by R. R. Banks
"Anna," I say, "this is Abigail. She's your new nanny."
Anna pauses halfway through the bite she's taking and glances over her shoulder at us.
"Hello, Anna," Abigail says. "It's nice to meet you."
"You, too," Anna says, then turns back to her breakfast.
It's a cool reception, but I didn't expect much more from her. As my daughter gets older, she’s becoming quiet and more reserved. Instead of being interested in people like she used to be, she seems cautious and almost suspicious about them. I know she gets it from watching the way I interact with people around me, which is one of the main reasons I wanted a nanny for her in the first place. I don't want my daughter growing up in a world she already feels disdain for. She deserves a chance for more.
"Abigail will be with you after your lessons and when I need to work," I say. "She moved into the apartment just under us, so she'll be close when you need her."
Anna nods, and I gesture out of the dining room, so Abigail will follow me.
"I'll go back to my apartment," Abigail says. "I won't be going anywhere else, so as soon as Anna needs me, I'll be available. Thank you, again, for this. I really appreciate it."
When she speaks to me, her voice still sounds nervous, but there's nothing I can do to change it right now. All I can do is protect her the way my gut tells me to, and hope that's enough.
"There will be a key waiting for you when you come back this afternoon. I'll also have all the information about your new bank account where I'll deposit your pay each week. Do you have any questions before I leave?"
Abigail shakes her head.
"No," she says.
"Alright, then. Have a good day."
"You, too."
I walk back into the dining room to say goodbye to Anna and pick up my briefcase and jacket on my way out. Abigail has already slipped out of the apartment by the time I return to the living room. I assume she's already made her way back to the apartment to wait for when Anna will need her. Her apartment. I know it's going to take some adjustment to think about that space as belonging to Abigail. It's been so long since anyone has lived there, I’ve become accustomed to the feeling of isolation that comes from having an entire floor of the building separate me from all the other tenants. As it is, there are some people who live in this building I haven't seen in several years. Long-time owners of their apartments, they live quiet, reserved lives that don't require my intervention. It's the way I like it, and it will take time to change the way I think and get used to someone else sharing their time with my daughter. I have to remind myself I'm doing this for Evan, and that Abigail is the little sister my best friend adores. She is in a difficult place in her life, and I know enough about challenges to feel compassion, even if my mind is pushing to resist.
********
Abigail
I'm unsure what to expect when Anna's tutor, Beverly, calls to tell me she's leaving and it's time for me to come up and take over. Anna barely looked at me from the breakfast table, and I feel some of the same cold resistance radiating from her that I've observed in her father. Not for the first time, I wonder what happened to create this feeling in the two of them. It's much easier to understand a grown man who has obviously spent years in the stress and pressure of building a business empire, acting like that. It's much more difficult to see it in such a little child. A beautiful little girl, Anna should be soft and sweet, unaffected by the world around her at such a tender age. It hurts my heart to think of anything that could have happened to bring that out in her.
An older woman opens the door when I knock this time. She smiles at me and extends a hand softened by a slight dusting of flour.
"I'm Ruth," she says. "I didn't get the opportunity to introduce myself this morning."
"I'm Abigail.”
"You're Evan's sister," she says.
It's strange to hear her mention my brother, even though I know he’s the reason I'm here. I realize it's because Evan has never told me much about Xavier or their friendship. I feel like I've taken a step into a part of his life I know barely anything about, and am getting a rare glimpse into the years we spent without really seeing one another. It's reassuring to know he had people here for him when he didn't have me.
"Yes," I say.
She smiles bigger.
"He's a good boy," she says. "Can't get enough of my lemon bars. I think he smuggled a few out of here last time I baked them."
She says this in a familiar, conspiratorial way while talking about Evan as though he was several decades younger than he is, and I can't help but smile a little.
"He's always liked lemon bars," I say.
"I had the feeling." She looks me up and down briefly like she's evaluating me. "Are you hungry?" she asks. "Can I make you something?"
"Oh, no," I say, shaking my head. "I should really get to Anna."
"She's in her bedroom," Ruth says, pointing vaguely into the vast apartment as if that’s enough to tell me where I'll find her.
"Thank you," I say.
Ruth stops me as I start out of the room.
"She's a wonderful little girl," Ruth says. "She lives inside herself a lot of the time."
It sounds like part-warning, part-plea. I'm not sure how to respond, so I nod, and continue through the apartment. Before I came yesterday, I thought Xavier's apartment would be very much like the one I'm now living in, if with an extra floor, and maybe a few extra features. As soon as I stepped in, I realized just how wrong I was. The layout of the apartment is completely different except the front door leads into the living room just like mine. The rest of the apartment, however, is totally different. I see a staircase to one side, but I avoid it for now. Instead, I make my way around the corner to find a long hallway. I glance into the open doors I walk past, looking for a little girl's bedroom. Instead, I see a variety of other rooms, including what looks like a library, a study, and a virtually empty room with a tile floor and a seat nestled into a bay window I remember seeing from outside of the building. I can't imagine what that room is for, but it fascinates me. I'm most of the way down the hall when I notice another door. This one is closed, and I'm immediately interested in what secrets it holds.
