Bang and whimper
Moments after finally surrendering to unconsciousness I wake to sobbing1. I pull myself out of bed and lie down beside Grayer as he thrashes around, battling the monsters who have chased us out of our rest.
"Shhh. Shhh." I try to take him in my arms, but not before one of his flailing3 limbs manages to whack5 me in the eye. "Ow, shit." I sit up.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't use that kind of language in front of Grayer." I look over to see Mrs. X silhouetted6 in her mutton-sleeved nightgown by the doorway7. "Well?" she asks, making no attempt to come closer.
"I think he had a nightmare."
"Okay, then. Just try to keep him quiet. Mr. X has his tennis tournament today." She disappears back down the hall, leaving us alone.
"Shhh, I'm right here, Grove9," I whisper as I stroke his back.
He shakes, turning his head into my neck. "No you're not. You're gonna go away." He begins to sob2 against my shoulder.
"Grove, I'm here. I'm right here."
He pulls back slightly and raises himself onto his elbow, puts his small fingers on my cheek and turns my face to his. In the dim glow of the Grover night-light he looks intently into my eyes. I hold his gaze, taken aback by the intensity10 of his expression, as if he were trying to memorize me. When he's finished he lies back down, his body slowly relaxing as I curl around him, whispering our monsters away.
Unable to get back to sleep, I exhale11 the last of my cigarette into the shed, stubbing the smoke out into the wet grass, and look back at the house framed by the moonlight.
"Woof!" The still unnamed X pet nestles against my ankles.
"Shhh, you," I say, reaching down to scoop12 her up like a baby, her slick paws brushing my chin. I carefully make my way through the wet grass up to the back door, pulling it open slowly and cringing14 at the unavoidable creak. I step out of my damp tennis shoes into the kitchen.
She wriggles16 to get free as I nestle her into the crate17. Shaking with agitated18 exhaustion19, I stare at the refrigerator. I tiptoe over and open the freezer door to pull out the vodka, desperate to be knocked out. But the icebox light reveals that my little survival swigs have made a noticeable dent20 in the reserves. I hold the bottle under the tap before returning it to its spot under the frozen veggie burgers. I hate what this trip has reduced me to. I swear, another week and I'd be mixing crack in the bathroom.
On my way upstairs I see that someone has finally taken the receiver off the hook in the living room. It's about time. I crawl under the scratchy wool blanket to await sleep, half-dreaming of Ms. Chicago parachuting onto the front lawn at breakfast.
I'm awakened21 two hours later by Grayer trying to scramble22 over me to get to the bathroom.
"Nanny, it's time for breakfast."
"In where? France?" I'm so exhausted23 I can barely see. I hold on to the wall as I follow him to the bathroom and help him pull down his pajama bottoms. While he's relieving himself I pull open the shade, squinting24 as the bathroom is bathed in orange light.
I pull a sweatshirt on over my pajamas25 and we shuffle26 downstairs.
"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask, bending over to pick up the puppy.
"No, Nanny, leave it," he whines27, turning his back on the cage. "Leave it in the box."
"Grayer, what do you want for breakfast?"
"I don't know. Froot Loops?" he mumbles28 as I heave her up onto my shoulder. She barks and licks my face.
"Sorry, bud, you know we only have Soy Flakes29."
"I hate Soy Flakes. I said I want the other kind!"
"I want a personal life, Grove. We can't always have what we want." He nods. I give him Soy Flakes, which he pokes30 at while I take the puppy outside to relieve herself.
At eight o'clock I wake at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Mrs. X descends31 in yet another Nantucket outfit32 she bought at Searle and casually33 places the phone receiver back on its cradle. "Grayer, let's turn off the TV. What do you want for breakfast?"
"He al-" I start to say.
"I want Froot Loops! I wanted it, but Nanny wouldn't give it to me."
"Nanny, why didn't you feed Grayer?" she asks, turning off the television.
"I WANT IT! I NEED IT!" he screams like a baby into the dark screen, rousing the dog into a yelping34 frenzy35.
"Cut it out," I say quietly, and it silences him for a second until he remembers this isn't my show. Full-on screaming ensues and doesn't stop until he's eating his second chocolate doughnut and the TV is back on. I yawn, wondering if they'd get him a hooker if he cried hard enough.
