It's Been a Pleasure
"Yo, lady!" I jolt1 awake. "Last stop-Port Authority!" the driver shouts from the front of the bus. I hastily gather my things together. "I wouldn't be trying to sneak2 on any animals again, girlie. Or next time you'll find yourself walking back to Nantucket," he says, leering at me over the steering3 wheel.
The puppy lets out a low growl4 of indignation and I stick my hand in the tote to quiet her.
Stepping down into the stench of the terminal, I squint6 in the brightness of the orange-tiled hallway. The Greyhound clock reads 4:33 as I stand for a minute to get my bearings. My adrenaline completely spent, I lower the tote to the ground between my feet and peel off my sweatshirt. The humid summer heat is already trapped in the tunnel, along with the stench of commuter7 sweat.
I walk hurriedly up to the street level to find a cab, past closed bakeries and newsstands. Outside the Eighth Avenue exit hookers and cab drivers await their next jobs while I let the puppy out on her string leash8 to pee by a sweating garbage can.
"Where to?" the cabbie asks as I slide in behind my bags.
"Second and Ninety-third," I say, rolling down the window. I root around in the plastic bags for my wallet and her brown furry9 head pushes its way out of the tote, panting. "Nearly there, little one. We'll be there soon."
"Bethune?" he asks. "I thought you said Upper East."
"Yeah, I'm sorry. Ninety-third," I clarify. As I open my wallet Mrs. X's check flutters to the floor of the cab. "Damn." I bend over to retrieve10 it in the darkness.
"Pay to the order of: Nanny. Five hundred dollars."
Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars?
Ten days. Sixteen hours a day. Twelve dollars an hour. So, that's like sixteen hundred dollars-no, eighteen hundred-no, nineteen hundred!
FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!
"Wait, make that seven twenty-one Park."
"Okay, lady." He makes a sharp U-turn. "You're paying."
You have no idea.
I unlock the Xes' front door and carefully push it open. The apartment is dark and silent. I put the tote down and the puppy wriggles11 out of it as I drop the rest of my bags on the marble floor. "Pee anywhere."
I reach for the dimmer on the hall switch, bathing the center table in a taut12 circle of light. The spot lamp pours beautiful cold ripples13 through the cut-crystal bowl.
I lean forward and rest my hands on the glass top that protects the brown velvet15 swags. Even now, even as it's gotten this out of hand, I'm distracted from my thoughts of the Xes by the trappings of the Xes. And really, it strikes me, isn't that the point?
I pull back to see the two perfect palm prints I've left on the glass.
Walking determinedly16 from room to room, I switch on the brass17 lamps, as if illuminating18 their home will shed some light on how I could have worked so hard and been hated so much.
I open the door to the office.
Maria has stacked Mrs. X's mail carefully on her desk just the way she likes it - envelopes, catalogs, and magazines each in separate piles. I riffle through them and then flip19 the pages of her calender.
"Manicure. Pedicure. Shiatsu. Decorator. Lunch."
"Vice20 president in charge of bullshit," I mutter.
"Monday 10am Interview: Nannies Are Us"
Interview? I flip quickly back through the last weeks.
"May 28: Interview Rosario. June 2: Interview Inge. June 8: Interview Malong."
They start the day after I said I couldn't make the drive to Nan-tucket because of my graduation. My mouth goes dry as I read the notes scrawled21 in the margin22 of that afternoon.
"Remember call problem consultant23 tomorrow. N's behavior is unacceptable. Completely self-centered. Providing poor care. Has no respect for professional boundaries. Is taking complete advantage."
I close the book, feeling as if I've been punched in the solar plexus. An image flashes into my mind of Mrs. Longacre's crocodile handbag resting by her feet under the stall partition in the bathroom of II Cognilio and something snaps.
I head to Grayer's room, throw the door open, and see it immediately - the stuffed bear that arrived on Grayer's shelf after Valentine's Day without explanation.
I pull it down, flip it around, and pull the back panel off to reveal a small videotape and control buttons. I rewind the tape while the puppy races across the room and into Grayer's closet.
I press record and place the bear on top of Grayer's dresser, shifting it around until I think I've set up the shot.
"I'm completely self-centered? My behavior is unacceptable?" I shout at the bear.
I take a deep breath, trying to channel my rage and begin again. "Five hundred dollars. What is that to you, a pair of shoes? A half day at Bliss24? A flower arrangement? No way, lady. Now I know you were an art major, so this might be a little complicated for you, but for ten
straight days of unmitigated, torturous25 hell, you paid me three dollars an hour! So, before you wrap up a year of my life to be trotted26 out as an anecdote28 at the next museum benefit, keep in mind that I am your own personal sweatshop! You've got a handbag, a mink29, and a sweatshop!
