by Jay, Libby
I roll my eyes. “Can you get Mike for me, please?” I say.
“She wants you Mike,” the voice sounds.
I wait another minute before the door opens.
“What do you want?” Mike slurs. He’s drunk. He’s not wearing a shirt and his jeans are open at the zip. Thank goodness he’s wearing underwear. “I said to keep that kid away from me.”
“I just need to ask you a question. The black book mentioned...”
Mike steps out into the corridor. “What part of ‘I don’t want to hear your questions’ didn’t you understand?”
“Where are his toys and books?”
“Did you just ask me a question? You have got to be the dumbest person I’ve ever met. I don’t give a shit where his toys or books are. I’m working. I’m on tour. I’m entertaining guests. I don’t have time for your little problems.” He goes into his suite and slams the door shut behind him.
“He’s a real charmer, huh?”
I turn around to see the man with the bright red hair standing down the corridor.
“He sure is.” I start to walk toward the lifts.
“There are no toys or books.” He smiles at me. “I’m Gavin. I’m the bass guitarist.”
I smile at Gavin. “I’m Lyndsay, the Nanny.”
“Tough gig,” he says, smiling.
“Sure is.”
Gavin rests his palms on his knees and lowers himself down closer to Mikey. “Hey little man. How you doing?”
Mikey doesn’t answer. He keeps sucking his thumb.
“You know,” Gavin says, as he straightens up. “There’s a book store, not far from here. I could get someone to grab some books for the little man.”
That’s the nicest thing any one of these people has said to me since I arrived. “Thank you Gavin. I’m thinking I might go shopping tomorrow. Get out of the hotel room for a few hours.”
“Make sure you keep the receipts for any expenses. Give them to Liane. She’ll make sure you’re reimbursed.”
“Thanks Gavin.”
He looks at my cheek. “What happened there?” he asks.
“Mike scratched me.”
“Which Mike are you referring to?” He looks to the suite door.
“Mikey. I was trying to get him to eat.”
Gavin frowns and looks down at Mike. “Hey man. You never hit out at a woman. That’s not cool.”
Mikey takes a step backwards and hides behind my legs.
Gavin looks back at me. “Don’t give up on Mike. He’s really not as bad as you think.”
“Which Mike are you referring to?” I ask.
Gavin laughs. “The big one. And the little one. It’s been a bit of a shock for both of them.”
I’m about to ask for more information when the lift opens and two guys stumble out.
“Here they are,” Gavin says. “Where have you guys been? You missed the radio interview. Liane is pissed.”
The guy with the long blonde hair answers. I recognise him. He’s Blue Saturn’s lead guitarist. “I have no idea where we’ve been but I think I want to go back there.” Then he looks at me. “Who’s this?”
“This is Lyndsay. She’s looking after Mike’s kid.”
“Ah, the babysitter.” He steps toward me. “I’m Paul. I have a thing for babysitters.”
Gavin grabs his shoulder and pulls him away from me. “Not this one, you don’t. Go sleep it off.” He pushes Paul away.
The other guy, the drummer, I assume, is trying to get his room door open. He’s cursing and swearing and eventually, he sits down on the floor and falls backwards.
“That’s our drummer,” Gavin says. “One of the best in the world.”
I scratch my head in wonderment. “I’m going to get going. It was nice meeting you Gavin.”
“Was it nice meeting me too?” Paul asks.
I don’t answer. I get into the waiting elevator with Mikey and push the button for level 20.
Mikey eats three chips and one chicken nugget before he pushes his plate away. He has tomato sauce all over his fingers and face. It never ceases to amaze me that kids can be so messy when they’re eating.
“Shall we run you a bath?” I ask. “Or would you prefer a shower?”
Mikey doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. He looks at the empty space in front of him.
He has neither a bath nor a shower. I manage to wipe him down quickly before I change him into his pyjamas. He is uncooperative and refuses to put on his pyjama pants, so I leave him to wear his underwear to bed.
