And We Gave Her an All-expenses paid Vacation
"Good-bye!" the Horners shout from their car as it pulls out of the Nantucket Airport parking lot, leaving me alone by the side of the tarmac.
I sit down on my duffel bag and fight the urge not to throw up as only someone can who's just flown twenty-five minutes on a six-seater plane through torrential downpours, unrelenting fog, and massive turbulence1 with four adults, three children, a goldfish, a guinea pig, and a golden retriever. Only my consideration for the Horner girls prevented me from screaming at every drop.
I pull my sweatshirt closer around me against the salty wind and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Oh, no, that's okay, that's fiiine. No, I wasn't out late at my graduation party. No, you take your time-I'll just sit here in the cold drizzle2. No, I think what's important is that I'm here, in Nantucket, and that you and your family can rest easy just knowing I am somewhere within a ten-mile vicinity of you. I think what's important, you know, paramount3 really, is that I'm not off living my life, attending to whatever I need to be doing, but am permanently4 on pause for you and your fucking family-
The Rover pulls in and barely slows to a roll as they motion for me to jump in.
"Nanny!" Grayer screams. "I got a Kokichu!" He holds up a yellow Japanese toy as I open the door. There is a very large canoe precariously5 angled in the trunk so that it sticks out over half the back passenger seat.
"Nanny, be careful of the boat. It's an antique," Mrs. X says proudly.
I maneuver7 myself under the canoe, pull my bag between my feet, crouch8 low, and reach around to pat Grayer's leg in greeting. "Hey, Grove9, I missed ya."
"The antiquing here is wonderful. I'm hoping to find a new couch table for the second guest bedroom."
"Dream big, honey," Mr. X grumbles10 under his breath.
Ignoring him, she looks up at me in her visor mirror. "So, what was the plane like inside?"
"Urn11, it had brown leather seats-" I say, my head wedged into my chest.
"Did they serve you anything?"
"They asked if I wanted peanuts."
"You're so lucky. Jack12 Horner designs fabulous13 shoes. I absolutely adore Caroline. I worked on a benefit last year for her brother's campaign. It's such a shame they live in Westchester or we'd just be the best of friends." She checks her teeth in the mirror. "Now, I want to go over the plan for the afternoon. It turns out the Pierson barbecue is formal, so I thought it'd be nice for you guys to just enjoy some downtime at the house. Relax and enjoy the place."
"Great. That sounds like fun." I attempt to look over at Grover in his car seat with visions of us passed out in matching chaises on the lawn.
"Now, Caroline was supposed to call about dinner, so just give her my cell number when she rings. I've tacked14 it up next to the phone in the kitchen." Thanks, because it usually takes me about nine and a half months to memorize a ten-digit number.
We pull off the main road onto a densely17 wooded drive and I'm surprised to see that quite a few of the trees are still bare.
"They've had a cold spring." Mrs. X reads my thoughts. The drive opens into a loop in front of what can only be described as a sprawling18, ramshackle 1950s bungalow20. The white paint is peeling, the screen door has a hole in it, and a piece of roofing dangles21 at a precarious6 angle from the gutter22.
"Well, we're here. Casa Crap," Mr. X says, stepping down from the car.
"Darling, I thought we agreed-" She gets out and chases after him, leaving me to unbuckle Grayer and get my bag out of the back. I hold what's left of the screen door open for Grayer, although he probably could just crawl through.
"Honey, it's not my fault the realtor's photographs were outdated23."
"I'm just saying that for five thousand dollars a week, maybe you could have done a bit more research."
Mrs. X turns to us, beaming. "Grayer, why don't you show Nanny her room?"
"Come on, Nanny, it's reallyreally cool!" I follow him up the stairs to a little room at the end of the hallway. There are two twin beds close together under the sharply slanted24 low ceiling and Grayer's stuff is on one of them. "Isn't this cool, Nanny? We get to have a sleep-over every night!" He sits, bouncing on his bed. I stoop, careful not to bump my head, to fish a warm sweater and jeans out of my bag, as it was actually summer back in New York and I optimistically wore shorts.
"Okay, G. I'm just going to change."
"Am I going to see you naked?"
"No, I'll go in the bathroom. Wait here. Where's the bathroom?"
"There!" He points to the door across the hall.
I push it open.
"AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" And am confronted by a red-haired little girl, shrieking25 on the toilet. "This is my privacy!"
"Sorry!" I slam the door closed.
"Grayer, who's that?" I ask.
"That's Carson Spender. She's staying the weekend."
"O-kay." Just then I hear a car pull up the gravel26 drive. I go over to the window and watch Mr. X direct a Range Rover around to the side of the house. I walk down the hall to the dingy27 clerestory window facing the ocean and see the car pull in next to four others parked by the overgrown hedge. There are at least ten children on the back lawn.
"Grover?" I call, and he comes thumping28 down the hall. I heave him up so he can see out the window. "Who are those kids?"
"I dunno. They're just kids." I kiss him on the top of his head and put him down as the bathroom door opens. Carson shoots me a dirty look before marching downstairs.
"G, why don't you head down and I'll change quickly?"
"I want to stay with you," he says, following me back into our room.
"Okay, you can stand outside the door." I try to close it.
"Nanny, you know I don't like that." I pull it back, so it's barely cracked, and pull off my shorts. "Nanny? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Grove." He sticks his little fingers under the door.
"Nanny, try to catch my fingers! Come on, catch "em!" I look down for a moment, then kneel and gently tickle29 the tips of his fingers with my own. He giggles30 at my touch.
"You know, Grove," I say, recalling that first week when he locked me out. "I got tnye thung thitikin outta, too, and you can't see it."
"No you don't, silly."
"How do you know I don't?"
"You'd never, Nanny. Hurry up, I'll show you the pool. It's really really freezing!"
Out back are men in summer suits, and women shivering in lawn dresses, all standing31 like traffic cones32 as children whiz chaotically33 around them.
"Mommy! She took my privacy!" I can hear Carson pointing me out to her mother.
"Oh, Nanny, there you are," Mrs. X says. "We should all be back around six. There's plenty of stuff in the fridge for lunch. Have fun!"
A chorus of "Have a great time, guys!" erupts around us as the adults head over to their cars, which take off, car seats empty.
I look down at twelve expectant faces, as visions of an afternoon on the chaises quickly disappears. "Okay, guys, I'm Nanny. I have a few ground rules. NOBODY goes near the pool. Is that clear? I don't want to see anybody going past that tree over there or you will sit in the broom closet for the rest of the afternoon. Got it?" Twelve heads nod solemnly.
