Minding Ben (10 page)

By nine o'clock Derek and Micky were in bed and the little fete was going strong. Garçon, the super from Haiti, had banged on the ceiling twice with a broomstick, and each time Sylvia turned the music up a little louder. I had two beers and was dancing with Nello, who kept trying to pull me closer. Sylvia was doing her hands-up gyration, and Dodo, drunk on red rum, had restrung her pocketbook around her body and was trying to shake what she didn't have. Bo, the bottle of rum held steadily to his head, crashed around the living room singing along to every calypso whether he knew the lyrics or not. Once I thought I heard the phone ring. Two beers weren't enough to make me drunk, but my head was spinning. I only wanted to dance.
“
'Cause, we havin' a par-tay, a par-tay.”

This time I was sure I heard the phone and pulled away from clutching Nello to answer it in the kitchen. “Hello?”

“Grace? It's Miriam Bruckner. Sounds like someone's having a party.”

“Mrs. Bruckner? Hi. Yes, it's my cousin's birthday and we're having a little lime . . . a party, for her.” The lie came without thought.

“Miriam. We wanted to let you know that we've decided to offer you the job. Ben liked you best. Sol and I think you're good with him, and the grandparents were very impressed by you. So, if you're still interested the job is yours.”

I squeezed the receiver so hard the veins in my wrist bulged and my palm hurt. I got the job. I got the job. They hired me over the newsstand woman, and the baby-nurse woman, and the mole woman. Over everybody. Me! Now I had my own reason to party.
“Judy, when you go in town, girl.”

“Yes, Mrs. Miriam. I'm still interested.” I wasn't making any sense. The noise from the living room pounded in my head. I tried to be calm. “When do you want me to start?”

“Tonight.”

I thought I hadn't heard her right. “I'm sorry?” I held my breath.

“We need you to come in tonight.”

How could I go in tonight? Who would help Sylvia with the children in the morning? But if I told Miriam no, she would call the newsstand woman and offer her the job. “Miriam, it's after nine. I can't take the train alone this late. Maybe I could come early in the morning?”

“Grace, we need you tonight. This time only I'll pay for a cab, and you'd be doing us a huge favor. Now, can you do it?”

Music blasted from the living room.

Judith, when you go in town, girl

Judith, when you go in town, girl

Watch how you movin' around, child

'Cause on Tuesday night, when them men get tight

They don't care who get bite.

“Okay. I'll be there in about an hour.”

“Thank you, Grace. Ben will be thrilled to see you in the morning.”

She hung up, and I held the receiver in my hand. Sylvia was screaming, and Bo too. They were clapping and stomping, and I thought,
Yes, yes, yes. I got the job!
I walked down the hall to the living room. “I got the job,” I said. No one heard, so I turned down the volume on the radio. “Sylvia, the woman call. I get the work.”

Finally she heard. “You get it? They just call? I didn't even hear the phone. All right.” She shrugged. “So something else to party about. When you starting?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Sylvia, Bo, and Dodo answered together.

“What stupidness is this I hearing? They want you to come in tonight? And you going?” She turned the sound completely off. “Grace, don't let them white people take you and make you they ass. Who ever hear somebody getting call to go for a job in the middle of the night?”

Nello, red-eyed drunk, slurred, “All kind of people go to work in the middle of the night.” Reeling, he ticked them off on his pencil-stub fingers. “Policeman, nurse woman, fireman. Welcome to America, coconuts, the city that never sleeps.”

“Nello. Shut your ass, please.” Sylvia turned back to me. “Grace, use your head. For a bright girl sometimes you very stupid, you know. Why them people call you to come in the middle of the night, and on a Tuesday night to boot? Look, call that woman and tell she you coming in the morning.”

Sylvia and Bo and Dodo and Nello were looking at me. The radiator hissed, and I could feel the cool air from the window Bo had cracked to catch a breeze. The room was now very quiet.

“I already told her I'm coming.”

Dodo laughed. “Sylvia, long time now I warn you about this girl.”

“No, Dodo”—Sylvia sounded rational—“Grace have to live she life. I don't want she to stay for me.” She turned to me. “Grace, use your head. Why they want you to come like a thief in the middle of the night?”

She was right, I knew, but I'd already made up my mind. “Sylvia, I don't know. But I'm going. I could use the little bag?”

Drunk as he was, Bo said, “Grace girl, listen to Sylvia. She living in America plenty longer than you.”

“I know that, Bo. Sylvia, I could borrow the bag?”

