The Nanny Diaries
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"Sorryto disappear,Gran. It's just this whole earmuffsthing." "Goodlord! Between your father and his tuxedo and you and your earmuffs, 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" button.
"Hi, Nan? Um, this is a message for Nan. I think this is the right number . .." H. H.'s slurred voice fills theapartment.
"Oh,myGod!" 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 God," I mumble again in the darkness, before passing 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 pass 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.
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"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, earmuffs. 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.
WHATTHEFUCK?
Oh,myGod,it's mycellphone. It's mygoddamncellphone.
Ring.Ring.Ring. Ring.
Aaaahhhhh!I getoutofbed,butI can't findthesourceofthegoddamnringing.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.
I awake five hours later to a very patient George waiting at the end of my bed for breakfast. He tilts his head and meows. "Been on a bender?" he seems to ask. I pad to the kitchen in my very rumpled black chiffon to feed George and make some coffee. I open the freezer and see the green glow of the phone frombehindtheicetrays.
"Numberof callsreceived:12,"thefacereads. Oh,Lord.I make somecoffeeandgositonmybedtolistentothemessagesonmymachine. "Hi, again. Hope I'm not repeating myself. So, Mr. X has decided he won't be able to make it toAspen
and I really don't want to be out thereby myself. The groom and the groundsman live all the waydown the road and, well, I'd feel very isolated. So I'll be in the city. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you could
come in a fewdays aweek.How's Mondayforyou?Let me know.Thenumber hereagainis?
I don't eventhinkor chant. I justreassemblethephoneanddialthenumberfortheLyford CayInn.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. X?Hi,it's Nanny.Howareyou?"
"Oh God, the weather here is just awful. Mr. X hasjbarely been able to play a round of golf and now
he'll be missing his skiing, as well. Grayer's been trapped inside the whole time, and they promised us someone full-time, like last year, but there's a shortage or something. I don't know what I'm going to do."I canhearPocahon-tasinthebackground."So,didyougetmymessage?"
"Yes." I bracemypoundingtemples betweenmythumb andpinkyfinger.
"You know,I think there's something wrong with your phone.You really should haveit looked at. I was
trying to call you all morning.Anyway, Mr. X is leaving today, but I'm staying the weekend and won't
bebackuntilMonday. Ourplanegetsinateleven, socouldyoumeet usattheapartmentatnoon?"
"Well, actually". armuffs?I already made plans since I wasn't supposed t?start back until the last
Mondayof themonth."
"Oh.Couldntyouatleastgive me aweekor two?"
"Well, thethingis?
"Can you hold on a moment?" It sounds like she's put her hand over the phone. "We don't have another
video." Mr. X sayssomethingI can't quitemakeout. "Well,playitforhimagain,"shehisses.
THE NANNY DIARIES
"Urn,Mrs. X?"
"Yes?"
I know we'll be having this conversation for the next thirty-six hours unless I reach for a small white
one. "I took your suggestion about Paris. So I can't start back until, let's see, two weeks from Monday. Until the eighteenth." No to say yes. "Also, we didn't really have time before you left to discuss how muchmoreanhour I'd begettingthis year."
"Uh-huh?"
"Well, typicallyI goup twodollarsevery January. I hopethat's not a problem."
"Well... No, no, of course. I'll talk to Mr. X. Also, I'd appreciate it if you could go by the apartment
tomorrow. ou know,while you're outandabout. ndrefill thehumidifiers."
"Um, I'm actuallygoingtobeontheWestSide, so?
"Great!Seeyouintwoweeks. Butpleasedoletmeknowif youcanstartanysooner."
James holds the door open as I pass. "Happy New Year, Nanny. What're you doin' back so soon?" He
seems surprisedtoseeme.
"Mrs. X needsherhumidifiers filled,"I say.
"Oh,doesshenow?" Hegives a wickedgrin.
The first thing I notice when I open the Xes' front door is that the heat is actually on. I step slowly into
the silence, feeling a bit like a thief. I am just slipping my arms out of my coat when Ella Fitzgerald's
"Miss Otis Regrets" comes blaringoutof thestereosystem.
I freeze. "Hello?" I call. I clutch my backpack and follow the wall into the kitchen, hoping to grab a
knife. I've heard about doormen in buildings like this using the apartments when the tenantsare away.
I
swing openthekitchendoor.
There's anopenbottleof DomPerignononthecounter,pots are
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bubblingonthestove. Whatkindofsickpersonstealsintoanapartmenttocook?
"It's not ready yet. Ce n'est pas fini," a man says in a thick French accent as he emerges from the maid's
bathroomdryinghis handsonhis checkedtrousersandadjustinghiswhite chef's coat.
"Whoareyou?" I ask over themusic,taking a step backwardtowardthe door. Helooksup.
"Qtti estvows?" heasks,puttinghis handsonhis hips.
"Um, I workhere.Whoareyou!"
