by Sadie Black
Here we go. “Ok, that was bad phrasing. I just mean that I can visit for more than emergencies.”
“I’m sorry, but how is firing an abusive thief for a Nanny ‘creating a crisis’ exactly? She bulldozes over me. “She was abusing her!” Other parents in the part dart their eyes toward us, pretending not to take notice of her soaring voice.
She isn’t well. You wouldn’t get angry at someone for having cancer, I remind myself for probably the tenth time today alone. Eileen’s moods haven’t been stable since the day I met her, but the drinking has taken it to a whole new level. She’s absolutely intolerable on her best days now, and when I have the pleasure of dealing with them it just sets my heart on fire to know that this is the kind of mother Brooklyn is stuck with. Fucking courts, since when did being a woman automatically make you a good mother?
I want to grab her by her shoulders and give her a shake, to point my finger in her face and tell her that I’m sick of her bullshit. Nobody believes her abuse stories; nobody believes just about anything that comes out of her mouth. Yet, I remain stoic. There’s no amount of shoulder shaking or yelling in the world that will make Eileen see reality for what it is.
“Ok, ok,” I hold up my hands in surrender. In my heart, I know there’s no other choice than to wave the white flag when she gets like this. It’s a slippery slope to the bottom of the rabbit hole. “It sounds like you made the right call then, you needed to do what was best for Brooklyn and you did it.” I praise her insanity and want to choke on the lies and bile rising in my throat. “I’m just trying to help you out, Eileen. I don’t want to fight, ok? The offer is on the table that if you need me to be around more, we’ll make that work. It’s up to you if you take it or not.”
Watching Brooklyn twirl around the park in circles gives me mixed emotions. On the one hand I’m happy, no, I’m fucking thrilled that she doesn’t seem to understand the instability in her life yet. However, on the other hand, I literally have to choke back tears when I realize that with each passing day she’s closer to finding out. I just hope that when the day comes that twirling in the playground is no longer enough to take away all her troubles, that I’m awarded custody of her. Lord help her if she’s still in Eileen’s care when she finally realizes, or even worse, questions how messed up she is.
Eileen’s sniffling draws my attention away from my girl. “You know, sometimes I see her like this, and I think we’d be better off with Jesus. Like, I need to keep her from learning about all the wickedness in the world. You know what I mean?” She implores, her cloudy eyes searching my face. My veins frost over as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. Better off with Jesus?
I try to think before I speak, to add some element of rational thought into Eileen’s brain. “You know,” I furrow my brow, searching for the right words. The perfect words. “Just because there is wickedness, doesn’t mean that Brooklyn will fall into it. You’re raising a strong girl, right? I’m sure you’re teaching her how to avoid the people that don’t have good intentions.”
Eileen throws her arms around my neck so tight; I gasp for air. Her sobs fill the space around us as she buries her head in my jacket. “That’s just it!” She cries. “I can’t teach her how to avoid those people. I am those people! I’m filled with the same darkness I want to hide her away from.”
“I’m sure you’re just being hard on yourself,” I try to comfort her, or myself. Either way, I don’t think it’s working. “If you really feel that way, I can help you find some help you know. I don’t mind. In fact, I’d be really happy to set it all up for you…”
Her tears dry up, and her blue eyes turn icy as her mood changes again. Dropping her arms from my neck, she crosses them across her chest like she’s trying to fold in on herself. Glancing over at Brooklyn, her smiling face tells me that she hasn’t picked up on her mother’s melt down. Thankfully.
“I appreciate that, Bradley.” Her voice blasts my ears like an arctic breeze. “But, there’s no help you can find me that will make any difference. It’s too late for me.” Her chin trembles as I watch her eyes fill back up with more waterworks. I’m starting to wonder if I should start recording these conversations, surely this level of instability would be admissible in a court case? I know I’ve brought it up to Dwight before, but there must be some kind of loophole we can exploit. “I think the devil is in me at times.” She whispers so low that I run the statement through my mind several times before fully understanding the gravity of what she’s saying.
“Oh?” Try to sound supportive. Cool. Calm. Not like you’re freaking out. “How’s that?” It takes all of my effort to sound nonchalant and to try to keep judgement from my tone.
“Well, I try to stay away from the bottle. You know that” she looks over at me, and I nod, but I have my doubts. “But, he keeps dragging me back down into sin. And it’s getting worse. I make so many mistakes, but I think the devil takes me over, you know? He must because I wake up the next day and don’t remember hours and hours of the night before. It’s just gone. Poof!” She opens her hand like a magician throwing sparkles from her palm at a kid’s birthday party. “But his mistakes aren’t gone. The spending, the partying, the men.” Fat tears fall onto her cheeks as she disappears into her fragmented memories.
“Eileen, that’s just a black out. Everyone who drinks a lot…er, everyone has dealt with that from time to time,” I try to prop her up. There’s no use in tearing her down, not when she still has so much control over Brooklyn’s destiny. The best thing to do is make Eileen feel good about herself and insulate her with as much external help as possible. I still need to sort out another Nanny for her before the day is through.
