The Nanny

Chapter 1

“Useless little brat! You better clean up this mess!” Oh no! Please, not this again!

I run toward the living room, dumping my sweater and bag on the floor and not even bothering to close the apartment door. I can't believe these are the words I'm greeted with the moment I enter my house. My poor little brother!

“After everything I've done, you still…”

“Dad, what's going on?” I quickly walk over to my crying brother.

“This little brat made a mess! He should clean it up. I could trip and break my neck over this rubbish!” from the way my dad is slurring, it is obvious that he is drunk. Not that unusual to be honest, but still a disappointment. Since my mom's death, the only thing my father has done is drink. He drank away his own money and now he is drinking away mine. My brother does not deserve to be raised in this type of environment. He deserves a caring mom and dad like I had but unfortunately, he never will.

I bend down next to my brother. His tear-stained cheeks, evidence of his sorrow and fear, breaks my heart into a million pieces. Why? Why does my father have to do this?

“Andrew? Go to our room, buddy. I'll clean this up,” I try to keep my voice as soft as possible. I don't want him to think I'm mad, at least not at him. He quickly nods his head and then he disappears down the hallway.

“You can't always give him a free pass! He has to learn to look after himself!” his slurring angry voice fills the room. My dad chose the wrong day to use that argument. I am tired and extremely upset at the moment, so he won't get away with that stupid statement. Not like he usually does.

“Yeah, Dad; like you look after yourself? Who is the one that goes to work every day? Let me tell you, it is NOT you!” I take a deep breath, “He is barely five years old! You can't blame him for playing on the ground!” I shout. My father doesn't have any reason to be angry at Andrew. The so-called 'mess' my brother made, is his Lego blocks. Besides they are not all over the floor, they are arranged neatly in the corner of the room, well out of the way!

“I'm sick of you doing absolutely nothing, and then expecting me to earn money! I'm supposed to be in college, dad, not at work! And I don't want to come home and find you screaming at Andrew! Especially when I had a crap day! I want to be able to come home and know everything will work out even though I lost my job! I don't…”

“You what?” my father cuts me off, his face turning red. Perhaps I should've waited until he cooled down before I said that. I knew he wasn't going to take it well, but tonight I think he'll take it even worse. “How did you get us into this mess, Delia? What did you do to get fired?”

“I didn't get fired! The restaurant is closing at the end of the month,” my voice is now merely a whisper. I don't have the energy to fight anymore. I have to find a new job in a month's time since that is when the restaurant will close. I don't have any qualifications, so finding a decent job is going to be much harder than I would like to admit. I just wish my dad would do something! Anything! I wish, but I don't expect… I know he won't just start putting in an effort overnight, or ever, for that matter. He will always be the drunken broken-hearted man that emerged after my mother's death. The father I knew as a child, died along with my mom, and I don't expect him to ever return to me. Therefore I would rather not deal with this drunken shell of my father, “Go to bed dad. I don't have the energy!”

“You better get a new job, Delia!” he says angrily, grabbing the last two beer bottles from the fridge and disappearing to his room.

I almost fall to the ground with relief and fatigue when he leaves the room, but I catch myself with the help of the wall. I'm so tired of this! I'm sick of him blaming me for everything. I am not innocent when it comes to blaming people for no valid reason, but at least I am trying to make it right now. My father's constant screaming at me and Andrew doesn't help our situation either. Why can't he just get his act together, get a job and help his children? Why can't life just be easy, or at least a little easier, just for once in my life?

I look around the living room, after locking up. He complains about Andrew's Lego blocks, but he throws beer bottles everywhere. How does he even rationalize his anger toward Andrew? I sigh in defeat, deciding to go check on Andrew before I clean this mess up.

I knock on our bedroom door before I enter our room. Financially I can only afford a small apartment, so Andrew and I share the room. Andrew is sitting on his bed clasping his teddy bear tightly to his chest. Poor, poor Andrew!

“Hey, buddy. You okay?” I walk over to his bed and sit down next to him. He slowly opens one eye and peeks up at me through his lashes.

“I didn't mean to make a mess, Dee! I'm weally sowwy! I was just playing and then dad came and began to scweam at me. I'm so sowwy!” he says as he wraps his arms around me and starts to cry again.

