Hip Check

by Deirdre Martin

  Jamie hopped up and loped into the kitchen, grabbing from the fridge a container of milk that he drank straight out of. “Why’d you need to talk to me,” he shouted.

  Michelle joined him in the kitchen. “I need to borrow your truck, if that’s okay with you.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What for?”

  “I took another job as a live-in. They need me to start tomorrow.”

  Her brother put the carton back in the fridge. “Isn’t that kind of short notice?”

  “Yeah. But there are extenuating circumstances.” She glanced at the dishwasher. The green light was on, meaning the dishes were done, but no one had emptied it. She fought the urge to do it herself. They were grown men.

  “I’m all ears.”

  Michelle laid it all out for him, from Nell’s mother’s death to Esa’s willingness to let her name her price. It was a pretty sad story. But all her brother had to say when she concluded with, “So, can I borrow your truck?” was, “Esa Saari. What a fuckin’ showboat.”

  “What?”

  “The guy’s a typical Euro winger: all glory and no guts.” Jamie was vehement. “The Blades haven’t had a decent digger in five years, maybe ten. Probably since Michael Dante hung up his skates. I can’t believe my sister is going to work for a Blade.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes. “I don’t care who he plays for. I’m not taking care of him, I’m taking care of his niece.”

  “I’ll help you move in tomorrow. I wanna see his place.”

  “No.”

  “C’mon, Michelle.”

  “Why? So you can tell the guys down at the house about it?”

  “Hell yeah. Why else would I want to see it?”

  “You’re such a pack of busybodies, I swear to God.”

  “No shit.” He scratched absently at the tattoo of his wife’s name on his forearm. “Where’s your stuff?”

  “Most of it’s in storage. There’s not much.”

  Her brother slid into a kitchen chair. “I don’t know why you didn’t just move back here until your next job. Truth be told, I still can’t wrap my mind around why you left that gig with the Karles. Moving out to L.A.? Sounds pretty sweet to me.”

  “This coming from the guy who’s on my case about taking care of our father?”

  “I’m just sayin’,” Jamie muttered.

  “I love you, but you are so talking out your ass,” Michelle said affectionately. “What, you think I’d be lazing around the pool all day? I’d be working—taking care of the kids, and trying to remind the Karles that I’m not the maid. No amount of money is worth the aggravation, trust me. And I told you, I didn’t want to be that far away from you and Dad—you know, in case Dad magically went senile overnight.”

  “Fuck you, Michelle.”

  “I’m just sayin’,” she teased. “So—?”

  “Yeah, you can borrow it. But only if you let me help you unload it. I’m serious.”

  Michelle’s shoulders sank. “Fine. But not a word out of you. You have to swear.”

  “What am I gonna say to him? ‘The Islanders will always be the class team of New York no matter how many Cups the Blades win’?”

  “That’s a start.”

  Michelle heard the key turning in the front door; her dad walked in, carrying two bags of groceries. He had a big smile on his face as he put them down on the table and gave her a smooch on the cheek. “Hey, kiddo. This is a surprise.”

  “I know.” She gave him a quick once-over: he looked his usual, robust self. Jamie was nuts.

  “She’s a traitor, Dad,” said Jamie.

  Michelle rolled her eyes while her father looked at her in confusion.

  “She’s going to be a live-in nanny for one of the Blades.” He spat the last word.

  Her father looked at her suspiciously. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Michelle and her father started putting the groceries away.

  “Which one?”

  “Esa Saari.”

  Her father glanced at her brother knowingly. “The Finnish prick.”

  “Jesus, Dad!” Michelle exclaimed, overcome with exasperation. “It’s not like my job has anything to do with hockey! I’m taking care of his eight-year-old niece.”

  “I thought you were taking a long break after working for the Karles.”

  Michelle stood on tiptoes to put the ketchup in the cabinet next to the fridge, where it had been kept for as long as she could remember. “This just kind of fell into my lap. I couldn’t pass it up.”

