs!

EARm.u.f.fS!!.

.and ... and Mamnvy felt that she owned the O'Haras, body and soul, that their secrets were her secrets; and even a hintof mysterywasenoughtosetheruponthetrailsorecklesslyas a bloodhound.

. ONEWITHTHEWIND.

CHAPTER FIVE.

owntime "Grandma's been looking all over for you so we can cut the cake," I say, stepping into my grandmother's dressing room, where myfather has foundrespite from the joint NewYear's Eve/Fiftieth BirthdayPartysheinsistedonthrowingforthe "onesonG.o.dblessedher with." "Quick, close the door! I'm not ready yet. oo many of those people out there." Despite the many mingling artists and writers, the majority of attendees this evening are donning tuxedos, which is the onething,asmyfatherwill emphatically informyou,hedoes not wear. For anyone. Ever. "Wh.o.a.re we, the G.o.dd.a.m.n Kennedys?" has been his thoughtful retort whenever my grandmother attempted to involve him in theplanning of this black-tie affair. I, on the other hand, never have to be asked twice to step into a gown and am all too eager for the rare occasions on which I can hang up my sweatpantsand headoutlike alady.

"Not to be too much of an enabler, but I come bearing gifts," I say, handing him a gla.s.s of champagne. Hesmiles and takes a longgulp, placing thegla.s.s down ontop of her mirrored dressing tablebesidehis propped-up feet. He drops the Times crossword he's been working on, motioning for me to sit. I plop ontotheplushcreamcar!

pet in a pile of black chiffon and take a sip out of my own flute, while m.u.f.fled laughter and big band musicwaftsin.

"Dad,youreallyshouldcome out. t's notsobad.Thatwriterguyishere,theonefromChina.Andhe's noteven wearing atie?youcouldhangout withhim."

Hetakesoffhis gla.s.ses. "I'd ratherspendtime with mydaughter.How's itgoing,pixie?Feeling better?"

A fresh wave of rage washes over me, breaking the celebratory mood I've enjoyed for most of the evening. "Ugh, that woman!" I slump forward. "I worked, like, eighty hours a week for the past month and for what? I'll tell you for what. Earm.u.f.fs!" I sigh exasper-atedly, looking out through my hair to wheretherowofblackkitten heels alongthewalltransitions into a colorfularrayofChineseslippers.

"Ah,yes. It's been a wholefifteenminutessincewehadthisconversation."

"Whatconversation?" mymotherasks a.s.sheslipsinthedoorwith a plateofhors d'oeuvresinonehand andanopenbottle ofchampagneintheother.

"I'll give you a clue," he says, wryly,while holding up his gla.s.s for a refill. "You wear them insteadof a hat."

"G.o.d!Are we back on this again? Come on, Nan, it's NewYear's Eve! Whydon't you take a nightoff?" Shefallsbackonthechaise,tuckingherstockingfeetup underher,andhandshimtheplate.

I sit up and reach for the bottle. "Mom, I can't! I can't let it go! She might as well have just spit in my fateandput a bowonmynose. Everyone knowsyouget a heftyChristmas bonus;it's justhowit's done. Whyelse wouldI have put insomuch extra time?Thebonus is for theextra, it's therecognition!Every stupidpersonthatworksforthemgotmoneyand a handbag!AndI got?

"Earm.u.f.fs,"theychime inasIpour myself anothergla.s.s.

"You know what my problem is? I go out of my way to make it seem natural that I'm raising her son while she's atthemanicurist.

All the little stories I tell and the 'Sure, I'd be happy tos' make her feel like I live there. And then she forgetsthatI'm doing a job. he's totallyconvincedherself she's lettingme come over for a playdate!" I grab a bitof caviarfromDad's plate. "Whatdoyouthink,Mom?"

"I think you've got to confront this woman and lay down the law or let it go already. Honestly, you should hear yourself, you've been talking about this for days. You're wasting a perfectly good party on her, and somebody in this family, other than your grandmother, should take advantage of the band out thereanddance."Shelookspointedlyatmydadashepopsthelastcrabpuffinhis mouth.

"I wantto!I wanttolaydownthe law, butI don't even know wheretobegin."

"What's to begin? Just tell her that this is not working for you and if she wants you to continue as Grayer's nannythen a fewthingsaregoingtochange."

"Right," I say with a snort. "When she asks me how my vacation was I just launch into a diatribe? She wouldslap me."

"Well, then you're really in business," Dad pipes in. "Because you can sue for a.s.sault and none of us will ever havetoworkagain."

My mother, now fully involved, plows on. "Then you just smile warmly, put your arm around her and say, 'Gee,youmakeithardtoworkforyou.'Let herknowin a friendlywaythatthisisnotokay behavior."

"Mooommmm! You havenoideawho I'm working for. Thereisnoputtingyour armaroundthis woman. She's theIceQueen."

"All right. That's it. Throw her the mink," Mom commands. "It's RehearsalTime!" These rehearsals are the cornerstoneof myupbringingand have helpedme to practice everything from college interviews to breakingup with mysixth-grade boyfriend. Dadtosses me thestolethat's beenhangingnextto himand reachesover topourusanotherround.

"Okay,you're Mrs. X,I'm you.Hit.i.t."

I clear my throat. "Welcome back, Nanny. Would you mind tak-ing my dirty underwear with you to Grayer's swimming cla.s.s and scrubbing it while you're in the pool? Thanks so much, the chlorine just workswonders!" I pulltheminkup aroundmyshouldersandaffect afakesmile.

My mother's voice is calm and rational. "I want to help you. I want to help Grayer. But I need some help from you, so that I can keep doing my job to the best of my abilities.And this means that we need totrytogethertomakesurethatI am workingthehoursuponwhichwebothagreed."

