The Nanny Diaries (12 page)

I getupstairs andunbuttonmypants,kick offmyshoes,reach

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for water, for pajamas, for George. And on the ninth floor of the electric porcupine that is New York City, Mrs. X is still sitting wide awake in the upholstered chair across from the beige bed, watching as the covers rise and fall with each snore, while somewhere Ms. Chicago unpeels her fishnets and gets intobedalone.

"OooooooooI justloveNannyI absolutelydo ... Sheismymostlycompanion."

. LOISE

HolidayCheerat$10 anHour

I turnthekeyandleanintotheXes'heavyfrontdoor,ashasbecomemyhabit,but itonlyswingsopen a footbeforegettingstuck.

"Huh,"I say.

"Huh,"Grayer echoesbehindme.

"Something's blocking the door," I explain as I reach my arm around and begin to grope blindly to identifytheobstructingobject.

"MOOOOMMMMMM! THE DOOR WON'T OPENNNN!!!" Grayer, wasting no time, uses his own approach.

I heartheslideof Mrs. X's stockingfeet. "Yes, Grayer,Mommy's coming. I simply couldn't carry all my elfing past thedoor inone trip."She pulls the door openand is revealed,knee deep inpiles of shopping bags on the foyer floor. ucci, Ferragamo, Chanel, Hermes, and endless silver boxes with purple ribbon, the signature Bergdorf's holiday wrap. She holds what must have been the offending item, a large Tiffany blue package, under her arm and greets us. "Can you believe people actually get engaged this time of year? As if there isn't enough to do, I also had to run all the way to Tiffany's to pick up a sterling serving tray. They should at least have had the decency to wait till January. t's just one more month,really. I'm sosorry,Grayer,thatI couldn't come toyourparty. I'm sureyouhad a wonderfultime with Nanny!"

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I put my backpack down in the coat closet and slip off my boots before crouching to help Grayer with his jacket. He gingerly protects the ornament we have just spent the past three hours constructing with his classmates (and their nannies) at his school's Family Christmas Party. He drops to the floor so I can pulloffhis wet boots.

"Grayer constructed quite the masterpiece," I say. "He's really a wizard with Styrofoam and glitter!" 1 lookupatherasI placehis boots onthemat.

"It's a snowman. His name is Al. He has a cold so he has to take lots of vitamin C." Grayer describes StyrofoamAl asifannouncinghimasthenextguestonLetterman.

"Ah."Shenods,shiftingtheTiffany's packagetoherhip.

"Why don't you go look for a spot for Al to hang out?" I help him up and he shuffles off toward the living roomwith his artwork heldinfrontof himlike a Fabergeegg.

I standup,brushmyself off,andfaceMrs. X,readytogive the report.

"I wish you could have seen him this morning. He was totally in his element! He loved the glitter. And hereallytookhis time with making it. You knowGiselleRutherford?"

"Jacqueline Rutherford's daughter? Of course. h, her mother is too much.When it was her turn to do snack she brought in a chef and set up an omelette bar in the music corner. I mean, really. The rule is youaresupposedtocome with thesnackprepared.Tell me,tellme."

"Well, Ms. Giselle insisted that Grayer do his snowman according to her color scheme. range, becauseshe's spendingthisChristmas inSouthBeach."

"Oh,howtacky."Hereyes arewide.

"She pulled Al right out of Grayer's hands and he landed smack in the middle of her orange glitter. I thought Grayer would lose it, but he just looked up at me and announced thatAl's orange specks were simply crumbs from all thevitamin Chehadtotakeforhis cold!"

"I thinkhejusthas a knackforcolor."Shebeginstoorganizeher bags. "So,howare finalsgoing?"

"I'm inthehome stretchandcan't wait tobedone."

Shestandsup andarches her back a little, making a fearful crackingsound. "I know,I'm justexhausted! It seemslikethelist justkeepsongrowing every year. Mr. Xhas ahugefamilyandsomanycolleagues. And it's already thesixth. I cannotwait for Lyford Cay. Cannotwait. I'm exhausted."She gathers up her bags. "Whenareyouoffuntil?"

"January twenty-sixth," I say. Just two more weeks to go and then I have a whole month off from schoolandyou.

"You should go to Europe this January. Do it while you're still a student, before you have Real Life to worryabout."

