It was a rough start to 2008. Sasha, Karie, and Natalya were recovering from the stomach flu while Annie and Leo were coming down with it. Little Sofie had it with the first three and was still having problems. I spent the afternoon with her at the hospital so she could get an IV. Crystal had a weak stomach and abandoned ship with her girlfriends to New York City when the first vomit spewed, leaving Jack and me to handle the sick kids. It was my job, I wasn’t complaining, but Jack had just returned home for a break in the tour. He had three weeks at home and the first two days were spent on puke patrol.
In between kid trips to the bathroom, Jack and I watched the ball drop and toasted the New Year with ginger ale. I was up with Little Sofie who had two bad episodes of diarrhea and I was trying to get her to sip at some Pedialyte but her stomach hurt. Leo and Annie were also spending time on the toilet in Jack’s bathroom – the kids just wanted to snuggle with Jack on his bed – and Leo started to vomit. He was unable to make it to the toilet and Jack was busy mopping the floor of his bathroom. It was a job I should have done but whenever Little Sofie was sick, all she wanted to do was have me hold her. If Jack minded, he didn’t say anything vocally or with his body language.
“Just a sip, Little Sofie,” I said to the little girl as she snuggled against me on Jack’s bed.
Leo, six weeks shy of being seven, and Annie, just three and a half, were lying across my legs. Jack had popped in a DVD for the little kids to try and take their minds off not feeling well. I couldn’t help but chuckle as Jack was singing along with Burt and the chimney sweeps as he mopped up the vomit from his bathroom floor.
“Tum tum,” Little Sofie whined. “Owie,” she replied to my request for her to drink.
“I know, sweetie,” I said and kissed the top of her head. “But it’s important for you to drink a little.”
“No,” she cried and I snuggled her closer.
“Penny!” Annie cried and sat up. Her little hands went towards her mouth but her stomach was too fast. Vomit hit me, Little Sofie, Leo, the bed, and the wood floor. All three kids started crying and to be honest, I was also fighting the urge to bawl. It had been a trying couple of days with sick kids and getting Jack acclimated back home. But this was my job and there was no time to cry.
“What happened?” Jack asked as he came down the short hallway from his bathroom to the bedroom. “Oy…,” he drawled as he saw the problem.
“Start a bath,” I advised in a weary voice just as Little Sofie puked. As Jack approached the bed, Leo joined the trio and managed to hit his dad with a spew. Because there wasn’t anything else I could do at that moment, I laughed.
“Happy New Year!” Jack chortled. The little ones didn’t understand why the adults were laughing and this caused them to cry harder. It took us over an hour but we managed to bathe the kids and get them into fresh jammies, mop the bedroom floor, and change the sheets. All three kids vomited one more time, into the toilet thankfully, and then zonked out on Jack’s bed. Jack showered and slipped on sweats and a t-shirt and then I did the same. We sat on the bench at the end of Jack’s bed, exhausted.
“Vot eto da,” he said and chuckled.
“Yes, vot eto da,” I agreed as Jack’s cellphone rang.
“Probably Crystal,” he said. “It is too late for anyone else.” He picked the phone up from the top of the dresser. His face crinkled in confusion.
“What’s the matter?” I asked and walked over to him.
“It is Matty,” he replied and connected the call. “Hey, Matty.” I couldn’t hear what was being said but from the looks on Jack’s face, it wasn’t a good conversation. “Yes, the side door.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It is Millie,” he said and ran his hand through his damp hair.
“Millie? Why was Matty calling about Millie?”
“He was in Philly at Carlos’s nightclub. Millie showed up with her friends. Matty said she was already trashed and when the bouncer tried to stop her from getting inside, she threw an ugly fit and then got into a fight with a couple of her friends. The police wanted to arrest her but Matty talked them out of it.”