"I believe I've made it clear, Nanny," she says, looking down at the retriever as if she were vermin. "That I don't like the dog in the living room. Please put it back in the garage." I pick up the puppy. "Have you packed Grayer's activity bag for the club?"
"No, I've been keeping him company."
"Well, he seems occupied for the moment," she says.
I nod, picking up the bag with my free hand.
"Also, did you get more wipes?" What, with the private chauffeur36 you got me? I can't even get myself to a drugstore, you fucking freak.
"Um, did Mr. X pick them up when he was at the store?" I ask just as the phone rings.
Mrs. X picks up the receiver. "Hello?" She stares at me while gripping the receiver. "Hello!" She slams the phone down, shaking the bamboo table. "I don't know if he did. Did you put it on the shopping list?" She rests her hand on her hip37.
"I never saw yesterday's shopping list."
She sighs. "Honey?" she calls upstairs. "Did you get more wipes?"
Silence. We all stare expectantly at the ceiling. Finally we hear the sound of slow footsteps on the stairs. He descends wearing his tennis whites and makes a direct beeline for the kitchen.
"Did you get wipes?" she asks his back. "Honey? You know- those little cloths I use to clean Grayer?"
He keeps walking, then stops at the door, turns to me and says, "Tell my wife I got what was on the list," and disappears into the kitchen. I can hear Mrs. X exhale slowly behind me. Won-der-ful. Ladies and gentlemen, for the remainder of the show the role of Fucked will be played by Nanny.
"What, in the name of Christ, is all this racket?" The senior Mrs. X stands in a Pucci zip-front robe in the doorway, flinging a bejeweled hand toward the television. "Can we please turn off that godawful purple dinosaur38?"
"No!" Grayer spews chocolate crumbs39 on the couch.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Mrs. X says, rubbing her temples. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Black, like ink." Neither woman moves, indicating that the onus40 is on me to produce this inky coffee.
"Elizabeth, why don't you go sit on the porch and Nanny'll bring your coffee out there?"
"Do you want me to catch pneumonia41?"
"How about the kitchen, then?" Mrs. X asks, buttoning her cardigan.
"I don't suppose my lazy son has gone to get the paper yet?"
"No, but yesterday's is still on the table."
"Well, now that would have been useful yesterday. Honestly, I don't know why you insist on spending your vacation here in this ... hut when you could have come and stayed with me on the Cape42 and Sylvia would be serving us all eggs right now."
"Next year, Elizabeth, I promise."
After returning the dog to her crate on the kitchen floor, I'm scooping43 grounds into the filter when Mrs. X comes in. Mr. X abruptly44 stands up from where he's been studying The Economist45 at the kitchen table and goes out the back door.
She takes another long exhale, biting the side of her mouth. She opens the fridge, grabs a yogurt, holds it for a second and puts it back. She brings out a loaf of bread, flips46 it around to look at the nutrition information and returns it to the shelf. She closes the door and pulls down the box of Soy Flakes from on top of the fridge, giving it a once-over.
"Do we have any grapefruit?" she asks.
"I don't think Mr. X got any."
"Never mind, I'll eat at the club," she says, putting back the box.
She walks slowly over to me, tracing her fingers along the counter. "Oh, a boy called here for you a few days ago. It was a terrible connection, though..."
"Really? I'm sorry-"
"He's not the kid who lives on eleven, is he?" she asks.
"Actually, um, yeah." I get a coffee cup out of the cupboard, silently willing her to drop the conversation.
"I recognized the name, but it took me a few hours to realize from where. I was wondering how you knew him. Did you meet in the building? Was Grayer with you?" The lurid48 image hangs between us of me not only having sex on her bed, but enabling said sex by letting Grayer take a nap. Hard to say which she'd find more alarming.
"Yeah ... It's funny ..."
"Well, he must be quite a catch for you." She walks toward the windows and looks out at Mr. X standing49 in the yard with his back to the house as the fog lifts. "His mother was telling me that his last girlfriend-she was so beautiful. Every time I saw her in the elevator I'd tell her she should go in for modeling. And always so pulled together." She turns to eye my pajamas. "Anyway, she just went to Europe on a Fulbright. I don't suppose you'd ever consider applying for a program like that? Though I doubt NYU students are eligible50 for awards of that caliber51."
"Well... I wanted to work after graduation ... that is, I'm not really interested in international fieldwork so-" But she's already walked out. I lean against the avocado-green linoleum52 counter, my jaw53 gaping54. The coffee machine clicks off.
