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The Nanny Belladonna This was not how I thought my life would go. When I found out about the opening, I never figured that I would get this attached. About 6 months ago, I was an unemployed college graduate. I had worked for almost 3 years after I graduated from college before I was lost my job when my employer went under. It took some adjusting when I found that it was practically impossible to get a job. I had to give up my apartment and move back in with my mother. She was happy to have me back in the house since my sister was away at college, and she was divorced from my father. She never liked living alone, so my presence was not much of a burden for her. Mom was all about family anyway. Her parents came here from Puerto Rico before she was born and instilled in her a dedication to family. They were a rock for her when she divorced my father. My father is a tall man of Greek descent. He was a good provider, but he had a wandering eye. When Mom found out, he was out the door. Not long after the divorce, he moved a thousand miles away to live with his mistress. I had kept in contact with him despite my anger at what he did. We only saw each other two times a year, but he was charitable with me and my sister. We never wanted for anything. He tried to help get me a job with his business contacts, but very few places were hiring. My sister gave me a ribbing about my employment search the last time she came home from college. They were cutting words even though she meant them in jest. She never understood that a man's job is often his identity. I saw a man without a job as a man with nothing, no identity and no purpose for living. I saw myself as a faceless entity roaming around the barren wasteland of the economy in a desperate search for a purpose to my life. My field was going through a particular harsh downsizing across the board. It was not just my employer that was battered. The whole field was a shell of what it once was. I knew that my prospects there were slim so I tried other fields, but those jobs went to those with more experience. I tried applying to low level jobs. I figured anything would be better than nothing, but they turned me away as overqualified. I was increasingly finding myself too qualified for a bad job and under qualified for a decent one. It was in this despondent mindset that I first became aware of an opportunity. My father got me an interview with a corporation called Austin Systems. It had about 100 employees spread over three locations. I went for the interview and was told that some one else had already been hired for the job. They had seen all the applicants' resumes and taken the best qualified one after he appeared to be capable during his interview earlier that morning. She told me that another position might be opening up within a month. I thanked the woman for the interview and walked out her door. I went home and decided to do some research about the corporation. I found out what it did, read customer reviews of it, and found out its corporate structure. It was owned by a man named Chris Austin. I read his biography in a recent newspaper article on-line. I found out that the man was married with two children. His wife was quite active on local charity boards. The man seemed to have everything I wanted out of life. I day dreamed about being the man from time to time when I was learning about him. It was on the internet that I saw a query about him and his wife. It was from a prospective nanny and written the day before. It was a site where these women apparently traded comments about their past employers or what they had heard about prospective ones. I read the inquiring woman's post. She learned of the job through an online site. I pulled up the site and located the Austin's job posting. It called for an "energetic and dedicated nanny" with at least two years experience to deal with their two children as a live out nanny. They insisted upon a woman and references. The job was pointedly off the books and for a low wage, which indicated to me that they were trying to save money with an immigrant nanny. Now, at that point, I was not planning on applying. It was in the back of my head, but I was not planning on acting on the idea. I went back to the site of the prospective nanny's inquest and read the replies. I was taken aback a little. Mr. Austin was described as detached from the family, and his wife was called a number of words which all equated to me with the word bitch. I looked at the prospective nanny's thank you to those that responded to her question. It seemed that she was not going to take the job if she got it. The more I thought about the job opening, the more I started to wonder to myself if I could pull it off. I almost saw it as a challenge. I had been cross-dressing since I was a child. I dressed in my diminutive mother's clothes until I no longer fit in them. I knew that she knew about it. We discussed it once and never revisited the subject. She kept it to herself. My sister and father were mercifully in the dark. Now, I had a few female outfits. I dressed from time to time and felt that I was passable. I did not think I was anything special. I was 5'8" and a little chubby so I was not exactly a man's wet dream, but I was in the range of your typical slightly tall girl. I figured if I got the job, I could do it for a little while and learn something about the company from the Austins. Then, I could bring it up and try to impress the interviewer with the level of my interest in the