Our hotel room is big, but is one room. There are two beds, side by side, and a large window behind the desk and small sofa’s. At the opposite end to the window is the bathroom and wardrobe.
It’s only seven o’clock. I’m trying to get Mikey to sleep, but he keeps getting out of bed and sitting on the sofas. Then he goes to the cupboard under the TV and pulls out a packet of chips.
“No Mike, you can’t eat chips now. It’s time for bed.”
He throws the packet onto the floor and stomps down on them, breaking open the bag and sending potato crisps shooting out across the carpeted floor.
“Mike, don’t do that,” I say.
He climbs back into bed. I ignore him while I clean up the mess as best I can without a vacuum cleaner and when I look up at the bed, Mikey is asleep, sucking his thumb.
“Thank god,” I whisper.
I sit on my bed and make a small shopping list for tomorrow and try not to think about how on earth I’m going to survive six weeks of this. Six weeks of a silent little boy, who doesn’t eat, but seems to sleep well. Six weeks of drunk and obnoxious musicians who seem to think they have the most important job in the world. Excluding Gavin, of course; he seemed genuinely nice, and sober.
I turn my head to look at Mikey. I wonder what sort of life he’s going to have. Once I leave, he’ll go back to sitting in corners eating junk, being ignored and entirely neglected. No child deserves that.
I shower and put on my pyjamas. I slide into the bed next to Mike’s. It’s only early, just gone nine-thirty at night, but I’m exhausted. My eyes are heavy and tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I need to get an early night.
I’ve had the worse night sleep ever. Mike woke up seven times during the night, crying, screaming and generally irritable. He spent a good two hours between two and four in the morning pacing the length of the hotel room. It reminded me of a caged tiger. He eventually climbed onto the sofa and fell asleep, and I’m assuming that’s where he spent the rest of the night. I was too afraid to move him back to bed in case he woke up.
He has turned the TV on. It’s five minutes after seven.
“Good morning Mike,” I say through a yawn.
He points to the TV, but doesn’t look at me.
“Do you like ‘The Bananas in Pyjamas’?”
He points to the TV again.
I think about leaving him to watch cartoons while I catch some more sleep, but I know that having a cat nap now will leave me feeling lethargic all day. I decide to get up and start the day.
Mikey picked at a piece of toast, but drank two glasses of milk.
“That’s better than nothing,” I say quietly as I clear the dishes from the desk. I had thought about heading down to the restaurant for breakfast, but considering Mike’s bad track record at eating, I figured I was more likely to get him to eat something with fewer distractions.
He seems genuinely excited to be heading out for the day. He had a quick shower this morning, after his breakfast, and fully co-operated when getting dressed. He has the cutest little outfits. Really stylish. It makes me feel drab in my jeans and jumper ensemble, but then I’m the nanny and what I wear doesn’t matter, as long as I don’t lose Mikey.
We head to the book store first. Google Maps is telling me that there’s an ABC Bookstore on Lonsdale Street. We walk to Flinders Street then catch a tram to Lonsdale Street. Mike has a half smile on his lips as we travel on the tram. He looks out the window and poin
ts at different things. He doesn’t speak though.
He chooses five books. They’re all “Thomas the Tank,” books. From the book store we head toward ‘Myer’ where I let him choose an array of toys. He picks two trucks and three cars, some building blocks and three boxes of Lego scenes.
Thank goodness I’ve been paid in advance. This shopping expedition is going to get expensive.
From the toy department of ‘Myer’ we head toward an art and craft store. It’s not far to walk, but carrying six heavy bags and holding onto Mike through the busy streets is a bit difficult. We’ll have to catch a taxi back to the hotel.
The art and craft store has everything we need. I pick out a large scrap book of 100 sheets of coloured paper, a packet of 24 pencils and a sketch book. They also have a collection of colouring books. I pick a generic jumbo book. Mikey’s picks out a “Thomas the Tank” colouring and puzzle book.
We hail for a taxi and head back to the hotel.