“Take the bag, Grace. You is a big woman, and I can't stop you from doing what you want to do. Okay”—she dusted her palms—“that is it. Party done.”

“No, don't stop.” I reached to turn up the volume.

“Leave off that radio,” Sylvia snapped. “And go if you going. It getting late.”

S
ol opened the door in his robe, gave me a bear hug, and thanked me for coming. “Mir and Ben are sleeping, but you can watch the game with me. You like basketball?” He made a fake shot and his robe hung open.

I was tired to my bones. “Thanks, Sol. I need to go to sleep.”

“Okay, I'll turn it down for you.” He touched my shoulder. “It's good to see you again, Grace.”

I didn't say it, but it felt good to be there.

By quarter past seven the next morning, I was up and in the shower to be ready for eight. Two minutes later, someone knocked on my bathroom door. “Yes?”

“Grace, it's Miriam. We need you out here.”

“Okay.” I grabbed for the towel.

“Quickly, please.” She sounded annoyed, and I hurried, happy I had brought clothes into the bathroom to change.

“Here—” She stood over an ironing board, face pale and spots bright, her blond hair hanging loose and wet. “Sol needs this shirt. Try not to leave creases on the sleeves.”

“Okay.” On the sunflower clock it was 7:30. I wasn't supposed to start until eight, but because of the hurry of last night, I figured this morning was special.

Sol's shirttail went past my knees. I read the tag: “Warm iron on reverse while slightly damp.” This shirt was bone dry. I checked the tag again. “100% cotton.” I hung the shirt over the ironing board and got a glass of water from the kitchen, then I turned the sleeves inside out and selected Cotton on the iron. But I couldn't find an outlet. The sunflower clock said 7:37.

“Morning, Grace. Done with that shirt?”

“Morning, Sol. No, um, not yet. I couldn't see an outlet so—”

“Here.” Sol hitched his pants at the knees and stooped down next to the wall. “See here, on the baseboard. There's a foot-long outlet.”

I knelt next to where he squatted between the table and the wall. He didn't wear cologne, and his body smelled like soap and deodorant and his breath like minty toothpaste. My arm brushed against the hairs on his forearm.

“Oh. I've never seen an outlet like that.”

“Yeah,” he said, standing up and shaking his legs so his pants would fall straight. “They're hard to spot if you don't know what you're looking for.”

I set to ironing the shirt. It was 7:45. Miriam came out of the bedroom. Her hair was dry now and her face caked with that heavy makeup she pasted on like putty.

“Are you done with that shirt, Grace?”

Sol answered for me. “She couldn't find the outlet.”

“She found the glasses, I see.”

“Not to drink,” I said. “The shirt needs to be damp.”

Sol and Miriam looked at each other.

“It's not a problem, Mir,” he said. “I'll see what Carmen left in the closet.”

“Okay, Grace,” Miriam said, “I know this is your first morning. Sol and I appreciate you coming in last night. But you've got to be quick.” She snapped her fingers three times. “You were here on Saturday, so you kinda know where things are, right? For today, I made a list. Did you see it on the dining table?”

I had not.

She clicked over to the table and wagged a sheet of paper. “Here's what needs to get done today. Follow me.”

We walked into the kitchen, and Sol came in wearing a white shirt, identical to the one I was supposed to have ironed. “Mir, while you're at it, show Grace how to make the coffee. There's none this morning.”

Miriam turned, and I was caught between them. “Maybe you can brew a pot, Sol? It's not exactly a regular morning, is it?”

“Whoa.” Sol raised his palms. “Don't take it out on me, Mir. All I'm saying is that you should show her how to use the coffeemaker.”

“You were showing her the wiring just now, why didn't you show her how to percolate your coffee the way you like it?”

They faced off, Miriam's breathing audible through her skinny nose. In her heels, she came to Sol's chest. From the back bedroom, Ben called out, “Ya-ya.”

“Shit,” Miriam said.

“I got him,” Sol said. “Finish showing Grace the washer.”

“Stay here,” Miriam said to me as she wheeled the washer into the kitchen. “You have to do a few loads of laundry today.” She removed an armload of sponge from the dryer. “If you don't do this”—she rammed the strips between the machine and the cupboards—“the washing machine will take a walk during the spin cycle, and you'll have a lot more work to do. Next, connect the water.” She unhooked a hose from the machine. “Watch carefully.” She pressed a piece of rubber at the mouth of the hose and slipped the nozzle onto the faucet. “You have to listen for that snap. If it doesn't snap, the water pressure forces the hose off and the machine doesn't fill up. None of our clothes go in the dryer.”