"Oh,youworkhere?I thoughtwehadadoptedyou!" I raisemypinkytomymouthinmockalarm.

"Well, while it would be an honor to be related to you, I am here to do a job, and if I'm going to be able to keep doing it then I know you'll be more conscious of respecting my boundaries from now on." Dad clapsloudly. I fallbackonthefloor.

"That'll neverwork,"I groan.

"Nan, this woman's not G.o.d! She's just a person. You need a mantra. You need to go in there like Lao!tzu ... Saynotosayyes. Sayitwithme!"

"I say no to say yes. I say no to say yes," I murmur with her as I stare up at the floral wallpaper on the ceiling.

Just as we hit a fever pitch, the door flies open and music floods the room. I roll my head to see my grandmother,cheeksflushedtomatchher layers ofredsatin,leaningagainstthedoorframe.

"Darlings! Another masterpiece of a party and my son's hiding in the closet at his fiftieth, just like he did at his fifth. Come, dance with me." In a cloud of perfurrft, she sashays over to my father and kisses him on the cheek. "Come on, birthday boy, you can leave your tie and c.u.mmerbund here, but at least dance a mambowithyour motherbeforetheclockstrikestwelve!"

Herolls his eyes atthe restof us, but thechampagne has worn him down.He pulls offhis tie andstands up.

"Andyou,lady."Shelooksdownonme sprawledatherfeet. "Bring theminkandlet's boogie."

"Sorryto disappear,Gran. It's just this whole earm.u.f.fsthing." "Goodlord! Between your father and his tuxedo and you and your earm.u.f.fs, I don't want to discuss apparel with this family again until next Christmas! Upandat 'em, gorgeous,thedancefloor awaits."

Momhelpsme tomyfeet,whisperinginmyearaswefollowthembacktotheparty. "See,notosayyes. Your dad's chantingitrightnow."

Many dances and bottles of champagne later I float back to my apartment in a bubbly haze. George slides up to my heels as soon as 1 unlock the door and I carry him back to my corner of the room. "HappyNewYear, George,"1 mumbleashepurrs undermychin.

Charlene left this morning forAsia and I am giddy with the three weeks of little freedoms this affords me.AsI kick offmyheels I seethelightonmyansweringmachineflashingin asoft blur. Mrs. X.

"What do you think, George, shall we risk it?" I bend over to let him down before pressing the "new message" b.u.t.ton.

"Hi, Nan? Um, this is a message for Nan. I think this is the right number . .." H. H.'s slurred voice fills theapartment.

"Oh,myG.o.d!" I scream,turningtocheckmyappearanceinthe mirror.

"Right. So um, yeah.. . I'm just calling to say 'Happy New Year.' Um, I'm inAfrica. And. ait. hat time is it there? Seven hours, that's ten . .. eleven ... twelve. Right. So I'm with my family and we're aboutto headintothebush.And we've beenhaving some beers with theguides.And it's thelastoutpost with a phone . .. But I just wanted to say that I bet you had a hard week. See! I know how you've been workinghardandI justwantedyoutoknow,um ...

thatI know ... thatyou do ... workhard, thatis. Um, andthatyou have a happy NewYear. Okay, sothen. hopethisisyourmachine. Right. Sothat's all, justwantedyoutoknow.Um ... bye."

I stumble to my bed in utter euphoria. "Oh, my G.o.d," I mumble again in the darkness, before pa.s.sing outwith agrin plasteredtomyface.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

"Hi,you've reachedCharleneandNan.Pleaseleave a message."Beep.

"Hi, Nanny,I hopeyou're in.I'm sureyou're probablyin.Well, HappyNewYear." I crackoneeye open. "It's Mrs. X. I hope you've had a good vacation. I'm calling because .. ." Jesus, it's^ight o'clock in the morning! "Well, there's been a change of plans. Mr. X apparently needs to go back to Illinois for work. AndI,well,Grayer's?we're all verydisappointed.So,anyway,we won't begoingtoAspenandI wanted to see what you're up to for the rest of the month." On New Year's Day! I stick my hand outside the covers andstartflailingforthephone. I unplugthereceiverandthrowitonthefloor.

There.

I pa.s.s outagain.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

"Hi,you've reachedCharleneandNan.Pleaseleave a message."Beep.

"Hi,Nanny,it's Mrs. X. I leftyou a messageearlier."I crackoneeye open. "I don't knowiM mentioned, but ifyou couldletmeknowtoday ..." Jesus,it's nine-thirtyinthemorning!OnNewYear's Day! I stick my hand outside the covers and start flailing for the phone and this time actually manage to pull the rightplugout.

Ahh,peace.

"Hi,you've reachedCharleneandNan.Pleaseleave a message."Beep.

"Hi, Nanny, it's Mrs. X," Jesus! It's ten o'clock in the morning! What is wrong with you people? This time I can hear Grayer crying in the background. Not my problem, not my problem, earm.u.f.fs. I stick my hand outside the covers and start flailing for the answering machine. I find the volume. "Because youdidn't sayifyouhadanyplansandI justthought?Ahh,silence.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

WHATTHEf.u.c.k?.

Oh,myG.o.d,it's mycellphone. It's myG.o.dd.a.m.ncellphone.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

Aaaahhhhh!I getoutofbed,butI can't findthesourceoftheG.o.dd.a.m.nringing.Such aheadache.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

It's under the bed. It's under the bed! I start trying to crawl under the bed, still in my evening dress, to whereGeorgemade a soccergoalwith thecell. I extendmyarm,grab it,still ringing,andthrowitinthe laundryhamper,dumpingeverything onthefloorinontopof it.

Ahah!!Sleep.

Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.

I get out of bed, march over to the hamper, retrieve the phone, go in the kitchen, open the freezer door, throwinthephone,andgobacktosleep.