“Braddy! Come here,” Brooklyn jumps excitedly in the sand, interrupting our conversation. In a way, I’m grateful for the distraction. “Help me on the swing? Come here, Braddy.” She insists, pointing at the smaller set of swings setup for toddlers across the park.
“I’ll be right there, baby.” I look over at Eileen, but she’s back to her almost drugged-state of dreamy smiles and hazy eyes. I take my blessings where I can get them and decide to play with Brooklyn while she’s in a slightly more stable state of mind. If you can call it that. “Ok, Brooklyn! Let’s get you on that swing, honey,” I head over to the prancing, two-year-old bundle of energy.
“No, Braddy. I’m not a honey! I’m a Brooklyn,” she points to her little belly.
“You’re right, Brooklyn.” I laugh this time, unable to contain it. I need to do right by her; I need to figure out how to wrangle custody away from her crazy mother. She deserves more than this. So much more.
Chapter Eleven:
Brianna
I can’t believe this is going to be my life. Untying my apron and peeling it off my diner uniform, I look around at the other waitresses taking over now that I’m off. Jennifer is barely twenty, and Fiona is still just a fresh-faced baby at nineteen. They’re both almost ten years younger than me, and yet they have plans to go to school in the fall and leave this diner as a greasy stain on their resumes.
At twenty-eight, every month that passes by seems to whittle down my life options. I thought I had this figured out. Last week I received an acceptance letter from New York’s City College for their Undergraduate Childhood Education program. I had jumped the first hurdle to reaching my dream of getting my Bachelor of Science in Education, and I was ecstatic. My shifts at the diner flew by as I started planning my life after this place, hell I wasn’t even upset that Bradley never called me like he said he would.
Then yesterday it all came crashing to a halt when I found out that I wouldn’t be getting enough student funding to cover my tuition, let alone books and fees. This job barely pays the rent as it is, so it’s not like I’ll be dipping into my extensive savings account. Basically, I’m fucked. Now I have to figure out another way out of this dump. This isn’t a job for a woman soon to be in her thirties, and this isn’t the job I want to raise a family on. Of course, I’d have to find a man that
actually calls me to start thinking about kids. Maybe I should teach myself to type at a decent speed and get into a temp agency somewhere for some clerical work, but I’m not holding my breath.
Watching Fiona and Jennifer laugh and joke around makes me feel old and sad. I need to walk my sore feet to the bus stop and have an early night. Heading out into the darkness, I grab my phone. Two missed calls and a voicemail. Did Kendra get back from her honeymoon early? Listening to the message, I’m shocked when Bradley’s sultry voice teases my ear.
“Hey Brianna, it’s Bradley. I’m just finishing up my business trip and flying back into New York tonight so I thought I’d check in and see if you’re still up for grabbing some dinner or drinks sometime. I’d love to hear from you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I left. So, I’ll be in tomorrow if you want to give me a call. Oh, I guess I should give you my number,” he laughs and my heartbeat flutters, “212-573-5431. Talk soon.”
After Bradley’s car picked me up nearly two weeks ago in the middle of the night, I never expected to hear from him again. I didn’t think that he really had a business trip to go on, since I’ve heard it all before. That night went from being one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life to feeling like just another fuck and chuck in minutes. When he didn’t call me the next day, or the days after that, I pushed him out of my mind as well as I could. I don’t want my hopes to be soaring as high as they are right now; it’s a long way to come crashing back down from up there. Yet, I can’t help but feel excitement shiver through me at the thought of going on an actual date with Bradley. Just hearing his voice again made my body go from feeling like it’s been doing hard labor to spending a day being pampered at a spa.
Should I call him now? He might be in already. No, I don’t want to come off as desperate. Watching the bus arrive, I’m drawn into the eerie glow lighting up the tired faces inside. It’s looks like a portable waiting room at the doctor’s office, where everyone is avoiding eye contact and hoping not to catch anything from the people they’re crammed in with. My self-control lasts as long as it takes to find a seat, I pull my phone back out after all one little text message doesn’t seem desperate. If anything it’s just good manners to let him know I got his message, right?
Happy to hear you’re back soon. Looking forward to dinner :)
I read my message over and over, hoping it sounds friendly but casual. This is the problem with technology. It makes every little sentence take on so much more meaning. I swear that world wars have been started over things like misinterpreted texts. Then again, I might be blowing this out of proportion. Just a little. Pressing send, I sit and watch my screen like a hawk, hoping to get a reply. By the time the bus reaches my stop, I still haven’t heard anything though. Well, at least I have something better to focus on than self-pity and my exhaustion tonight.
Chapter Twelve:
Bradley
“OK, when you said we were going out for dinner and drinks, this isn’t what I pictured.” Brianna huddles into me and watches as the Chelsea pier grows smaller in the distance as our private yacht pulls out of port.
More people are crowding at the diminishing dock, now that we’re farther from land the air is becoming too cold to enjoy. I look over to my side and see a stunning young couple, no older than their mid-twenties, smiling and holding each other.