“They get hung in the small bathroom, right?”

“Right. Sort whites, darks, and colors. And, oh, no bleach. Any questions?”

I wanted her to show me how to attach the hose again, but I didn't want to ask. Plus it was still in, so all I had to do was turn on the water. “No.”

“Good.” Miriam reached over and disconnected the hose. “Now I'll show you how to make the coffee.”

Sol brought in a still sleepy Ben. “Mir, it's after eight, you should get going.”

“Should I get going or should I show Grace how you like your coffee?”

Ben looked around. “Where Ya-ya, Daddy?”

“Guess what, buddy? Grace is going to be your ya-ya today.”

This was not the news Ben wanted to hear. He kicked his legs like a little boy on a stubborn donkey. “I want my ya-ya.” I reached over to help settle him, but he kicked again and got me in the corner of my mouth. I tasted blood. “Ow.”

“Sol, I really have to go,” Miriam said.

“Get going. I'll pick up coffee from McDonald's.”

“I want to go to McDonald's. I have a toy and french fries,” Ben said.

Miriam tickled him, then she pinched Sol's waist. “Daddy likes french fries too.” She turned to me. “Okay, Grace, I have to run. My work number is on the fridge. Call if there's an emergency. Remember the list.”

She left and Sol moved closer. “Let me see.” He reached over and gently peeled back the corner of my lower lip. “Just suck on it and the bleeding should stop. Are you going to be a good boy today?” he asked Ben.

Ben nodded, but when I reached for him he still clung to his father.

—MIRIAM'S LIST—

1. Feed Ben breakfast: one whole-grain waffle with pure maple syrup, sliced bananas, and juice. (If you have waffles or pancakes, use the syrup in the plastic bottle in the fridge door.)

2. Give Ben bath or shower, whichever he prefers this morning.

3. Pick up our bedroom, Ben's room, living room (vacuum rugs), clean both bathrooms.

4. Laundry. Three loads, no bleach. HANG DRY EVERYTHING!!

5. Go to Union Square playground. Ben may take one toy but NEVER Rabbit.

6. Go to supermarket (money in money cup, RECEIPTS!!). See sublist, over.

7. Feed Ben lunch: Grilled cheese sandwich (Ben likes to choose his plate), steamed carrots (in microwave for 1.5 mins.), juice.

8. Put Ben down for nap.

9. Cook dinner. Please see cookbooks in 3rd cupboard,
The Joy of Cooking
, p. 597, “chicken cacciatore.” Make Rice-A-Roni to go with.

10. While dinner is on and Ben is napping, look around for chores: Is the kitchen floor as clean as it could be? Do we have fresh towels in the bathroom? Did Ben's bath leave a ring around the tub? There's always LOTS of miscellany.

 

Cook chicken what?

First I screwed up the wash. I tried for half an hour to get that stupid piece of rubber to fit over the tap. Ben stood outside the kitchen, still in his Onesie, watching me. “What you doing, Grace?”

“I'm trying to do your laundry, but I can't. It's stuck.” He seemed to like those words. “It's stuck, it's stuck,” he repeated a few times. I thought I heard the rubber go
click
and turned on the tap. The water pressure flung the hose into the sink and splashed water over me, the floor, the machine.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Ben laughed. “Grace, you're all wet.”

“And you know what?” I faced him, dripping, and so glad I had made him laugh.

“What, Grace?”

“You're going to be all wet too.” I ran to him. Sensing a chase, Ben squealed and pedaled his little legs out to the living room. I let him dodge me around the furniture but ultimately cornered him in his room.

“You're fast, Grace,” he said, grinning.

I hammed it up, breathing hard. “Yeah, but you're a speedy guy too.”

“I know,” he said. “My daddy can't even catch me, and he's big.”

I decided to forget about the laundry and let Ben show me around his room. After Sol left, Ben had howled for his ya-ya and brushed several of his mother's figurines off the shelves in a fit of tiny fist-clenching rage. I sat down on the floor and told him I was sad too. While I waited him out, I wondered if Sylvia had to go to her agency this morning, and if she'd explained to Micky and Derek that I had gone to work but that I would see them on Friday night, and who braided Micky's hair, and who tied Derek's tie, and who was watching Dame. The answer to the last two questions was probably Bo, who surely did not have the patience to sit with Dame and sound out words for him to pronounce.