The Nanny

Chapter 9

Short but worth it! Translations at the end!

The house phone rang just before 8 that evening. Onika and Beyoncé were standing in front of the kitchen sink, washing glasses together from dinner while Anyla sat at the kitchen island, coloring in an animal coloring book, and Jr. sat beside her, reading.

The shrill ringing from across the kitchen startled the four of them, but immediately Jr. placed a bookmark between the pages and slammed the book shut, clamboring down off the high seat. "I'll get it!"

Immediately Onika turned and chastised, "No, you know the rules. Please just bring me the phone, Jr.."

Jr. huffed, but quickly retrieved the phone, handing it dutifully to his mother, who'd quickly dried her hands before he brought it to her. He then scurried back to his seat and climbed into it, picking up his book again.

Not bothering to glance at the Caller ID, Onika hit the button with her thumb and greeted, "Hello, this is Onika Maraj." She turned and smiled at Beyoncé after speaking.

The older woman's expression then faltered, as she glanced away from Beyoncé toward the children and spoke quietly, "Michael, querida, ¿cómo estás?"

Beyoncé's brow furrowed at Onika's foreign words and she vaguely recognized them as Spanish from the little bit she had taken in elementary school. A chill coursed down her spine when she heard Jr. excitedly exclaim, "Is it Dad?"

"Entonces, ¿cómo va tu proyecto?" Onika asked, and though Beyoncé didn't understand, she could tell by the intonation that it was a question.

Standing completely frozen, Beyoncé heard the man rattling on in Spanish. Finally he said something else and paused, leaving Beyoncé to assume he had asked Onika something.

"Pero sí, estamos bien. Estaba lavando los platos con Beyoncé," Onika replied, pausing briefly before glancing back to Beyoncé and swallowing hard, meeting her light eyes. "la niñera."

Suddenly the young brunette couldn't breathe and she looked down. Standing there listening to Onika speak to her husband, and then next, she assumed, their children, she felt as if someone had plunged an icy hand inside her chest and gripped her heart, squeezing it with intent to destroy. It was when she felt Onika's hand touch her own that she realized was gripping the counter tightly, her knuckles white. The older woman squeezed her hand softly and Beyoncé finally looked back up at Onika.

"Oh yes, her mother volunteers at the hospital and we arranged it all. Beyoncé has been wonderful, Michael," Onika said, finally, in English. Then she bit her lip. "I'm," she paused, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I'm not sure what we'll do when she leaves." She maintained eye contact with the young brunette the entire time she spoke those words.

The next thing Onika knew, Beyoncé no longer was standing there before her. The young woman was hurrying out of the kitchen entirely, but before Onika could follow, Jr. and Anyla were standing in front of her, tugging gently at her shirt, begging to speak with their father. "Michael, the children want to speak with you. Te dejo con ellos, ok?" Quickly handing the telephone to Jr., Onika pivoted on her heel and took off after the brunette.

The brunette was at the top of the stairs, turning toward her room, when Onika planted her foot on the bottom step of the staircase. "Beyoncé, wait!" she cried, scrambling up the stairs after her. "Please talk to me!"

Beyoncé hurried into her room, closing the door and locking it in one fluid motion, before slumping against it and sliding to the floor like that night in the shower. She couldn't breathe, her heartbeat slamming inside her chest. Everything sounded hollow in her ears.

Then the older woman was rattling the doorknob, begging to be let in. "Please, Beyoncé, please just open the door." Her soft voice was dripping raw emotion.

Suddenly it hit Beyoncé and she felt as if she were falling, unable to stop herself.

Married.

Married.

Married.

She was "the other woman."

Onika didn't belong to her. She couldn't. She belonged to Michael. It was his ring that Onika wore. It was his children Onika gave birth to.

Bile rose into her throat and she tried desperately to swallow it to no avail. Leaping up, Beyoncé sprinted for her bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time for her dinner to empty itself from her stomach. Once more her stomach lurched, though only a dry heave. Wiping off her chin, Beyoncé sat there for a few moments, reaching up to flush down the contents of the toilet bowl.

Then she heard the soft voice of her lover floating from the bathroom doorway. "I'm sorry," Onika whispered. "I wasn't expecting him to call. We've only," then she paused, suddenly knowing she shouldn't speak further of her husband. The older woman's approaching footsteps were light but noticeable in the silence. "Are you okay?"

Beyoncé slowly rose, not facing Onika, and turned toward the sink. First she rinsed her hands, then rinsed out her mouth, before finally grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste. She said nothing as Onika came closer to her, standing behind her and meeting her gaze in the mirror. Immediately, tears prickled the corners of her eyes and she looked back down, struggling not to cry. She then bent forward and spit foamy paste into the sink, rinsing first her mouth and then toothbrush. Setting her brush back down, she met Onika's concerned eyes in the mirror again. "I can't," Beyoncé croaked out, "I can't do this, I don't know if I can do this."

"Michael calling doesn't change how I feel about you, Beyoncé," Onika assured softly. "I care about you just as much now as I did before."

"You're cheating," Beyoncé replied tearfully. "I'm...the other woman. Before he was just...I dunno...he existed, but he didn't at the same time, and now he's real. Now we're not in our own little bubble anymore and I just...this is just so much to take in right now."

"Please turn around," Onika requested gently. When the younger woman did, Onika reached for Beyoncé's left hand, and holding it tenderly between her own hands, she placed it over her heart, palm flattened. "Right now, I want this to be yours." With her left hand, she reached for Beyoncé's, and then slid both of Beyoncé's hands down to cup her breasts. "These are yours." She slipped the brunette's left hand down between her legs. "This is yours."

Beyoncé sucked in a sharp breath.

"Don't you see, Beyoncé?" Onika whispered, placing her hands on Beyoncé's hips. "I belong to you now. I could never belong to him again. You have done something to me that neither you nor I can take back, and I never want to. Do you know why?"

Hesitating, the brunette finally shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

"Because you make me want something better for myself, for my children. You make me feel, for once in my life, that I truly don't have to settle."

"Mama!" came Jr.'s shout from the hallway, breaking both Beyoncé and Onika from their intimate conversation. "Dad wants to talk to you again!"

Instinctively Onika took a step back, but then quickly stepped forward again and pressed her lips against Beyoncé's, her tongue flicking out to taste the young woman's lips. "I'm yours, Beyoncé," she whispered. "Yours." Gently Onika cupped Beyoncé's cheek for a moment, before finally turning away and walking out of the young brunette's bathroom and bedroom.

Beyoncé stood there quietly, reaching behind her back to steady herself on the sink countertop. Her head was swimming, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

There was no turning back now, and both of them knew it.

Translations:

"Michael, querida, ¿cómo estás??" - Michael, my dear, how are you?

" Entonces, ¿cómo va tu proyecto?" - How is your project coming along?

"Pero sí, estamos bien. Estaba lavando los platos con Beyoncé, la niñera." - Of course, we're doing well. I was busy doing the dishes with Beyoncé, [...] the nanny.

"Te dejo con ellos, ok?" - I'm leaving you with them, ok? (in the sense that Onika is leaving the phone with the children so he can speak with them.)