"But what if there was a war and the only place to go for safety was by the pool and-"
"What's your name?" I ask the freckled34 brunet with glasses.
"Ronald."
"Ronald, no more silly questions. If there's a war we go to the shed. Okay, everyone, go play!" I run inside, looking out every window I pass to make sure no one is even creeping toward the pool, to find Grayer's art kit15.
I set up crayons, construction paper, and scotch35 tape on the patio36 table. "Okay, listen up! I want you all to come over here, one at a time, and tell me your name."
"Arden," a small girl in OshKosh B'Gosh tells me.
I write "ARDEN" and a big "1" on her impromptu37 name tag and then tape it to her shirt. "Okay, Arden, you're one. Every time I call out 'Head count!' you shout 'One!' Got that? All you have to remember is 'one.'" She climbs up into my lap and becomes my assistant, passing me the tape and pens, alternately.
For an hour everyone runs around on the grass, some play with Grayer's toys, others just chase each other, while I look out at the fog-covered ocean. Every fifteen minutes I call out "HEAD COUNT!" and they sound off.
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
Silence. I tense to run down to the pool.
"Jessy, you're four, dummy38."
"Four!" a small voice squeaks39.
"Five!"
"Six!"
"Seven!"
"Grayer!"
"Nine!"
"Ten!"
"Eleven!"
"Twelve!"
"Okay, time for lunch!" I survey the troops. I am wary40 about leaving them outside while I inspect the supplies. "Everyone inside!"
"Awww!"
"Come on, we can play outside after lunch." I slide the wobbling glass door closed after number 12.
"Nanny, what's for lunch? I'm reallyreally hungry," Grayer asks.
"I dunno. Let's go take a look." Grayer follows me into the kitchen, leaving 7,9, and 3, who are turning the living room couch into a fort.
I pull open the fridge. "Okay, let's see what we've got!" Umm, three fat-free yogurts, a box of SnackWell's, a loaf of fat-free sourdough, mustard, brie, local jam, and a zucchini.
"Okay, troops! Listen up!" Eleven hungry faces look up at me from their various tasks in the group mission to destroy the living room. "Here are the choices: we have jam sandwiches, but you may not like the bread. Or we have brie sandwiches, but you may not like the cheese. Or we have Cheerios, but no sugar to sprinkle on top. So, I would like you to come in the kitchen one at a time to taste the bread and the cheese and see which one you want."
"I want peanut butter and jelly!" Ronald shouts.
I turn around and shoot him a quick Look of Death. "This is war, Ronald. And in war you get the supplies your commanding officer sends you." I salute41 him. "So let's all be good soldiers and eat the cheese."
I'm making the last sandwich when the first raindrops fall, blanketing the sliding doors with a thick sheet of water.
"Bye, Carson!" Grayer and I call out as the Spenders begin to pull out of the driveway Sunday night.
"Bye, Grayer!" she calls back from her car seat and then puts her right thumb up to her nose and waves her fingers at me. Despite my best efforts all weekend I was evidently never able to work my way back into her good graces after "taking" her privacy.
"Grayer, are you ready?" Mrs. X comes outside in a green and cream silk coat, Prada's signature look this spring, putting in her right pearl earring42.
"Mommy, can I bring my Kokichu?" he asks.
We've been invited over for a "casual Sunday supper" at the Homers' and Grayer feels he needs to come equipped with something to share, since Ellie, their four-year-old, has a guinea pig.
"I suppose that'll be okay. Why don't we leave it in the car when we get there and then I'll let you know if it's okay to bring it out? Nanny, why don't you run upstairs and change?"
"I am changed," I say, glancing down to confirm that I am still wearing clean chinos and a white turtleneck sweater.
"Oh. Well, I suppose it's okay. You'll probably be outside with the children most of the time, anyway."
"Okay, everybody in the car!" Mr. X comes by, swooping43 Grayer up, and carries him, sack-of-potatoes-style, outside.
As soon as we get in the car Mr. X plugs his cell phone into the dashboard and starts dictating44 instructions to Justine's voice mail. The rest of us sit quietly, Grayer clutching his Kokichu, me balled up under the canoe staring at my belly45 button.
As Mr. X unplugs his cell phone he sighs. "This is a really bad week for me to be away from the office. It's terrible timing46."
"But you said the beginning of June was going to be quiet-" she says.
"Well, I'm just warning you I'll probably have to go back on Thursday for a meeting."
She swallows. "Well, when will you be back?"
"I'm not sure. It looks like I'll probably have to stay over the weekend to entertain the execs from Chicago."
"I thought your work with the Chicago office was done," she says tightly.
"It's not that simple. Now there's the issue of layoffs47, merging48 divisions-reorging and making this thing run."
She doesn't reply.
"Besides, I will have been here a whole week," he says, making a left turn.
"Why are you turning away from the water?" she asks edgily49.
We have trouble finding the house because, according to the instructions, it's on the inland side of the main road.
"I just can't believe they wouldn't have an ocean view," Mrs. X says, as she forces us to round the same traffic circle for the third time. "Give me back the instructions."
He balls up the piece of paper and throws it at her without tak-
ing his eyes off the road. She smooths it out methodically on her knee. "You must have copied them down backward."
"Let's be crazy and just follow the fucking directions and see where we end up," he hisses50.
"I'm starving. I'm gonna die if I don't eat," Grayer moans.
Dusk is falling when we finally pull into the Homers' shingled51, three-story house. Ferdie, their golden retriever, is sleeping peacefully on the wraparound porch under the hammock and the crickets chirp52 loudly in greeting. Jack Horner pushes the screen door open, wearing faded jeans and Birkenstocks.
"Take off your tie! Quick!" Mrs. X whispers.
"Park anywhere!" he shouts with a broad smile from the porch.
Mr. X is divested53 of his blazer, tie, and cuff54 links before we can get out of the car.
I stretch out my cramped55 back as I walk around to the trunk. I fish the rhubarb pie Mrs. X bought at the supermarket this morning out of the cooler. "Here, I'll take that," she says, walking off after Mr. X, who's holding a bottle of wine, and followed by Grayer, holding his Kokichu in front of him, like the three wise men.
"Jack!" The men shake hands and clap each other on the back.
Ellie peeks56 around the door. "Mom! They're here!"
