A Family Dinner

Tonight was spaghetti night, just like it was every Thursday in the Whelan home. It was kismet that my first dinner with the family featured my favorite entrée from childhood. I recently learned that Mrs. Whelan likes to keep the dinner schedule the same week to week. I shake my head, remembering that I’m not to call her Mrs. Whelan. When we met last week, she giggled after I addressed her with the formal title and insisted I call her Sydney. I need to remind myself of this before I started work. I wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around the new nanny.

We all sit with our noodles and marinara sauce, and I take stock of my dining companions. Sydney is there, of course, with 9-year-old Henry and 4-year-old Jane as her bookends. Dan, the patriarch, sits at the head of the table. I wait for them to dig in before I twirl noodles onto my fork and take a bite. It tastes just like my mom used to make it.

“So, Henry,” Dan looks to his son, speaking through a mouthful of noodles. “How was school today?”

Henry shrugged, “It was good. Mrs. Johnson came back from lunch with toilet paper stuck to her shoe. She didn’t notice until Ben asked her if he could borrow it to blow his nose. She got so mad at us for laughing that it looked like she was going to explode.”

Instead of reprimanding him for disrespecting an authority figure, Dan laughed. I softly shook my head. Clearly, it would be up to me to teach him some manners. After a few weeks under my care, Henry will surely know the importance of discretion and manners.

Hoping to lure attention away from her brother, Jane started blabbering about her day. Sydney petted Jane’s hair, looking at her with the pride that only a mother can muster while hearing about the nonsense of a day in preschool.

“Didn’t you work on your ABC’s today in school, Janey? Why don’t you show Daddy and Henry?” Sydney prompted.

Jane nodded and started spouting off the alphabet. She got to E before a car laid on their horn as they sped through the neighborhood. I leaned in closer to hear if Jane could complete the full alphabet, but I didn’t manage to hear anything until she got to T. I made a note to ask her to do it again next week to assess if she had a handle on the “LMNOP” run that gives so many children trouble. I cursed the noisy car for daring to cause a ruckus during dinner in a quaint, family-filled neighborhood.

I turned my focus back to the family, catching the tail end of Sydney discussing the Ladies & Lunch book club she hosted at the house earlier today. Since I’d heard all the gossip and gabbing of the day’s lunch myself, I tuned out her words and admired the family I was about to join. They were the family unit I’d been searching for –a kind, meek mother, largely uninvolved father, and two kids. Despite Henry’s questionable manners, the kids were well-behaved enough. They would need work, of course, but this was a good starting point. My first order of business would be getting Jane to quit with the thumb-sucking. She was two years past the acceptable age, and it was time. Yesterday, I’d heard Sydney tell Jane to take her thumb out of her mouth, but one little whimper from Jane was all it took for Sydney to back off. Thankfully, I was not as moved by a child’s crocodile tears.

The other families I’ve interviewed with over the past few years have rejected me, always giving vague reasons for why they couldn’t hire me to be their nanny. None of them had the courage to tell me directly why I wasn't selected and it’s incredibly frustrating to not get any real feedback. How am I supposed to find a job if I don’t know what parts of myself to disguise? I’ve long suspected that the families felt I was “too harsh” and couldn’t stand the thought of their children being anything but coddled. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard Sydney tell Dan that I didn't seem very maternal after my initial interview at their house.

Thankfully, Dan dismissed Sydney’s concerns, as he often seemed to do, and reminded her that they were in a pinch. She was starting a new job next week, and his schedule at the law firm wasn’t slowing down. They needed to hire a nanny now. Frankly, they are lucky to have found me at such critical time. Their desperation could have led to them hiring an unqualified candidate for such a sensitive position.

As everyone slurped up their last bites of pasta, Dan turned to Sydney and said, “I have to go to Austin next week. Our big client down there is having a crisis of sorts. Linda, Michael, and I are going Monday to Thursday.”

I shake my head and ask, “Are you really going on a business trip or is this just an excuse to sleep with Linda again?”

I know it’s not my business, but Sydney should know what I’ve heard the past few days. All the filthy phone calls between him and his partner at the law firm have disturbed me to my core. Dirty talk done on speaker phone while in the home you share with your family is incredibly tacky. No woman should be left in the dark about their husband’s philandering.

Sydney looks at Dan and replied, “You’ll miss Jane’s school production. But I understand, thanks for letting me know. I’m glad we’re calling the nanny tomorrow to offer her the job. That will be a huge help with you out of town.”

If only Sydney could hear my warning. I wonder what her reaction will be upon learning of her husband’s affair. Will she throw a plate at the wall? Will she call Linda and scream obscenities? Or will she put her head in the sand and pretend she’d never heard a thing?

The listening device I planted last week during my interview works great, but I do wish it had a two-way speaker system. I would love to hit a button right now and tell Sydney the truth. I’ve listened to so much of their chatter this week, and now I just wish she could listen to me. I remind myself to have patience; she’ll listen to me soon enough. Just this morning, I heard them discussing my offer for employment. I’m expecting their call tomorrow morning, and I’ll graciously accept the job. I finish my pasta, pack up my marinara-stained Tupperware, and turn on my car, keeping the headlights off. I give a small smile to the house where I’ll soon be spending all my time before I drive away.

All this listening has simply been job preparation. I already know what foods Henry is allergic to and Jane's favorite books. I’ll be able to blend in and become a cherished member of their family in no time. Perhaps my first order of business next week will be to buy them curtains. It’s quite foolish of them to leave themselves so exposed, with floor to ceiling windows in their dining and living rooms. They never know who might be watching.