  “I still don’t know why you left teaching,” her father said with a frown, dumping a bag of frozen peas and a box of fish sticks into the freezer. “All that education, and for what?”

  “I told you why: the money is better, I don’t have to deal with school politics or enforced curriculums, and I’d rather have a deep, lasting relationship with a couple of kids than a shallow relationship with an impossibly sized group of them. Class sizes kept getting bigger and bigger. They still are.”

  “But you were good at it.”

  Her father was right: she was as good a teacher as you could be when you were responsible for thirty-one first graders. She knew she was cut out to teach from the way her students responded to her with respect and an eagerness to learn, and from the esteem in which she was held by their parents. But even so, it gnawed at her that she couldn’t give each child the time and attention he or she deserved, and she didn’t like the way everything in the curriculum was geared toward boosting test scores. She enjoyed being in the classroom, but when it came down to the bottom line, the job wasn’t fulfilling her in the way she’d hoped, so she left. A lot of her friends thought she was nuts; how could she walk away from a job with tenure? But for Michelle, happiness trumped job security any day. She knew how fleeting life could be; how many things had her mother wanted to do that she never got to because she died young? Michelle knew she was taking a huge risk when she left teaching, but so far, it had turned out to be worth it.

  “You living-in?” her father asked.

  “Yeah. And before you say it, I know Saari’s single, I know he’s a dog, blah blah blah. He’s also my employer. Don’t worry about your poor, helpless daughter living under the same roof as ‘the Finnish prick.’ I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah? You’re like the Mayor of Munchkinland next to him,” Jamie said. “If he wanted to—”

  “He wouldn’t,” Michelle snapped. Now she was getting pissed. “I’ve never had that problem before, and I’m sure I won’t have it now. I’m sure if I was working for one of the Islanders you’d think it was the greatest thing on earth.”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” Jamie admitted.

  Michelle looked at her father.

  “Takin’ the Fifth on that one, honey.”

  “You’re both such losers.”

  “Takes one to know one,” her brother retorted, the same call and response they’d had since they were little kids.

  “What’s the kid’s story?” her father asked.

  Michelle explained Nell’s situation. She could see the connection he was making between her and Nell in his eyes. “Sounds like you’re the perfect nanny for her,” he said quietly.

  Michelle squeezed her dad’s shoulder. “I agree.”

  “Once you get to know her, bring her ’round here some time,” her father continued. “Let her get a taste of what a real family’s like.”

  “We’ll see. That’s putting the cart way before the horse.”

  The idea appealed to her, though. Nell had never had a father or a sibling; she might enjoy seeing what that was like. And God knew her dad’s house was a far cry from Esa Saari’s oversized Fortress of Solitude. She’d keep it in mind.

  7

  “Wow.”

  Michelle agreed with her brother’s assessment of her new digs as they unloaded the final boxes of books in her new room. Esa had said she’d have her own TV. He hadn’t mentioned it would be a wall mounted
, picture window sized marvel of technology. Her brother had to close his mouth to keep from drooling. A little overboard, was Michelle’s thought. But she wasn’t going to complain.

  The room was immense, with high ceilings, pale yellow walls and a gleaming wooden floor that looked like it had never been walked on. Maybe it never had. She had her own desk, two tall dressers, and a double bed topped with an amazingly fluffy comforter. She sat on the edge, bouncing a few times, testing it. Hard as a rock, just the way she liked it. She nuzzled her face in the supersized, goose down pillows. Wonderful. She knew she’d sleep well tonight.

  “Will this do?” Esa had asked when he first showed her the room. He seemed uncertain, which Michelle had found momentarily charming. Momentarily.

  “It’s great,” she’d replied. What she really had wanted to do was exclaim, “Holy shit!” The room she’d had at the Karles was nothing compared to this. In fact, she often wondered if they’d taken one of their old walk-in closets and turned it into her room. But she’d never minded. It had been cozy.

