The Nanny Diaries

by Emma Mclaughlin

  BEEP.

  "Shit. Sorry! Holdononemoretime."I click over. "Hello??"I say, bracingmyself.

  "So? Isitbythekitchen?" Sheisslightlybreathless.

  "What?No,um, I'm still onholdwith them."

  "Petrossian?"

  "No,LeCirque. I'll callyoujustassoonas1 getthrough."

  THE NANNY DIARIES

  "All right. But remember, don't start with the kitchen question.And I was thinking that you should try

  '21', it's unromantic. Maybe they'll still have something. So '21' next, okay? Well, Petrossian would be

  nextandthen'21'.Yes, '21'ismythirdchoice."

  "Great!I shouldgetbacktoLe Cirque."

  "Yes, yes. Call metheminuteyouknow."

  "Bye!" Deepbreath.Click over. "Yes, hangingout. Thatwould

  workforme."

  "Good to know. Hey, I've got to run to my next class. Listen, I'll definitely be home inApril for a few

  days, we'll figuresomethingout. Goodluckwith Jean."

  "Hey!" I catchhim beforehehangsup. "I thinkTheHagueis

  reallygreat."

  "Well, I thinkyou're reallygreat. I'll callyou later. Bye."

  "Bye!" I hang up andGeorge stretches from where he has been curled up by myheadand jumps offthe

  bedontothefloor.

  Thephoneringsagain.I stareatthemachine.

  "... CharleneandNan.Pleaseleave amessage."

  "This is your mother. You may not recognize me as it is not two in the morning and you do not have a

  suffocating childonyourlap,butI assureyouthatI am oneandthesame. Listen,bud,today,tomorrow,

  nextweek,we will havethis conversation.In themeantimeI leaveyouwith twolittle wordsof wisdom

  regarding this job of yours. 'Not okay.' I love you. Over and out." Right, this job of mine. What to do

  aboutthisreservationthing?

  "Grandma?"

  "Darling!"

  "I need to get a table for two for Valentine's dinner anywhere that they don't have paper place mats.

  Whatcanyoudoforme?"

  "Going right for the jackpot today, are we? Can't we start with something smaller, like an afternoon

  wearingthecrownjewels?"

  "I know, it's for Grayer's mom. It's a long story, but she's going to hunt me until I get her a seat

  somewhere."

  "Thatearmuffswoman?Shedoesn't deservethecrumbs offyourplate."

  "I know,butcanyoupleasejustwaveyour magicwandforme?"

  "Hmm, callMauriceatLutece andtell him I'll sendhimtherecipeforthecheesecakenextweek."

  "You rock,Grandma."

  "No,darling,I swing. Love you."

  "Love you,too."Onemore callandit's backtolespetites ego-centrics. The city is on Valentine's overdrive as I walk over to ElizabethArden to meet my grandmother. Since the last Christmas decoration came down in January every store has had a Valentine's theme in the window; even the hardware store has a red toilet-seat cover on display. In Februaries past I would wait with exasperation on line behind men and women buying oysters/champagne/condoms, when I only wanted to pay for my grapefruit/beer/Kleenex and get on with my life. This year, I've got nothing but patience.

  This is the very first Valentine's Day on which I have not been single. However, in observance of the traditionalsurvivalagendafortheone-day-when-being-single-is-just-not-okay,SarahandI mailedeach otherTigerBeatpinupsandI am accompanyingGrandma toour annualpampering.

  "Darling, Saint Valentine's Rule Number One," she imparts as we sip our lemon water and admire our lacquered toes. "It's more important to show yourself a little love than to have a man who gives you somethinginthewrongsizeandcolor."

  "Thanksforthepedicure,Gram."

  "Anytime, darling. I'm going to go back upstairs for my seaweed wrap. Let's just hope they don't forget

  me likelasttime. Really,theyshouldput a little buzzerinyourhand.Imaginebeingfound,covered

  THE NANNY DIARIES

  in seaweed and wrapped in a tarp by some poor janitor. Rule Number Two: Never take the last

  appointmentoftheday."

  1 thank her profusely, bundle up, bid her farewell, and go to pick up my hot date from nursery school.

  Hecomes runningoutatnoon,holding alarge,crookedpaperheartthatleaves a trailofglitter

  behindhim.

  "Whatchagot there,buddy?"

  "It's a Valentine. 1 made it. You can hold it." I take the heart and pass him the juice box I've been

  keepingwarminmypocketashesettles inthestroller.

  I look down at the heart, assuming it's for Mrs. X. "Mrs. Butters spelled for me. I told her what to say

  andshespelledforme. Readit,Nanny,readit."

