“Come in,” I said softly, pulling the covers up over my pajamas. She opened the door.
“I have to go,” I told Mandie. “Judy’s here.”
“OH MY GOD, WHY?”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said calmly.
“WHAT IS SHE SAYING? ARE YOU IN TROUB—”
“Okay. Bye-bye.” I hung up on her midsentence.
Judy sat on the twin bed next to mine. My heart was racing, my mind a blur. Why in the hell is she in here? What in the world is she going to say to me?
“Would it be okay if I talked with you?” she began.
“Yes, of course,” I responded awkwardly.
“I’ve noticed lately that you seem to have a chip on your shoulder. What’s wrong with you?”
Well, that was direct. I couldn’t believe she had noticed anything about me. Had I been acting differently? I didn’t quite know what to say, but it didn’t matter because she didn’t pause.
“You know, I was pretty disappointed in you about the snowsuit, because I asked you if you packed all the kids’ clothes and you said yes. Then when I told you it wasn’t in the suitcase later, you didn’t seem to even care about your mistake. You know snowsuits aren’t cheap.”
In that split second, before I had a chance to organize my thoughts, I just started talking. “I’m not happy here,” I blurted. “I’ve been thinking about quitting, that’s what’s wrong with me. I work nearly twenty-four hours a day. I can’t even leave the house in the evenings, and I don’t want to keep on doing this. I have no life other than work.”
Oh God. What was I doing?
She looked stunned. Awkward silence hung over the room. Then she scowled at me, and her chest heaved with labored breaths. I felt myself cringing. What would she say? I wanted to put my hands over my ears. The lump in my throat must have been the size of a baseball.
“What do you mean?” she asked in disgust, not waiting for me to answer. “What exactly do you think a nanny does, Suzy?”
Well, I think some of them work nine to ten hours a day. But I didn’t have the nerve to say that for fear of what else might come out.
“I’ve been thinking of quitting,” I muttered sheepishly, in case she hadn’t heard me the first time.
“We do a lot for you. I don’t think you understand that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Judy, I am very appreciative of everything you’ve done for me.”
She rolled her eyes, as if to say, Yeah right, I don’t believe you.
“I feel very bad, and I’m sorry,” I said pathetically. “But I’m just not happy.”
“So what are you saying? You’re just going to leave tomorrow?” she said, the sarcasm thick and heavy.
My God, I could never do that to the kids.
“No, of course not. I’ll stay until you can find someone else.”
“This is just like you. I tell you something I don’t like about you, and you just up and quit.”
Wait, what?
This conversation was moving too fast.
Just like me to do what? As if every time I was reprimanded I had threatened to quit? I’d never mentioned anything, ever, about leaving.
“I wish I would have known you were going to do this before we gave you that Christmas bonus.”
With that, she let out a deep stage sigh, stood up, swirled around, and left the room.
I curled up under the covers, my stomach in knots. I broke out in a sweat when I heard Michael get home that night. I heard Judy’s angry voice. Apparently she had stayed awake to talk to him, something she didn’t usually do. Not a good sign. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, only a murmur of voices.
But there were no more knocks on my door that night. My anguish lingered, and I hardly slept the next two nights. Certainly Michael was going to have a talk with me, but I didn’t know when the axe would fall. I began rehearsing the scene in my mind, playing both characters. I heaped guilt on myself by the shovelful. I wondered if I should give the Christmas bonus back. But my biggest concern was the kids. I felt love and affection for Amanda, and I sympathized with Joshua’s angry behavior and cared for him more than he could ever let in. But the kind of love I felt for Brandon was the reason I became a nanny in the first place.
I worried about the impact my departure would have on him. After all, I was his primary caregiver. Would he have the same feeling as a child raised by a stay-at-home mom would have if she just suddenly disappeared one day? I hoped not. I couldn’t bear that thought. I wanted him to keep laughing—he was the only one in the entire family who laughed, a big hearty belly chuckle. But the saddest thought that crossed my mind was that maybe I wouldn’t be missed at all; Leticia, Suzy, and then the next nanny in line. Would Brandon even know I ever existed a month from now? I was going to be a blip on the radar screen of his life.
When Magic Johnson called today, the whole time I was thinking that this should be an exciting moment in my life. But no. I can’t express those kinds of feelings around here, that I’m actually thrilled to talk to such a sports star. I’m supposed to be businesslike and blasé. The stress is not worth it. Giving up joy is not worth it. The money I make is certainly not worth it. And yet I’m so scared I’m going to wimp out when Michael finally confronts me.
For the next couple of days, I walked on eggshells waiting for the king to signal the hooded man to release the heavy blade. But nothing. Then Wednesday morning, two days after my conversation with Judy, Michael approached me calmly and asked me to sit down. I was sure he could see my heart pounding through my T-shirt.
“I understand that you want to quit.” There was a long, awkward pause. “Suzy, would you please reconsider?” he asked in a soft, nearly pleading voice I’d never heard from him before. “Can’t you just finish out the year?”
Finish out the year? It’s mid-January!
