Nothing to See Here (14)

When I looked up, I saw an unbelievably complicated sprinkler system and blinking red lights from smoke detectors. I wondered if the house had been stuffed full of asbestos. How did one prepare a house for the possibility of fire children?

“Do you like it?” someone behind me suddenly said.

“Fuck!” I shouted, whirling around, my leg involuntarily doing this little judo kick. Carl was standing there, his arms crossed. He wasn’t even looking at me; he was staring at the sprinkler system.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but he actually didn’t seem all that sorry. It felt like this had been a test, to see how badly I could be scared. I had pegged Carl as a cop, but now I reconsidered. He seemed like one of those faceless suits in sunglasses who tracks down E.T. He was the bad guy in an eighties movie.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I told him.

“The door was open,” he said. “I was just checking it out.”

“This is where I’m going to live,” I said.

“Yes, for now,” he said. “And Mrs. Roberts has informed you of the situation?”

I stared at him because it felt good to make him work for it.

“The children?” he finally said. “Their . . . situation?”

“They catch on fire,” I said. “I know.”

“May I ask you something, Ms. Breaker?”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Do you have any experience with childcare? Do you have medical training? Do you have a degree in child psychology?”

“I can take care of two kids,” I told him.

“I’m not trying to be rude. For instance, do you know CPR?”

“Jesus, Carl, yes, I know CPR,” I said. “I have a certificate, even. I’m certified. I can bring the kids back to life.” Two years ago, an old lady had died in the produce section while I knelt over her, waiting for the ambulance. After that, the owner of the store made everyone get trained in CPR and first aid.

“Okay, that’s good,” he said, smiling.

“I took a class in fire safety, too,” I said. “I know how to use a fire extinguisher.”

“On a child?” he asked.

“If they’re on fire,” I told him.

He walked over to the kitchen and opened the door to what I thought was a pantry. Instead, it was filled top to bottom with gleaming red fire extinguishers. “Well, then I guess you’ll be fine.”

“Carl?” I said.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Do you think I came up with this idea? Do you think I scammed Madison into giving me a job taking care of these weird fucking kids?”

“No, not at all. I think Senator Roberts and Mrs. Roberts have been placed in an unusual situation. I think they are doing the best that they can; they are trying to be responsible and empathetic, considering the circumstances. And I think you are simply a part of that larger desire to help these children. But I do not think this is the correct response. I think this is going to be a disaster.”

“They’re just kids,” I said.

“I’m here to assist in any way that I can,” he told me. “Think of me as someone who can help you when you run into unforeseen problems.”

Just then, Madison appeared in the doorway. “Don’t you love it?” she asked me. “The polka dots?”

Carl somehow found a way to stand even straighter than he had been, like his bones locked into some unknown posture that not even soldiers could achieve.

I nodded, looking around the house. “Carl,” I said, “what do you think of the polka dots? Do you love it?”

He smiled. “It’s very appropriate for children,” he finally said. “Very . . . festive.”

“Carl likes it,” I said to Madison.

“We need to get you some clothes,” Madison said to me. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Sounds good,” I said, and she linked arms with me and we left Carl standing there, like it was his birthday and not one person had dreamed of coming to his party.

“He creeps me out a little, Madison,” I told her as we walked to the garage.

“I guess that’s kind of his job?” she replied. “Like, he makes people uncomfortable or super comfortable, based on the situation.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” I said.

“Well, I’m not sure that he even likes me,” she told me. “Who cares?”



We drove in Madison’s BMW to Nashville, to a mall where one of the anchors was a Billings Department Store, the B on the building all huge and fancy, the letters golden. She reached into her purse and produced a gold credit card from the store, something her father must have given her. “Everything is free here,” she said, “so get whatever you want.”

There wasn’t much that I wanted. Everything was so delicate and sparkly; I tried on a pair of satin pants and wanted to kill myself. “Madison,” I said, “I’m taking care of kids. I’m a nanny. I don’t need stuff for dinner parties.”

“You never know what you might need,” she said. She picked out a bright green dress, strapless, and held it up to me like I was a doll that she was dressing.

“I don’t have enough boobs to hold that dress up,” I said. I had no boobs at all, which I’d appreciated when I was growing up, and then in high school I got sad about it, and then I stopped caring again.