  I almost can't speak. "I LOVENANNYFROM GRAYERADDISONX."

  "Yup. That's whatI said."

  "It's beautiful,Grover. Thankyou,"I say, startingtogetteary

  behindthestroller.

  "You canholdit,"heoffersashegripsthejuicebox.

  "You know what? I'm going to put it safely in the stroller pocket so it doesn't get hurt. We've got a

  specialafternoonaheadofus."

  Despite the fact thatit's one of the coldest days of the year, I'm under strict instruction not to bring him

  home until after French class. So I've made an executive decision to ignore all the usual guidelines and

  take him to California Pizza Kitchen for lunch and then down ThirdAvenue to the new Muppet movie.

  I wasworriedhemightbescaredof thedark,buthesingsandclaps all thewaythrough.

  "That was so funny, Nanny. So funny," he says, as I buckle him back into his stroller and we sing the

  themesong all thewayto

  Frenchclass.

  After I drop him offwith Mme. Maxime to faire lesValentines I runacross Madisonto Barneys to pick

  up alittle somethingfor H. H.

  "CanI help you?" thenotoriouslybitchyblondebehindthe

  Kiehl's counter half asks, half spits. She has never been forgiven for once accusing Sarah of shoplifting

  thetonershewastryingtoreturn.

  "No, thanks, just browsing." I set my sights on another salesperson, a tall Eurasian man in an

  expensive-looking black shirt. "Hi, I'm looking for a Valentine's present for my boyfriend." I love

  saying it. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Yeah, I have the cutest boyfriend. My boyfriend doesn't like

  woolsocks. Oh,myboyfriendworksatTheHague,too!

  "Okay,well, whatkindofproductsdoesheprefer?" Right,I'm back.

  "Oh,I don't know. Um, hesmells nice. Heshaves. Maybe someshavestuff?"

  He shows me every conceivable product an aspiring model pulling in extra cash at Barneys might ever

  wanttouse. ?

  "Um, really? Lipliner?" I ask. "Becauseheplays lacrosse .. ."

  Heshakeshisheadatmyshortsightednessandpulls outmoreesotericpastesandlotions.

  "I don't want to imply that there's anything wrong with him, you know, give him something that fixes

  anything. He doesn't need fixing." I finally settle on a stainless steel razor and watch him wrap it in red

  tissuepaperandtie aredbowaroundtheblackbox.Parfait.

  I greetGrayer outsidehis classroomwithhis coatheldout. "Bonsoir,MonsieurX. Comment 93 va?"

  "Cavatresbien, Nanny.Merci beaucoup.Etvous?" heasks,wavinghis magicfingersatme.

  "Oui,oui,tresbien."

  Maxime leans her head out of the classroom to the row of cubbies where I'm bundling Grayer. "Grayer

  is really coming along with his verbs." She smiles down at him from atop her Charles Jourdan pumps.

  "But if you could take some time with him to practice the noun list each week, that would be

  fantastique. If eitheryouor yourhusband?

  THE NANNY DIARIES

  "Oh,I'm nothis mother."

  "Ah,monDieu!Jem'excuse."

  "Non,non,pasdeproblem," I say.

  "Alors,seeyounextweek,Grayer."

  I trytopushhim homequicklybecause afrigidwindis whipping

  downP
ark.

  "As soonas we get upstairs," I say, crouchingin theelevator to loosenhis scarf, "I'm going to put some

  Vaselineonyourcheeks,okay?You're getting alittle chapped."

  "Okay.Whatarewegoingtodotonight,Nanny?Let's fly!Yeah, I thinkweshouldflyassoonaswe get upstairs." LatelyI've beenbalancinghim onmyfeetand "flying"himinhis room. "After bath, G, that's flying time." I push the stroller over the threshold. "What do you want for

  dinner?"

  I'm hanging up our coats when Mrs. X walks into the front hall in a floor-length red evening gown and

  Velcrocurlers, alreadyintheheatofpreparationforherValentinedinnerdatewith Mr. X.

  "Hi,guys. Didyouhave agoodday?"

  "HappyValentine's Day, Mommy!" Grayershoutsingreeting.

  "HappyValentine's Day. Oops,becarefulofMommy's dress."

  Spatula.

  "Wow, youlookbeautiful,"I say, pullingoffmyboots.

  "You think so?" She looks down in consternation at her midriff. "I still have a little time. r. X's flight

  fromChicagodoesn't landforanotherhalf hour. Couldyoucome helpme fora minute?" "Sure. I wasjustgoingtogetdinnerstarted.I thinkGrayer's pretty hungry."

  "Oh.Well, whydon't youjustordersomethingin?There's

  moneyinthedrawer."Well, I never.