business the next time the company was hiring. However, these were idle thoughts because I did not have the experience to be the Austins' nanny. However, it dawned on me that I might be able to fake the references, so I called my friend Kathleen. Kathleen was the one person besides my mother who knew of my cross-dressing. We had become good friends in High School. She had a deep platonic love for me that I reluctantly shared with her. I wanted for it to go farther, but her discovery of my affinity for women's clothes ended that dream. I resigned myself to being one of her friends. I knew I would never be anything more than her girlfriend with a little something extra, but I never drifted away from her because I liked spending time with her. Kathleen had gotten married right out of college. She put me in her wedding party as one of her husband's groomsmen. I did not want to be there, but I could not refuse her. Her husband tolerated me. I always thought that he believed I was gay even though he knew I had dated women. I think it was my willingness to go clothes shopping with her that cemented that view. The couple had a two year old daughter together. Despite the child, Kathleen was a career woman. I knew that Kathleen had employed a Mexican immigrant to watch the child when her mother could not. I figured that if anyone could give me a fake reference it was Kathleen. I explained my plan to Kathleen. She laughed at me for a good five minutes before she asked if I was serious. I said that I was. This prompted further laughter. When she finally got that out of her system, she told me that she would help me if I passed her test. I asked her what it was and she answered, "You'll see when I get to your place after work." I hung up and waited for Kathleen to come over. It felt like High School all over again. I was waiting in my mother's living room for my friend to come over. I was right back there again even while Kathleen was now living one town over and gainfully employed instead of living with her mother in her old bedroom. Kathleen pulled up in front of the house and came inside. She told me to go my room and get changed into my girls' clothes. I complied with her request and put on a knee length orange skirt, a white blouse, a pair of black opaque tights and a pair of black 3 inch heels. I tucked myself away and put on my breast forms before I buttoned the blouse closed and let Kathleen see me. I was a little embarrassed to show myself to her. It was not that she had never seen me cross-dressed. In fact she had seen it dozen of times back when we were in high school. Still, I was uncomfortable about showing myself to her without any makeup on, but I did not want to make her wait. She appraised me from the waste down and pulled at my longish hair. She smiled and said, "I think we can get a bob out of this." She looked me over and said, "From the neck down, you're okay. It's all going to come down to the face. Get your makeup and show me what you can do." I complied and put on my foundation. She watched me closely as I tried to transform myself. I grabbed my lipstick and tried to apply it. I felt her hand grab my wrist. She shook her head and said, "I want you to try lip gloss and lip liner." "I don't have any," I replied. Kathleen smiled and pulled out lip gloss and lip pencil from her pocketbook and said, "You can keep it so give it a try." I shrugged and applied the lip liner and gloss as she requested. She smiled as I finished and said, "Those are lips that say you are experienced." I raised an eyebrow and asked, "Experienced at what exactly though?" Kathleen laughed and told me to finish up. I put on my mascara and blush after that. She examined me when I finished and said, "You look okay." I asked, "What does that mean?" "It means that you look like a woman. Not a good looking one, but better than some I've seen. That's good for you. The wife won't be worried about her husband running off with you." "That would never happen anyway!" "I know that, but there are stories out there about that kind of stuff. Well, anyway, let's get on with this. Do you have a tweezers?" "Why?" "I want to thin your eyebrows. Not too much though. You still be able to go out as guy, people will just think you're a manscaper. You've got thick eyebrows, but so do some girls. We don't all pluck them down to nothing. That does not look right on all girls. You've got that look. I'm going to give that kind of Keira Knightly, Amanda Peet look there. Full, but trimmed." When she finished pulling my eyebrows hairs out, she said, "I'll do it. You can put my name down as your employer." "Really?" "Yes. I have to say you were a proper nanny who never once questioned my judgment. You really understood English well for a Columbian. You were very diligent too, and I'm sorry you decided to go." "Thank you," I said. She said, "You're welcome" and picked up her phone and called her friend and told her to meet her at my place. I asked, "What's going on?" "I'm going to get you a little trim for your interview if you get it. My treat. You need one anyway. Man or woman, your hair needs more order. You're not a tween pop star for Christ sake." "What kind of trim?" "I told you earlier, a bob. You can cut it short if you don't get the job. It won't be a hindrance either way." Within 20 minutes the woman was at the door, she introduced me to her as her friend, Roberta. The woman sat me down in the kitchen and put a cape around me. She looked over my hair and said, "You want a bob?" "Yes," I replied. She started to cut my hair and talked to