Jack ushers57 us into the cozy58 living room, where one wall is completely covered in the children's art and a macaroni sculpture sits on the coffee table.
Caroline comes out of the kitchen wearing jeans and a white blouse, wiping her hands on her apron59. "Hi! I'm sorry, don't shake my hands-I was just marinating the steaks." Ellie attaches herself to Caroline's leg. "Did you guys have any trouble finding the place?"
"Not at all, your directions were perfect," Mrs. X quickly responds. "Here." She hands off the pie box.
"Oh, thank you. Hey, Elle, why don't you show Grayer your room?" She bumps the girl gently with her hip60.
"Wanna see my Kokichu?" He takes a step forward, proffering61 the fluffy62 ball. She looks down at the yellow fur and runs off, Grayer's cue to follow, and they scamper63 upstairs.
"Nanny, why don't you go watch the kids?" Mrs. X says to me.
"Oh, they're fine. I took away Elle's Ginsu knives, so Grayer should be safe," Caroline says, laughing. "Nanny, would you like some wine?"
"Yes, drinks. What's your pleasure?" Jack asks.
"Do you have any Scotch?" Mr. X asks.
"Wine would be great," Mrs. X says, smiling.
"Red? White?"
"Whatever you're having," Mrs. X says. "Where are the other girls?"
"Setting the table. Would you excuse me? I'm just going to finish getting dinner together," Caroline says.
"Would you like any help?" I ask.
"Actually, that'd be great, if you don't mind."
Jack and Mr. X go outside to do manly64 things with the barbecue, while we follow Caroline into the kitchen, where Lulu and Katie, ages eight and six, are sitting at the table, rolling up napkins and putting them in rings.
"Nanny!" They leap up as soon as I come in, throwing their arms around me, much to Mrs. X's chagrin65. I pick up Katie and quickly dip her backward, holding on to her legs, then give Lulu her turn.
"Would you mind tossing the salad?" Caroline hands off the bowl and a Mason jar full of dressing66.
"Not at all." As I start flipping68 the lettuce69 I notice the sweet aroma70 of a pie baking.
"What can I do?" Mrs. X asks.
"Oh, nothing. I wouldn't want you to ruin your beautiful coat."
"Honey?" We hear Jack calling from the backyard.
"Lu, would you run outside and see what Dad wants?" The little girl comes running back a second later.
"He says the grill's ready."
"Okay, will you carry the steaks out to him, but be careful or we're all having grilled71 cheese for dinner."
Lulu picks up the metal tray and walks slowly to the door, staring intently at the pile of meat.
"Where are the kids eating?" Mrs. X asks casually72.
"With us."
"Oh, of course," she says, covering.
"I wanted to ask you a favor," Caroline says, circling the island to put her hand on Mrs. X's arm.
"Of course, anything."
"I have a friend from college coming out next week. She's getting divorced and moving back to New York from L.A. and I wonder if you wouldn't mind taking her under your wing a bit." ,
"Not at all-"
"It's just that being up in Westchester I can't do as much to introduce her around as I'd like. Also, if you know a good real estate agent, she's looking for a place."
"Well, there's a three-bedroom in our building that's on the market."
"Thanks, but she's looking for a studio. It's a horrible situation- even though her ex-husband was the one c-h-e-a-t-i-n-g, none of the assets were in his name. He's incorporated or some crap, and she's gotten nothing."
Mrs. X's eyes widen. "That's terrible."
"So anything you can do to help, I'd really appreciate. I'll call you when she gets here."
When we all get to the table, I'm charmed to see that the girls have made place cards by taking leaves and writing our names on them in silver pen in three markedly different handwritings. Katie and Lulu have asked to have me seated between them, while Mrs. X is placed between Grayer and Ellie and spends much of the meal cutting meat and answering Ellie's questions about her coat.
Ferdie comes over and starts whimpering for scraps73 at Jack's feet.
"We had a retriever when I was a boy," Mr. X says, spooning mustard onto his second steak.
"Ferdie's a local, actually," Caroline says. "One of the top breeders lives just down the road, if you're thinking of getting a puppy-"
"This is such a fabulous house," Mrs. X says, changing the subject as she plays with her salad.
"It was built by Caroline's grandfather," Jack says.
"With his own two hands, no nails, in the driving rain, if you believe him," she laughs.
"You should see the overpriced beach shack19 my wife picked out. We'll be lucky if the roof doesn't blow off," Mr. X laughs, corn in his teeth.
"So, Nanny, where are you in school?" Jack turns to me.
"NYU-I just graduated on Friday, actually."
"Congratulations!" He smiles at me, while buttering another ear of corn for Lulu. "So, have you figured out your plans for next year?"
"You're such a dad." Caroline laughs at him across the table. "You don't have to answer that, Nanny." She stands up. "Who wants pie?"
"ME! ME!" the little Horners and Grayer all shout.
As soon as the door swings behind her I stand to clear, but Jack stops me. "Come on," he mock-whispers. "She's gone. What are your plans?"
"I'm going to be the program associate of a children's organization in Brooklyn," I tell him in a stage whisper.
"Honey!" he shouts. "It's okay! She has a plan!"
Caroline comes back in, smiling, with a carton of ice cream and nine bowls.
"Jack, you're hopeless." She puts down the carton and the bowls. "Lulu, will you take coffee orders?"
A gracious hostess, Caroline serves both pies, but there's little demand for the cold one in the aluminum74 dish.
"Mommy, I want a guinea pig," Grayer says sleepily from his car seat. He's out almost immediately and the Xes begin rehashing the evening, as I try to find a comfortable way to slump75 beneath the canoe.
"He was telling me by the barbecue that he's managed to expand into twelve new markets this year-" Mr. X is impressed with Jack's business acumen76.
"You know"-she turns slightly toward him, putting her hand on his arm-"I was thinking I could go back with you on Thursday-we could have a romantic weekend in the city."
He pulls his arm away as he makes a left turn. "I told you, it'll just be a lot of client entertaining. You'd be bored out of your mind." He plugs in his cell phone and dials with his free hand.
She pulls her Filofax out and flips77 through the empty pages. "Nanny, one thing I would like to mention-" she calls back reprovingly.
"Yes," I say, starting to nod off.
"I'm not sure if it's appropriate for you to monopolize78 the dinner conversation. Just something I'd like you to be a little more aware of from now on."
Darling, I've gone over to the Sterns' for tea. I'll be back by five. Just a thought - if you have to go, why not see if you can come back to the island early Sunday morning, because the Horners have invited us over for brunch79.