  "Great! Grayer, why don't you come help me order?" I keep a hidden stash of menus in the laundry

  roomforemergencies.

  "Pizza!I wantpizza,Nanny!Pleeeaaase?"

  1 53

  I raise an eyebrow at him because he knows I can't say "But you had pizza for lunch" in front of his

  mother.

  "Great. Nanny, why don't you call for a pizza, pop in a v-i-d-e-o and then come help me," she says as sheleaves theroom. "Hahaha, pizza, Nanny, we're having pizza," he laughs and claps wildly at his unbelievable good

  fortune.

  "Mrs. X?" I pushthedooropen.

  "In here!" she calls out from the dressing room. She's standing in another floor-length red gown and

  there's athirdhangingupbehindher.

  "Oh, my God! Wow, it's beautiful." This one has thicker straps and red velvet leaf appliques trailing aroundtheskirt.Thecoloris a stunningcombination with herthickblackhair. Shelooksinthemirror andshakesherhead. "No,it's justnotright." I lookcarefullyatherinthedress. I

  realizeI've never seenher arms or sternumbefore. Shelookslike a ballet dancer,tinyand all sinew. But sheisn't fillingoutthedress inthebustandit's hanging all wrong.

  "I thinkmaybe it's thebustline,"I saytentatively.

  She nods her head. "Breast-feeding," she says derisively. "Let me try on the third. Would you like some

  wine?" I noticetheopenbottleof Sancerreonthedresser.

  "No,thankyou.I shouldn't."

  "Oh,comeon.Gotake aglass offthebar."

  I walk throughto thepiano room where I can hearthe strains of "I'm Madeline!I'm Madeline!" coming

  fromthelibrary.

  WhenI get backshe's comeoutin a beautifulNapoleonicraw-silkgown, lookinglikeJosephine.

  "Oh,muchbetter," I say. "Theempire waist reallysuitsyou."

  "Yeah,butitisn't verysexy,isit?"

  "Well... no,it's beautiful,butitdependsonthelookyou're goingfor."

  THE NANNY DIARIES

  "Breathtaking,Nanny. I wantto bebreathtaking."We both smile assheslips behindtheChinesescreen.

  "I've gotonemore."

  "Are yougoingtokeep all ofthese?" I eyethezeros onthedanglingpricetags.

  "No,ofcoursenot. I'll returntheonesI don't wear. Oh,thatremindsme."Shesticksherheadaroundthe

  screen. "CanyoutaketherestbacktoBergdorf'sformetomorrow?"

  "No problem. I can do it while Grayer's at his play date." "Great. Can you zip me?" she calls out. I put

  down my wine and go around to zip her into a stunningly sexy 1930s red sheath, "Yes," we both say as

  soon as she looks in the mirror. "It's beautiful," I say. And mean it. It's the first one that uses her

  proportions to its advantage, making her look sylphlike, rather than emaciated. Looking at her

  reflection,I realizethatI am rootingforher,rootingforthem.

  "So what do you think? Earrings or no earrings? I need to wear this necklace becausemyhusbandgave

  ittome."Sheholdsup a strandof diamonds. "Isn't itbeautiful?ButI don't wanttooveracces!sorize."

  "Doyouhaveanylittlestuds?"

  ShestartsgoingthroughherjewelryboxandI takemywineover tothevelvet bench.

  "These?" Sheholdsup a pairof diamondstuds?Orthese?"?

  andrubies.

  "No,definitely thediamonds.You don't wanttooverdothered."

  "I went to Chanel today and got the perfect lipstick and look!" She sticks out her foot. Her toes are

  paintedinChanelRedcoat.

  "Perfect,"I say, taking asip.Sheputsinthestudsandgives herself aquickswipe with thelipstick.

  "What do you think?" She turns for me. "Oh, wait!" She goes 1 over to the Manolo Blahnik bag on

  thefloorandpullsout a boxcontaining a pair ofexquisiteblacksilksandals. "Toomuch?"

  I 55

  "No,no.They're gorgeous,"I say, assheslipsthemonandturnsformeagain.

  "So,whatdoyouthink?Anythingmissing?"

  "Well, I'd take the curlers out." She laughs. "No, really, it's perfect." I give her another once-over. "Um,

  it's justthat..."

  "What?"

  "Doyouhave athong?"

  She quickly looks backward in the mirror. "Oh, my God. You're right." She starts rifling through the plasticbags inher lingeriedrawer. "I think Mr. X gaveme apair onourhoneymoon." Oh,brilliant, Nan!

  Brill-i-ant! Sendhercombingthroughthepantydrawer. "You can always go commando," I suggest urgently from the velvet bench where I'm downing the rest ofmywine.