Kathleen and I. She eventually paused and said, "I don't know who cut your hair last, but she's a butcher." I blushed as she continued. She finished soon enough and showed me the result in the mirror. As I was looking in it, I heard my mother coming in. She looked at the three of us with a slacked jaw for a moment. She then came over and said hello to me without saying my name, kissed Kathleen on the cheek and said it was good to see her before she introduced herself to the hairdresser. Kathleen paid the woman shortly thereafter, and they headed out the door together. My mother sat down in the kitchen as I swept up my hair from the floor. She watched me in silence for a good five minutes. Then she asked, "What exactly are you doing?" "I'm cleaning." She stared at me blankly for a moment before she responded, "Yes, that's not what I was really asking about." "You're asking about the clothing and the hair?" "Yes, that's part of it, dear." I explained my plan to my mother. She looked at me with a vacant stare for a bit before a faint smile came to her face as she wished me good luck on my venture. I was not surprised by her reaction. She was never one to judge anyone besides my father. She reacted as she usually did. Whatever displeasure she had, she internalized and put up an accepting front. My mother's a bit odd like that. She's very liberal and non-judgmental on the outside, but she's also a weekly Catholic Church attendee. I knew my cross-dressing sort of killed her a little, but she put on a brave face about it. I finished cleaning and ate the dinner my mom had brought home for us. I then went to the computer and applied for the job with my fake resume and name, Roberta Garcia. About two days later, I heard my cell phone ringing. I saw a number I did not recognize, but I knew was the area code from where the Austins lived. I answered with an accent I had practiced based on a memory of a Columbian classmate. It was Mrs. Austin. She was inviting me to interview in her home two days later for the job. I thanked her and hung up. I told my mom when she got home. She told me that she was excited for me, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes. She would never try to make me fail at something, but that does not mean that she wouldn't have prayed that I would not get the interview. I realized that I had to stay in character as Roberta for long stretches of time. So I immediately went and dressed in my women's clothing. I made sure I had a suitable outfit for the interview and put it to the side. I went back out and explained to my mother that I would be dressing as Roberta full time over the next 2 days to get ready for the interview. She smiled politely and said, "That's great." I hated doing this to the woman, but I was in desperate place. Up until the hour of that interview, I did not speak a word that was not breathy, small and Columbian accented. I put the stuff I needed in my pocketbook and headed for the interview. I drove to the Austins' house at no more than the speed limit. I figured that the last thing I needed was to be known as the speeding drag queen if I was ticketed. I pulled up in front of the Austins' home and rang the doorbell. A pretty woman in her mid 30's answered the door. She identified herself as Mrs. Austin and let me inside. She was a good 20 years younger than her husband, and given her looks, she was probably a trophy wife. She had a certain air about her. She carried herself like she was above me or anyone else for that matter. I knew this type of girl. I went to school with her type. She was a social climber who did it by marriage. She was a perfect example of hypergamy. I probably grew in an environment similar to hers, but she would look down on everyone who wasn't well to do as if she was an aristocrat since birth. She sat me down and said something in basic Spanish, which I answered back in. I was fluent in Spanish because my mother insisted upon me being so when I was younger. It was potentially finally paying a dividend, but not in a way she'd like. Mrs. Austin said, "I called your prior employer, Miss Kathleen Dubois. She gave you a glowing review. That's why I decided to interview you." "Thank you," I responded. The woman leaned back and grabbed a checklist from a table to the side of her chair. I did not see what was on the list, but could tell it was quite extensive. I figured she was going to ask me about everything and the kitchen sink. She didn't prove me wrong. Mrs. Austin started by asking about my childhood. I made up some crap about being raised by a mother and father in Columbia before coming here. I told her I was the oldest and looked after my siblings. I said that's what got me interested in childcare. She seemed satisfied with the answer and asked about my current family life and any love interest that might distract me. I told her I was single and my family lived back in Columbia, but I had no intention of returning anytime soon. I was asked about my personal history next. She asked if my parents were abusive. I was a little surprised by the question, but I answered that they weren't. She also wanted to know if I had any STDS or was any medications or had a history of depression. I gave the answer I thought was right to each of them, but felt a little violated to be asked such questions that had little to do with the professional skills I was pretending to have. Still, I understood why she was so probing, given that I would be unsupervised and taking care of her children in her home. She then went on to discuss all aspects of