9. Emmy
NINE
Emmy
Ididn’t know what to expect on my first day with Ollie, especially not with the way he started the day. But after I convinced him to join me outside for some reading, it was almost smooth sailing.
That is until four, when his father arrived.
Ollie was in the middle of playing with his toys and didn’t want to stop, but Christopher came in bearing presents.
It is clearly a lame attempt at buying his love, but whatever works, I guess.
“You must be the new nanny,” Christopher says, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, I’m Emmy; it’s nice to meet you.” I greet him with a smile. I could tell Hattie doesn’t like him, but for Ollie’s sake I need to remain neutral.
“Did she ask you to stay in the same room too, or am I allowed to take my son outside?” He makes a face.
“I’m just here for Ollie. I can go catch up on some chores so I’m not in the way,” I say. “Ollie, just yell if you need me.”
“He won’t,” Christopher adds.
I leave the room but hang around the corner so I’m within earshot.
There’s a soft chair at the edge of the dining room, so I sit there for a bit.
Hattie doesn’t want them to be alone, and I can hear everything they’re saying.
Thankfully, it’s mostly boring. Christopher is genuinely just trying to get to know his son, which will be a relief to report back to Hattie later.
I check my emails and texts for the first time all day.
I’ve only gone on my phone once during lunch to give Hattie an update.
She doesn’t seem like the anxious type, but she’s also a parent leaving her child with a stranger for the first time—and on the day his father is having a visit, so I figure checking in can’t hurt.
After making sure Christopher is harmless, I decide I can do things in the kitchen. I can still hear everything, but I’m giving up my view. It’s closing in on 5 p.m., and I need to get started on dinner sooner rather than later.
I’m looking around her kitchen and soon realize she doesn’t have too much. I make a mental note to create a shopping list and go to the grocery store with Ollie on Wednesday. He can help me find everything and do the math of the prices. It isn’t the most fun, but it teaches real-life skills.
“Hey, I know Hattie isn’t here, but I don’t wanna cause any trouble by not sticking to her schedule. She said you’d be back on Wednesday; I’ll check with her if maybe I can be here longer?” Christopher asks, walking into the kitchen.
“Sure.” I nod.
“Thank you for this; it’s been difficult trying to work with her busy schedule. At least now I might have a chance of seeing him more.” Christopher smiles, and I notice it matches Ollie’s.
“No problem.” Christopher leaves, and I lock the front door behind him.
“Are we having dinner soon?” Ollie asks.
“We are! I was thinking about making some soup,” I say.
“I don’t like soup.” Ollie grimaces.
“Well, that’s what’s for dinner tonight. How about you help me make it?” I suggest.
“Me? Cook? Mama only usually lets me make cookies with her.” He frowns.
“Well, I’m in charge, and I think you’d be a great help. But only if you want to.” I want to make sure I’m easing him into trying new things with me.
“Hmm, okay.” He nods. I can see the curiosity behind the uncertainty in his eyes.
I lead him to the kitchen, and we both wash our hands before we get started.
Then I think about my mom’s recipe and what we should do first. I loved cooking in the kitchen with my mom when I was growing up.
She always was happy and twirling around the kitchen like a Disney princess as she prepared dinner every night.
She was always singing and smiling, and I loved the nights when I could help.
I always felt so connected to her in those moments.
“What kind of soup are we making?” Ollie asks, breaking my thoughts.
“Your mom happens to have all the needed things for chicken noodle soup. Can you help me pour in the broth?”
“Sure…” Ollie pauses, looking at the ingredients I picked out. “What is broth?”
“Well, which one do you think it is?” I know he can read, so it takes him a moment before he grabs the right one. “Can you pour in the whole thing?”
“The whole thing?” His eyes go wide.
“Yeah, we actually might only have enough for your mom and us. The normal recipe calls for three times this,” I explain as I get out the cutting board and prep the vegetables.
Ollie pours the broth into the large pot on the table.
I carry it over to the stove and light the fire beneath it.
He’s waiting anxiously for the next step, so I ask him to help me cut the veggies.
The baby carrots can be cut with a butter knife, so I grab one from the drawer and teach him how to do it safely.
I give a quick lesson on knife safety, and then he’s good to go.
He chops up the carrots while I cut up the celery, and we drop everything into a big bowl between us.
I add in cut-up rotisserie chicken, a few spices, and some other veggies when he isn’t looking.
It takes some time to cook, and when I pour it into our bowls, Ollie is looking at it hesitantly.
“Look, if you can try it, I won’t make you eat it. But have one or two real bites, and I’ll make something you like,” I say as I take a spoonful.
“Hmm, okay.” Ollie nods. He brings a spoonful to his mouth, blows on it, and then tastes it. “Wait, this is good!”