“I wanted to make sure I had the whole evening with you, so I figured a boat would work. Now you can’t get away,” I joke, wrapping my arms around her and pressing tight against her from behind as we watch the harbor spread into a breathtaking view of Manhattan from the open deck.
Looking back over to the couple, it’s now an elderly pair with white hair snuggled up in the distance. As if a time warp occurred when I looked away, and the first couple had transformed into a vision of their future about sixty years from now.
“Hey, I’m not the one who cut our last evening short, remember?” The ocean air swirls in around us, making her shiver a little. Her short, low-cut dress isn’t exactly practical sailing attire, but I’ll be damned if I’m complaining. Even when she looks like she’s fighting hypothermia, she’s sexy.
“Fair enough. I do want to apologize for that, Brianna.” I rub my broad hands over her arms in an attempt to warm her. “I should’ve told you before we went home that I had an early morning. I guess you could say, I got distracted.” My desire infuses my voice; I’m starting to question my decision to take her on a three and a half hour cruise. It’s already feeling like an unbearably long period to restrain myself against so much temptation.
“There’s no need to apologize,” her tone is as breezy as the salty air, “I still would’ve made the same decision if I knew.”
“Good.” I’m flooded with relief as the tension drains from my arms. “I was worried that you’d get the wrong impression.”
“If you were worried, you could’ve called or texted?” She searches my face for answers, but now isn’t the time to drag her down with Eileen’s baggage. My shoulders tense back up and my jaw clamps shut. I’ve only just gotten away from dealing with another bout of Eileen’s insanity, the last thing I want to do is ruin this evening hashing it all out again. I don’t want to start a romantic evening by being prickly.
“Come on, let’s go down below, you’re turning into a block of ice!” I grab her hand and lead the way to the glassed-in observation deck below us. It’s much quieter inside without the whirling breeze and waves crashing loudly against the side. “Would you like a drink?” She nods in reply.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” She finally finds her voice. Cupping her face, I give her a quick kiss before making my way to the bar. Waiting for the bartender, I know I should be watching the view of the shore sailing by, but I can’t manage to pry my eyes from the spectacular view of her ass. Somehow, I manage to stop gawking like a teenager and look back out the window to the second best view I’ve seen today.
After gathering our glasses from a polite young man who looks underage to be serving alcohol, I cozy up beside Brianna. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“I was just thinking about the future, I guess. Nothing too interesting.” She takes the glass of wine from my hand, and her eyebrows reach skyward as the first sip splashes over her tongue. “Mmmm, this is really good.” My thoughts race as a moment of jealousy strikes me wishing she was swallowing my seed down her throat as eagerly as she’s gulping her wine.
I manage to compose myself, focusing back on the conversation instead of my dirty thoughts. “You’re right, the wine is really good. But you’re wrong if you think the future isn’t interesting. I’d love to hear about your plans for the future.”
She sullenly stares out the window. “I’m not totally set on anything right now. Still just figuring it all out, you know?”
“That’s wise,” I nod, “it’s better to take your time and make the right decision than rush into something you won’t want five years from now.” She looks down at her wine glass like she’s reading tea leaves. Can she see her future in the bottom of her nearly empty drink?
“Everything ok?”
“Oh, I think I’m just a little tired.” She snaps back from her daydream. “Anyway, I don’t know much about the future, but I can tell you that I’m enjoying the moment right now.” She smiles up at me, and my body aches for the privacy to show her how I really feel.
“So am I.”
“Mmmm.” Brianna closes her eyes, savoring the bite of garlic roasted chicken we’ve been served for our entree. “I miss cooking like this, you know I wish I paid more attention when my mother was in the kitchen. She’s a fantastic cook. She stayed home with us and cooked three square meals a day for two kids and my father. I guess I just assumed everyone could cook like her, turns out not so much.” Her eyes roll back when he takes another mouthful.
“Do you need a minute alone with your supper?” I laugh.
“Sorry, I think I’ve just been eating too many meals at the diner lately
.” She looks bashfully at her plate.
“Don’t apologize. I told you before; I like how much enjoyment you get from things. Whether it’s dinner,” I nod at her plate, “or dessert,” I sweep my hand down over my shirt like I’m showing her the prize she won on a game show, “I love learning what you like.” Her smile holds my gaze longer than I intend to stare. Something about her mesmerizes me into an almost hypnotic state. I’ve never met any woman who can hold my attention with just a smile. Somehow I manage to bring myself back to the conversation, after what feels like an eternity of studying her flawless face. “How about you? Do you come from a big family?”
“No, it’s just my sister and I and our parents.” She grimaces.
“Were your parents good cooks?”
“My Mama was, well she is. When I was a kid, Sunday’s used to be my favorite day of the week. First I’d go to my father’s service, and then my Mama would cook us a huge dinner.” She winces as she seems to recall what she claims was a happy time. I’m pretty sure that I’m missing a large part of the story when her actions don’t sync with her words like this.
“What do you mean by service?” My eyebrows crowd together as I wait for the story to unfold.