"And I'm the one taking advantage of you?"
"You have. No idea. What I do. For you." I pace back and forth30 in front of the bear, trying to formulate31 nine months of swallowed retorts into some sort of coherent message.
"Okay listen up. If I say 'Two days a week,' your response should be 'Okay, two days a week.' If I say, 'I have to leave by three for class.' This means, wherever you are-all those important manicures, those crucial lattes-you drop and come runing, so that I can leave-not after dinner, not the next day, but at three o'clock, pronto. I say 'Sure, I can fix him a snack.' This means five minutes in your goddamn kitchen. This means microwave. This does not involve steaming, dicing32, sauteing, or anything at all to do with a souffle. You said 'We'll pay you on Fridays.' Now listen, genius, this means every one-last time I checked you were not Caesar, um, it's not up to you to rewrite the calendar. Every. Single. Week."
Now I am really rolling. "All right-slamming the door in your child's face: not okay. Locking the door to keep your son out when we're all home: also not okay. Buying a studio in the building for 'private time' definitely not okay. Oh, oh, and here's one: umm, going to a spa when your son has an ear infection and fever of one hundred and four? News flash; this officially makes you, not just a bad person, but like, officially, a terrible mother. I don't know, I haven't birthed anyone, so I may not be an expert here, but if my kid was peeing all over the furniture like a senile fucking dog-umm, I'd be just a tad bit concerned. I might, oh, you know, just on a whim33, eat dinner with him at least one night a week. And, just a heads-up here, people hate you. The housekeeper34 hates you-the might-kill-you-in-your-sleep kind of hates you."
I slow down to be sure she gets every word. "Now let's review: there I was-innocently strolling through the park. I don't know you. Five minutes later, you've got me cleaning your underwear and going to 'Family Day' with your son. I mean, how do you get there, lady? I really want to know-just where do you get the balls to ask a perfect stranger to be a surrogate mother to your kid?
"And you don't have a job! What do you do all day? Are you building a spaceship over there at the Parents League? Helping35 the mayor map out a new public transportation plan from a secret room at Bendel's? I know! Thinking up a solution to the conflict in the Middle East from behind the locked door of your bedroom! Well, you keep right on plugging away there, lady-the world can hardly wait to hear how your innovations are going to launch us right into the twenty-first century with a discovery so fantastic that you can't spare a moment to give your son a hug."
I lean down and stare deeply into the bear's eyes. "There's been a lot of 'confusion,' so let me make this perfectly36 clear for you: this job-that's right, j-o-b, job-that I've been doing is hard work. Raising your child is hard work! Which you would know if you ever did it for more than five minutes at a time!"
I stand back and crack my knuckles37, ready to take this all the way to the top. "And, Mr. X, who are you?" I pause to let that sink in. "And, while we're making introductions, you're probably wondering who I am. Here's a hint: I did not (a) come with the rental38 or (b) show up out of the goodness of my heart, asking your wife if she had any chores I could do around the house. What do ya think, X- wanna take a guess?"
I look at my nails, pausing dramatically for effect.
"I'VE BEEN RAISING YOUR SON! I've been teaching him how to talk. How to throw a ball. How to flush your Italian toilet. I am not a med student, a business student, an actress, or a model and I am in no shape or form a 'friend' to that crackpot you married. Or purchased or whatever." I shudder39 in disgust.
"Here's the update, big guy. This is not the Byzantine empire- you do not get a camel and a harem with each plot of land. Where's the war you fought? Where's the despot you've overthrown40? Making seven figures a year, with your fat ass14 in a chair, is not heroic and, while it may win you a trophy41 wife or two, or five, it most definitely does not qualify you for the door prize of fatherhood! I'll try to put this into terms you can understand: your son is not an accessory. Your wife did not order him from a catalog. You cannot trot27 him out when it suits you and then store him in the basement with your cigars."
I pause to catch my breath, looking around at all the toys he's paid for and never once enjoyed with his son. "There are people-in your home-human beings-drowning in their desire for you to look them in the eye. You made this family. And all you have to do is show up and like them. It's called 're-la-ting.' So get over whatever totally-absent-buying-your-affection parenting that you received and get here, man-because this is your LIFE and you're just pissing it away!"
"Woof!"