Have a great match!
Love you.
~ ~ ~
I hope your golf game went well. In case you're worried if I'll be lonely Caronline has offered to keep me company while you're gone, so don't worry about me. Although they're quite busy, but I'm sure other people will think of me.
See you at the club at six.
Love you.
~ ~ ~
Darling, I didn't want to wake you from your nap - I'm going into town.
I called the rental80 agent and she said that it's really pretty safe out here. She said she'd be surprised if anything happened to Grayer or me while we're here all by ourselves, so please don't spend your time in the city worrying about us all the way up here.
~ ~ ~
Wednesday night, on the eve of Mr. X's departure, the three of us sit waiting in the Rover for Mrs. X. The original plan was to leave Grayer and myself home for the evening "to relax," while they had dinner at II Cognilio with the Longacres. But when they came home to change, Grayer screamed hysterically81 until Mr. X insisted that they bring him along, so he would, quote, "shut up."
After five straight days of running a virtual day-care center for all of the Xes' friends on at most five hours of sleep a night, I start to nod off as soon as I slump down under the canoe.
Mr. X jerks the cell phone away from his head. "We're going to lose the reservation-go see what's taking her so long." I open the car door just as Mrs. X teeters out onto the gravel on uncharacteristically high heels, clad in a strapless black dress with a red cashmere wrap around her shivering shoulders. Mr. X barely glances at her before starting the car.
"Honey, what time do you want me to drive you to the airport tomorrow?" she asks, pulling on her seat belt.
"Don't bother-I'm taking the six A.M. flight. I'll just call a cab."
"I want to fly with Daddy." Grayer, hungry and, of course, napless, begins to squirm in his car seat.
"Mrs. X? Um, you didn't get a chance to see if you brought any mosquito bite stuff, did you?" my voice echoes from beneath the canoe.
"No, are you still being bitten? I just don't understand it. None of us has any bites."
"Do you think it might be possible for me to run into a drugstore and grab some After Bite?"
"I really don't think we have time." She retouches her lipstick83 in the yellow light of the visor mirror.
I give my leg a good going-over through my pants. I am on fire. The itch16 is so bad it's keeping me awake on the alternate hours Grayer or Mr. X isn't snoring. I just. Want to go. To a drugstore.
After a tense twenty-minute drive we pull into the parking lot/ gift shop of the famous restaurant whose annual signature T-shirt, featuring a rabbit in silhouette84, is a bizarre, nationwide status symbol. Of course I want one.
Mrs. X ushers us into the restaurant, a glorified85 bait-and-tackle shop that serves up twenty-five-dollar bowls of pasta on splintered tables.
"Darling, how are you?" Mrs. X is accosted86 by a woman with large, blond hair that looks as if it could stand up to the fiercest Nantucket wind. "You're so dressy, my God, I feel like a bumpkin." She pulls her Aqua Scutum barn jacket closer around her.
The men shake hands and Mrs. X introduces Grayer. "Grayer, you remember Mrs. Longacre?"
Mrs. Longacre absentmindedly pats his head. "He's getting so big. Honey, let's get our table." We are shown to a drafty corner table and handed a green booster seat, which Grayer tries to squeeze himself into.
"Mrs. X, I think it's too small."
"Nonsense." She looks over at him sitting sideways, straining to fit his whole tushy in the seat. "Go see if they have a phone book."
I finally unearth87 three filthy88 Nantucket directories and slip them under his derriere, while the adults order cocktails90. I pull crayons out of my bag and start telling Grayer a story, illustrating91 on the paper tablecloth92 as I go.
"Well, of course, I love it up here, but I don't know how I'd do it without my fax," Mrs. Longacre says. "I don't know how people went anywhere before the fax and the cell phone, I really don't. I'm putting together a small dinner for a hundred people for the week we get back. You know, I planned Shelly's entire wedding from here last summer."
"I know, I wish I'd thought of bringing ours from home," Mrs. X says, adjusting the wrap around her naked shoulders. "I'm waiting to hear from the board if they're letting me buy one of the studios on the second floor."
"Your building has studios?"
"Well, they were all maids' quarters originally and most are owned by people who have larger apartments in the building. I'd love to have someplace for a little private time, you know? I'm just so torn when Grayer's home. I want to be with him, but sometimes I need to get things done for my committee work."
"Oh, honey, cheers to that! Our eldest93 daughter just did the same thing-she has two kids and needed someplace where she could do her own thing, but still be close enough to be involved. I think it's a great idea."
The waitress comes over with the six drinks on a tray just as a small child goes whizzing by her at knee height, nearly knocking three highballs onto Mrs. X's head.
"Aaaan-drew... Come to Mommmyyy." We hear a plaintive94 voice whine95 as the human tumbleweed flies under tables and between diners.
The maitre d' looks pleadingly at the oblivious96 parents, willing them to discipline their child.
"Oh, honey, isn't that the Cliftons?" Mrs. X excuses herself to go over and kiss cheeks.
"Nanny, draw me a chicken," Grayer asks, while the men compare this week's golf scores.
"Isn't that great?" she says, sitting back down. "They're here with their son, so I told Anne that Nanny would take everyone out to the parking lot until the food comes." Everyone? Am I to lead Mrs. Clifton in a rousing rendition of "Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore97" by the Dumpster?
I pull myself out of my seat and take Grayer and the whirling dervish out into the cold, dark, sandy parking lot to play. They climb up and down a piece of oiled driftwood a few times and then Andrew suggests making dirt angels.
"Yeah, no. How about we wash hands before the food comes?" I try to steer98 them back inside toward the ladies' room.
"No!" Andrew shouts. "I'm a boy. I'm not using some girl's toilet. No way."
Mr. Clifton rounds the corner to the bathrooms. "I'll take them," he says to me, leading the boys into the bathroom and leaving me to enjoy a whole two minutes in the ladies' room by myself.
I've just latched100 the door on the stall when I hear Mrs. X and Mrs. Longacre come in. Mrs. Longacre is agreeing about something. "Absolutely! You can never be too cautious these days. Do you know Gina Zuckerman? She has a boy about Grayer's age-Darwin, I think. Apparently101 the woman they had watching him, some South American, grabbed him by the arm. Gina caught it all on the Nannycam. Sent that woman right back to whatever third world village she crawled out of."
I try not to breathe as Mrs. Longacre pees beside me.