the children's daily care. She told what she wanted in terms of discipline and nutrition. She asked if I would do as she said there, and I said I would. She told me I would not have to travel with the family on trips, but I would have to sign a contract requiring me to stay at least a year unless I was terminated. I knew from reading online that continuity of childcare was important so I agreed to those terms orally. She told me that I would have to keep the children from jumping on the furniture. I said I would have no problem with that. Then she asked about my religion. I asked why she wanted to know. She answered that her family was Methodists, and she wanted to make sure I'd support their family values. I said that I would even though I was not entirely sure what Methodists believe. She asked me how I would encourage the children's learning. I really hadn't thought about that. I realized I was pretty much screwed. I should have prepared more for the interview. I decided to just go with it and said that I would read to the children and force them to read if they were able. She asked me about disciplining children in a number of different scenarios. I just thought back to what my mother did when me and my sister were young. We never had any discipline problems so I figured she did something right. I could tell the answers were not exactly what Mrs. Austin was looking for as she scribbled something on the paper. She asked me if I was planning on having children of my own. I paused and tried to make myself look hurt as I said, "I can't have them. I don't have a uterus." Mrs. Austin nodded, checked the box and went on with the interview. She offered not a word on my answer. I thought it was a bit impolite to not at least give phony sympathy. I had to get over it though. Mrs. Austin then asked me why I choose this profession. I made up some spiel about loving being a part of a child's growth and learning. I pretended that I would find it somehow rewarding. I had heard that was true, but thought it was just something that women without jobs told themselves. She told me that the job would be off the books. I knew the reason why, but I had no idea why they were trying to save money that way. I looked around the home when I walked in, and I think they could have afforded a nanny or Au pair who was legally here, but it's their prerogative I guess. She told me I would be expected to work 9 to 12 hours a day from Monday to Friday for $500 a week. I was told my workday would start 8 AM and usually end around 7:30. She also said there was no uniform so I'd have to provide my own work clothes, which could be anything modest. I said that I would gladly take the job on those terms and that I was capable of running after the children for that period of time, as I had done so for my previous employer. She totally bought that line. Mrs. Austin then asked about my health. She asked about any serious conditions. I told her I was in good health and had no medical concerns that would affect my work as a nanny. Mrs. Austin told me that Kathleen said I was punctual and took few sick days. I confirmed this and she asked, "Have you ever been sick in the past or had drug or alcohol dependency?" I was no longer shocked by what she asked. I guess she was trying to protect her kids. I was sure there was a better way for her to do this, but that would not help me. I smiled and said, "I have no past health, drug or alcohol problems." We finished up the interview, and she said she'd talk to her husband and call me back for a second interview if my answers were sufficient. She called the next day, and I went back the following week. I went back to her house the day of the interview and was asked about my personal hobbies and how I spent my free time. I lied and said I was a bookworm. I would have said I was an exercise fanatic too if it wouldn't be such an obvious lie. Mrs. Austin looked at me and said, "If you take this job, there's to be no drinking, no drugs, no smoking or swearing in front of the children. Not even in Spanish. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mrs. Austin," I replied. She nodded and offered me the job. I took it and was brought out to meet her two children. She had a four year old son and a six year old daughter. The boy's name was Caleb, and the girl's name was Beth. They both greeted me politely, but they stood a safe distance away. The kids seemed to have affection for each other that was different from the kind I shared with my sister. I suppose it was because they were closer in age. My sister looked up to me, at times. I in turn looked out for her when I felt it was convenient. They did not seem to share it with their mother. She dismissed them and they scurried off. She said she'd give me a key when I came back to start two days later. I went home and told my mother that I got the job. She feigned a good deal of support in addition to her genuine surprise. She warned me that I might be biting off more than I could chew, but I brushed it off. For the moment, I was happy and gainfully employed even if it was as a woman and a nanny, and I was going to be working for a reputed bitch. I called up Kathleen and told her the good news. She congratulated me, and I asked her to go clothes shopping with me that evening. She took me up on it, and I met up with her after dinner. We headed to a department store, and she helped me pick out clothes she said would be appropriate. They were mostly slacks, but there were a few skirts that we picked out too. I chose some blouses and tops and got a