I try not to think of myself as a particularly nosey person. I've been scrutinized enough in my life I want to give people space, but one of the flaws I will never admit to anyone is that I am irresistibly drawn to the mystery of the unknown, such as a closed door or a box sitting out in the open with the lid down. There's just something inside me that absolutely must know what's in there, even though I try hard to suppress the feeling. Glancing to either side, I reach out and rest my hand on the doorknob to the closed door. I quickly pull away, chastising myself. It's none of my business what's in that room. I've had this job for less than twenty-four hours, and I'm already risking it by trying to sneak a peek into a closed room in my boss's apartment.
Which is also my brother's best friend's apartment.
That should give me at least a small amount of familiarity. Having convinced myself of the moral wiggle room of the situation, I reach for the doorknob again and try it. It's locked, and I feel a small flicker of disappointment pass through me. My hand has just come away from the doorknob when I hear a small voice call out behind me.
"It's always locked."
I whip around to see Anna disappear back into her room. Heat burns across my cheekbones. This doesn't seem like the best first impression. I suppose it's a second impression, if I am to count the brief seconds she and I made eye contact over her shoulder this morning. Either way, I don't feel like I'm winning too many points with her. I follow her to the room and stand at the doorway looking in. The room is every little girl's dream. Overflowing with pink, white, and lace, it is delicate and feminine in a way that tugs at my heartstrings. Something this beautiful wouldn't have even seemed real to me when I was Anna's age.
Anna is sitting in the middle of the room with a baby doll in her lap. The doll looks like it was designed sp
ecifically to match the aesthetics of her bedroom. Platinum blonde curls tumble from a crisp white bonnet that perfectly accentuates the doll’s lacy white gown. Tiny pink bows add detail to the neckline and wrists, and I can only imagine under the long skirt are tiny booties with little pink bows at the ankles. Anna gazes down at the baby doll and tenderly touches her cheek but doesn't really seem to be playing with her. I watch her for a few seconds, waiting to see what she might do, but she doesn't move much. Instead, she seems lost in thought. I take a cautious step forward, not fully entering the room, but making my presence known.
"She's very pretty," I say.
Anna looks up at me like she's surprised I'm standing here. Her eyes stay on me for a few seconds, and I get the impression she's trying to decide whether she wants to speak back to me or not. Finally, her big eyes glance back at the baby in her arms, then at me.
"She's my favorite," she says.
"What's her name?" I ask.
"Hannah," she replies.
"That's a lovely name for a baby," I say. "Did you name her?"
Anna shakes her head.
"No," she says. "I've had her since I was born. That's always been her name."
"Do you know who named her?"
There's a pause before she speaks again.
"My mama," she says. She lets out of breath. "She's in heaven now."
She says it like a declaration or reassurance to herself, not something I don’t know. My heart aches, and I feel the sudden urge to wrap my arms around her. When Xavier said he wasn't married, I assumed he and his wife had divorced, or that he had never married Anna's mother. It never occurred to me that his wife had died, leaving him a widower with a young child. I briefly consider what I should say to her but decide to move past the comment. Maybe it will come up again, and we can talk about it naturally. But for now, I need to get closer to Anna and get her to like me.
"May I hold Hannah?" I ask.
"You want to play with me?" Anna asks, sounding surprised.
I nod again and take another step into the room.
"Yes," I say. "If that's alright with you."
Anna doesn't answer but holds the doll up toward me instead. I settle down onto the soft rug across from her and accept Hannah into my arms. I take her carefully, cradling her just as I would a real newborn. My fingertips run across the lace details of her bonnet and dress and over her long eyelashes.
"Did you play with dolls when you were younger?" she asks.
"I did," I say. "But I never had a beautiful doll like this. I only had one doll, and she was plain old plastic with a little blue dress. But I loved playing with her. I had to play by myself most of the time, though."
I look up at Anna subtly, gauging her reaction.
"Me too," she says. "Ruth plays with me when she can, but I'm mostly by myself. I don't go to school."
"I heard you have school here at home," I say.
She shrugs.
"Well, yeah. But it's not like real school. I don't have just one teacher. I have different people teach me different things."
"That could be interesting. You’ll hear different perspectives and get to talk to different people about the things they enjoy."
She shrugs again and crawls a few feet to the doll changing table on her side of the room. Reaching under it, she pulls out a diaper bag and brings it back over to me.
"But I don't have any classmates or anything. And I don't have any brothers or sisters to play with."
I can hear the loneliness in her voice, and I feel like I'm seeing firsthand what Ruth was trying to tell me.
"Well, I never get to play, so I would love to play with you."
