One Eye Laughing, the Other Weeping (2 page)

Milli says Mother is
absolutely
certain the cook is the one who stole the cigarette case Daddy gave her for their twentieth anniversary. She fired the cook before this one because her shoes squeaked and Mother said it was giving her a migraine headache.

I don’t think the new cook is going to last long. For one thing she’s much too pretty. Mother doesn’t like to hire anyone who’s pretty. “Too many complications,” is the way she put it once, when she didn’t think I was listening. I think that means boyfriends coming around. Maybe that’s why Milli’s been with us for so long. She’s been here from the time Max was born.

Milli’s pretty much on the plain side. She looks just like an owl — an owl with glasses. She even blinks slowly like an owl. I think everybody looks like some

kind of animal. Daddy, for instance, he looks just like a llama. Mother’s like a canary and Uncle Daniel is a double for a rhinoceros.

Milli never, ever goes out on a date or gets a call. She never goes away on holiday and even in the summer she comes with us to Bad Ischl.

I think she doesn’t like to spend money because she’s saving up for something, only I don’t know what it is.

For a while I think Richard was interested but she hardly
ever
speaks to him because he’s just a chauffeur. (She can be that way.)

Mother has already sent out the invitations, even though the dinner is six weeks away. According to Mother, that is not nearly enough time to get everything properly organized. I think that’s why she decided to hire the pretty cook — she can start right away.

And the cook isn’t the only one Mother is upset with. This is the third morning this month that the milkman has left the wrong order and the washing and ironing hasn’t been done yet so I can’t wear my new yellow dress to lunch, which is Mother’s absolute favorite of my new dresses.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 4, 1938

I’ve tried to talk to Milli two nights in a row now but she’s been busy showing the new cook where everything is and how Mother likes everything done.

Mother’s dinner party has everyone on edge (as usual), and Milli’s trying to make sure everyone’s doing precisely what they’re supposed to.

I decided to talk to Milli while she was taking her bath. That’s the only place I can ever be assured of any real privacy with her.

Milli said that when I was a baby she would take me in the bath with her and that’s why I like to be there. Sometimes I sit on the edge of the tub, pull up my dress, and dangle my feet in the water. Other times I just sit on the floor next to the bidet, which I used to think was for washing your feet, but I know better now.

Milli’s the cleanest person I know: She takes a bath
every single
night. Even when she’s working around the house she smells like lavender. That’s because she keeps little sachets in every single one of her dresser drawers.

Lavender’s my favorite scent in the
whole wide

world
— except, of course, for the eau de cologne Mr. Pisk puts on Daddy after he shaves him in the morning.

I think the reason Milli talked about when I was a baby is because she’d rather I didn’t come in while she’s taking a bath anymore. Maybe it’s just as well because lately I’ve been distracted by Milli’s rather enormous bosoms that are right there, bobbing up and down on the surface like they were alive.

I sure hope mine don’t get that big. I’ve been keeping an eye on them lately and frankly I don’t think I have much to worry about, although you never know about things like this. It’s entirely possible to go to bed one night a perfectly normal girl and to wake up in the morning with enormous bosoms.

I told her what Max did yesterday, how he started locking his door now
even when he’s not in his room
. Milli listened very patiently — that’s one of the things I really like about her. Most adults
pretend
to listen, but don’t really. Milli and Daddy are the only two excep-tions I can think of. Maybe Mrs. Thompson, too.

Milli said that, perhaps, I should consider respecting Max’s privacy more, which seemed like a pretty foolish thing to say because I don’t respect his privacy any

less
than I used to, so why is he acting so strangely now?

But Milli didn’t answer that question. She just said it wasn’t a good time for me. By that she means the astrology. Milli is guided by the heavens. She doesn’t take a sip of water without consulting the position of the planets.

According to Milli I’m a Capricorn. She says since Max is a Cancer we’re a square to each other, which means we don’t get along so well (which isn’t exactly news to me and doesn’t make any sense because Daddy’s birthday is the
same exact
day as Max’s and I
always
get along with Daddy.) Milli’s a Gemini, what-ever that means.

I handed Milli one of her fluffy white towels as she stepped out of the tub. I tried not to look at her bosoms.

We had to go through the kitchen to get to Milli’s room, which is quite small and there’s only one little window that hardly lets in any light (it’s so high up you can’t look out it and anyway, it doesn’t matter because it only overlooks the inner courtyard so there’s not much to see even if you could see out).

Sometimes I sit in bed with her while she looks

through her giant astrology book that’s filled with lots of funny drawings and symbols that tell about the planets, their position in the sky, and what it’s all supposed to mean.

It’s really curious that Milli believes in astrology because she’s so down-to-earth when it comes to everything else. Frankly I think it’s all a big bunch of nonsense but I make believe I’m listening so Milli doesn’t feel insulted. I’m quite a good actress when I want to be and, besides, I don’t mind listening to her talk about it because she makes it sound so magical and mysterious I’d almost like to believe it’s true.