girls jacket for when it rained. I wouldn't need one yet for when it was cold so I put it off until I saw what was in style. We picked out some shoes for me. Kathleen insisted I get some flats and sneakers. I was a little opposed thinking they weren't very professional without thinking about what profession I would really be working at. I said that I thought that heels were appropriate attire to Kathleen. She shook her head and asked, "Based on what?" "Well, when you see nanny's on TV or whatever, they're always in heels." "That's not real life. My nanny never wore heels in my house. She was running after my daughter. You don't wear heels to do something like that. This is real. You're not Fran Drescher trying to hookup with your boss, at least I think so." I smirked at her and said, "I'm buying the heels, I'll get some flats too. Just to be safe, but I know. I'll never put them on. "Just you wait," Kathleen retorted with a smile as I tried on a pair of flats. I found some I liked and brought my selections up to the register. As the cashier was ringing up my purchases, I began to realize how much I really needed the job. I could afford the clothes, but I was really blowing through my meager savings to get ready for this job. I realized that my first week at the Austin's would basically put me back to where I was before I bought my new wardrobe for the job. After I took my clothes to the car, I parted ways with Kathleen. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug as she said goodbye. I drove home and put my news clothes away for my coming workweek. I spent the next two days getting ready for my new job. I practiced making lunches. I read up on what kids were into these days and figured I could bluff the whole damn thing. I knew what Mrs. Austin expected from her children. She gave me a detailed list of what they were and were not permitted to do. I had it memorized. I had dealt with petulant customers at my last job, I was sure even spoiled children would be no different. When the first day of my new job came, I decided to get dressed the way I thought was appropriate. I shrugged off Kathleen's advice. I figured that although she had an illegal immigrant nanny, I was working for a higher class of employer despite being thought of as an illegal immigrant nanny as well. I put on a pair of nude pantyhose as well as a long skirt that Kathleen had helped me pick out. The skirt's hemline fell over my calves. I put on a blouse as well. I then put on a pair of 2-inch heels. Kathleen told me to wear flats or sneakers, but I wanted to make a good impression. I figured I could keep up with the kids in them. I ate breakfast and drove to the Austins to start my workday. I knocked on the door and was let in. Mrs. Austin promptly gave me a key to the house. I saw Mr. Austin walking around. He gave me a brief look and said hello in a loud voice that sort of intimidated me. He was clearly not that interested in me, a fact that gave Mrs. Austin visible relief. I wondered if I was chosen to be the Nanny because I was not the man's type not because of my fraudulent credentials. Mr. Austin left the house soon after. The children seemed to be waiting for him to leave before they exited their rooms. I was a little concerned about that. They seemed trained to not get in his way. I figured that he might be stressed in the morning and may have exhibited a sharp tongue towards his children in mornings past. He walked past his wife and me. He said goodbye to both of us in a curt manner. I was a little surprised to not be greeted a little more kindly by the man. I figured that it was not all bad. If I got a job with his company, I figured that he would definitely not recognize me at work given how little attention he paid to me. As the door closed behind the man, his children's doors opened slowly. They crept out of their bedrooms and into the kitchen. They sat at the island and waited patiently to be acknowledged. I was a bit freaked out by their behavior. This was not what I considered normal activity by children. I wondered if they were up to something or were just warped by their parents. I was certainly beginning to understand the negative comments about the family I had read, and I had not even seen anything that I would consider abusive behavior. I decided to try to break the ice with the kids. I was quite skilled at making breakfast. I had done it for myself when I went away to college. It was my favorite meal of the day, so I asked the kids what they wanted. They both clammed up and looked at their mother. She had not given me an instruction as to what they were to eat for breakfast. She looked at me and said, "Make them both a bowl of oatmeal." I nodded and got to work. It was not difficult. I had done it in haste. It's basically the least original breakfast one can make and the easiest that doesn't come in a box and get stuck in the toaster. I boiled water and went from there. There was only original oatmeal in the house, the most tasteless and healthy of all oatmeals. As I thought back to the meals that were approved for lunch, I realized that everything they were permitted to eat was healthy and lacking in sugar that didn't come from fruit. When I finished making it, I asked their mother, "Do the kids take sugar in it?" "No," she said in a forceful voice. I gave the kids their oatmeal and watched as they ate every bit of it. They did not seem to like it, but they did not dare to complain. Even the way they ate seemed odd. They ate like automatons. They took equal amounts on their spoons and carefully