"We just set up our Nannycam a few weeks ago," Mrs. X says. "I haven't had time to review the tapes, but it gives me peace of mind knowing I'm able to be virtually right there with my son."
Shut up. Shut up!
"Don't you have to go?" Mrs. Longacre asks, coming out of the stall.
"No, I'm just washing my hands," Mrs. X says from the sink.
Grayer pounds on the bathroom door. "Nanny!"
Mrs. X opens the door. "Wha-Grayer? What are you doing here?" I hear her leave and wait for Mrs. Longacre to finish washing her hands before I unlatch the stall.
NANNYCAM?! NANNYCAM???.'.'.' What's next? Periodic drug tests? Strip searches? A metal detector102 in their front hall? Who are these people?
I splash my face with cold water and try, for the umpteenth103 time in nine months, to put my six-foot employers out of my mind so I can focus on the needs of the three-foot one.
I walk back to the table. Mrs. X is struggling to balance Grayer on the phone books. She looks up, openly glaring at me. "Nanny, where have you been? I found Grayer unattended and I think it's unacceptable-"
An unprecedented104 level of rage shows on my face, momentarily silencing her. I readjust Grayer on his phone books, cut up his chicken for him, and take a forkful of mashed105 potatoes.
"Well, then, Nanny, why don't you take the kids outside till we're done?" she asks sweetly.
And I spend the rest of the meal in the damp wind, feeding Grayer sandy chicken out of a Styrofoam container. Pretty soon Andrew joins us, then three more. I play Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes. I play Mother May I. I play Red Light, Green Light.
But there is only so much you can do with five children in a dark parking lot before you want to sell them.
After putting Grayer to bed I ransack106 the kitchen for ammonia. While searching under the sink, I hear the tap of Mrs. X's Manolos on the linoleum107 as she opens the cabinets above. She maneuvers108 awkwardly around me in silence.
"What are you doing under there?" Mr. X comes in, holding the paper.
"I'm looking for ammonia to take the sting out of my mosquito bites," I say, my head tucked between the pipes and a bottle of bleach109 as I hunt for this emergency Girl Scout110 solution.
"And I'm looking for the Scotch, so I can fix you a nightcap." Her feet swivel so she can face him and her wrap slides slowly to the floor, landing in a scarlet-red heap beside her goose-pimpled ankles.
"Ammonia?" he asks. "Huh."
His heavy footsteps move from the linoleum of the kitchen to the wood of the hallway.
"Honey?" she says in a slightly husky tone as she follows him to the door frame. "Why don't we read in bed?"
I hear the rustle111 of him handing the paper over to her. "I've got to confirm my flight out tomorrow. I'll be in when I'm done. Don't wait up. Good-bye, Nanny." I see Mrs. X's calf112 muscles clench113.
"Bye, have a good flight," I say. Give Ms. C my regards.
I hear her follow him down the hall, leaving me alone to rummage114 under every sink in the house, but all I find is a lot of Mr. Clean and some PineSol.
An hour later, when I turn out the bathroom light, I see Mr. X slowly pushing their bedroom door open, a shaft115 of light illuminating116 the hallway.
"Darling," I hear her say quietly. The door slides closed.
"Daddy, you're here!" Grayer jumps up in front of Sesame Street when Mr. X enters the living room late the next morning.
"Hi," I say, startled. "I thought you were-"
"Hey, sport." He comes over to sit on the couch.
"Where's Mommy?" Grayer asks.
"Mommy's in the shower." His father grins. "Have you had breakfast?"
"I want cereal," he says, skipping in circles around the couch.
"Well, let's rustle you up some food. I could go for eggs and sausage." It is Thursday, right? It's not still Wednesday? Because I already scratched Wednesday off on the little calendar I've carved into the wall by my bed.
Mrs. X saunters in wearing a bikini top, sarong, and miles of exposed gooseflesh. She's flushed and has the aura of victory about her.
"Morning, Grayer. Morning, you." She languorously117 comes up behind Mr. X, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a little massage118. "Darling, would you mind going to pick up the paper?" He rolls his head back to look up at her and she grins, leaning down to give him a kiss.
"Sure." He comes around the couch, brushing his lips over her shoulder as he passes. Well, I've officially found the only scenario119 more uncomfortable than being around when they fight.
"Would you mind if I went with Mr. X to the store to get some After Bite?" I ask, trying to capitalize on her postcoital glow.
"No. I'd rather you stayed here to watch Grayer while I get ready." Mr. X grabs the keys from the table by the door and heads out. As we hear the car start she asks, "Grayer, how'd you like a baby brother or sister?"
"I want a baby brother! I want a baby brother!" He runs over to her, but she spatulas120 him and rebounds121 him back to me, like a field hockey ball.
The phone begins to ring as Mr. X pulls out of the driveway. Mrs. X takes his sweatshirt from the back of the couch and pulls it on over her head before picking up the heavy olive-green receiver. "Hello?" she stands, listening expectantly. "Hello?" She adjusts her sarong. "Hello?" She hangs up.
She eyes me across the room. "I hope you haven't been giving this phone number out."
"No, only to my parents in case of an emergency," I say.
She's halfway122 up the stairs when the phone rings again, bringing her back down into the living room.
"Hello?" she asks a fourth time, sounding annoyed. "Oh, hi..." Her voice is strained. "No, he's not in ... No, he decided123 not to leave today, but I'll have him call you when he gets back ... Chenowith, right? I've got it. Are you in Chicago or New York?... Okay, bye."
No Teuscher truffles for you, Ms. Chicago.
When Mr. X gets back I go into the kitchen to help him unload and pull out the usual assortment124 of carcinogenic sugar-free yogurts, tofu dogs, and SnackWell's.
"Did anyone call?" he asks, pulling a single cheese pastry125 out of a small wax-paper bag for himself as Mrs. X comes into the kitchen.
"Nope," she says. "Why, were you expecting someone?"
"Nope."
Well, then, that's settled.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The next afternoon as a plane flies low over the backyard, I wake to the shrill126 sound of the phone from inside the house. Again. Slapping at the mosquitoes feasting on my bare legs, I unpeel my flesh from the rubber slats of the dilapidated lawn chair and stand up to answer the ringing. But it abruptly127 stops. Again.
Earlier this morning I stood warily128 staring at a truck in our driveway as an old man unloaded three large rental bikes, wondering with a heavy heart if this implied that I was to ride with Grayer up on my shoulders. At this point, I doubt I'd so much as bat an eyelash if they suggested that I load him into my womb to make more room in the Land Rover.