  "Got 'em!" shesaysandholdsupanexquisite, delicateblackLaPerla thongwithcreamsilkembroidery, whichI am pray-ing ishers. Thedoorbellrings. "NANNYYY!Thepizza's here!" "Thanks,Grayer!" I callback.

  "Thesewill do.I'm all set. Thankyousomuch."

  After Grayer and I polish off half a medium pie I remove a small cardboard box from my backpack.

  "And now a special Valentine's dessert," I say, producing two chocolate cupcakes with red hearts on

  them. Grayer's eyes widen atthedeparturefrom choppedfruit andsoycookies. I pour useach a glass of

  milkandwedig in.

  "Oh,whathavewehere?"We bothfreeze,cupcakesmidwaytoourmouths.

  "Nanny bwought thpecial walentine's cucakes," Grayer explains defensively with a mouth full of

  chocolate.

  Mrs. X has pulledher longhair up into a loosechignonandfinishedher makeup.Shelookslovely. "Oh,

  that's sonice. DidyouthankNanny?"

  THE NANNY DIARIES

  "Thankyou,"hesprays.

  "The carshouldbe hereanyminute."Sheperches ontheedgeofthebanquette, every muscletensedfor

  theintercombuzzer. Shereminds meofmyself inhighschool, all dressedup,justwaiting togetthecall

  tofindoutwhoseparentswereoutof town,wherewewere meeting,wherehewasgoingtobe.

  We awkwardly finishour cupcakeswhileshesits anxiously

  besideus.

  "Well.. ." ShestandsasI'm cleaningGrov offbeforereleasinghimfrom his boosterseat. "I'm justgoing

  to go wait in my office. Will you let me know when they buzz up?" She exits, taking a quick glance

  backwardattheintercom.

  "Of course,"I say, wonderingjust howlate Mr. X will dareto pushit. "Okay, let's fly now, Nanny. Let's fly. an we?" He puts his arms out and does circles around me as I

  clear theplates.

  "G, you might be a little full. Why don't you go get your coloring books and we'll hang out in here so we canhearthebuzzer,

  okay?"

  For an hour Grayer and I sit in silence, passing crayons back and forth, looking up intermittently at the

  silentintercom.

  At eight o'clock Mrs. X calls me into her office. She's sitting on the edge of her office chair, an old


  Vogue openonthedesk.Herminklieswaiting onthearmchair.

  "Nanny, would you call Justine to find out if she knows anything? The number's on the emergency list

  inthepantry."

  "Sure,noproblem."

  I don't getananswer atworksoI tryher cellphone.

  "Hello?" I can hear silverware clanking in the backgroundand hate that I'm interrupting her Valentine's

  dinner.

  "Hello, Justine?It's Nanny. I'm so sorry to bother you, but Mr. X is runninglate and I was wondering if

  youmightknowwhatflighthe's on."

  "That's all backattheoffice?

  "Mrs. X isjustgetting alittle anxious,"I say, trying toimparttheurgencyof thesituation.

  "Nanny!I can't findtheredcrayon!" Grayer calls fromthebanquette.

  "Look, um, I'm surehe'll beintouch."There's a pausewhereinI heartherestaurantinfull swing behind

  her. "I'm sorry,Nanny,I reallycan't helpyou."AndthenI justknow,I knowit inthepit ofmystomach.

  "Naa-nny,I'm stuck.I needthered!"

  "Okay,thanks."

  "Well?" Mrs. X asksfromover myshoulder.

  "Justine wasn't in the office so she doesn't have his itinerary." I walk around her to search through the

  bucket of crayons on the table, while Grayer slumps over his coloring book. Maybe this is it. Maybe I should just say something. But what? What do I actually know for a fact, here, really? What I know is thatMs. Chicagowas hereover a monthago. hings could've changedsincethen.Howdo I knowhe's not just running late? "Hey, why don't you check the Weather Channel?" I suggest, bending down to retrieve the red crayon, which has rolled under the bench. "Maybe there are delays out of O'Hare?" I reach my arm up over the table and place the crayon next to Grayer's fist. I stand back up. "I'll call the airline. Whodoeshefly?"

  "Justine wouldknow. Oh,andcanyoucall Luteceandmakesuretheydon't giveawayourreservation?"

  Shewalkshurriedlyouttowardthelibrary. Grayer slidesdownandrunsacrossthefloortofollowher. Justine's voice mail comes on three times, but, as she's basically left me to fend for myself, I keep calling.

  "Hello?" Shesoundsannoyed.

  "Justine,I'm sosorry.Whatairline doeshefly?"

  "American.ButNanny,I reallywouldn't..." Hervoicetrails off.