Their daughter, Lauren, and Emma are the same age—both four, both in that stage where they’re starting to understand the world but still believe in magic—and we try to get them together for playdates as often as Joe’s and my schedules allow, which isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. Emmaneedsfriends right now. She needs normal kid experiences with other normal kids, not just traumatized afternoons with nannies she’s trying to drive away.
Joe stubs out his cigarette and immediately lights another one, squinting at me through the smoke. “So what happened? She showed up and Emma just like, bowed down?”
“Not exactly. Emma dumped her purse out. Everything. All over the entryway floor.”
“Oh Jesus,” Allison says, wincing sympathetically. “What’d the nanny do?”
“She told Emma she was angry and that she got it, but that it was her stuff and Emma needed to help her pick it up.”
Joe’s eyebrows go up. “And?”
“And Emma did it.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Wait, what?” Maria leans forward. “Emma actually picked up her stuff? Willingly?”
“Willingly. Well, reluctantly at first, but yeah.” I can still see it in my head, Annie crouched down on the floor, meeting Emma at eye level, not backing down but not being harsh either. “Then Emma found her camera and they bonded over that. Annie showed her how to use it, let her take a picture. By the end Emma was asking when Annie was coming back.”
“Huh.” Joe takes a drag, processing this. “So she’s some sort of kid whisperer?”
“No.” I shake my head. “She has zero experience with kids. She told me that upfront.”
“Then what’s the secret?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t baby-talk her, didn’t try to manipulate her into behaving, didn’t freak out when Emma acted out. She just…set a boundary and held it.” I’m not sure I’m explaining this right. “Look, I’ve watched six different nannies try everything—bribing, distracting, ignoring, time-outs, you name it. Nothing worked. This girl walks in, knows nothing, and somehow gets through to Emma in fifteen minutes.”
“So you hired her,” Joe states, a slow grin spreading. “On the spot.”
“On the spot.”
“Even though she thinks you’re a caveman.”
“I don’t require her to like me. I require her to be effective with Emma.”
“Is she hot?” Joe asks, blunt as ever.
Allison swats him on the arm. “Joe! For God’s sake.”
“What? I’m just bein’ realistic! No guy hires a woman he can’t stand to be around unless there’s some…mitigating factor.” He holds up his hands, grinning unrepentantly.
I stare at him, deadpan. “Do I look like I have time for a love life?”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Maria mutters. “Maybe you need one.”
I elbow her, not hard, just enough to make my point. “My priority is Emma. That’s it. Not dating, not romance, definitely not my daughter’s nanny who thinks I’m an asshole.”
“Butisshe hot, though?” Joe presses, because apparently he’s not going to let this go.
I take a sip of my Coke, considering how to answer this without giving him any ammunition. The truth is I didn’t really pay attention to what Annie looked like beyond the basicsnecessary to confirm she was the same person from the cab incident. I was too busy being annoyed and then too busy watching how Emma responded to her. Sure, I registered that she’s young—early twenties probably—and that she was wearing a black dress that was perfectly appropriate for an interview, and that her hair was straight and dark and fell past her shoulders, and fine, yes, objectively speaking she’s attractive in that general way that most young women in their twenties are attractive. But I genuinely don’t have the mental bandwidth to care about that right now.
“I don’t pay attention to‘who’s hot,’” I say, using air quotes around the phrase because it sounds juvenile and ridiculous. “I think in terms of neural pathways and whether someone’s prefrontal cortex is developed enough to handle complex problem-solving. Physical appearance is just a collection of genetic expressions and symmetry patterns that our brains have evolved to respond to for reproductive purposes. It’s not relevant to her ability to care for my daughter.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Maria starts laughing. “Oh my God, you’re such anerd!”
“That was the most Leo answer I’ve ever heard,” Allison adds, shaking her head but smiling.