"Dear Mrs. X, you suck," I mutter as I pour.
"Pardon?" I whip around. Mr. X stands behind me, stuffing a doughnut in his mouth.
"Nothing. Um, can I help you?"
"My mother said you were making coffee."
I pull down another chipped cup, still having a minor55 Fulbright attack. "Does your mother take milk and sugar?"
"Nope, black, black, black."
"Should I not have used a filter?" He laughs and for a second he looks just like Grayer.
"Nanny! Where's that coffee?" I hustle56 back to the living room, trying not to spill.
"So I said to him, if he thinks he's going to screw me he's got another think coming!" Mrs. X has a pained expression as Elizabeth regales her with the trials of getting her pool properly serviced.
"Nanny, why don't you get him dressed? We're going over to the club. Honey, you and Mommy are going to spend the whole day together watching Daddy play tennis." Grayer barely looks over from the TV.
I kneel to dress him in front of Sesame Street.
"No, Nanny. I want to wear the Pooh shirt, I hate that one," he says when I hold up the Power Ranger58 shirt.
"Poo shirt! That's disgusting!" Elizabeth X cries as she stands to go upstairs.
"It's Winnie-the-Pooh, actually," I clarify as she passes.
I'm tucking the offending shirt into his shorts when Mrs. X comes in from the kitchen.
Ring.
She pauses briefly59 to raise the receiver a few inches and then slams it back down again. "No, that won't do." She waves down at me. "We're going to the club. Get one of those Lacoste shirts I bought him."
"No! I want to wear this one!" He prepares for another gale57.
"Grayer, that shirt isn't appropriate," she says definitively60. She picks up her handbag to wait for us while I wrestle61 him into the new shirt and rebrush his hair.
"Nanny, his shorts are wrinkled. Oh, well, I suppose they'd just get wrinkled on the ride over anyway." I wonder if she's considering making him stand in the car, hugging the front seat all the way to the Nantucket Yacht Club.
"Grayer, stay by the car while Mommy and Nanny get our beach things," Mrs. X calls after him as he runs up onto the golf course abutting62 the club's parking lot. She sighs, opening the trunk, and begins to load me up. Mr. X and Elizabeth have already trotted63 off to the courts for his first game.
"There you go." I have a straw bag containing everyone's clothing changes swinging off my right elbow, a duffel bag full of lotions64, sand toys, and sporting goods hanging from the other elbow, and an enormous pile of beach blankets and beach towels in my arms, to which she adds two fully13 inflated65 floaties. I lift my chin obediently so that she can tuck the orange plastic securely beneath it.
"Grayer Addison X, I SAID WAIT!" she screams into my face and over my shoulder, sliding her little yellow Kate Spade tote up to her elbow and sauntering forward, hand in hand with Grayer, yellow silk sarong billowing in the cool breeze. I tighten66 my arms around the pile, trying not to trip as I precariously67 navigate68 behind her. She greets the entire club as she passes, remembering each mother and child by name. I follow her, thankful that the floaties have positioned my head at such an angle that no one can tell if I'm rolling my eyes. Which I am. A lot. We kick off our sandals and walk down the wooden planks69 to the sand.
She weaves in and out of umbrellas, before pointing her head at a plot of empty beach to indicate where I'm to set up camp. Grayer skips in circles around the blanket as I lay it out.
"Come on! Let's go swimming! Right now. Right now." I look over at Mrs. X, as I anchor the blanket with a bag, but she's already immersed in conversation.
"Let's get your suit on, Grover." I take his hand to walk up to the cabana that someone named Ben's brother has lent us for the week while he's in Paris. I close the wooden door, leaving us in damp semi-darkness, with only slivers70 of sunlight peering in through the slats and onto the white boards. He pulls open the door the moment his other foot is through the top of the shorts.
"Wait, G! Got to lather71 up." I hold up the Chanel Bebe SPF 62, which I am constantly forced to slather on him.
"I hate that stuff!" He tries to make a run for it, but I grab his arm.
"How about you put it on my face and I'll put it on yours," I offer.
"Me first." He gives in. I squirt the white cream on his fingers and he smears72 it over my nose. I gently cover his, trying to get his cheeks at the same time so we can get out of the cabana before sunset.
