7. My boss is a jerk
SEVEN
MY BOSS IS A JERK
W hen I arrive the next day, the grandiose house looks even more impressive than it did yesterday, when darkness had already fallen. Old stones covered with ivy, reveal what I’m guessing used to be a farmhouse. The lawn is perfectly taken care of though no flowers bloom during this frigid winter. I almost squeal when I get a glimpse of a pool and, I hope I’ll get to keep the job long enough to use it.
I sober as I walk up the five stairs leading to the front door fifteen minutes early. I don’t want to be found lacking by the owner of the house.
Every time he looks at me, it’s like his grey eyes pierce my very soul. He’s so stoic, it’s hard to know what he’s thinking, and his welcome yesterday was anything but warm. His scrutiny makes me squirm, so I’ll make sure I don’t give him any reason to doubt me.
The problem is that I really need to ask him to pay me in advance if I have hope of keeping my room in the flat with a shitty roommate.
The more I agonise over when to ask him, the less sure I am about when will be the right time. He might be stressed this morning about leaving his kids with a stranger. Tonight, he might be stressed from work. I need to put on my big girl pants if I want to get what I need. Asking for what I want still takes tremendous effort but it’s that, or find somewhere else to live. After all, I barely know him, I shouldn’t be intimidated by him. Even though he looks fierce and holds my future in his hands.
I can do this.
When I ring the doorbell and Mr Marquesi opens the door and I gape as I take him in.
Never mind.
Today, he wears a soft grey chequered chino and a black turtle-neck sweater that looks soft to the touch and fits every curve of his body to perfection, like it’s custom-made for him. I’d only be half-surprised if it was.
I didn’t realise yesterday how formidable he looks in his business attire. His clear glasses frame his chiselled face perfectly, adding to the severe persona he’s got going on. It really works for him.
“When you’re done gawking, Miss Winfrey, follow me into the living room.”
Suddenly, I’m very much not gawking. What sort of asshole would embarrass someone like that? It was literally two seconds, and it’s not my fault he looks like he does. And I might be working for him, but sharp orders aren’t necessary. Though I do obey without thinking.
My mood sours but Mr Marquesi continues, oblivious to me sending daggers in his direction. “I’ll be bringing Anton to school today, but I expect you to pick him up at three,” he says. “It’s a short distance away, but if you’d rather not walk, order a taxi and I’ll cover the cost.”
I will definitely not do that since I’m barely able to cover my own needs; advancing money for my boss isn’t in my future. Nor should it ever happen now that I consider it more carefully. I’m a service provider, not a bank.
My foul mood is all forgotten when little steps echo on the hardwood floor. Anton, in his navy blue school uniform with the school insignia on the chest, and Livia, still in her Paw Patrol pyjamas, stop in front of me, beaming.
“Hi, anghjuli ,” I greet them. It’s natural for me to call them angels. Their smiles are angelic and they genuinely seem happy to see me, which eases my nerves. As an adult, I’m wary of strangers. I can’t begin to imagine what it feels like as a child.
Even now, I always think kindness is a lure, and I tend to distrust people who are too nice. Except for Jade. That woman just has something about her that makes me want to have her as my friend. It helps that she keeps texting me like we met years ago. She admitted to me she doesn’t have many girlfriends, and it made me like her more. It’s something we have in common.
“Hi Miss Winfrey,” the children say in tandem.
“None of that. You call me Vanessa, okay?”
They glance at their dad, who must allow it because they both nod in response, their blonde heads bobbing up and down.
“Everything you’ll need is in this binder I put together.” Mr Marquesi hands me the thick folder and I know my face betrays my shock because of the sheepish lift of his lips. Coming from him, it’s a full smile. “I just wanted to be thorough,” he mumbles.
“You certainly were,” I answer, mostly to myself. “Anything I need to know right now? Like maybe why Miss Livia is still in her pyjamas?”
I smile at her and she shrugs.
“We had a negotiation.” Mr Marquesi sighs.