“You know we have the Aspen vacation scheduled for spring break, so how about just hanging on until after that?” I was too afraid to answer. I put my head down and sat there in silence with my shoulders slumped around my chest. I couldn’t believe I was about to wimp out again, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to quit.
“You could at least stay until after Judy’s week in February at the Golden Door Spa. You know she deserves this vacation.”
I had told Judy that I would stay for four weeks, which would carry me beyond the Golden Door vacation. And I’d said if they found someone to replace me before that, I’d leave earlier. But it didn’t sound like she had been listening that night. She’d been so angry. I wondered what she had told him about my sudden notice.
I steeled myself for the next question. I knew him well enough to realize that his campaign to have me stay would quickly escalate from two controlled, peaceful questions to a flat demand. And then things would get ugly.
Instead, he said, “You think about it and then let me know in a few days what you decide.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I told him, knowing full well that there was nothing to think about. I wanted to leave. I just didn’t have the nerve to say so.
It wasn’t as if the actual leaving would be easy, either. I knew I would dearly miss the three children for whom I had been pseudomother, nurse, playmate, diaper changer, referee, emotional punching bag, and chauffeur. And then there was Carmen, Delma, Gloria, Rosa, Sarah, and Jay. We had been a family within a family, or rather, a little family attached to a family. As for Michael and Judy, well, I wouldn’t miss devoting my life to them, but I didn’t dislike them. They were the parents of the kids I loved, and I wanted the best for all of them.
In the days following our conversation, I did mull over my decision like Michael suggested, turning it over and over in my mind. But the answer always came out the same. My misery was affecting my caregiving, and I was no longer doing a good job in helping to raise healthy, happy, well-adjusted kids.
I braced myself for the inevitable confrontation. I had to stand up to him. I knew there were two choice
s. If I stayed, I would be depressed, the kids would suffer, but Michael would be happy. If I left, I would have a feeling of freedom, and the kids would find an eager new caregiver and eventually adjust, but Michael would not be happy, to say the least. I suddenly remembered how easily he had intimidated poor Carmen all these years, wearing her down every time she asked to move out of the house. I rehearsed the conversation in my mind, this time coming up with an answer to every objection he would make, creating a script for myself.
A few mornings after our first talk, he came into Brandon’s room when I was pulling a shirt over Brandon’s head.
“Have you reconsidered, Suzy?” he asked politely. “You know that I’ve always loved your work. I really don’t want to see you go.”
The more he talked, the more afraid I became that I’d back down. He never took no for an answer. What made me think he’d take it from me?
He repeated his request for me to stay until after the Aspen trip, or at least until after Judy returned from her vacation at the Golden Door Spa.
No. I had to leave. I had to leave. I didn’t want to stay another two months. I couldn’t wimp out.
“No. I really do want to give my notice,” I said, hanging my head. “Mr. Ovitz, I’ll stay for four weeks. I’m not happy here, and I don’t think it’s fair to the children to be around them when I feel like this.”
“Oh, Suzy,” he said, rolling his eyes and speaking in the most condescending voice I’d ever heard. “Don’t you think that’s pretty egocentric of you? Brandon is just a baby. He doesn’t know the difference. And Amanda and Josh are too busy to know the difference.”
I didn’t answer. You can’t hit much lower than that, can you?
But for some reason the words touched something within me, breaking a spell. I looked at Michael and saw a sad shell who in reality had nothing but things. I looked into his eyes as his words flew by me and drifted away. My mind raced. You say your children are the most important things in the world to you, and I know you believe that with every fiber of your being, but those are empty words. You’re no more connected to them than you are to your wife. All of this is just another picture, like the ones hanging on your walls. A seemingly ideal life, a position of great importance, lots of money and power, a beautiful home, three adorable children, and a wife who would do anything for you. But none of it goes beyond the depth of a single brush stroke. There’s nothing there, only a very thin veneer. Nevertheless, like a talented artist, you’ve made it appear that the scene stretches into infinity.
When he realized that I wasn’t going to change my mind, his face grew ugly. “Do you ever plan to work as a nanny in this town again?” he said, smirking.
“Um, yes, I think so,” I said, surprised.
“Hmm, we’ll see,” he chortled. With that, he turned in his $4,000 suit and walked down the hall.
“This has really fucked up my week!” he barked to the staircase.
At that moment, as sad and as frightened as I was, as painful as the experience had been, I realized I did have an inner strength. I tried to reassure my shaking body that I had made the right decision. I finished dressing Brandon and took him into my room to play. I didn’t want to go downstairs. I knew Judy was there.
An hour after Michael left, Judy appeared. I handed Brandon a toy train and looked up at her. “Michael just called and he wants you out of the house, immediately.”
I stood up silently and walked toward her numbly.
“He doesn’t want to have to see you when he comes home,” she snapped.
“Um …” My mouth was so dry I couldn’t form any words.
“Was it really that bad living here?” she spat.
I started to answer her, and she cut me off.
“Oh, never mind. You’re going to leave, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter now. I just wish I would have known that you were going to quit before I gave you that Christmas bonus.”
Again with the bonus.