"Nanny, we are taking turns! Don't cheat," he admonishes73, generously slathering my ears.
"Sorry, Grove. I just want to hurry up and get this stuff on you so we can get out there and go swimming." I cover his ears and chest.
"I'll do it myself, then." He smears his hands on his arms and legs, covering about a fifth of his exposed skin. I bend down in the doorway, attempting to even it out, but he runs away from me back down to the sand. Ten pedicured toes stop in front of me.
"Nanny, don't forget to put sunscreen on him. Oh, and there's a jellyfish warning today so you better bring everything up to the pool. See you later."
I schlep our stuff back up to the pool, only to discover that the water is slowly being drained out after a small child had an "accident." We head over to the Little Schooners74 Playground, a bit of an overstatement for a rusted75 swing set in a shadeless, fenced patch of sand. The sun beats down mercilessly as Grayer attempts to play with the seven other children, none of whom is close to him in age. We all pool beach supplies, taking turns coloring, throwing a ball, and picking our noses.
After he threatens to hurl76 a two-year-old off the swing set for her juice box, I leave our stuff and lead Grayer over to the clay courts to get drink money from Mr. X. For a good twenty minutes, we stumble along the bleachers in the heat searching for his match, but find it difficult to pick him out of the crowd of middle-aged77 men wearing visors.
"That's him! That's my dad!" Grayer keeps shouting hopefully, pointing at various men in tennis whites, only to have them turn around with disconcertingly unfamiliar78 faces.
When we finally spot him on the last court Grayer throws himself against the fence, gripping the wire with his fingers and screaming, like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate.
'DaaAAAAaadddDDdyyyyYYYYyyyyyy!!!!"
Elizabeth hisses80 at us disapprovingly81 as Mr. X marches over with a murderous look in his eye. I guess Grayer "the political prisoner" doesn't fit in with the image he's been cultivating all morning.
"Come on now, sport, don't cry," he booms for the whole court to hear. I put my hands gently on Grayer's shoulders to pull him back. "Get him out of here!" he whispers fiercely as soon as he's close enough that he won't be overheard. "And here." He pulls his cell phone from his belt and thrusts it through the fence at me. "Take this goddamn thing with you."
He stalks back to his game before I can ask him for the money. I look up to Elizabeth, but she glares straight in front of her, blowing smoke coolly to the side. I shove the phone deep into my pocket, and pick up Grayer, who's screaming, and lug82 him, still screaming, to the parking lot, because I have no idea where else to go.
When I am about two minutes from teaching Grove how to drink from the sprinklers we finally track down Mrs. X at the golf course.
"There you are!" she exclaims, as if she's been looking for us for hours. "Grayer, are you hungry?" He droops83 to the grass, still holding my hand.
"I think he's thirsty, actually-"
"Well, the Benningtons have invited a few families to their
house for a barbecue. Won't that be fun?" He plops down on the lawn, red faced and sweating, forcing me to pick him up and follow her as she strolls back to the car, sipping84 from her Perrier.
When we pull into the Benningtons' drive the first thing I notice is the Filipino man in a white jacket walking a poodle around the fountain. The second is that there are at least fifteen cars parked on the gravel86. How do you throw together an impromptu87 barbecue for fifteen families when the Benningtons left the club only minutes before us? As we walk through the white gate at the side of the house to the pool area the answer becomes apparent. You call the house on your cell phone and mobilize your staff.
I stand there, absorbing the realization88 that there is no way my wedding is going to be as nice as this informal little barbecue. It's not just that the impeccably manicured lawn goes right down to the water, or that everything is in full bloom, or that another man in a white jacket is tending bar, serving ice cubes that all have grapes frozen in them, while a third flips filet-mignon burgers; it's not even that tables with starched89 floral tablecloths90 have been set up all over the lawn; what finally gets me are the watermelons sculpted91 into the busts92 of former presidents.
I am startled by Grayer, fully revived from the contraband93 can of Coke his dad absentmindedly handed him, dumping a hot dog on my foot. He has ketchup94 all over himself, including his Lacoste shirt. I couldn't be more pleased.
"Come on, Grover, let's get you another dog." He and I eat our lunch, and then I sit nursing a vodka-tonic while he runs around the lawn with the other kids. By now I know better than to talk to any of the guests.