  The contrast between the two living spaces was further accentuated by her having her own walk-in closet here. Esa caught her smiling to herself, and he looked at her perplexedly.

  “There’s no way I could ever fill this closet,” she explained. “I don’t own enough stuff.”

  “Maybe that will change over time. Who knows?”

  Michelle thought he might be alluding to the salary he’d agreed to pay her, but she gave a little laugh anyway. “Believe me: it’s not going to happen.”

  The final space Esa showed her was the bathroom. Again, it was huge, dominated by a deep, white, claw-foot tub. Maybe it was pathetic, but Michelle had always dreamed of soaking in a tub like that. Everyone seemed to have one on TV or in the movies, whether it fit their decor or not. Now she understood why: a sexy bubble bath in a fiberglass tub just didn’t cut it. Esa pointed to the two large shell-shaped sinks that were side by side. “You’ll share this bathroom with Nell,” he explained, pointing to the door opposite hers. “It links your two rooms.” He paused. “Is that okay?”

  “As long as my privacy is respected when my doors are locked, I don’t think it will be a problem,” Michelle answered smoothly. “I can’t imagine it being one, not with Nell.”

  For a moment she let her mind wander back into a vision of herself relaxing in the bath, her head leaning back against the lip of the tub. Then she snapped back to reality.

  “Where is Nell?”

  Esa grimaced. “In her room. I don’t think she likes all this moving . . . too painful, maybe?”

  Michelle nodded. Poor kid. She’s been pushed from pillar to post. Well, not anymore. She steered the conversation toward something more positive. “What did you two end up doing yesterday?”

  “Yesterday . . . mmm . . .” Esa rubbed his forehead. “You have to excuse me. All the days feel like they’re running together for me.”

  Michelle smiled kindly. “It’s easy to understand how you’d be overwhelmed.”

  “Such a mild way of putting it!” Esa replied with a good-natured laugh. The sound of it echoing off the tiles seemed to momentarily embarrass him. “Ah, yesterday. We didn’t go to the beach. As you pointed out: no bathing suit. We actually spent the afternoon at the planetarium.”

  “That must have been fun.”

  “Truthfully? It was boring.”

  Moron.

  “And what did you two do last night?”

  “I got a pizza—she loves American pizza, that’s one thing I’m learning fast—and we watched Rio—you know, the movie with the angry birds?”

  “Oh yeah, I know it. The last kids I looked after knew all the lines and songs by heart. It started to drive me a little crazy after a while.”

  “I think she liked it. I don’t know. I had some e-mail I had to deal with, so I worked on my laptop while we sat together on the couch.”

  Michelle didn’t say anything, even though she wanted to point out to Esa that right now, Nell needed his full attention when they did something together, not some half-assed gesture that said, “Here’s a pizza and a movie, kid, enjoy yourself.” She’d already scolded him about his babysitting faux pas yesterday; she hoped she didn’t have to do it again. And again. And again.

  After showing her around her new living quarters, Esa introduced himself to Jamie, who suddenly turned from Mr. Trash Talk into Mr. Overwhelmed when confronted with Esa in the flesh. Then Esa disappeared, leaving Jamie looking mildly stunned in his wake.

  “You going to be okay here?” he asked, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you hit the jackpot.”

  Michelle made a face. “I am going to be working.”

  “Yeah, looks like a real backbreaking job,” her brother teased. He hugged Michelle. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t. Especially since Dad’s about to keel over from malaria.”

  Jamie’s smile disappeared. “Seriously, Michelle.”

  “Jesus, Jamie, I won’t. I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

  “I’m pullin’ doubles all week. Hopefully it’ll be busy.” He peered out into the hallway. “Guess I’m not gonna meet the kid, huh?”

  “Not today,” Michelle said, picturing Nell reading in her room. “But soon. I promise.”

  “Okay, then.” Her brother tousled her hair. “I’m off. Talk to you in a few. And keep an eye on Saari. You can’t trust those Finns.”