Our room has been serviced and when Mikey see’s that yesterday’s origami pieces have been removed, he cries.
“Hey, Mike. I can make some more. Would you like to make more?”
He slowly nods his head, between sniffs and climbs up onto the bed while I detangle my fingers from our shopping bags.
I’m putting the finishing few folds to the three dimensional star when there’s a knock on the door.
Gavin is poking his tongue out at me when I look through the peep-hole.
“And here I was thinking you were the nice one,” I say, opening the door wide enough for Gavin to know he’s more than welcome to come in.
“How has your day been?”
“Good. We shopped this morning. And Mike actually ate an entire sandwich while I did origami.”
“Origami?” Gavin asks.
“Yeah,” I shrug. “It’s my thing.”
Gavin looks at the bed. Mike’s bed is littered with brightly coloured paper. He picks up a penguin and smiles. “You made this?”
“Yeah,” I say, shrugging my shoulders again. Origami may not be the coolest hobby in the world, but I love doing it.
Gavin scans my artwork. “Can you make a guitar?”
I think for a minute. It’s been ages since I made a guitar. “I think I can.” I pick up a blue sheet of paper. Gavin stops me.
“My guitar is red.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “Surely you have more than one guitar.”
“I do. I have four. And they’re all red.”
I laugh and fold a red sheet of paper longways, down the middle.
Guitars aren’t easy to fold. They take a bit of patience, and a lot of small folds. But my fingers move nimbly over the sheet and a few minutes later, I hold out a small guitar to Gavin.
“Awesome,” he says, smiling at me. He sits on the end of Mikey’s bed. “You look tired.”
I laugh through my nose. “I am tired. We had a bad night last night.”
Gavin nods as though he knows what I mean. “We have our first show tonight otherwise I’d offer to help out.”
I shake my head. “It’s my job to look after Mike. How bad can six weeks of sleepless nights be? Mothers do it all the time. I’ll survive.”
Gavin looks down at the paper guitar in his hands. “This is really cool. Thanks. I better go.”
“Good luck tonight.”
Gavin smiles as he stands. “I don’t need luck. I have pure talent.”
His confidence makes me smile. I watch as he pats Mikey on the head and leaves.
5.
I can hear Mikey moving around the hotel room. He’s pacing again. I look at the time on my phone. It’s a quarter past twelve in the morning.
When he sees my phone light up in the dark, he stops and looks at me. He slowly comes toward me and stands next to my bed. Then he pulls the covers back slightly and climbs in next to me. He lies down, wriggles up close to me, resting his head on his blanket.
I don’t know if this is right or wrong. Should I make him go back to his own bed? Maybe I’ll wait until he’s asleep and I’ll sleep in his bed.
He pulls his thumb from his mouth and holds onto a strand of my hair. “I want my mummy,” he says.
His words hit my chest hard and I find myself wrapping my arms around him and pulling him in close to me. I don’t say anything. What can I say? I have absolutely no idea if he’ll ever be seeing his mother again, because I haven’t been told where his mother is. And I doubt whether I’ll get any answers from Mike. Maybe I should ask Gavin. Or Liane.
I feel Mikey relax in my arms and it’s not long before he’s sound asleep. I don’t move. I don’t get up to go to his bed. I hold him against me until I feel my own eyes getting heavy and tell myself that just for tonight, he can sleep with me. But tomorrow, he will have to sleep in his own bed.
I wake up when I feel a little foot kick my stomach. Next to me, Mikey wriggles and stretches until I hear a little murmur and I know he’s awake.
“Good morning, Mike,” I say sleepily.
He doesn’t answer, but he pulls a piece of my hair into his hands.
“What would you like to do today?” I reach up and turn on the reading lamp above my bed. “I thought, if you’d like, we could go to the zoo. Would you like that?”
A small smile comes to Mike’s face.
“We’ll have to rug up nice and warm. It’s going to be cold today.”