I see the Horners arrive with an attractive tan woman in tow. Caroline brings her over to meet Mrs. X while Jack85 takes the girls to the grill95. I watch with curiosity as Mrs. X switches herself on, her hands going to her pearls, her face a mask of compassion96. This must be Caroline's divorcee from California. After a few minutes Mrs. X loses steam, holds up her empty glass to signal her need for a refill, and departs.
Jack joins the two women, bringing with him a hot dog and Mr. X. The foursome engage in animated97 conversation for some time until Lulu skips over and pulls her parents away. Mr. X and the tan woman start to walk over to where I'm sitting. I quickly slump98 down in the chair and close my eyes. Not that Mr. X could pick me out of a lineup.
"Well," I hear him say as they pass by, "I have season tickets, so if you'd like to go ..."
"Doesn't your wife go with you?" she asks.
"She used to, but she's so wrapped up with our son lately..." Your who?
I sit back up to check if Mrs. X has noticed her husband's stroll down to the water, but she's embroiled99 with Mrs. Longacre. My pocket starts to vibrate.
"What the... ?" I pull Mr. X's pulsing phone out and try to switch it off without spilling my drink, hitting buttons at random100.
"Hello?" I hear a voice call out from my palm.
"Hello?" I instinctively101 raise the phone to my ear.
"Who is this?" a woman's voice demands.
"Nanny," I say. There's no need to ask who she is.
"Nanny?" She sounds like she's crying. "Is he there?"
"No," I say, craning my neck to see down to the water, but Mr. X and his new friend have disappeared. "I'm sorry, look, I've gotta go-"
"No. Don't hang up. Please. Please just tell me where he is," she begs tearfully.
I crane my head around. "Wait a sec." I hold the phone down low at my hip and walk swiftly up to the house and into the first French door off the porch. I close it shut behind me, keeping Grayer steadily102 in my gaze. I take a deep breath before lifting the phone back up to my ear. "Look, I'm not really sure what to tell you. Not to be trite103, but I really just work here."
"What is he still doing up there? He won't answer his phone, I _?
"He's, he's..." I don't know what to say. "Playing tennis ... and eating doughnuts, I guess?"
"But he hates her, he hates going away with her. He can't be having fun-"
"Well, yeah, no, he doesn't really seem to be having fun."
"Really?" she asks. I look out the window at the party, such as it is: balding paunchy men and their second or third wives, who're just biding104 time till their next peel or tuck, all oblivious105 to their children running back and forth106 on the lawn, savoring107 a few moments away from their monsters. And the nannies, all sitting quietly on the damp grass, awaiting their next order.
"No," I say, "nobody is having any fun."
"What? What did you say?"
"Look, I just have to ask, because you seem so intent on being here. What is it here that you want? What about any of this is appealing to you?" I gesture out at the window.
"You don't know what you're talking about. What are you? Eighteen?" Her tone changes as she sobers up from her crying jag. "I don't see how this is any of your business."
"Oh, oh, you know what? I don't think this is any of my business, either!" I want to hurl the phone straight through the window and have it land right in Mrs. X's Perrier. "You came to my house. How much more of my problem could you have made this? Having a covert108 affair, okay, means nobody knows about it. You do not get to have a crew of little helpers." I stare at the phone. "Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Well, for whatever it's worth, I've been all up and in here for
nine months, as in as a girl could get, and I can tell you: there is nothing good here-"
"But I-"
"And don't think it's all her, either, because it's not. She was you once, you know. So you can play all the Cole Porter you want, turn the heat up as high as it will go, but in the end you'll spend your life chasing him down, just like everybody else in that apartment." I look back out the window at the children playing tag on the lawn.
"My," she says, "that's quite an impressive moral analysis from the girl who stole eight hundred dollars from me-"
Suddenly Grayer trips and goes flying through the air. My breath catches and it seems to take hours for him to land.
"Are you listening?" she asks. "Hello? Nanny? I said I fully expect-"
"What, do I have to say it in Spanish? Get out of this relationship while you still have a pulse! And this advice is worth way more than eight hundred dollars, so you just consider us even." I click the phone shut. There is an interminable pause and then a bloodcurdling wail109. The entire party is struck silent, no one moves.
I run out to the porch and down onto the lawn. I weave through the immobile linen110 shifts and khaki pants, immediately locating Mrs. X in the parting crowd.