“Oh, dear,” I said and closed my eyes. Millie’s behavior had been getting worse over the last few months and when Jack tried to forbid her from going out on New Year’s Eve, she flipped out on him and stalked out of the house. Jack was so distracted with the sick kids he didn’t know what to do. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do either. I recognized Millie needed help but I was at a loss on what to do anymore. Crystal was over her sister-in-law’s issues and found a restrictive treatment place in a rough part of Philly. Both Jack and I felt this was not the right option. Treatment, yes, but not at a facility that treated their patients as if they were criminals. Millie didn’t need that. She had a kind yet troubled heart and that’s what needed to be addressed.
“Matty and Carlos are bringing her home,” he said, dejected. We tried so many approaches in helping Millie. We believed her when she said she would stop drinking. She tried hard for a few weeks but then would hit the bottle again. The only alcohol Jack usually had in the house was wine for Shabbat and holidays but he had even banned that from the house in the last few months.
I felt she was close to hitting rock bottom. Within the last week, I found empty vodka bottles in her bedroom and the cash I reserved for the kids’ allowances gone. I was up late two nights earlier waiting for Jack to get home from the tour when Millie stumbled in reeking of marijuana. When I went to talk to her, Karie threw up and took my focus. I felt like a failure.
“I’m sorry, Ivan,” I apologized to him as he checked on the sleeping sick threesome.
“What are you sorry about?” he asked.
“Maybe if I would have spent more time with her…”
“No, Penelope, not this again. If anyone is going to shoulder the blame for her, it is going to be me.” I rubbed my temples. We had this conversation so many times before starting with the first failed intervention two years earlier. It was a conversation I couldn’t help but have over and over because I felt completely at fault.
“No, it’s not your fault. My job is to take care of Millie and your children when you are gone. I have failed you,” I said and sat on the bench again. My depression heaviness weighed me down.
Yes, it’s your fault. It was the Terrible Voice. It had been very loud the last few months and the failure I felt in regards to Millie wasn’t helping. I had been worried about Jack coming home for his break. He hadn’t seen me for nearly three months and in that time, I lost a noticeable amount of weight. The Terrible Voice wasn’t letting me eat much and when I tried to ignore It and eat anyway, It spurned me to throw up. Puke had been the name of the game lately, it seemed.
Jack sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I grimaced. Shane had not been kind to me earlier in the day when he demanded I come over after returning from the hospital with Little Sofie. I knew ignoring him would make the next visit worse so I managed to slip out just long enough for him to fuck me. He was rough and afterwards, he slammed me back against the wall of his bedroom twice for making him wait.
Everything – the kids being sick, Millie, the Terrible Voice, and the abuse from Shane – hit me and I felt my emotions explode.
“Excuse me,” I said and half walked, half ran to the safety of my bedroom. “Millie needs to be the focus,” I said to myself. “It’s not about me. Think of Millie.”
There was a light knock on my door a few minutes later. It was Jack and he was holding a sleeping Little Sofie.
“They are here,” he whispered. “I will put Sofochka in her crib.”
“No, I’ll take her in case she vomits in her sleep. I don’t want her aspirating,” I said. “You go down and talk to Millie.”
“I want you to be there with me,” he countered. “You take care of her the most. You should be a part of this problem solving.”
“I didn’t take care of her enough,” I said. “She’s a high school dropout and is mi
xed up in booze and marijuana. Where did I go right?” I questioned. I took Little Sofie and headed to Jack’s bedroom to watch over the other sick kids. Jack wanted to say something but I heard the voices of Matty, Carlos and a belligerent Millie in the kitchen. I shut the bedroom door and said a little prayer that Jack could make heads or tails of his sister.
. . .
I watched the sun come up with heavy eyes. Little Sofie threw up once more and then asked for something to drink. Leo and Annie both had one more incident apiece but they were now asleep in Jack’s bed and Little Sofie was asleep on me as I sat in the comfy chair before the front window.
I saw Carlos and Matty leave about fifteen minutes after bringing Millie home. I had no idea what happened after that. Jack didn’t come up to his room and I didn’t hear Millie go to her room either. If they were having a productive conversation, they didn’t need me interrupting them.