The tick in his jaw tells a story I can’t wait to know. I’m a big fan of his daughter right now just for giving him shit. He deserves to be tested.
“Livia stopped throwing a tantrum about not going to school with Anton and in exchange, she gets to stay in her pyjamas until lunch. Not a minute later, picculina , do you understand?”
“Sí, babbu .”
While Anton is quite the talkative charmer, from what I’ve seen, Livia seems to take after her father. I barely heard her speak yesterday, and she didn’t address me directly. For some reason, I’m eager to prove myself to her, to show I’m worthy of her voice.
“Very well. Let’s go, picculinu . Miss Winfrey, I will see you tonight.”
“Have a good day,” I quip, then cringe. Mr Marquesi isn’t my friend, he’s my boss. I need to act like it. And being extra enthusiastic and bubbly will not make him smile more, so it’s stupid of me to waste my energy on a man who doesn’t seem to know how zygomatic muscles work.
“Well, Miss Livia, why don’t you show me around? Your dad forgot to do it and I don’t know where the bathroom is, or your room, or Anton’s. It’d be nice to have a guide who knows the place.”
I expect her to show me, but it seems, now that her dad is gone, she’s coming out of her shell, taking the lead and holding my hand. I could cry in victory. What others might see as an insignificant gesture means so much to me. I know that connecting with Anton and Livia as a caregiver is primordial for them to feel safe and to trust me to protect them and meet their needs when their parents aren’t here.
“Babbu’s work is there,” she says with her baby voice on our way to the stairs, gesturing to a closed door just behind the living room. I remember it from last night. The room had seemed dull and uninviting. That space is highly under-utilised, in my opinion. Bookshelves could be lining the walls and a nice fluffy rug sitting in the middle of the room. Instead were metal cabinets. I won’t be going in there uninvited, and considering the sterile feel of that place, I don’t want to.
In contrast, the rest of the house feels modern and spacious. The glass staircase seems suspended in mid-air and speaks of wealth and an eye for design. I marvel at the grandiose decor as I walk to the upper floor with Livia.
Probably put there by Mrs Marquesi.
Ex-Marquesi.
I can’t believe I didn’t even look him up online or find out anything about his ex-wife. I was so focused on getting this gig and not getting kicked out of my place, nothing else mattered.
We reach the top of the stairs. The first floor is painted an off-white colour that gives a warmth to the space despite it being February. Livia looks over her shoulder at me from time to time, as if to check I’m still following, still here despite her hand clasped in mine. I can’t blame her if her mum hasn’t been with her for a while.
My heart squeezes painfully. I don’t know her circumstances, so it’s not my place to judge. Yet, I ache for Anton and Livia. I know what it’s like to miss your mother.
We enter a soft green room with jungle wallpaper, and I immediately know it’s Anton’s and Livia’s. Not only because I doubt Mr. Marquesi would choose such a wallpaper for his own space but also because of the single bed with spaceship-covered sheets and a teddy bear, while a crib is close by.
“Is this where you and your brother sleep?”
“Yes. Anton here and me, here.” She points to each bed. “This is our closet. This is the change spot. And these are my toys.”
A fter I play with Livia for hours with Play-Dough and Anton’s miniature cars, I managed to have her take a shower and change before preparing a light lunch together. She napped until almost three in the afternoon and took her sweet time waking up and putting back on the clothes I had to bargain with her to put on in the first place.
Which means we’re late to pick up Anton.
I look at my watch and it’s nine minutes past three. I enter the school’s courtyard, Livia in her stroller because I couldn’t have her walk at a snail's pace.
“Hi, I’m so sorry, I’m a little late. I’m Vanessa Winfrey, Anton Marquesi’s nanny. I think Mr Marquesi informed you I would pick up Anton,” I tell the person I’m assuming is Anton’s teacher.
“Oh, hi. Anton was so excited for you to come pick him up, but when he didn’t see you, he started crying. I brought him back inside. He’s waiting in the classroom. Follow me.”