"Nannnyyy!" he cries. Mrs. X gets there first. "Nannnyyy!" She tries to bend down to him, but he hits out at her and flings his bleeding arm around my legs. "No! I want Nanny." I sit down on the grass and pull him onto my lap. Mrs. Bennington comes over with the first-aid kit15, while the other adults look on.
"Here, why don't you let Mommy take a look at it," I say. He holds out his arm, allowing her to bandage it, but curls his face away from her into my shoulder.
"Sing the bottle song," he asks tearfully as Mrs. X awkwardly applies iodine111.
" 'Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall,' " I sing quietly, while rubbing his back. " 'Ninety-nine bottles of beer ...'"
" 'Take one down and pass it around,'" he mumbles into my shoulder.
"Where's my husband?" she suddenly asks, scanning the crowd just as Mr. X rounds the hedgerow with his arm around Caroline's friend. They're both a little flushed and clearly hadn't been anticipating that all eyes would be on them when they returned.
I hold G's bandaged arm as he swishes in his bath, a reminder112 not to get the Batman Band-Aid wet. He leans his head against my hand. "I'm going to get a boat when I get big. It's going to be blue and have a pool on it."
"I hope it'll be warmer than the one at the club." I wash his back with the washcloth in my free hand.
"Oh, man. It will be so hot! Like this bath! And you can come and swim with me."
"Thanks for the invitation, Grove. You know, when you're all grown-up you'll have lots of friends and I'll be real old-"
"Too old to swim? No way, Nanny. You liar79."
"You're right, G, I'm lying, count me in for the cruise." I drop my chin to the cool porcelain113 beside his head.
"You could bring Sophie, too! She could have her own pool. A pool for all the animals. And Katie could bring her guinea pig. Okay, Nanny?"
"What about your puppy, Grove? Have you thought of a name for her yet?" I ask, hoping if we name her she might not get left in the yard all day again.
"I want a guinea pig, Nanny. Ellie can have the puppy."
"They already have a dog, Grove."
"Fine, no dogs on the boat. Only guinea pigs. And we'll all swim forever and ever and ever." He tugs114 his plastic aircraft carrier in circles.
I nuzzle my nose in his hair and rest my eyes while he finishes parking his boats. "It's a date."
I wait until Grayer is completely asleep and Elizabeth has turned in before going down to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. X are reading the paper, sitting silently across from each other in the worn armchairs on either side of the couch. Both of them tilt115 their sections toward the flickering116 side lamps in the darkened room. I take a seat in the middle of the empty couch, but neither X bothers to look up.
Taking a deep breath, and in the most supplicating117 voice I can muster118, I say, "Urn8, I was just wondering if it would be possible if, instead of driving back on Saturday-"
Mrs. X lowers her paper. "I'm pregnant," she says steadily.
His paper doesn't move. "What did you say?" he asks.
"I'm pregnant," she says in a steely, even tone.
His paper drops. "What?"
"Pregnant."
"Are you sure?" He looks at her, his eyes wide, his voice shaking.
"Once you've been pregnant you know how to recognize the signs." She smiles slowly at him, laying down her Full House.
"My God," he says, a trickle119 of sweat forming on his brow.
"And tomorrow at breakfast we'll tell your mother."
They stare at each other, tacitly acknowledging the arrangement she has made on their behalf. I pray to fall between the couch cushions.
"Now, Nanny." She turns her cold smile to me. "What is it I can do for you?"
I stand. "You know what? It's totally not a big deal. We can talk about this later. And congratulations," I offer as an afterthought.
"No, this is a perfect time, isn't it, honey?" She smiles at him.
He just stares back at her.
"Sit down, Nanny," she says.
I swallow. "Well, it's just that I have to find a new apartment this weekend, so if there's any way that you could drop me off at the ferry Friday night on the way to your party ... It's just that there'll be so much traffic on Saturday and I haven't even started packing and I need to have everything boxed by Monday and I was just thinking, you know, if it's not any trouble ... Of course, if you need me I'm happy to stay-I just thought..."
Mrs. X fixes me with a steely gaze. "Well, I have a better idea, Nanny, why don't you just leave tonight? Mr. X can drive you to the ferry. Elizabeth's here-we're really covered."
"Oh, no, really, I don't need to leave tonight. I just thought, you know, there might be so much traffic on Saturday. I'm happy to stay, I want to stay-" My heart pounds as I become fully cognizant of what is at stake. I am staggered by the vision of Grover, waking in a few hours, terrified and alone.