"Je m'appelle Pierre. Your mistress hired me to faire le diner." He returns to chopping fennel. The
kitchenis a phantasmofproductivity anddelicious aromas. It's never lookedsohappy.
"Whyyoustandtherelike a fish?Go."Hewaves hisknifeatme.
I leavethekitchentogofindMrs. X.
I cannot believe she's back. Of course, why bother to call Nanny? Ooh no, it's not like I have anything
better to do than keep her oil paintings moist. Oh, oh, I am definitely not working tonight if that's her game. It's probably just one, big ruse to get me to work. She's probably got Grayer tied up in a net over thehumidifierandisplanningtodrophimonmyheadtheminuteI pourthewaterin.
"SHE RANTOTHE MANWHOHADLED HER SO FARASTRAY," the stereo blares, following me fromroomtoroom.
Well, fine. I'll justlether knowI camebylikeI saidI wouldandthenI'm outofhere.
"Hello?" I practicallyleap rightout ofmyskin.Theresheis,struttingoutof thebedroom, asilkkimono
tiedcarelessly ather waist,her emeraldearrings sparklinginthehalllight. Myheartjumps tomythroat.
It's Ms. icago.
"Hi," she says, as friendly as she was in the conference room three weeks ago. She glides past me, out
towardthediningroom.
"Hi," I say, scampering behind her, untying my scarf. I round the corner just as she throws open the Frenchdoors ontothedining
THE NANNY DIARIES
room,revealing atablesetfor a romantic dinnerfortwo.A hugebouquetofpeonies,thepurplyblackof squid ink, sits among a ring of glowing votives. She leans across the gleaming mahogany to straighten thesilverware.
"I'm justhereforthehumidifiers!" I call outover thestereo.
"Wait," she says, going over to the hidden control panel in the bookcase and expertly adjusting the volume, tone,andbass. "There."Sheturnstome,smilingplacidly. "Whatwere yousaying?"
"The humidifiers? Are, um, dry? They run out of... water? And the pictures, well, they can really, uh, suffer? If they're dry? I was just supposed to water them. Only once. Just now, today, 'cause that should lastthemtill... Okay! So, I'll justdothat,then."
"Well, thankyou,Nanny.I'm sure Mr. Xappreciatesthat,andI do, too."Sheretrievesher errantglass of champagnefromthesideboard.I kneelandunplugthehumidifier fromthefloor.
"Okay,then,"I grunt,heavingthemachineintomyarmsandlettingmyself outintothekitchen.
I refill all ten water tanks, schlepping them back and forth to the laundry room, while Ella keeps right on trucking from "It Was Just One of Those Things," through "Why Can't You Behave?" and "I'm Always True to You, Darlin', in My Fashion." My mind is reeling. This is not her house. This is not her family.Andthatmost definitelywasnot herbedroomthatshecameoutof.
"Are youdoneyet?" sheasks asI pluginthelastone. "BecauseI waswonderingifyoucouldruntothe shop for me."She follows me to thedoor asI grab mycoat. "Pierre forgotto get heavycream. Thanks." Shehandsme atwentyasI openthedoor.
I look down at the moneyand then at Grayer's little frog umbrella in the stand, the one thathas two big frog eyes that pop up when he opens it. I hold the money out to her. "I can't. have, um, an appointment, a doctorthing."I catch a glimpse of myself inthegiltmirror. "Actually ... I justcan't."
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Her smile strains. "Keep it, then," she says evenly. The elevator door opens, while she attempts to look casualleaningagainstthedoorframe.
I putthebill downonthehalltable.
Her eyes flash. "Look, Nanny, is it? You run home and tell your boss that you found me here and all you'll be doing is saving me the trouble of leaving behind a pair of panties." She steps back into the apartment,lettingthedoorslamshutbehindher.
"Like, literally panties?" Sarah asks me the next day as she tries on yet another shadeof pink lipstick at theStilacounter.
"I don't know!DoI havetolookforthem? I feellikeI havetolookforthem."
"How much are thesepeople paying you? I mean, do you have a line? Is there a line they could cross?"
Sarahisfuriouslypuckering."Toopink?"
"Baboonbutt," I say.
"Try one of the plummy shades," the makeup artist behind the counter suggests. Sarah reaches for a tissueandstartsover. "Mrs. X iscomingbacktomorrow. I feellikethere's somethingI'm supposedtobedoing,"I say, leaning
againstthecounterinexasperation.
"Um, quitting?"
"No,outhereintherealworld,whereI payrent."
"TOOOOOTS!!!!!" Sarah and I freeze and look across the atrium to where two piles of shopping bags
are calling Sarah's high-school nifkname, which rhymes with "boots."The bags make their wayaround thebalconytowardus, partingtorevealAlexandraandLangly,twoofour classmatesfromChapin. SarahandI exchangeglances. Inhighschooltheylivedin
THE NANNY DIARIES Birkenstocks and followed the Dead. Nowthey standbefore us,Alexandra atnearly six feet and Langly atbarely five, inshearlingcoats,cashmere turtlenecks,and ashitload ofCartier.