I considered offering to give it back. Instead I pleaded, “Judy, I would still like to continue seeing the kids—”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, cutting me off. “I don’t think that is a good idea. I think it would be too confusing for the children; it just wouldn’t work.”
With that declaration, she stalked out of my bedroom. My heart sank. I guess I had always known, on some level, that this would be my punishment if I chose to leave. It was what my British colleague lived in fear of, wasn’t it? Maybe that was part of why I had stayed so long.
But that was little consolation, and I was devastated. I walked over to my little Brandon. Would I never see him again? I didn’t know what to do first. Did this mean I should stop taking care of the children and start packing my stuff?
Maybe Cindy could help me settle down and give me advice. I dialed her at CAA to inform her of my sudden eviction.
“Cindy, Judy says I have to move out right now. What do I do? Do I keep taking care of Brandon while I’m packing?”
“No, you don’t. Just start packing.”
“I have several carloads of stuff to take to your house; how am I going to do that all by myself?”
My sister was probably thinking, To my house? That is all we need, one more permanent resident and all your crap.
But what she calmly said was, “Can I come help you after work?”
“No, he said I have to be out before he gets home. Can’t you come help me right now?”
“No, I can’t. I’m working.” Great. Now my sister’s strong work ethic, the one I was so proud of when I got her the job, was backfiring on me.
“Can’t you tell them that you have to leave and do those I-9 thingys?”
“No, Suzy, I can’t do that,” she said firmly. “What if Michael was to show up while I was there?”
“All right, fine,” I answered. “I have to get started. I don’t have a key to your apartment, so I guess I’ll just have to pile it all up in the hallway until you get home.”
“Sorry, Suzy, but I have to go. Bob Goldman is walking up.”
I walked downstairs with Brandon in my arms, hoping to God I wouldn’t see Judy. I found Carmen and her boyfriend in the kitchen.
“Can you watch Brandon?” I asked. “I have to get out right now, and he hasn’t had his breakfast this morning.”
“Yes, I know. I heard,” she said. “Here, give me the baby. Don’t worry, I’ll feed him.”
I couldn’t say much without my throat constricting.
“Thank you,” was all I whispered. I hurried back upstairs. How was I going to do this? I had no boxes and a lot of stuff. What if my sister hadn’t lived nearby? Where would I have gone?
It ended up taking me about four hours to fill garbage bags (the cheap kind, not the ones used for the trash compactor, of course) with all my worldly possessions. I packed my Celica to the brim twice for the round-trip to Cindy’s apartment.
Before the last round, I hugged Carmen good-bye. I told her to give Delma my best; sadly, it was her day off. We both cried. “I’m so sorry,” Carmen said. “You know how they are.”
Amanda and Joshua sat at the kitchen table, wolfing down snacks and watching TV. I knelt down next to Amanda. “Honey, I have to go, but you can call me anytime,” I said in what I hoped was a calm and soothing tone. “I am leaving my sister’s phone number with Delma and Carmen, and whenever you want to talk to me, you can call.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to live with my sister,” I answered.
“Why? Why are you leaving?” I was at a loss. What could I tell a four-year-old to help her understand?
“Yeah, I know you’re leaving,” Josh interjected. “My mom told me that my dad’s really mad at you.”
I ignored him. I hugged Amanda for as long as she would let me, and then doubled back to the kitchen to hug Brandon one more time. I then faced Joshua and hugged him, telling him I was sorry I had to leave him. He didn’t hug me back.
/> Michael and Judy just don’t get it. They have no idea how this will affect Brandon. I’ve been his primary caregiver for over a year; then one day he wakes up, and I’m not there. Until this moment, I had no idea how terrible it would be to leave the kids. They didn’t talk about this at nanny school. I feel a terrible sense of loss, like I’m leaving my own family.
I figure if a little voice calls for Mommy in the middle of the night, that’s who he should get.
—Deborah Norville
chapter 18
searching for debra winger
In the days following my eviction, after the numbness wore off, I started to worry. I knew that Michael and Judy were angry, and I kept replaying in my mind his threat that I’d never work in this town again. Oh, I was being silly. Would Michael really spend his precious time answering calls from some random Santa Monica stay-at-home mom calling to inquire about his former nanny?
Nevertheless, what if the busiest man in Los Angeles did feel motivated to concern himself with my job prospects? I’d heard far too much about how Michael did business. That he always eventually got his way, that he never took no for an answer or forgave a grudge. This could get ugly. My gut said that he wasn’t going to let a little girl from Podunkville say no to him without making sure she experienced the consequences.
But I forged ahead, calling the nanny agency and speaking with the woman who had previously suggested that I was making “too big a deal” of my fear that my employer would be angry with me after I quit. She was thrilled to hear that I was available (“lots of jobs for someone of your caliber!”) and booked me for an interview the very next day.
I discovered that the nanny-hunting parents had made their reputation by writing for The Golden Girls. The mom, who was pregnant, recognized my name right away.
“Oh, I’ve already heard about you, Suzy.”
Uh-oh.
“Oh, really?”
You'll Never Nanny in This Town Again: The True Adventures of a Hollywood Nanny Page 22