Mrs. X cuts me off. "Don't be silly. Honey, when's the next ferry?"
He clears his throat. "I'm not sure."
"Well, you can just drive Nanny over to the dock-they go pretty regularly."
He stands. "I'll get my jacket." And exits.
She turns back to me. "Now, why don't you go up and pack?"
"Really, Mrs. X, I don't need to leave tonight. I just wanted to have my apartment sorted before Monday."
She smiles. "Frankly120, Nanny, I just don't feel that your heart's in it anymore and I think Grayer can sense that, too. We need someone who can give Grayer their full commitment, don't you agree? I mean, for the money we're paying you, with the new baby coming, we should really have someone more professional." She stands. "I'll give you a hand, so you don't wake Grayer."
She follows me toward the stairs. I walk up ahead of her, frantically121 running through scenarios122 that might give me a chance to say good-bye to him. She comes behind me into the small room and stands between our beds with crossed arms, watching me carefully as I hastily stuff my things into my bag, awkwardly moving around her in the cramped123 space.
Grayer moans in his sleep and rolls over. I ache to wake him.
I finish collecting my things in her shadow and sling124 my bag up over my shoulder, mesmerized125 by the sight of Grover's hand in a tight fist flopped126 over the side of the bed, the Batman Band-Aid sticking out beneath his pushed-up pajama sleeve.
She gestures for me to walk past her to the door. Before I can help it, I reach out to smooth the damp hair off his forehead. She grabs my hand an inch from his face and whispers through clenched127 teeth, "Better not to wake him." She maneuvers128 me to the stairs.
As I start down ahead of her my eyes fill with tears, causing the stairs to pitch beneath me and I have to grip the banister to steady myself. She bumps against the back of my bag.
"I... I... I just wanted-" My voice is coming out in little gulps129. I turn up to face her.
"What?" she hisses, leaning menacingly forward. I pull back, the weight of my bag drawing me off balance as I start to fall. She instinctively reaches out and grabs my arm, swinging me against the banister as I right myself. We face each other, eye to eye on the same step. "What?" she challenges me.
"She was in the apartment," I say. "I just thought you should know, I mean, I-"
"You fucking child." She comes back at me in this two-and-a-half-foot space with all the force of years of suppressed rage and humiliation130. "You. Have no idea. What you're talking about. Is that clear?" Each word feels like a punch. "And I'd be very careful. If I were you. How you regard our family-"
Mr. X honks131 the car from the driveway, startling the puppy, who begins a round of sharp barking from the kitchen. As we reach the bottom of the stairs the noise wakes Grayer. "Nanny!" he cries out. "NAAANNYYY!!"
Mrs. X pushes past me. "Ugh, that dog," she mutters, marching to the kitchen. She shoves the swinging door open and the dog bounds out, yapping fiercely at her.
"Just take it," she says, roughly lifting the puppy up by her rib47 cage.
"I couldn't-"
"NANNY, COME HERE. I NEED THE LIGHT ON. NANNY, WHERE ARE YOU?"
"I said, take it." Mrs. X. thrusts her out at me. Her paws flail4 for solid ground, forcing me to instinctively receive her before she's dropped. Mrs. X jerks the front door open, grabbing her purse off the side table. She pulls her checkbook out and scribbles132 furiously while I look over toward the stairs. "Here." She hands me the check.
I turn and walk past her onto the gravel driveway, as Grayer's increasingly hysterical133 cries echo out into the darkness.
"NAAAANNNNYYYY! INEEEEEEDYOOOOUUUU!!!!"
"Have a good trip!" she calls out from the doorway as I make my way shakily down the path lit by the Rover's headlights, willing my knees not to give out.
I get in the front seat and try to steady my hands as I pull the seat belt across the puppy and myself.
"Oh," Mr. X says, looking at her. "Yeah, I guess Grayer's a little young. Maybe in a few years." He starts the car and peels out of the driveway, and before I can look back to fix the house in my mind, it is eclipsed by the woods as he races the car across the empty country roads.
He pulls into the deserted134 ferry dock and I open the door to get out. "Well," he says as if it's just occurred to him. "Good luck with the MCATs-they're a killer135!"