"TOOTS!" they cry again as Alexandra envelops Sarah in a big hug, nearly clonking her on the head with oneofhershoppingbags.
"Toots,what's up?"Alexandraasks. "So,doyouhave aman?"
Sarah's eyelids lift. "No. Well, I mean there was someone, but..." She's starting to sweat, foundation
beadingonherbrow.
"I have a faaabulous man. e's Greek. He's soo gorgeous. We're going to the Riviera next week,"
Alexandracoos. "So,whatareyouup to?" sheasksme.
"Oh,sameold,sameold.Still workingwith kids."
"Huh,"Langlysays quietly. "What're yougonnadonextyear?"
"Well, I'm hoping to work with an after-school program." Their eyes narrow, as if I had just switched
languages unexpectedly. "Focusing on using creative arts? As a tool for self-expression? And, um,
building community?" I am getting completely blank looks. "Kathie Lee's really involved?" I offer as a
last-ditch effortto ... what?
"Right.Whataboutyou?" Langlyalmost whisperstoSarah.
"I'm goingtoworkatAllure."
"Oh,myGod!!" theysqueal.
"Well,"Sarahcontinues, "I'm onlygoingtobeansweringthephones,but?
"No,that's awesome. I. Love.Allure,"Alexandrasays.
"Whatare youguys doingnextyear?" I ask.
"Following myman,"Alexandrasays.
"Ganja,"Langlysayssoftly.
"Well, we better run. e're meeting my mom at Cote Basque at one. Oh, Toots!" Sarah is once again
molestedbyAlexandraandtheyheadofftopokeattheirseafoodsalads.
"You're toofunny,"1 saytoSarah. "Allure?"
"Fuck 'em. Comeon, let's goeatsomewherefabulous."
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We decidetotreatourselves to a chiclunchof redwineandrobiolacheesepizzasatFred's.
"I mean,wouldyouactuallyleaveyour underwearinsomeone's house?"
"Nan,"Sarahsays,shuttingme up. "I just don't understandwhyyoucare. Mrs. Xworks youlike a mule
andgaveyoudead-animal headgearfor abonus!Whatis yourloyalty?"
"Sarah, regardless of what kind of a whackjob employer she might be, she's still Grayer's mom and this
woman is having sex with her husband in her bed. And in Grayer's home. It makes me heartsick.
Nobodydeserves that.Andthatfreak!Shewantstoget caught!What's up withthat?"
"Well, if my married boyfriend was dawdling about leaving his wife I guess I might want him to get
caught,too."
"So,ifI
tell,Ms. ChicagowinsandMrs. X willbedevastated. IfI don't tellit's humiliatingforMrs. X?
"Nan, this is not even within a million miles of your responsibility. You don't have to be the one to tell
her. Trustme. t's notinyour jobdescription."
"But if I don't and the panties are floating around and she finds out that way ... Ugh! How awful! Oh,
myGod,whatifGrayerfindsthem?She's soevil I betshe'd putthemsomewherehe'd findthem."
"Nan,get agrip.Howwouldheevenknowtheywere hers?"
"Because they're probably black and lacy and thonged and he might not get it now, but one day he'll be
intherapyand it'll justIdiilU him. Get yourcoat."
Sarah greets JcBh in the front hall with a glass of wine. "Welcome to Hunt the Panties!, where we play
for fabulous prizes, including ear-muffs and a trip to the broom closet. Who's our first contestant?"
"Ooh,me,me!" Joshsays ashetakesoffhisjacket. I am onmy
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hands and knees in the front hall closet, looking through every coat pocket and boot. Nothing. "Jesus,
Nan,thisplaceis amazing. t's likethefuckingMetropolitanMuseum."
"Yup, andaboutascozy,"Sarahsays,asI runfranticallyintothe
living room.
"We don't havetimetoshootthebreeze!" I callover myshoulder."Pick a room!"
"So,dowe getpointsforanyundergarments,or must theyhave a scarletA onthem?" Joshasks.
"Extrapointsforcrotchlessandedible."SarahexplainstherulesforthegameI am notfindingamusing.
"All right!" I say. "Listen up! We are goingto be methodical. We are going to startin the rooms thatget
the most use, where the panties would be uncovered the soonest. Joshua, you take the master bedroom, Mrs. X's dressingroom,andheroffice. SarahAnne!"
"Reportingforduty,sir!"
"Kitchen, library, maid's rooms. I'll take the living room, the dining room, the study, and the laundry
room. Okay?"
"WhataboutGrayer's room?" Joshasksme.
"Right. I'll startthere."
I turn on each light as I pass, even the rarely used overheads, illuminating the darkest corners of the
Xes'home.
"Nan, you can't say we didn't try," Josh says, passing me a cigarette as we sit by the recycling bins in
thebackstairwell. "She wasprobablybluffing,hopingyou'dtellMrs. Xsoshecanstartredecorating."
Sarah lights another cigarette. "Besides, whoever finds them in this apartment deserves to find them.