My grandmother greets me in her entryway in a linen Mao Tse-tung outfit and pearls. "Darling! Come in. I was just finishing my tai-chi." She gives me a kiss on both cheeks and a solid hug for good measure. "Honey, you're damp. Would you like to shower?" There is nothing better than being offered Grandma's buffet of amenities.
"Maybe just a cold washcloth?""I know what you need." She takes my hand, and leads me to her guest powder room. She places my hands under the faucet and runs cool water over my wrists. "Pressure points for distributing fire," she says as she sits down on the toilet seat, crossing her legs. She's right; I begin to cool down immediately.
"Have you eaten?" she asks.
"I had breakfast.""What about lunch?""It's only eleven, Gran.""Is it? I've been up since four. Thank God for Europe or I'd have no one to talk to till eight."I smile. "How have you been?""I've been seventy-four for two months, that's how I've been." She points her toes like a dancer and slightly lifts the hem of her pants. "It's called Sappho. I had it done at Arden's this morning, what do you think? Too too?" She wiggles her coral toes.
"Gorgeous, very sexy." I turn off the sink and shake my hands dramatically over the basin.
She hands me a towel.
I follow behind her into the kitchen.
She opens the fridge. "Bourbon?""Orange juice would be great.""Kids." She rolls her eyes and points me to her old air conditioner sitting on the floor. "Darling, let me get the doorman to help you carry it.""No, Gran, I got it," I say, trying valiantly to heave the machine into my arms before slamming it back down on the tile. "Yeah, okay, I think I'm going to have to come back later with Josh and get this.""Joshua?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Your little blue-haired friend? He weighs five pounds soaking wet.""Well, unless we want Dad throwing his back out again, that's about all I have to choose from in the boy department.""I chant for you every morning, darling," she says, reaching for a glass.
Child!
Josh groans and rolls slowly onto his back from where he has nearly blacked out after dropping the air conditioner outside my front door. "You lied to me," he wheezes. "You said it was on the third floor." "Yeah?" I say, shaking out my lower arms while leaning back against the top stair.
He lifts his head an inch off the floor. "Nan, that was six flights. Two flights a floor, which makes this technically, like, the sixth floor.""Come on." I pull myself up by the banister. "Cold beers await." I unlock all three locks and open the door. The apartment feels like a car that's been sitting in the hot sun and we have to step back to let the scorching air blow past us into the hallway.
"Welcome to my fully equipped closet. Can I toast you a bagel?" I drop my keys next to the two burner stove.
"What are you paying for this place?" he asks.
"You don't want to know," I say, as we push the air conditioner across the room together in little shoves.
Josh straightens up and wipes his forehead with the bottom of his Mr. Bubble T-shirt. I'm getting a beer.
I use the moment alone to grab a clean tank top out of an open box and pull off my sweaty one. As I crouch behind the boxes to change I catch sight of the red light from my answering machine blinking in a frenzy from the floor. The word "full" glares up at me.
"Running that 900 number again?" Josh reaches over the box to hand me a Corona.
"Practically. I posed my ad for a new position today and the mummies are restless." I take a swig of my beer and slide down between the boxes to hit play.
A woman's voice fills the room: "Hi, this is Mimi Van Owen. I saw your ad at the league. I'm looking for someone to help me look after my son. Just part-time, you understand. Maybe two, three, four days a week, half-days or longer and some nights or weekends, or both! Whenever you have time. But I just want you to know that I'm very involved.""Well, that's just obvious, Mimi," Josh says, sliding down to join me.
"Hi this is Ann Smith. I'm looking for someone to watch my five-year-old son, he's no trouble really and we run a very relaxed household ...""Ouch." Josh puts his hands up to shield himself and I forward to the next message.
"Hi. I'm Betty Potter. I saw your ad at the Parents League. I have a five-year-old girl, Stanton, a three-year-old boy, Tinford, a ten-month-old, Jace, and I'm looking for someone who can help me, since I'm pregnant again. Now you didn't mention your fee in the ad, but I've been paying six.""Hey, Betty, I know a crack whore down in Washington Square Park who'd do it for a quarter." Josh swigs his beer.
"Hi, it's Mrs. X. We met in the park this morning. Give me a call when you get a chance. I'd like to talk more about the type of job you're looking for. We have a girl Caitlin, but she's looking to cut her hours and you made quite an impression on our son, Grayer. Look forward to talking to you. Bye.""She sounds normal. Call her.""You think?" I ask as the phone rings, making us both jump. I pick up the receiver. "Hello," I say in instant nanny mode, trying to convey utmost respectability with two syllables.
"Hello!" my mother matches my deep, fancy tone, "how'd the air-conditioner mission turn out?""Hey." I relax. "Fine, I was just ... Listen to some messages from mummies-in-need,""I thought we discussed this. Nan, you take these jobs and within days you're up at three in the morning worrying if the little princess has tap dancing or a jam session with the Dalai Lama-""Mom. I haven't even interviewed yet. Besides, I'm not gonna be working as many hours this year, because I have my thesis.""Exactly! That's exactly it. You have your thesis, just like last year you had your internship and the year before that you had your field study. I don't understand why you won't even consider an academic job. You should ask your thesis professor if you can assist him. Or you could work in the research library!""We have been over this a million times." I roll my eyes at Josh. "Those jobs are so competitive. Dr. Clarkson has a graduate student on full fellowship assisting him. Besides, they only pay six dollars an hour before taxes. Mom, nothing I do with my clothes on is going to pay this well until I get my degree." Josh shimmies and pulls off an imaginary bra.
"Then, for the love of God, be a makeup girl at Bloomingdale's. Just punch in your time card, look pretty, smile, and get your pay-check." She can't imagine that one would ever wake at three A.M. in a cold sweat, wondering if the shipment of oil-free toner had remembered to put on its Nighttime Pull-Ups.
"Mom, I enjoy working with kids. Look, it's too hot to argue.""Just promise me you'll think about it this time before you take a job. I don't want you graduating on Valium because some woman with more money than she knows what to do with left you her kid while she ran off to Cannes." |