4.
Morning hurt. After all the energy he had expended biking and drinking, Dez expected a solid night's sleep, but what he got was hours of the ceiling, his peripheral vision haunted by tacky ornaments that reminded him of sleeping in his grandparents' guestroom. His memory of the night ended after the living room clock struck two.
A voice spoke to him from his bedside. Eventually, a hand shook him, and he cracked an eye to see Cecile leaning over him with an amused smile on her face. She smelled of a flower, sweet and faintly alluring. He noticed her hair was wet, and she was wearing a bath robe, but her make-up had already been artfully applied.
“Wake up, Dez. The children need breakfast, Natty needs a snack, and I need to introduce you.” Her voice sounded a little nervous at those last words. She hastily glanced down the bed and then back at his face. “I think you need to get an alarm clock today.”
He opened his other eye to watch her exit. In the night, he had twisted out of his blankets and sent them to the floor. His only covers, a thread-bare pair of boxers, stood at attention.
“Shit!” He rolled from the bed to his feet. He slid his pants on and headed for the bathroom. He was relieved to see the kids were not yet awake. He heard Cecile in the bathroom above him humming merrily. He was glad she was amused. He cursed not having his toothbrush and for a diabolical moment contemplated using one of the children's. That would just be wrong. He worked some toothpaste around with his finger trying to break the stale alcohol taste in his mouth. He looked at the sleep deprived thirty-something in the mirror with some apprehension. A universal parental weariness accentuated with intricate lines and dark bags still clung to him, tempered by the youthful spirit in his eyes and the obvious smile lines on his face.
“Today is going to be rough,” the face whispered to him, “but you are going to make it through, because you are an amazing guy and a serious muther--”
“Ah!” A voice squeaked and little pounding feet ran across the living room. “Natty! Natty! There's someone in our bathroom.” The kids' room door slammed shut, and there were muffled sounds of the door being blocked.
Dez sighed. He stopped in his room to get his shirt and then knocked on the kids' door. “Hello in there! Don't shoot. I'm only the new Nanny. My name is Dez.”
“Dez isn't a name,” shot back a snotty voice.
“It’s a type of name; it's a nickname for Desmond.”
“Where is our mother?” the voice demanded.
“She is upstairs changing for work.”
“We are not coming out until we speak to her.”
“Okay, but I'm going into the kitchen to make some breakfast. I promise not to attack.”
Silence.
“If you kids weren't barred behind that door and wanted breakfast, what would you eat?” Dez heard whispering. “You first Gregory, what are you having?”
“He always has toast. Wait, how do you know his name?”
“It could be because I'm the new nanny.”
“You're a boy, you can't be a nanny,” said Gregory.
“That's right, I'm a boy; no one is going to tell me I can't be a nanny.”
“That's weird,” said Natty.
“And this is my life,” Dez whispered to himself. “So, what are you having Natty?”
She hesitated. “I like Sugar Frosted Mini-Wheats.”
“Yeah, who doesn't, but are they good for you?”
“They're organic.”
“So is oil. I'll see if we have anything. You might want to open that door soon so I can change Lucy's diaper, unless you two want to do it.”
Gregory and Natty groaned, but the door remained shut.
In the kitchen, Dez made himself at home. If there was anything he knew about parenting, it was that the kitchen was the command center, the battle-station, the grand central railway. He liked the layout, plenty of counter space and cabinets with an opening that looked out over the dining-room table.
He started with the refrigerator. Its freezer was filled with a few useful foods, but mostly sugary food substitutes he vowed to toss into the trash. The fridge was sparkling clean; several soy products leapt out at him, taking up almost as much space as the supplements. On the bottom were a few containers of take-out next to the rice bread and the tahini. He wasn't sure why the tahini was refrigerated. In the back he saw a bottle of champagne left open and gone flat next to a gallon container of water.
“No wonder Frank ran away,” he muttered, picking up a baggy of tofu burgers. “A man could go hungry in this house.”