Oh, so maybe my pending Christmas bonus will cover a plane ticket to Europe? Six hours in a Teletubbycostume says I'm worthit.

Shecontinues. "You shouldseeParis whenit's snowing,there's nothingascharming."

"Except Grayer, of course!" We laugh together, as I try to sell her on her own child. The phone rings, interruptingus.

Mrs. X grabs a few more bags in each hand, tightens her arm around the Tiffany's package, and heads back toward her office. "Oh, Nanny, the tree's been set up. Why don't you and Grayer go down to the basement andbringuptheornaments?"

"Sure!" I call after her asI walk tothe living room. Thetree is a magnificentDouglasfir thatlooks asif it were growing rightout of thefloor. I closemyeyes and inhalefor a secondbefore addressingGrayer, who's having an animated exchange withAl, the lone tree decoration teetering on the very tip of a low branch.

"Hey, looks like your man Al is getting ready to jump." I reach for the bent paper clip serving as Al's lifeline.

"DON'T! He doesn't want you to touch him. Only me," he instructs. We spend the next fifteen tedious minutesrelocatingAl

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while ensuring that only Grayer's hands do all the work. I stare up at the many feet of bare greens towering above us and wonder if anyone would notice if the rest of the Xes' ornaments didn't make it onthis year.Attheratewe're going,itmightconceivablytakeGrayerwell

intohis twenties.

I lookdownathimashewhisperstoAl. "Okay,buddy,"I say, "let's gotothebasement andbringup the rest of your ornaments so they can keep Al company. They'll be there to talk him down if he gets too closetotheedgeagain." "To thebasement?" "Yup. Let's go."

"1 got toget mystuff.Got togetmyhelmet andbelt.You go tothedoorNanny, I'll meetya ... got toget theflashlight.. ." Herunstohis roomasI ringfortheelevator.

Grayer glides back out into the vestibule just as the elevator door opens. "Oh, my God, Grove!All this for the basement?" He puts one sock-covered foot down to stop his skateboard in front of the elevator door. His bicycle helmet sits slightly askew and he has shoved a huge flashlight into his waistband, along with a yo-yo and what looks to be a monogrammed washcloth from his bathroom. "Okay, let's go,"hesays with completeauthority. "I'm thinkingwe shouldatleastbewearingshoesforthis

adventure."

"Nah,don't need 'em."Herolls insideandthedoor closes behindbothof usbeforeI cancatch it. "It's so cool down there, Nanny. Oh, man, oh, man." He nods his helmeted head in anticipation. Grayer has taken to peppering his commentary with "oh, mans" as of late, thanks to Christianson, a four-year-old of remarkable charisma who has a good foot in height over the rest of his classmates. In fact, when Al first made impact with the fateful orange glitter both Giselle's and Grayer's first utterance was a simultaneous "Oh,man."

The elevator stops at the lobby and Grayer rolls ahead of me, propelling himself with one foot, while keeping both hands on his waistband so that his packed pants don't succumb to gravity. By the time I catch up, he's already gotten Ramon to lead the way to the caged service elevator. "Ahh, Mr. Grayer. You musthaveimportantbusiness downthere,huh?"

Grayer isbusyadjustinghis toolsandoffersonly adistracted "Yup."

Ramonsmiles inhis directionandthenwinksconspiratoriallyatme. "He's veryserious,our Mr. Grayer. You got a girlfriend yet, Mr. Grayer?" The elevator jerks as we reach the basement. He slides the gate open and we step out into the bright, cold corridor, rich with the aroma of dryer sheets. "Cage 132. own to the right. Be careful now, don't get lost, or I'll have to come find you..." He winks again and, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, pulls the door closed, leaving me beneath a dangling lightbulb.

"Grayer?" I yell downthecorridor.

"Nanny! I'm waiting. Come onnnn!" I follow his voice around the maze of floor-to-ceiling cages lining the walls. Some are more packed than others, but each has the requisite luggage, ski equipment, and random pieces of bubble-wrapped furniture. I round the bend and see Grove lying on his stomach atop his skateboard under a sign that says 132, pulling himself along the wired wall by his hands. "Oh, man, it's gonna be so fun when Daddy comes home and does the tree. Caitlin gets us started and Daddy does thehigh-ups andwehavehotchocolateinthelivingroom."