I laugh, his reaction not surprising me. “I told you it would be good. Do you want to eat this?”
“Yes, I like it.” He smiles.
He sits down at the kitchen island, and I lean on my elbows to eat the soup. I smile as he not only finishes the first bowl but asks for more when he’s done. He even helps me clear the table when we’ve finished before he goes back to playing.
I clean up the whole kitchen, making sure not to leave even a spoon behind. It’s almost Ollie’s bedtime, and Hattie said she wouldn’t be home until late. So I make sure to leave her a Tupperware full of leftovers for her and put it in the fridge.
Ollie gets ready for bed, easily slipping into the pajamas like the ones I saw him in this morning.
Then he asks if I can read him something before bed.
He chooses a book from his room, and despite it being a little advanced for his age, he stays awake the whole time.
He asks questions and hangs on my every word until his little eyes flutter shut.
Man, it must be nice to be a kid and have someone put you to sleep every night.
He looks so peaceful, so I toss the blanket over him and leave his door cracked so I can hear him from downstairs.
I tidy up everywhere else, picking up long-forgotten toys, adding laundry to the hamper, and making a mental note to find out where the washing machine and dryer are on Wednesday. I wipe down counters and, for good measure, anywhere I think hasn’t been cleaned for a while.
Hattie keeps a clean house, but it could use a little maintenance. She works hard, and Ollie is happy; the least of her worries should be to clean the house.
Hattie walks in, her dark blue scrubs sticking to her skin.
Her black hair is matted to her face in disarray.
The little makeup she was wearing earlier today is long gone, melting down her face.
She stops in in front of the door, letting it shut behind her, staring as if she forgot I would be here.
I jump up from where I’m sitting on the couch and grab a towel from the closet.
She takes off her sneakers and sets them down on the welcome mat as I hand her the towel.
“I didn’t think it was going to rain this hard.
It was fine when I left the shelter, and I swear, in the five-minute drive it started,” she grumbles, using the towel to dry off as best as she can.
But it honestly isn’t doing much; she’d be better off taking off her clothes.
My cheeks burn, hoping I didn’t say that out loud.
“It’s been on and off most of the night. I don’t think it was in the forecast,” I say.
“Is Ollie okay? Everything was good with him?” Hattie asks, suddenly realizing.
“He’s fast asleep. We read a few chapters of his ‘fun book,’ as he called it, and he was out like a light. He had chicken noodle soup for dinner, and his father came by as scheduled, said he was going to ask you if he could come again on Wednesday,” I explain.
“Wait, Ollie had soup? He hates soup.” Her brows furrow, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Sorry, I just gave a lot of updates, and that’s the one you focused on. But yes, we made it together with what you had here, and I asked him to try it. I promised he could have something else as long as he tried it, but he enjoyed it so much he asked for seconds,” I say proudly.
“Wow. I’ll have to ask for that recipe then; soup will definitely get us through the winters or if there’s a sudden chicken nugget shortage,” Hattie jokes.
“Unfortunately, it’s a secret family recipe that I’m now realizing Ollie knows. So I’ll have to swear him to secrecy on Wednesday,” I tease.
“Got it, so get it out of him before then.” Hattie laughs.
“Do you want to go shower before I leave? I’ll keep an ear out for him so you can get those wet clothes off.” Did that sound dirty to her, too, or was that just in my head?
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I just had a long day, and I’d kill for a bath honestly. But you don’t have to stay; I’ll hear Ollie. It’s not like he’s an infant.” She smiles.
“You’re right.” I nod. I probably didn’t need to listen out for him tonight either, but I’d rather be overcautious with someone else’s child.
“Thank you for all your help today,” Hattie says.
“No worries, I’m going to gather my things, but I’ll let myself out; you said there was a spare key so I can lock up.” I smile.
“Yes, that would be great. The key is hanging up here.” She points to the key rack with the rainbow lanyard on the end. “We’ll see you Wednesday?” she asks, taking a few steps toward the stairs, her clothes and hair dripping with each step.
“Yes.” I nod.
“Great, thanks again.” She heads upstairs, and I grab my bag from the other room.
Most of my stuff is packed, but I take a Post-it note from the drawer and leave it on the fridge for Hattie.
Then I can’t help myself, so I grab one of the dirty towels from the laundry and use it to clean the floor.
The last thing she’d want to do is come out of the bath and have to get on her hands and knees to clean up this mess.
She looked beyond exhausted; I don’t even know if she’ll make it down the stairs again tonight.
I swipe the mop over the mess for good measure and grab the spare key on my way.
Before I leave, I realize I’m actually looking forward to coming back on Wednesday.