It’s like you can read people’s minds or see the fu-ture. I used to think it would be the most wonderful thing in the world to be able to see into the future, but lately I’m not so sure.

Mother thinks Milli is “too clairvoyant for her own good.” (I heard her saying that to Daddy one night.) I didn’t know at the time what clairvoyant meant but I do now and I don’t know how anyone can be
too
clairvoyant for their own good.

And, besides, I like being in Milli’s room because all my things are there. She has every one of my dolls since

I was born including Doo Doo and Habe Sabe, my doll kitchen and tea service, teddy bears, rocking horse, and my favorite books:
Ferdinand
,
A Little Princess
,
Dr. Doolittle
— so I really feel at home when I’m there.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 6, 1938

Max’s problem is that he’s too charming for his own good. He thinks he has everyone fooled, although I must admit he’s sure got Mother wrapped around his little finger. She believes everything he says, no matter how far-fetched it is.

I didn’t speak one word to him at dinner tonight, but of course that isn’t unusual because speaking at meals isn’t exactly encouraged at our house. Mother believes children should be seen but not heard — especially when a meal is being served.

Daddy and Mother always sit at opposite ends of the long dining room table while Max and I sit in the middle of either side while Milli serves.

Mostly we just sit there while Mother regales Daddy, in excruciatingly boring detail, of her activities of the day: where she shopped and what she bought,

where she had lunch and whom with. Plus she reviewed all the plans for the party: who’s coming and who’s not; what’s being served, when, and on which china. Daddy nods at the appropriate times, shakes his head occasionally, sips his wine, and says, “Is that so,

Anna,” every now and again.

Sometimes I wonder why they married each other in the first place. I know you’re not supposed to think things like that but I can’t help it.

They’re opposite in every way.

Daddy chooses his words with the utmost care while Mother chatters away about the most trivial things: bridge, the theater, problems with the servants. Daddy spends most of his time reading and worrying about his patients while Mother spends half her life doing crossword puzzles and the other half shopping and socializing. Mother is
seriously
concerned about be-ing fashionable: She is
forever
looking for the latest dresses, the finest furs, and the most exquisite jewelry, while Daddy wears the same blue suit every day (even though he has other really nice ones hanging in his closet).

Mother likes to go out and Daddy likes to stay in. He doesn’t even go to the coffeehouses like Uncle

Daniel. Mother tries to get him to go to parties, the theater, or their box at the opera, but even when he reluctantly agrees, something always seems to come up at the last minute with one of his patients and Daddy promises to get there as soon as he can.

Of course Mother
is
beautiful, I must admit, and Daddy does like to see her looking pretty.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 7, 1938

Sometimes I can’t believe the things Max makes himself for breakfast. This morning he cut two thick slices of black bread, slathered butter on one, cream cheese on the other, cut a piece of last night’s ham that was just as thick as the bread (honest), and ate it standing up, talking about Rilke all the while.

I told him the reason he talks so much is because he’s making up for lost time. According to family leg-end (which can’t always be relied on) Max didn’t utter a sound until he was six, which is a real shame. I would so much have preferred a mute for a brother.

MONDAY, JANUARY 10, 1938

Ernst Resch tried to look up my skirt today at recess. That’s the second time this week. He thinks he’s
so
sly I’d never notice him standing there even though
all
the boys were on the other side and he was the only boy on our side. When I asked him if he was lost, his face turned tomato red and he started to stutter so badly I couldn’t for the life of me understand what he was say-ing. He decided to go back and join his gang who were playing marbles, which is pretty much the only thing they know how to play.

He’s such a bully. If you don’t watch out he’ll try to trip you or spill over your inkwell. Each year he gets even worse although he stays away from me most of the time — I think it’s because he has a crush on me.

Even though he’s so annoying sometimes, I feel sorry for him because of what happened to his twin brother (who was stung by an insect when he was four and died from blood poisoning the very next morning). I told Milli about how Ernst tried to look up my skirt but now I’m sorry I did — she wasn’t very

understanding.

She says I spend too much time “dwelling” on things like that, although I’m not one hundred percent sure what she means by “things like that” (and the way she says “dwelling” you would think it was the
absolute worst
thing a person could ever do in their life).

She says it’s because I have so many planets in Libra. “Too much Libra for such a little girl,” she says, and then makes a little clicking sound with her tongue. I
adore
it when Milli makes that clicking sound, although
she
denies that she makes any sound
at all
, clicking or otherwise, and whenever I say something about it she says I should have The Doctor examine my ears.

(Frankly I think she’s still upset with me because I won’t let her walk me to the streetcar anymore in the morning. I’m old enough now. I’m in seventh grade already.)

Milli promised if I finished
all
my homework we could play double solitaire so I came right home after my dreadful piano lesson, went directly to my room, and finished all of it by dinnertime.

I
adore
playing double solitaire with Milli. We both play really, really seriously, slamming each card down onto the table and laughing so hard sometimes we actually fall off the bed.