Little Sofie wiggled a bit and mewed. Her eyes opened, shut, opened, and then shut again. She went right back to sleep. It was one of the tender moments I loved about my job but it could not make up for the fact I failed Jack in regards to Millie. I had done my best; I really had. At least, I thought I had. I was the one that dealt with a sixteen-year-old drunk Millie and called Jack right away. I found the first treatment facility in Cherry Hill when she was seventeen. And I was the one who went prowling in the scary part of Atlantic City one night when Millie ran away from Crystal and it was me who ended up getting mugged. I kept an eagle eye on her, played the bad guy and wouldn’t let her hang with her friends. I took the verbal abuse from Millie and Crystal after I stopped the physical fight between them. I loved her, supported her brief sober moments, calmly talked to her about making smart choices. I didn’t judge. I listened. I worried as if she was my own and treated her as if she came from my body. I gave her love.
In the end, however, I had failed both Millie and Jack.
The kids were asleep and Jack’s whereabouts unknown so it was safe for me to cry. I let all my frustration and disappointment come out and when I finished, I was exhausted and hungry. I hadn’t slept much in two days and the last bit of food I ate was an apple the previous day. The Terrible Voice let me keep it in my stomach but I had to take an hour run, in shorts and a t-shirt, outside. It had been 20°, cloudy, and windy.
My stomach demanded food; I was so hungry I felt like I was going to throw up. I waited for the feeling to pass and then crept downstairs with Little Sofie still asleep in my arms. My legs cramped and I knew my potassium was low. I decided I could have a banana. There was no way the Terrible Voice would object to that.
I was wrong.
A banana! It’s a terrible fruit.
But my legs are cramping.
And whose fault is that? You ate the apple.
It was the only thing I ate and the day before I just had a tuna fish sandwich and a salad for dinner. I have to eat something. Please, please, please. Let me have a banana.
You really are worthless. No wonder Millie’s a drunk.
Those words hit me hard and I had to sit on the back staircase for several minutes to compose myself.
“Nee-Nee okay?” I turned around and saw Ellie standing at the top of the stairs. Since I became the full-time nanny, Ellie was my early morning companion. It didn’t matter how quiet I was, she just knew I was awake and would join me. “Nee-Nee tummy sick?”
“No, Ellie,” I said, a little surprised at how much my voice shook. “Just taking a moment.”
“Ellie take a moment with Nee-Nee too,” she said and the fourteen-year-old sat next to me. She wore the Hanukkah pajamas Jack sent for night three. He ordered matching pajamas for everyone, including me, but not Crystal. She had not participated in anything Jewish since college. I found it odd considering but she didn’t care how Jack raised the kids with religion as long as she didn’t have to participate. This complicated matters sometimes with the more traditional folks at the synagogue but Rabbi Frank didn’t see it that way. Jack was Jewish and the kids were raised in the faith. That was good enough for him.
Ellie fell in love with the pajamas the minute the kids opened their boxes. Jack was off that night while on tour so it was Sasha who used his laptop for the video chat so Jack could participate in night three. After lighting the menorah, the kids each opened their box. They were all the same sized box and wrapped the same and I realized Jack must have had a boring day in between shows where he could box, wrap, and then find a local shipping store. He called me the minute he found the pajamas in Chicago to prepare for their arrival.
All the kids ran to put them on and Jack goaded me into putting mine on too. I complied and then helped Little Sofie with her pair. When I got back to the kitchen and the computer that sat on the island, I laughed when I saw Jack had on a pair exactly like everyone else’s.
“Do you like?” he asked and stood away from his computer so I could see him from head to toe.
“They totally say rockstar,” I said and laughed. Little Sofie laughed too.
“Papa funny!”
On the stairs three and a half weeks later, Ellie leaned against me and patted Little Sofie’s head. Her touch was delicate.