While Mikey eats his cereal, I turn the morning news on to see what the weather forecast is. But what I see makes me stop mid step. The entertainment news is on and they’re showing highlights from Blue Saturn’s first Melbourne show. Mike is centre stage, singing. He’s getting the crowd involved, holding the microphone out over the edge of the stage encouraging them to sing along to the chorus. Gavin is to the left of him, laughing at something. Mike laughs too and then sings the first line of the next verse.
I know the song. It was their first ever hit and still one of the biggest songs in Australian charts history. It was number one for twenty seven weeks, only to be knocked off the top spot by another hit single, which stayed in the number one spot for twenty two weeks.
How do I know this? Because like every other twenty-something year old in the country, I listen to their music. I wouldn’t say I follow their career, but it’s been hard to ignore Blue Saturn’s rise to fame over the years. It seems that they’re everywhere!
The screen switches to the studio, and the entertainment guru is sitting in a room, interviewing the band. Mike is wearing sun glasses, as is Paul and Steve. Gavin is the only one who is brave enough to show his face uncovered. And I have to admit, he looks fresh and rested.
Mikes makes a joke about not being to bed yet and flashes what is supposed to be his charming smile. It looks charming, I have to admit, but unfortunately I’ve seen a less than charismatic side to Mike and the entire effect is lost on me. It actually makes me shiver.
The entertainment guru feeds the bands’ ego’s, telling them that their show was “energetic”, and had a “real rock sound”, and that their performance was “absolutely perfect.”
The entire time, Mike is grinning and nodding his head in agreement. Obviously he’s never heard of being humble.
I roll my eyes and switch off the TV. When I turn see if Mikey is still eating, he’s pointing at the TV. “More,” he says.
“You want to watch Mike on the TV?”
Mikey nods his head. “More.”
I turn the TV on and Mikey smiles. Sadly enough this is the first time he’s seen his father in two days. And the way his little face lights up when Mike speaks breaks my heart.
We get ready to spend a day at the zoo. I pack a backpack with Mikey’s blanket - it goes everywhere with us - and also throw in one of his new cars. I take two packets of chips from the mini bar and a bottle of water.
I slip Mikey’s jacket on and we head off downstairs.
The lobby is a buzz of excitement. There are people everywhere, camera’s flashing and people yelling.
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“Mike!! Mike!!” I can hear being called out above all the noise.
I look down at Mikey but he is oblivious to the fuss. He’s more interested in looking at the dancing water fountain in the foyer. I look up again and the crowd parts as Mike steps forward, smiling and waving and moves toward the staircase, where Mikey and I stand.
I know he sees us, even though he’s still wearing sunglasses because that sickly grin he wears suddenly drops and he slows his pace. I see his head move as he looks down at Mikey, who is still watching the water fountain.
He doesn’t stop to say hello. He doesn’t acknowledge us. He walks straight past us and starts to climb the stairs.
“Come on Mikey. Let’s go see some animals.”
It’s cold, my hands feel like ice, but Mikey is having such a great time, I don’t want to ask him to go back to the hotel just yet. We’ve been standing in front of the squirrel monkey exhibit for a while now. Mikey is watching in awe as they jump and leap around their enclosure. He laughs when one falls.
His laugh makes me laugh and I look down at him.
He looks and points at the monkey. “He fell down Indsy.” Then he laughs again.
“He sure did, Mikey.” I kneel down next to him. “Do you think he’s okay?”
Mikey nods his head. “He’s pretty tough, just like me.”
My heart melts. “You’re a trooper, all right.” I rough up his hair a bit and watch his face as he reacts to the antics of the small primates.
This child is absolutely beautiful. He must look like his mother because I see nothing of Mike in him. Or maybe I just don’t want to see any of his father in him.
We both thoroughly enjoy our day at the zoo. We stay until closing time. It’s been a big day and we’re not in the taxi for more than a few minutes before Mikey lowers his head down to my lap and falls asleep.
When we arrive at the hotel, I lift Mikey up and carry him to our room. I know he’s awake, but he’s tired and I’m more than happy to carry him.