He placed the tea pot on to boil and searched the rack for a strong black tea. He found a tea ball and packed it with a loose strong smelling black that he was sure would kick his system like ethylene. He continued his exploration by slowly opening and shutting every cabinet until he found a large tea mug, the frosted mini-wheats, two bowls, a plate, a knife, and two spoons. The moment was surreal, doing these simple tasks he had done with love and devotion for his family, and now for this family he didn't even know, and whose faces he had never seen. He would remember the moment for a long time imagining he was like a wild monkey shoved in a dark box to one day emerge in a new and foreign habitat.
He put the rice bread in the toaster, the mini-wheats in the two bowls, and for Lucy he put some crackers in a plastic cup. A moment later the food was on the table and he took up his place with a bowl of mini-wheats doused in soymilk.
“Breakfast!” Dez called, and proceeded to eat his synthetic tasting meal. He could almost feel his teeth rotting from the sugar, but at least he was getting the variety of both sucrose and organic cane juice.
The children peeked out the door. He decided to ignore them. On a pad of paper he scribbled notes. Food list: eggs, flours, cheese, meats, good bread, beans, tortillas, veggies, sauces, and call Ben. Ben was a farmer, about fifteen miles out of town who supplied him with raw milk, and anything else he was producing. He started a second list: birthday, allergies, budget, post office box, expense account, contacts, and library. He was drumming his pencil on the table trying to think without tea, when he noticed the children emerging from their room.
Gregory took one look at him and was a blonde thin streak running for the stairs. “Mom, Mom, Mom!” Lucy imitated him by squawking and flapping her arms, and with her build, he couldn’t help but think of a Butterball Turkey. She must have had her father’s coloring, with dark hair and big round beautiful eyes. She was quickly distracted by the bookshelf, where books began to find their way to the floor. Natty watched her sister and brother go, then looked at her breakfast. She took cautious awkward steps to the table and sat down uncomfortably.
“At least you got my chair right,” she said, tossing her finely combed hair to the side with an arrogant twist of her head.
“I thought you might like to sit at the head of the table,” Dez replied.
“There's no milk in this.”
Dez handed her the soymilk. “We don't have any milk.”
“Duh, that is the milk. Can you pour it?”
“How old are you?”
Natty got a cold look on her face. “Eight.”
“Hmm. Eight. And you don't know how to pour your own milk?”
“I know how!” Natty grabbed the container and poured the milk too quickly sending it splashing over the rim of her bowl.
“I see. Maybe a little more practice . . .” Natty reddened, and the tea pot screamed. “What does your brother have on his toast?”
“Honey.”
Dez poured his tea and let it steep with a lid in hopes it would turn chocolaty black. He found honey in the turn-style, but when he looked for butter he found only margarine.
“You've got to be kidding me,” he cursed under his breath.
“What?” asked Natty grabbing a glass.
Dez was happy he hadn't said anything worse. He'd worked a few years as a building contractor, and it had given him a trucker's mouth. “Margarine? Even starving wild animals won't eat this sh—stuff.” He tossed it back in the fridge and sighed. “This isn't going to be easy.”
Natty regarded him over the rim of her glass. “You're weird.”
“Sure.” Dez went to the table and spread honey on Gregory's rice toast. He ripped off a piece and tried it. It tasted like unsalted cardboard. He wondered if the manufacturer had ever eaten the product. He sat watching to see what Lucy would do with the books. She seemed legitimately interested in what was inside them, but it wasn't stopping her from removing covers and pulling out bookmarks.
“You're in third grade, right?”
Natty nodded.
“Do you like your teacher?”
She shrugged.
“Who's your best friend?”
“Amelia.”
“I like that name. Is she funny?”
“Sometimes, but she believes in faeries, so we play faeries.”
“You believe in faeries?”
“Yes. Do you?” Natty asked, and Dez caught her hopeful expression before it was quickly covered.