As soon as the door slams, he peels out of the parking lot and drives away. I walk slowly into the nearly empty ferry terminal and look around for the schedule. The next ferry isn't for an hour.
The puppy wriggles under my arm and I scan the waiting room for anything that could serve as a carrier. I go over to the guy who's closing up the Dunkin' Donuts counter and ask him for a bunch of plastic bags and some string to fasten a makeshift leash136. I pull all my clothes out of my tote, shove them in the plastic bags, line the tote with the remaining ones and place the dog in on top.
"There you go," I say. She looks up at me and barks before hunkering down to chew on the plastic. I slouch back against the peeling orange seat and look up into the fluorescent137 light.
I can still hear him screaming for me.
But nobody ever knew what Mary Poppins felt about it, for Mary Poppins never told anybody anything.
-MARY POPPINS
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1
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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3
flailing
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| v.鞭打( flail的现在分词 )；用连枷脱粒；（臂或腿）无法控制地乱动；扫雷坦克 | |
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flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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exhale
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| v.呼气，散出，吐出，蒸发 | |
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scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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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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wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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whines
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| n.悲嗥声( whine的名词复数 )；哀鸣者v.哀号( whine的第三人称单数 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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mumbles
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| 含糊的话或声音，咕哝( mumble的名词复数 ) | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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pokes
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| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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32
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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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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yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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35
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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36
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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dinosaur
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| n.恐龙 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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onus
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| n.负担；责任 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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42
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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43
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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economist
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| n.经济学家，经济专家，节俭的人 | |
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46
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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47
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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48
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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49
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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50
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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51
caliber
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| n.能力；水准 | |
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52
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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53
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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54
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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55
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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56
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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57
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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58
ranger
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| n.国家公园管理员，护林员；骑兵巡逻队员 | |
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59
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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60
definitively
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| adv.决定性地，最后地 | |
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61
wrestle
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| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
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62
abutting
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| adj.邻接的v.（与…）邻接( abut的现在分词 )；（与…）毗连；接触；倚靠 | |
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63
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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64
lotions
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| n.洗液，洗剂，护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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65
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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66
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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67
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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68
navigate
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| v.航行，飞行；导航，领航 | |
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69
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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70
slivers
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| （切割或断裂下来的）薄长条，碎片( sliver的名词复数 ) | |
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71
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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72
smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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73
admonishes
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| n.劝告( admonish的名词复数 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责v.劝告( admonish的第三人称单数 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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74
schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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75
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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77
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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78
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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79
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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80
hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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81
disapprovingly
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| adv.不以为然地，不赞成地，非难地 | |
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82
lug
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| n.柄，突出部，螺帽；(英）耳朵；（俚）笨蛋；vt.拖，拉，用力拖动 | |
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83
droops
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的名词复数 ) | |
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84
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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85
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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86
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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87
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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88
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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89
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
tablecloths
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| n.桌布，台布( tablecloth的名词复数 ) | |
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91
sculpted
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| adj.经雕塑的 | |
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92
busts
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| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
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93
contraband
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| n.违禁品，走私品 | |
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94
ketchup
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| n.蕃茄酱，蕃茄沙司 | |
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95
grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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96
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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97
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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98
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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99
embroiled
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| adj.卷入的；纠缠不清的 | |
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100
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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101
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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102
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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103
trite
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| adj.陈腐的 | |
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104
biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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105
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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106
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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107
savoring
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| v.意味，带有…的性质( savor的现在分词 )；给…加调味品；使有风味；品尝 | |
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108
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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109
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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110
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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111
iodine
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| n.碘，碘酒 | |
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112
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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113
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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114
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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116
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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117
supplicating
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| v.祈求，哀求，恳求( supplicate的现在分词 ) | |
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118
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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119
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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120
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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122
scenarios
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| n.[意]情节；剧本；事态；脚本 | |
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123
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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124
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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125
mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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127
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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128
maneuvers
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| n.策略，谋略，花招( maneuver的名词复数 ) | |
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129
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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130
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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131
honks
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| n.雁叫声( honk的名词复数 )；汽车的喇叭声v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的第三人称单数 ) | |
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132
scribbles
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| n.潦草的书写( scribble的名词复数 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下v.潦草的书写( scribble的第三人称单数 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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133
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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134
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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135
killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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136
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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137
fluorescent
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| adj.荧光的，发出荧光的 | |
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