Grayer had to explain to his father that he could only ride the red ten-speed propped129 up in the driveway if it had training wheels. I still can't tell if the man is totally clueless or just insanely optimistic about Grayer's capabilities130. At any rate, one adult bike was exchanged for a smaller one and, to my.surprise, I was permitted to bow out of their excursion. They rode off toward town, leaving me with grand plans for a long jog, a leisurely131 bath, and a nap, but I seem only to have made it as far as sitting down on this deck chair in my running shorts and sports bra to put on my sneakers. Well, one out of three ain't so bad.
I grope under the chair for my watch, grimacing132 as a sliver133 of wood slides under my fingernail. I pull the watch out and suck gently on the afflicted134 finger. They've been gone for over an hour.
I head back inside, turn on the hot water in the kitchen sink and thrust my hand under it. I finally get a free moment to myself for the first time in a week and I have to spend it coaxing135 this damn house out of my very skin!
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I don't even bother to move from where I'm leaning against the counter. She gives up after the fifth ring. She seems to be losing her subtle edge.
The hot water proves to be unsuccessful, forcing me to gather a makeshift emergency kit, consisting of a corn holder136, matches, and a neglected bottle of Ketel One from the freezer. As I set up shop at the kitchen table I stare down at the cracked green linoleum. I wish I could call up and order a fill-in friend, like a guy orders a stripper. Some fabulous young woman would show up with Cool Ranch137 Doritos, margaritas, and a copy of Heathers. Or at least some old Jane magazines. If I have to flip67 through Good Housekeeping from July of '88 one more time I'm going to bake myself into an apple pie.
I reach for the vodka, freezing when I think I hear the crunch138 of gravel in the driveway signaling their return. I untwist the top, pour a shot into a juice glass, and feel it roll onto my tongue. I pound the glass back on the table, turning it over like a cowboy.
I look over at the old, decrepit139 AM radio on the sideboard, and turn on the power.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"He's not here!" I shout over my shoulder.
I start rolling the knob, dropping my head on my arm as I spin past dribbles140 of news and oldie stations blurring141 through the ancient speakers in tiny bursts of static. I move the knob slowly, an astronaut listening for signs of life, trying to make out a Billy Joel song amid the fuzz. My head lifts. It's not Billy ... it's Madonna!
I roll the knob a millimeter, standing with excitement at the familiar sound of "Holiday." I grab the corn holder and shove it in by the knob to hold it in place, crank the volume up as high as it will go, and sing along with the next best thing to a fill-in friend. There is life beyond this place, my glitter-eyed, badass, blond friend reminds me, life without them!
" 'If we took a holiday, oohya-' " I shimmy my Lycra-clad self around the kitchen, tossing the vodka back in the freezer to chill, forgetting completely about my finger, mosquito bites, and severe sleep deprivation142. Within moments I am right there with her as she insists that I take some time to celebrate, (oohya), and kick, eighties style, into the living room, grabbing Grayer's monster truck for a microphone and belting it out for all I'm worth.
I am just sliding off the back of the couch, when Mr. X throws open the screen door in his Donna Karan running pants. I freeze in a squat143, truck in hand, but he barely notices me as he hurls144 his cell phone onto the rickety wing chair and strides to the stairs. I jolt145 up to look out the front door, where the silhouette of Mrs. X moves closer from a heap of Grayer in the middle of the driveway. I leap over Graver's toys, run into the kitchen, dislodge the corn holder, kill the power, and run back into the living room just as the front door swings closed.
She eyes my midriff. "Get him ready for his play date, Nanny. He claims he scraped his knee, but I can't see anything. Just quiet him down-my husband has a headache." She breezes past me to the stairs, rubbing her own temples. "Oh and something's wrong with his cell. Check it, will you?"
Mr. X screams from upstairs, "Where's my suitcase? What have you done with my suitcase!"
Strains of a sobbing146 Grayer ripple147 through the house as I reach for my sweatpants, finger throbbing148 back to life. I pick up Mr. X's cell phone. The caller ID shows that all the calls are coming from the Xes' apartment.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I struggle to open my heavy eyelids149 in the darkness.
Ring. Ring.
I don't know why he doesn't just call her and tell her he's not coming back!
"Nanny!" Grayer cries out as the phone wakes him for the third time tonight. At this point I'm about one ring from calling her and telling her where she can stick her phone and her foie gras.
Reaching across the two-foot divide between our beds, I squeeze Grayer's sweaty hand. "The monster," he says, "is really scary. It's going to eat you up, Nanny." The whites of Grayer's eyes shine in the dark room.
I roll over onto my side to face him, while not letting go of his hand.
"Think real hard, what color was the monster? I want to know, 'cause I'm friends with a few."
He's quiet for a moment. "Blue."
"Oh, yeah? Sounds like Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. Was he trying to eat me?" I ask sleepily.
"You think it's Cookie Monster?" he asks, his death grip lightening as he relaxes.
"Yup. I think Cookie wanted to play with us, but he scared you by accident and was trying to tell me he was sorry. Want to count sheep?" Or rings?
"No. Sing the song, Nanny."
I yawn. " 'Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer,' " I croon softly, feeling his warm breath on my wrist. " Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall.' " His hand grows heavy and by ninety beers he's back to sleep for at least a few more hours.
I turn over on my right side and watch him, his chest gently rising and falling, his hand curled under his chin, his face for the moment relaxed and peaceful. "Oh, Grove," I say quietly.
The next morning, after indulging in three cups of unflavored coffee, and buying a case of After Bite. I stand against the only pay phone in town, frantically150 dialing the numbers on the plastic phone card.
"Hello?" H. H. answers.
"Oh, thank God. I thought I wasn't going to catch you before you left." I slump against the pay phone.
"Hey! No, I was just packing-my flight's not till eight. Where are you?"
"At a pay phone. They left me in town while they went to a dog breeder." I fish the box of cigarettes I bought along with the phone card out of the plastic bag and rip off the cellophane wrapper.
"A dog breeder?"
"Mr. X is hoping to buy a small furry151 replacement152 for himself. He's leaving this afternoon. I guess one week of family vacation was about all he could take." I stick a cigarette in my mouth and light it, inhaling153 and exhaling154 quickly. "This town must have some rule against businesses selling anything but scented155 candles, boats in a bottle, or flavored fudge. Hell is a yacht-shaped candle-"
"N, just come home." A family walks by, each member in various stages of finishing ice-cream cones. I turn my body into the booth, guiltily hiding the cigarette.