“I know you didn't mean to, buddy! I know you were just playing. Don't worry about it, you didn't do anything wrong,” I stroke his back soothingly, “Have you eaten anything, yet?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“Are you hungry?” Quickly he nods his head. I smile and stifle a laugh at the enthusiasm with which he looks at me.

“How about I run you a bath and then I make you something to eat, while you clean up. Sound good to you?”

“Yes. Thank you, Dee!” he jumps off the bed and collects his pajamas from the closet.

We make our way to the small bathroom and I quickly run him a bath. This became a routine for us after my mom's death. I'd get home from work, around 6 pm, and then I'd run Andrew a bath and prepare dinner. Dad rarely ate with us but if he did, he'd always make rude remarks. So now I try to avoid having dinner with him.

“Come to the kitchen when you're done, buddy,” I smile ruffling his hair as I leave for the kitchen.

The small apartment feels crowded with the three of us living here. I'm used to a big spacious home, with room for a family, not this bachelor flat with only two bedrooms.

After my mom died, a little over two years ago, my dad started drinking. He lost his job not long after that since he didn't even bother to go to work. After that he just stayed at home every day, drinking any alcohol he could find. I was still on summer vacation after I finished high school. I wanted to go to college but that obviously never happened. I had to get a job and put my life on hold because we still had bills to pay and I had a little brother to care for. My dad drank away all of his money and most of his mind to. I had to sell our car and our house to pay the debt he got us in. Now we live in this stupid little flat. We get by, thanks to my job as a waitress, but now I don't know anymore. It is not like I have money saved away somewhere. Every penny I didn't use to pay the bills, my dad used for alcohol. I let him use it for drinks because a sober dad is much worse than a drunken dad. I tried to sober him up once or twice, but each time he became violent and angry at me. After he hit me once, I didn't try to sober him up again. I just have to find a new job! That is the only solution. It won’t be easy though since not everyone is as kind-hearted as Lucy.

Lucy, my boss, has always been kind to me. The restaurant opened about six months before my mom's death. The business was still taking off when I applied for a job there. Lucy claims she saw herself in me and that is why she hired me, but personally I think she was just glad to have someone to wait on the tables. Today she told us that she was getting married! She and Paul have been together for a year now, so I'm really glad for her! Unfortunately, she also told us that they will be moving to California. She got an offer from some big company to open a restaurant in the city and Paul's business has a firm there as well. I'm truly happy for her and I just wish I could have taken her up on her offer. She offered each of us a job at the new restaurant, with better pay and a lot of added benefits. I wish with all my heart that I could've accepted her offer, but it is just not possible for me to move to California. So, the only solution I can see at this stage is to find a new job, and quickly, too.

Andrew joins me in the kitchen and we eat our sandwiches in silence. There is not much to talk about, really. He is in kindergarten, I am a waitress and Dad is a drunk. Not much for friendly conversation now is there. After eating, he helps me wash the dishes and then I put him to bed. Putting a five-year-old to bed is not as easy as one might think, though. Reading bedtime stories and singing lullabies take more time than I feel I currently have. I remember when I was younger, my mom always read to me at night. She and my dad also sang all the time. She had the voice of an angel. I guess I get my musical talents from her as well. She played piano and flute, while I play piano and guitar. I learned to play when I was still in school before mom got ill. Before my mom's death, my dad had a steady job at a construction company. He would always come to my soccer and hockey games since my mom was not as sporty as me and my dad. I cherish those memories and I wish dad would sober up and give Andrew a life like mine. I sit and watch Andrew sleep for a while. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. It is almost like there is nothing wrong in his life when he is in dreamland…

I stare at the mess my father left in the living-room/ kitchen. The beer bottles are only the tip of the iceberg. I haven't cleaned the house in two weeks since I work almost nonstop. And to top it all off the washing is also piling up. I swear I should just become a housemaid! I'm already doing all the work, the difference is that if it is my job, I will get paid for it. By the time I cleaned the house, it is already 11 pm. Time to call it a night! I'll look for work tomorrow since it is my off day. Hopefully, the universe decides to grant me a break tomorrow!