At least she’s not yelling at me, so that’s a good sign. I hope .
That hope is crushed when I enter the classroom and see Anton at a little desk, his head bowed and forehead resting inside his crossed arms. My throat closes, but I approach him slowly, resting on my haunches next to him.
“Hey, anghjulu .”
“I thought you weren’t coming.” His voice is strained and comes out muffled from under his arms.
“Oh buddy, of course I came. I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise I needed more time to wake up Livia from her nap. And that I’d need to walk really fast. It’s my fault. I should have been more careful with time.”
“I thought you left like Mamma.”
I clench my jaw and close my eyes while I force down my emotions.
“Look at me, anghjulu .”
His baby blue eyes meet mine, full of fat tears. His face is blotchy from crying and I want nothing more than to hold him, but he hasn’t initiated contact yet. I’m still a stranger. It’s my responsibility to protect him and I can give him reassurance and prove it every day.
“I’ll always come for you. And if I cannot come for whatever reason, it will be your dad, and your mum when she gets back. And I will always be on time from now on.”
“You promise?”
“Yes, buddy, I promise. Now, will you let me dry your tears so we can go home, watch a cartoon and make some dinner?”
He nods and I lift my hand to wipe his tears away, my heart growing fuller as he lets me comfort him ever so slightly.
“Did you bring snacks?” he suddenly asks, and I burst out laughing. Trust kids to lighten the mood unwillingly.
“Yes, buddy. But only fruit. If you want the brownie I made, we’ll have to walk home, and fast.”
The promise of chocolate cake works its magic. On the way back, Anton talks animatedly about his day while Livia tells him what we were up to. Half her words aren’t really words, but it looks like Anton understands. His attention never strays from her when she speaks. It’s beautiful to witness and I wish I had a sibling I could lean on. I hope they never lose this connection.
When Mr Marquesi comes back at six, on the dot, both kids are showered and playing in the living room while I skim through the folder their father made me. I didn’t have time to look at it all day, but it seems to mostly consist of quirks and specific knowledge about Anton and Livia’s personalities I’d rather discover by myself. I know it’s best if I read it just in case there’s information in there that’s important, like allergies, but the level of detail reminds me how impassive and serious the man of the house appears to be. It almost feels like I imagined the sheepish look he gave me.
“Welcome back, Mr Marquesi,” I stand up and greet him as he enters the room.
“Thank you, Miss Winfrey.”
With steady strides, he walks to me until he towers over me and guides me to the side of the room with a hand on my elbow. The touch isn’t aggressive, but the unspoken command is there, nonetheless. My stomach jolts and I have no clue why.
“Anything I should be aware of?” he asks curtly, and I frown. His coldness threatens to have me desperate to make him happy.
I had a tendency to do that when I was young and my aunt was in a foul mood. I promised myself I’d catch myself if it ever happened in the real world. And that’s not my role here. I’m not here to make him happy; I’m here to take care of his children.
I take a deep breath before recounting the events of the day and the incident at school pick up.
It’s subtle, but the shift in his grey eyes almost has me taking a step back. They turn anthracite, almost taking on a thunderous quality.
“Let me make myself clear, Miss Winfrey.” His voice is icy and chills my blood. “This is the only mistake you will be allowed to make. If anything remotely similar happens again, I will have no qualms in making your life on Kalliste very difficult. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” A shiver makes its way up my spine and I swallow the need to call him out on his shitty behaviour. “It won’t happen again.”
“Of course it won’t.”
His phone chimes, and he takes it from his pocket, glancing down at the screen before dismissing me without looking at me again. “Your cab is here. Good evening.”
So much for asking for rent money.
Defeated and feeling like shit, I say goodbye to Anton and Livia, who remain oblivious to what’s just happened between their father and me, and leave the house. I hope that tomorrow, Mr Marquesi will be in a better mood and I can try again.
But more than the fear of being evicted, it’s the feeling of having disappointed him, even if he acted like a dick, that settles in my stomach like lead and keeps me up for most of the night.