Anna reaches into the diaper bag and pulls out a doll bottle. She hands it to me without instruction, and I tip the plastic nipple to Hannah's mouth.
"You have a brother," she says matter-of-factly.
I glance up at her.
"I do," I confirm.
"Evan is nice," she says. "I like him.”
I smile. I hadn't thought about the fact that Anna would know Evan. The thought of my brother interacting with this little girl makes me unexpectedly happy.
"He is nice," I say. "He's my big brother."
She nods.
"I know. He looks older than you. That's a good thing. You don't want to look older than him."
I laugh and realize it's the first true laugh I've had in as long as I can remember.
"That's true," I say.
Anna goes to the other side of the room and gathers up another baby doll, a stack of doll clothes, and several other toys. With them all spread out across the rug around us, we disappear into the whimsical depths of her imagination.
********
That evening…
I don't know how long we've been playing when I notice Anna's eyes lift to look over my head at the doorway.
"Anna? Did you finish your homework before you started playing?"
Xavier's voice sounds strict and firm, and Anna shakes her head.
"Not all of it," she says. "But it's not much, and Abigail wanted to play with me."
"You know you need to get your work done so you can go over it with your tutor in the morning. Go on and finish. Ruth almost has supper ready for you."
"Alright," Anna says reluctantly.
She starts to stand.
"Clean up all these toys first," Xavier says.
"I can help her with that," I say, reaching for one of the tiny dresses near my knee.
"I told her to do it," Xavier says. "She needs to be responsible enough to take care of her own toys."
Anna keeps her eyes down as she quickly gathers up the dolls and tucks them away. She glances at me as she heads out of her bedroom.
"Will you be here tomorrow?" she asks.
I give a single nod.
"Of course, I will."
Her lips curve up in a shy smile, and she rushes out of the room.
"Hi, Daddy," she murmurs before disappearing down the hallway.
I stand and look at him. I want to say something, but it's not my place. Instead, I straighten my sweater and square my shoulders.
"Excuse me," I say.
He moves out of the way, and I walk past him.
"I have a key for you," he says.
We make our way to the living room where he hands me a folder of papers and a key dangling from a thick rubber band.
"Thank you," I say. "I will be here as soon as Anna is ready for me tomorrow."
"Good," Xavier says.
"Have a nice night."
I walk out of the apartment and head down the hallway toward the door to the stairs. Something about taking the stairs appeals to me more than riding the elevator, and I enjoy the few moments it takes to walk down the thick carpet to my hallway. As I step through it, I realize my muscles have relaxed and the tightness has left my shoulders. I hadn’t noticed the tension between Xavier and me, and now it lingers in my mind.
********
Two weeks later…
Sitting on my bed, I pull my journal out of the nightstand drawer and slip the pen from the coils. Skipping the section I left blank after the last entry about Trevor, I open up to an empty page and jot down the date. What started as a recording of everything Trevor was putting me through, and a place to log each piece of evidence I was able to preserve has now become more of a traditional journal. No longer do I reserve pages to write down my observations of him, or mark the times and dates he was lurking nearby. Instead, I now record the best moments of my day as a way to remind myself of how far I've come. This journal has become a type of stepping stone, helping to guide me through each day of this new and still somewhat tenuous existence.
Anna and I started writing a book about her dolls today. I feel her opening up a little bit more each day. It’s amazing to see her coming further and further out of her shell to connect with me. She's such a smart little girl, and I have the feeling she's been told that so many times she might have begun to forget that s
he is still a child, and doesn't always have to be smart, or clever. She can be just a little girl, and love to play with her dolls, and color in her coloring books, and tell me all the lavish stories that her mind can dream up while being bored to death by her distinguished tutors. It's only been two weeks since I first met Anna, but I can already feel myself getting attached to her. It took some time to get her to relax around me, but now that I feel I've earned her trust and affection, she is a pure delight in my life. She's brought back my smile and makes me laugh every day. I have the unique opportunity of not thinking about anything else when I'm with her, and I wake up every day looking forward to whatever adventure we will create for ourselves in Xavier's apartment that day.
Thinking about getting my own smile back makes me wonder about Xavier. I still feel like I'm just hovering on the edge of his reality, almost like I'm orbiting him rather than existing in the same space as he is. It seems most people are that way with him. I see so little emotion in him, and he is so stern, yet it's obvious how much Ruth and Evan care about him. I carefully observe how he interacts with Anna, and I can’t help but cringe every time he tells her to stop playing to finish her homework, or rushes her to get ready for bed when he comes back from work late. Yet there's never any fear in Anna's eyes when she sees him, or talks to him. She never seems afraid or nervous. In fact, her little face seems to light up when she hears the door open, and there have been several times when I've left the apartment and could hear her talking as fast as her voice allowed in an attempt to tell him everything we've done that day. Maybe there's something there I'm not seeing. Maybe it's just me.