Chapter 10 Owen #2
But if she doesn’t want me to watch her quietly sing and dance while washing my dishes, then maybe she shouldn’t do it in my house when she knows I’m here.
“I like that song,” I say in a hushed voice after she’s put down the glass she was drying with a dish towel.
She freezes, stops singing.
“You like Led Zeppelin?”
“Yes.” She’s still not moving. Head tilted just a bit in my direction. Tense.
I walk over to the cupboards near where she’s standing by the sink, open one to take out a glass.
She wipes her hands on the front of her jeans—no shorts today—and steps away from me.
“Thank you for doing the dishes. Can I get you anything? You hungry?”
She’s now standing in front of the water dispenser. I walk over there with my glass. She steps aside again.
“Nope. We had a snack. He fell asleep. You probably saw.”
“Yeah. Sounds like he was enjoying the show before that though.”
She smiles. “He really did. I’ll leave the DVD here so you can finish watching it with him later.”
“You leaving?”
“Oh. Did you want me to stay? I can if you want me to.”
“Up to you.”
She nods. “I guess I should get going, then.”
“Okay. How was your meeting with Ashley? She said it was great.”
“Yeah.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, crosses one leg in front of the other. “She’s nice.”
“Was she?”
“Her baby’s so cute.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you get along with her new husband?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. We don’t hang out or anything.” I gulp down the glass of water, place the empty glass in the sink. I think I’ll put away the dishes from the dishwasher. See if she stays to help. I glance over at her, super casually, as I open the dishwasher door.
She seems so anxious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not. Your hair is different.”
“Different from what?”
“From the last time you were here. And from your profile pic. And from your YouTube videos.”
She pushes a few loose strands of hair behind an ear. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”
“It looks good. You look pretty.”
“Thank you. I feel very uncomfortable.”
“You’re welcome. So, have you really dated nine guys named Justin?”
She shakes her head and rubs her forehead, laughing. “Oh my God. Did you really watch my YouTube videos? All of them?”
“Just answer the question.”
When I put away the first of the dishes, she goes over to the dishwasher to pull out the dishes and hand them to me. Helping me, without me even having to ask. I like that.
“You answer mine first,” she insists.
“You already know I did.”
“How many times?
“Okay, maybe you should get over yourself too. I had to do some background research to make sure my son’s nanny isn’t psychotic. Or a terrible comedian.”
“And what was your conclusion based on my YouTube videos?”
“You’re definitely funny. I like your act. You’re funny. You’re really funny. And talented. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You look like you’re going to cry.”
“I’m not.”
“Anyway.”
“No, just… Let me just… Give me a minute to actually experience this.”
Now I’m rolling my eyes.
She takes a deep breath and then looks me straight in the eye and says, “Thank you.”
“Okay.”
“No really. Thank you. For saying that and for watching the videos. No matter how many times.”
“It wasn’t that many.”
“If you say so. But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I close the door to a cupboard, and we just stand where we are for a few seconds.
“This feels weird,” she finally says.
“It really does… So—nine Justins?”
She laughs and pulls out the silverware basket and hands it to me. It has literally never occurred to me to do that when emptying out the dishwasher. Fascinating.
“Yes. But I didn’t exactly date the first two.
I was, like, fifteen, but you know. They like liked me.
I had crushes on them before we were going out, so it was a big deal.
” She suddenly gives me a very intense, angry look.
“Not that anything means anything when you’re that young.
I mean, I don’t even remember what they looked like, really. ”
“You don’t?”
“No. It was ages ago.”
She is very defensive all a sudden.
“I bet one hundred percent of your exes wear hoodies.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She seems so offended.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re right.” We’ve been speaking quietly, so as not to wake up Sam, but I lower my voice even more. “Well I guess if we’re sticking to what is my business, I will say that I’d prefer it if you don’t have any male companions in your hotel rooms while we’re traveling with Sam.”
“Uh. Okay. Are you going to have female companions in your room?”
“No. Sam will be staying in my room.”
“Oh. Right. But what about, like, for dates. Like after your shows or whatever. I’m going to be staying in your room while Sam sleeps?”
“Yes, you’ll be staying in my room while Sam sleeps, while I’m doing my shows. But I don’t plan to bed women while I’m on the road with my son. I might hang out with friends or other comics for a little while after the shows. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. Of course you’re going to do that. I mean, I have a tiny problem with the term to bed women, but I’m guessing you only said that to annoy me.”
“Did it work?”
“Everything you say works, if your goal is to annoy me.”
“Are you staying off Twitter because of me?”
She both smirks and blushes at the same time—which is amazing. “How do you know I’m off Twitter?”
“You need to be on Twitter. What if someone wants to book you? You don’t have an agent, right?”
“Correct. And I reactivated my account this morning.”
“Oh. Good.”
“And if someone wanted to book me, I guess I wouldn’t be available for a month anyway.”
“Actually, I’ll have a few nights off. You could find an open mic. Out-of-town shows are always great for trying out new material.”
“Right.” Now she’s just straight-up smirking at me. “Like what you dazzled us with in Tampa that time.”
I give her a look. “Left an impression on you though, didn’t I?”
“You have to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Hot Guy Look.”
“I’m a hot guy. I can’t not do this.”
“You’re definitely doing a thing, and you can’t refer to yourself as a hot guy! That’s just wrong.”
“If looking hot is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to leave now. Hopefully Sam won’t be upset that I’m not here when he wakes up.”
“You want to stay for dinner?” I find myself saying. Which is weird. “Not like a date.” Which just made it weirder. “Just as the nanny.” Which just confirmed to both of us that I am, in fact, creepy.
She rubs her glossy lips together, eyes wide, stares at me for a few seconds. It feels like she might actually say yes. Because it really feels like she shouldn’t leave yet.
“I need to go home and do laundry and start packing.”
“Right.”
“For the trip.”
“Sure.”
“That I’m going on as your nanny.”
“Exactly.”
“I know it’s a little early to start packing, but I don’t like to leave things to the last minute.”
“Smart. Thanks for hanging out with Sam today.”
“Yeah, he’s great. Thanks for having me… I’ll let myself out.”
“I’ll just keep standing right here.”
We stare at each other for another two or three or infinity seconds.
“Okay, bye.”
And she’s gone.
“And she took all the sunshine with her,” I mutter to myself. “Lady Hilarious McFunnyPants, ladies and gentlemen.”