“Poor Lil,” she whispered. Lil was Ellie’s name for Little Sofie. She had a unique name for everyone. No one knew if it was just her being cute or part of her developmental issues. I was Nee-Nee, Jack was Poppy, Millie Sissy, Ellie’s twin was Two, Natalya Newie, Karie Artie, Leo Lo, Annie Ya-Ya, and Little Sofie was Lil. With some of the names Jack and I could figure out where she created them from but Natalya’s name was confusing. Jack and I and the kids all didn’t mind Ellie’s names and used them when we were referring to someone in speaking with her but Crystal hated it. On more than one occasion, Ellie cried in my arms after being berated by her own mother for the name situation.
We sat for a few minutes more until Little Sofie woke up and Ellie gave her a kiss.
“Ellie say morning to Lil.”
“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie,” Little Sofie repeated and smiled her sweet and shy smile.
“Lil tummy sick?”
“Tummy owie,” she replied. My stomach grumbled so loudly both girls heard it and giggled.
“Nee-Nee tummy talks,” Ellie said and poked at my stomach.
“Yes, I’m hungry,” I confirmed. “How ‘bout you, Ellie? Is your tummy hungry or is your tummy owie?”
“Hungry. Ellie tummy no owie.” Ellie, bless her beautiful heart, had been the only child who had not come down with the stomach flu. I had no idea why – I barely kept up with the vomit germs – but that’s the way Ellie often was. Some ailment would hit every child but her while other times she would get sick but not any of the other kids.
“What would you like for breakfast?” I asked her. Ellie put her finger to her chin and tapped it.
“May Ellie have pans and bears?” Pancakes and strawberries. I closed my eyes and envisioned the fridge. I always had the ingredients on hand for pancakes but not always strawberries. Ellie, however, was in luck. When I shopped for groceries for New Year’s Eve, everyone was still healthy and Crystal was supposed to be around so I purchased strawberries and a bottle of champagne, per her order, for Jack and Crystal’s private celebration despite Jack’s ban on alcohol. I complied with a great deal of reluctance but within an hour of getting home with fancy food stuffs for a family New Year’s Eve party, Millie had her temper tantrum with Jack, Karie vomited and Crystal planned a girl’s night out in the Big Apple with her friends.
“Pancakes and strawberries sound really good,” I said and gave Ellie a kiss on her forehead. My mouth watered at the thought of eating a warm pancake slathered with butter and syrup. I was desperate to eat a dozen that way.
Pig, the Terrible Voice said.
I carried Little Sofie down to the kitchen with Ellie in tow. The two small Prairie-style pendants over the island were the only source of light which surprised me. Where had Jack and Millie gone? I turned the regular kitchen lights on and the pendants o
ff. Little Sofie asked for milk and was okay with me putting her in her high chair with a sippy cup.
“Ellie help Nee-Nee?”
“Of course,” I said with a smile and for the next hour, we made enough pancakes to feed the Petrov army, minus those who were puking, of course. Ellie ate four pancakes and several sliced strawberries and Little Sofie nibbled on a baby pancake I made just for her. She ate about half and drank the rest of her milk. I thought this was a good sign she was feeling a little better. Ellie asked if she could take Little Sofie to the basement playroom and I let them go as long as Ellie came and got me if her sister wasn’t feeling good. Although only two kids were up, it was nice to have the kitchen to myself.
It was just passed seven-thirty and there was still no sign of Jack and Millie. As I stood at the window by the sink, I saw the lights were on in the studio side of the studio/gym and figured they were out there. If they’d been talking for almost six hours, they both would be exhausted and if Millie had been drunk and/or high when she got home, she’d not be feeling well. I put on a fresh pot of coffee and cleaned up the mess Ellie and I made. I would warm the pancakes up as the rest of the children appeared; no need waking them up when they were still recuperating.
When I was finished cleaning up, I plucked a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and set it on the cooking island. My legs were bothering me more and more as I moved around. I needed the potassium in the banana.
I’m going to eat the banana.
If you insist but you know how to eat it.
I grabbed a paper plate and plastic fork and knife – I was way behind on dishwasher duty with the kids being sick – and peeled the banana with shaking hands. I then used the knife to make precise, half inch slices. I focused on cutting each slice into four pieces and then made two neat piles of banana dices.
Deceptions Page 17