Dez shrugged.
“Adults never believe in faeries. I hope I never grow up.”
“Well, sometimes when my glasses are missing, or I find something in an odd place I blame the little people.”
Natty nodded sympathetically.
“So, Natty, you're the oldest. I want you to know some things are going to be different here, because I probably do things a little differently than your other nannies. I'm going to need your help in working it all out. You need to tell me what you are used to, and I'm going to tell you the way I like to do things and why. Together I think we can find ways to both get what we want. Does that sound good?”
“No.”
Dez raised his eyebrows and filled his mouth with mini-wheats. What can I say to that? He was thinking slowly about another approach when Cecile came down the stairs carrying Gregory in her arms. He was talking to his mom a mile a minute, about what Dez couldn't figure out. She smiled when she saw them at the table, ignoring Lucy's growing area of destruction.
“I see you have met my children.”
“Well, I've met Natty, who is a friend of the wee-folk. I have only seen Gregory in passing, and Lucy is in her own world.”
“You seem off to a good start, which is a blessing because I have to run.” Cecile set Gregory in his chair where he slumped with a frown and showed no interest in his food.
“I need to know some things,” Dez said hurriedly.
“Right. Natty's school sends a shuttle that comes by at 7:15 and drops her off at 2:30, so you need to make sure she's on it, and be here when she returns.”
“That answers one question. What are Gregory's allergies?”
“Well, we know that soy doesn't bother them.”
“Does he have any anaphylactic reactions?” asked Dez.
“You mean lethal? I don't think so. He used to get terrible rashes, so we put him on prednisone.”
“But you don't know the exact allergy?”
“The isolation diet never worked very well for us. Gregory's rashes never cleared up.”
Dez looked at her waiting for more, but that was the end of it. He moved on.
“I need money to get some food.”
“There's food in the kitchen.”
“If I'm going to turn these kids into healthy smart adults I need more to work with.”
She opened her purse and handed Dez a wad of cash. “Will that work?”
He counted the money. “That works.”
“About transportation--”
“Walk when you can. There's a stroller in the garage. The keys to the Highlander are hanging by the back-door. You do have a license, right?”
“Yes. I'll be cautious and drive slow.”
“Then they'll be safer with you than their own mom.” She leaned over to his notepad and scribbled down her cell number. “If you need anything, call me. I may be late trying to settle a few unexpected legal issues.” She made a face of annoyance.
Late? On his first day? To hide his irritation he went into the kitchen to tend his tea. How different she seemed early in the morning: all business, no play.
“Okay, kids. Give me a hug. I'm leaving,” Cecile said.
Dez could tell in some ways she was already gone. Perhaps this gig wouldn't be so different from the last, except instead of “little sex,” there would be “no sex.” As he was frowning at the soymilk in his tea, Cecile looked in the kitchen.
“It's good to have you on board, Dez. Thank you for being here on such short notice.”
Dez offered her a smile, the same fake everything's-okay smile he had given his wife before she hurried out the door to go screw her boss. He heard Lucy squawk then cry, and Gregory's feet running towards the bedroom.
“Bye,” Cecile said, as the door clicked shut.
Dez looked at Gregory's guilty smile through the kitchen peep hole. Gregory looked back. Dez pointed at him and got a scary look on his face. Gregory disappeared into the bedroom with a yelp. Dez made a note to self: watch every move that boy makes.
He checked the time. Fifteen minutes until Natty had to be on the bus.
“Are you ready for school, Natty?”
“I need a snack.”
“What do you usually have?”
“I like the chewy granola bars, especially the chocolate chip.”
“Chocolate! Chocolate!” Gregory chanted from the bedroom, “I want chocolate cake. Chocolate cake for my birthday!”
“Do you mean those granola bars where one half is nuts and grain and the other is sugar?” asked Dez.
Natty whined in protest. “But they're organic!”