"Soundspretty cool. Here, I have thekey," I say, holdingit out toward him. He jumps up anddown as I unlock the cage and then proceeds to deftly make his way in around the boxes. I let him lead as he's clearly madethistrekbeforeandI wouldn't know astoragelockerfromanEasy-Bakeoven.

I sitdownonthecoldcementandleanbackonthecagedoor

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facing that of the Xes. My parents used to daydream about storage space, sitting with both feet up on the trunk packedto bursting with our summer clothes thatserved as our coffee table. On occasion, we'd allow ourselves to talk about what we could do with one extra closet. uch as a family in Wyoming mightfantasizeaboutwinning thelottery.

"Do you know what you're looking for, Grove?" I call into the piles, as I haven't heard anything in a few minutes. Loud clanging noises break the silence. "Grayer! What's going on in there?" I start to standupashis flashlightcomes rollingoutofthedarknessandstopsatmyfeet.

"Just getting my stuffout, Nanny! Turn the light on me, I'm going to get the blue box!" I click the high beam on and point it into the cage as directed, illuminating two dirtied socks and a little khaki rear end tunnelingintothemiddleofthepile.

"Are yousurethat's safe,Grayer? I thinkmaybe I should ..."What,crawlinbehindhim?

"I got it. Oh, man, there's lotsa stuff back here. My skis! These are my skis, Nanny, for when we go to Aspirin."

"Aspen?"

"Aspen. Found it! Going to pass 'em out. Get ready. You get ready, Nanny, here they come." He is far into the boxes. I hear fumbling and then a glass ball comes flying out of the darkness at me. I drop the flashlight and catch it. It is handblown and has a Steuben mark on it, along with a red hook. Before I canlookup anotheronecomes flying out.

"GRAYER!FREEZE!" Withtheflashlightrollingaround onthe floor,casting a weird lighton Grayer'boxes, I realize I've been letting Mickey Mouse run the show. "Back it up, mister, back it right on up.sIt's yourturntoholdtheflashlight."

"Noooooo."

"Gray-er!" It's theWickedWitchvoice.

"FINE!" Hetunnelsbackout.

I handhimtheflashlight. "Nowlet's trythisagain,onlythis timeyou'll bemeand I'll beyou."

When we get back up to the apartment Grayer marches ahead to establish a plan of attack while I gingerlysettheboxofornamentsdowninthefronthall.

"Nanny?" I hear asmall voice callforme.

"Yes, G?" I follow him into the living room where a flamboyant JohnnyCash is on a ladder, decorating

Grayer's tree.

"Passme thatboxof doves," hesays, noteven turningtolookatus. Grayer andI, standingsafelybythe

door, survey the living room floor, which is littered with doves, gold leaves, Victorian angels, and

stringsofpearls.

"Get down.Mydaddoesthehigh-ups."

"Holdon asec,Grayer,"I sayasI pass offthebirds tothemaninblack. "I'll berightback."

"You better get down or my daddy's gonna be mad at you," I hear Grayer challenge as I knock on Mrs.

X's officedoor.

"Come in."

"Hi, Mrs. X? Sorry to bother you? The room, ordinarily pristine, has been taken over by her "elfing"

andstacksandstacksofChristmas cards.

"No, no, come in. hatis it?" I open mymouth. "Have you met Julio? Isn't he a genius? I'm so luckyI

gothim. eisthethetreeexpert.You shouldseewhathedidattheEgglestons. twasjust

breathtaking."ttj_?

"While I've got you, can I ask? Is a plaid taffeta skirt just too cliche for a Scottish Christmas party? I

can't decide?

UT___)>

"Oh!You shouldsee. boughtthecutesttwinsets todayforMr.

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X's nieces. I hope they're the right color. Would you wear winter-weight cashmere pastels?" She pulls

out aTSEshoppingbag. "I mightexchangethem?

"I was just wondering," I cut in, "Grayer was really looking forward to decorating the tree. He said it

was something he did with Caitlin last year and I was wondering if maybe I could just get him a small treeforhisroomthathecouldhang acoupleofornamentson, justforfun? "I really don't think it would be a good idea to be traipsing needles all over that part of the house." She

searchesfor asolution. "If hewants atreeactivity,whydon't youtakehimtoRockefellerCenter?"

"Well...Yeah, no,yeah,that's a greatidea,"I sayasI openthedoor.

"Thanks.'m justsooverwhelmed!"