  “Right. I’ll try to remember that.”

  * * *

  After Jamie left, and she’d put away all her things, Michelle went to talk to Nell. She knocked on the bedroom door. There was zero hesitation in Nell calling out, “Come in!”

  She was sitting at her desk in front of her laptop.

  “What are you up to?” Michelle asked.

  “Working on our list.”

  “Really? Can I see?”

  Michelle came over to the computer, and began reading aloud. “‘Favorite foods: McVitie’s biscuits, pizza, crisps, chicken, McDonald’s, chocolate chip cookies, brownies.’”

  “Wow,” said Michelle. Nell was going to be pretty disappointed when she found out she wouldn’t be eating junk twenty-four seven.

  “‘Things I like to do,’” Michelle continued. “‘Play tennis, go to the cinema, read, write, science, playtime, go to the library.’”

  “I can think of loads more, if you like!”

  It was weird, hearing such a posh British accent come out of a little girl’s mouth. Hermione’s voice in Harry Potter was different; she was a bit of a snoot. But Nell was shy; it didn’t fit together somehow.

  Michelle smiled at her. “No, this is great! I like all that stuff, too. And watching TV sometimes.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Looks like we’re a good match, then.”

  “Yes.” Nell seemed to turn a bit shy as she hit the screen saver on the computer.

  “Are you all moved in?” she asked Michelle, not quite looking at her.

  “Yup.”

  She looked a little anxious. “For good?”

  “Yes, honey, for good,” Michelle promised her. The question killed her. She wanted to scoop Nell up into her arms right now and promise her anything, everything. That she’d be loved, and she finally had an adult in her life she could count on. That even though things seemed to suck right now, they would get better. But that would come.

  Michelle perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m surprised you didn’t come in to help me move.”

  “I didn’t want to get in the way.”

  “You wouldn’t have. Would you like to see my room now that it has all my stuff in it?”

  “Yes!”

  “C’mon, then.” Michelle started through the door in Nell’s room that led into their joined bathroom.

  “As you know, this is our bathroom,” Michelle said, making it sound extremely exclusive. “If anyone else uses it, they’ll have to answer to
us.”

  Nell’s mouth curled into a small, pleased smile.

  Michelle led her past the sinks and claw-foot tub into her own bedroom. “Here it is.”

  Nell stood transfixed in the doorway, her eyes slowly taking it all in. Eventually, they hit on Michelle’s bookcase. She looked at Michelle hopefully. “Can I—?”

  “Of course.”

  Nell practically skipped across the room, her fingers carefully brushing the books’ spines as she read the titles to herself. Her hair was a tangled mess. Michelle wondered if she’d even tried to comb it out after she showered. Naturally, her uncle hadn’t noticed. Nell could probably chop her hair off and Esa wouldn’t see it.

  Nell looked up at Michelle with disappointment. “A lot of these are boring old textbooks.”

  “I used to be a teacher.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  Nell considered this a moment, then returned to scouring Michelle’s books. “You do have a few good ones in here.”

  Michelle tried not to laugh. “Like what?”

  “Diary of a Wimpy Kid . . . and Marley & Me.”

  Michelle decided to stick a toe in the water. “I liked Marley, but it was so sad when the dog died in the end,” she murmured. “I couldn’t stop crying.”

  Nell swallowed and looked down at the carpet. Her body was as still as a beautiful figurine alone on a shelf. Michelle crouched down beside her.

  “Nell,” she started gently, “I know about your mom.”

  “Mum!” Nell cried. “It’s mum, not MOM!”

  “Mum,” Michelle corrected. “And I know a little bit about how you’re feeling: my mom died when I was a little girl, too. So I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  Nell was stone-faced as she rose. “You have a very nice room.”

  “Thank you. So do you.” She tugged on a lock of Nell’s hair. “You still want to do our fingernails tonight, right?”

  Nell’s face lit up.