"But I've got to get moving money together. Ugh! When I think of all those times after work that I marched straight to Barneys and blew half my paycheck just to cheer myself up, I could shoot myself!" I take one last inhale156 and stub the cigarette out on the top of a nearby fence. "I'm so unhappy," I say quietly.
"I know, I can hear that," he says.
"Everyone here looks through me," I say, feeling my eyes welling up with tears. "You don't understand. I'm not supposed to talk to anybody and everyone acts as if I should be grateful just to be in Nantucket, as if this were the Fresh Air Fund or something. I'm so lonely." I'm really crying now.
"I respect you so much. You've made it through seven whole days! Hang in there for the Grayermeister. So, what are you wearing?" I smile at the familiar question, blowing my nose onto the brown paper bag.
"A G-string bikini and a cowboy hat, what else. You?" I button the top button of my cardigan and pull up the wool turtleneck close around my chin as a biting wind blows off the Atlantic.
"Sweatpants." God, I miss him.
"Listen, fly safe and remember, no pot smoking with the porn stars. Repeat: tulip barges157 and Anne Frank museum-okay. Porn stars-not okay."
"Got it, partner, keep your hat on and shoot straight from-" The phone abruptly clicks and a dial tone blares into my ear, signaling the death of my phone card. I bang the receiver into the Plexi-glas. Damn, damn, damn.
I turn away from the phone booth, prepared to go buy a lot of fudge, when the old cell phone explodes in shrill beeping, causing me to trip into the hedge and bang my elbow on the wooden fence lining158 the pathway.
Tears spring to my eyes again as I march solemnly to Annie's Candle Shack, their appointed meeting place. I shove the cigarette pack deep into the pocket of my jeans just as the Land Rover pulls into the parking lot. I can hear barking coming from the trunk of the car, but Grayer looks joylessly out through the window.
"Let's get going. I want to make the noon flight," Mr. X says as I strap82 myself in beneath the canoe and heavy raindrops splatter the windshield.
Sharp barking ricochets through the car.
"Make it stop, Nanny!" Grayer says grumpily. "I don't like that."
Mr. X turns off the car and the Xes jog into the house, evading159 the last of the drizzle, while I struggle to unbuckle Grayer and carry the whimpering crate160 in after them. I set the wooden box down on the shag rug, lifting the retriever puppy out, just as an elderly woman with shoulder-length gray hair emerges from the kitchen.
"Grandma!" Grayer cries out.
"Ah, there you are. I thought I must have the wrong house," she says, untying161 her scarf and maneuvering162 carefully so as not to touch the mildewed163 walls.
"Mother." Mr. X looks as if he's just been zapped with a stun164 gun, but then recovers, moving forward automatically to kiss her on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, that's a fine way to greet your mother. Your charming wife called me yesterday and invited me to enjoy this refugee camp you probably paid a bundle for," she says, looking up at the peeling paint. "Although, honestly, I don't know why I couldn't have come tomorrow," she says to Mrs. X. "I caught the nine thirty. I tried calling from the ferry, but the line was busy, and as much fun as it would have been to wait in the rain and eat one of the fried bread products available for purchase at your charming station I decided to hail a cab."
I stand just outside of their triangle, taking in the grande dame165 who has spawned166 this family. I've only met women like Elizabeth X when my grandmother has dragged me to Vassar reunions for the class of 1862. She's real Boston Brahmin, part Katharine Hepbum, part Oscar the Grouch167.
"Elizabeth, welcome." Mrs. X glides168 forward to give her mother-in-law a guarded kiss. "Can I take your coat?" Call the union-Mrs. X is taking a coat!
Elizabeth slips out of her beige Burberry trench169, revealing a blue and white polka-dot pleated dress. "Darling?" Mrs. X says to Mr. X, who still looks stunned170. "You're always saying how you two don't get to spend enough time together, so I thought I'd give you a little surprise."
"I said hi, Grandma," Grayer says impatiently.
She bends her knees slightly with her hands on her thighs171. "You look just like your father. Now, run along." She straightens up. "Who's this? And what's that?"
"Elizabeth, this is Nanny. She looks after Grayer." I shift the puppy to my left arm and reach out to shake her hand.
"Lovely." She ignores the gesture and reaches into her purse to pull out a pack of Benson and Hedges.
"That's Grayer's new dog," Mr. X says jovially172.
"I hate it," Grayer says from the couch.
"Would you like a cocktail89, Mother?"
"Scotch and soda173, dear, thank you."
"Oh, I think we only have vodka, Elizabeth," Mrs. X says.
"Send-I'm sorry, what was your name?" Elizabeth asks me.
"Nan," I say.
"I can go, Mother."
"I just traveled three hours through torrential rain to spend time with my son. My son who, from the look of it, might have a heart attack any day." She pats his protruding174 stomach. "Send Nan."
"Well, Mother, the insurance doesn't cover-"
She turns to me. "Nan, can you drive?"
"Yes."
"Do you have, on your person, a valid175 driver's license176?"
"Yes."
"Son, give her the keys. Do we need anything else?" she asks Mrs. X.
"No, I think we have everything, Elizabeth."
"The Clarks and the Havemeyers are coming by tomorrow, and knowing you, dear, there's only rabbit food. Nan, come with me to the kitchen. I'll make a list."
I dutifully follow her into the avocado-green kitchen, dragging the dog crate behind me as I go. I park the box near the table and place the puppy gently back on her towel. As soon as I latch99 the cage door she resumes her yapping.
Elizabeth throws open a few cupboards, while I take a piece of paper from the pad by the phone. "This place is quite a shithole," she mutters to herself. "Okay." She starts dictating. "Scotch, gin, tonic177, Clamato, tomato juice, Tabasco, Worcestershire, lemons, limes." She opens the fridge and tuts with disgust. "What the hell is soy milk? Does a soybean have udders? Have I missed something? Carr's water crackers178 and more brie. Can you think of anything else?"
"Um, macadamia nuts, pretzels, and potato chips?"
"Perfect." My grandmother taught me that when entertaining WASPs179, the key is to put out only a tiny silver bowl of each item and suddenly even Pringles have class. "Son! Can you please put that goddamn dog in the garage! The yelping180 is giving me a migraine!" she shouts.
"Coming, Mother." Mr. and Mrs. X enter the kitchen.