The puppy pushes the closet door open, gripping the bus-pass holder42 in her mouth. "Hey, give me that," I say gently, kneeling down to take it from her. She drops it, rolling onto her back to play. I stare at the dirty shreds43 of paper inside the plastic, all that remains44 of Grove's business card.
I blink, looking around Grayer's room, so familiar to me that it feels like my own. I see him sashaying down the imaginary runway of our Christmas fashion show, wassailing his heart out in the bathroom, falling asleep against me as I finish Goodnight Moon.
"Oh, Grover." And then I am crying, curled tight in a ball by the foot of his bed. Waves of sobs45 rack through me at the fresh realization46 that I will never see him again. That this is it for us, Grayer and me. When I'm finally able to catch my breath, I crawl over to the dresser and press stop. I set the bear on the floor, leaning against Grayer's bed as I gently rub the puppy's soft belly47. She stretches out, resting her paw on my arm, her warm eyes so appreciative48 of the attention.
And then I know.
Nothing I've said so far will make them love him the way he needs to be loved.
Or allow me to leave with any grace.
I hear Grayer: "Be smart, Nanny. You'll be smart."
I rewind the tape back to the beginning. I press record and return the bear to the carpet in front of me.
"Hi. It's Nanny. I'm here in your apartment and it's..." I glance down at my watch. "Five in the morning. I entered with the key you gave me. And I have all those possessions you value so highly within arm's reach. But here's the thing. I just don't wish you harm. If for no other reason than you have the profound privilege of being Grayer's parents." I nod, knowing it to be true. "So I was just going to leave. But I can't. I really can't. Grayer loves you. I have borne witness to his love for you. And he doesn't care what you're wearing or what you've bought him. He just wants you there. Wanting him. And time is running out. He won't love you unconditionally49 that much longer. And soon he won't love you at all. So if there's one thing I could do for you tonight, it would be to give you the desire to know him. He's such an amazing little person-he's funny and smart-a joy to be with. I really cherished him. And I want that for you. For both of you, because it's just, well, priceless."
I reach out for the bear and press stop. I hold it in my hands for a moment. Looking over at the bottom shelf of the bookcase, I see a small framed picture of Caitlin tucked behind the Playskool garage.
Right.
I hit record and plop the bear back down.
"And if not, then at the very least you owe me, and whoever else you bamboozle50 into doing it, some fucking respect!"
I pick up the bear and eject the tape.
Wending my way back to the front hall, I turn off all the lights as I go. The puppy comes scampering51 into the foyer as I stand over the glass table once again. I set the tape down in between my palm prints and rest their house keys on top of its white label.
I pick up my bags and pull open the Xes' front door for the last time.
"Grover," I say quietly, willing with all my heart, as if I were standing52 over my birthday cake, making the most important wish of my life. "Just know that you are wonderful-fabulously wonderful. And I hope somehow you'll know that I'll always be out here rooting for you, okay?" I flick53 the last light off and scoop54 up the puppy. "Good-bye, Grayer."
The sun is just coming up as I lead her into the park. She pulls her string leash taut as we walk up the bridle55 path to the reservoir. The first joggers are already making their steady orbit around the water as the sky brightens and the last star disappears. Over the treetops the buildings framing the western skyline are bathed in the pink dawn.
The water laps against the stones as I stand against the wire fence, taking in the beauty of this open vista56 in the center of the city.
I reach into one of the bags and pull out the Xes' cell phone. I take a moment to feel its weight in my hand before lobbing it over the fence. She jumps up to press her front paws against the wire, barking as it makes a satisfying splash.
I look down at her. "How do you like that for leaving with grace?" She barks in agreement, tilting57 her head up at me, her brown eyes looking affectionately into mine.
"Grace."
She barks.
"Grace," I say again.
She barks again.
"I see. Well, then, Grace, let's go home."
收听单词发音 |
1
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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commuter
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| n.(尤指市郊之间)乘公交车辆上下班者 | |
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leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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11
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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12
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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14
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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15
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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16
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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17
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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18
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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19
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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20
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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consultant
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| n.顾问；会诊医师，专科医生 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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25
torturous
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| adj. 痛苦的 | |
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26
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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27
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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28
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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31
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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32
dicing
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| n.掷骰子，（皮革上的）菱形装饰v.将…切成小方块，切成丁（ dice的现在分词 ） | |
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33
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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35
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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38
rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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39
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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40
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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41
trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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42
holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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43
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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44
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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45
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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46
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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47
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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48
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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49
unconditionally
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| adv.无条件地 | |
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50
bamboozle
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| v.欺骗，隐瞒 | |
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51
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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52
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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53
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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54
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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55
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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56
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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57
tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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