"I couldn't agree more, Elizabeth. Nanny, help Mr. X carry the crate into the garage," Mrs. X instructs me.
I take the front end of the crate and try to make reassuring181 noises to the puppy as we carry her out to the cold garage. Her brown eyes stare up at me as she tries to steady herself. "There, there, good girl," I murmur182.
Mr. X looks at me as if he can't quite figure out who I'm talking to.
Mrs. X follows us down the rickety wooden steps as we lower the crate onto the damp cement floor. "Nanny, here are the keys." She holds them up as she comes over. "Oh, good." She looks down with disdain183. "I think it'll be much happier out-"
Mr. X grabs her by the elbow and steers184 her into the corner by the boiler185. "How dare you invite her without consulting me," he growls186 through clenched187 teeth. Still waiting for the keys, I crouch down to adjust the puppy's towel, trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible.
"But honey, it was a surprise. I was just trying to-"
"I know exactly what you were trying to do. Well, I hope you're happy. I really hope you are." He pivots188 in his loafers and storms back into the kitchen.
She stands with her back to me in the corner, facing the rusting189 trash cans. "Oh, I am." She reaches up and smooths her fingertips across her forehead. "I'm so happy. Really fucking happy," she says quietly into the darkness.
She walks shakily past me, back up the steps to the kitchen, the car keys still clenched in her fist.
"Um, Mrs. X?" I say, standing as she reaches the splintering door.
She turns, her mouth pursed. "What?"
"Um, the keys?" I ask.
"Right." She hurls them at me and steps through the kitchen door to rejoin her family.
He was determined190 to show who was master in that house, and when commands would not draw Nona from the kennel191, he lured192 her out of it with honeyed words, and seized her roughly, dragged her from the nursery. He was ashamed of himself, and yet he did it.
-PETER PAN
收听单词发音 |
1
turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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maneuver
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| n.策略[pl.]演习；v.(巧妙)控制；用策略 | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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grumbles
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| 抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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densely
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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dangles
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| 悬吊着( dangle的第三人称单数 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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outdated
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| adj.旧式的，落伍的，过时的；v.使过时 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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shrieking
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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chaotically
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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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38
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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39
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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40
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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41
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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42
earring
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| n.耳环，耳饰 | |
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43
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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44
dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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45
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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46
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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47
layoffs
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| 临时解雇( layoff的名词复数 )； 停工，停止活动 | |
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48
merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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49
edgily
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| adv.刀口锐利，轮廓过分鲜明，尖利 | |
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50
hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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51
shingled
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| adj.盖木瓦的；贴有墙面板的v.用木瓦盖(shingle的过去式和过去分词形式) | |
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52
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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53
divested
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| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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54
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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55
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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56
peeks
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| n.偷看，窥视( peek的名词复数 )v.很快地看( peek的第三人称单数 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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57
ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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59
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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60
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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61
proffering
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的现在分词 ) | |
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62
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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63
scamper
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| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
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64
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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65
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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66
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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67
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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68
flipping
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| 讨厌之极的 | |
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69
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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70
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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71
grilled
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| adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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72
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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73
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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74
aluminum
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| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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75
slump
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| n.暴跌，意气消沉，（土地）下沉；vi.猛然掉落，坍塌，大幅度下跌 | |
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76
acumen
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| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
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77
flips
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| 轻弹( flip的第三人称单数 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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78
monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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79
brunch
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| n.早午餐 | |
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80
rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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81
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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82
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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83
lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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84
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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85
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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86
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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87
unearth
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| v.发掘，掘出，从洞中赶出 | |
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88
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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89
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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90
cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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91
illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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92
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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93
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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94
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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95
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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96
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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97
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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98
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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99
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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100
latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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101
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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102
detector
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| n.发觉者，探测器 | |
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103
umpteenth
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| adj.第无数次（个）的 | |
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104
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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105
mashed
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| a.捣烂的 | |
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106
ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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107
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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108
maneuvers
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| n.策略，谋略，花招( maneuver的名词复数 ) | |
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109
bleach
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| vt.使漂白；vi.变白；n.漂白剂 | |
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110
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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111
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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112
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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113
clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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114
rummage
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| v./n.翻寻，仔细检查 | |
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115
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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116
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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117
languorously
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| adv.疲倦地，郁闷地 | |
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118
massage
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| n.按摩，揉；vt.按摩，揉，美化，奉承，篡改数据 | |
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119
scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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120
spatulas
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| n.（搅拌或涂敷用的）铲，漆工抹刀( spatula的名词复数 )；压舌板 | |
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121
rebounds
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| 反弹球( rebound的名词复数 )； 回弹球； 抢断篮板球； 复兴 | |
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122
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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123
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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124
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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125
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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126
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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127
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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128
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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129
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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131
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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132
grimacing
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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133
sliver
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| n.裂片，细片，梳毛；v.纵切，切成长片，剖开 | |
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134
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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136
holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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137
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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138
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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139
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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140
dribbles
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| n.涓滴( dribble的名词复数 )；细滴；少量（液体）v.流口水( dribble的第三人称单数 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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141
blurring
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| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
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142
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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143
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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144
hurls
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的第三人称单数 )；大声叫骂 | |
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145
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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146
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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147
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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148
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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149
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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150
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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151
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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152
replacement
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| n.取代，替换，交换；替代品，代用品 | |
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153
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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154
exhaling
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的现在分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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155
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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156
inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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157
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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158
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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159
evading
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| 逃避( evade的现在分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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160
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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161
untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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162
maneuvering
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的现在分词 )；操纵 | |
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163
mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
stun
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| vt.打昏，使昏迷，使震惊，使惊叹 | |
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165
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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166
spawned
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| （鱼、蛙等）大量产（卵）( spawn的过去式和过去分词 )； 大量生产 | |
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167
grouch
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| n.牢骚，不满；v.抱怨 | |
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168
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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169
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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170
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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171
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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172
jovially
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| adv.愉快地，高兴地 | |
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173
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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174
protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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175
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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176
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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177
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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178
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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179
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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180
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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181
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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182
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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183
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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184
steers
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| n.阉公牛，肉用公牛( steer的名词复数 )v.驾驶( steer的第三人称单数 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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185
boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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186
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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187
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
pivots
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| n.枢( pivot的名词复数 )；最重要的人（或事物）；中心；核心v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的第三人称单数 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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189
rusting
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| n.生锈v.（使）生锈( rust的现在分词 ) | |
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190
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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191
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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192
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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