ate without getting any on their face, clothing or anywhere else but in their mouths. This was good for me, seeing as I didn't have to clean up anything but the plates. However, I could not help but feel that these weren't normal kids. I took the kids plates away. They did not move from their chairs. They were silent as I cleaned the plate and their mother sat next to them reading the paper. I watched Mrs. Austin's interaction with her children while I cleaned up the kitchen. She would occasionally utter something to them in an unemotional voice. I was struck because she was so detached from them. She gave them very little attention. I later came to conclude that she viewed them as anchors to her husband. She resented them more than a little for something that they bore no fault for. If she wanted someone to blame, she didn't have to look far, but I suppose it's always easier to blame someone else for your own mistakes. I finished and Mrs. Austin told me she was going to be leaving soon to help plan a charitable fundraiser. I acknowledged her and asked the children if they would like to do one of the activities that were permitted on the list their mother had given me. The kids hurried into what their mother called their training room. I followed behind them with my heels clicking on the hallway's hardwood floor. I looked at the room with a helpless feeling. There was a television with educational DVD's stacked in the entertainment unit beneath it. There was a barre for the girl and a violin for at least one of them. Given their age, I was shocked to see it. I doubted either one had the motor skills to make use of it in any meaningful way. I helped the kids set up at their art station and watched as they started to paint. I gave them as much encouragement as I could while I watched them make careful brush marks. I was surprised by how clean they were with it. This was not how I remembered being as a kid. I made a number of messes and was a little more free form when I painted or drew. I understood it later when they showed their pictures to their mom. Mrs. Austin judged the paintings like a critic. She criticized form and color selection. I came to conclude that the woman was insane. The kids finished after about two hours, and I headed into the other room and made them the lunch their mother approved. It was a fruit salad. I kind of felt that the kids were a little deprived given the limited choices they were given, but it was not my place to complain. Shortly after lunch, my feet started to hurt. I realized that heels were a stupid decision. Kathleen was right, I should have worn flats. I ended up massaging my feet and calves for a fruitless hour that night. It was a mistake I was careful not to repeat when I came back the next day. The next day was the first day of school for Beth. I helped her get ready in the morning. I made sure she dressed as her mother wanted, brushed her teeth and had her hair done neatly before I drove her to her school. Beth left the home with me after a brief kiss from her mother. As I drove her to the school, I kept looking at her in the backseat. I watched as she looked expressionless in my rearview mirror. I pulled up in front of her school and parked. I got out and opened the door for her. I walked her to the door and watched her walk in. I headed back to my car and then spent my day with her brother. I took Caleb to the park after lunch and let him run around. I got Mrs. Austin's permission to do it first because it was not on her list of pre-approved activities. I went and picked up Beth on the way back. She got in the car and immediately started to hold Caleb's hand. I took her home and helped her with her homework while her brother sat silently in a creepy way beside his mother. I made them dinner and headed home for the night after giving Mrs. Austin a listing of everything the two of them did or said that I was aware of. As detached as Mrs. Austin seemed emotionally from them, she had to know every detail of their lives. She had everything planned out. When I went back the next day, I asked her what she wanted from her kids. She paused and told me their futures. She had everything planned. Beth was in a private school that Caleb would join her at. They were then going to be in the most exclusive private schools in the area until they graduated high school. At that point, Mrs. Austin declared that her children would be going to Ivy League colleges and expected to graduate. Beth was to be a doctor. Mrs. Austin explained that it's a good profession for a woman. I always figured it was a good profession for anyone. Caleb was to get to a MBA and take over the family business. She considered that to be a man's domain apparently. I nodded my head at the woman and tended to Caleb, regretting that I ever asked her a question. As the weeks wore on at the Austins, I kept my conversations with Mrs. Austin to a minimum. I rarely saw Mr. Austin so no similar effort was required with him. I learned little about Mr. Austin. I should have been upset about that, but I often found myself without the time to be so when I was in his home. My home life was more about trying to get them off my mind. It was not easy. I found that the longer I worked there the more I liked the kids. I tried to avoid any attachment, but it just kept happening. I didn't have it in me to brush them off like their mother did. I think that's why I doted on them and tried to give them some level of affection. I felt as if I had to make up for what they were not getting from their parents. I'd see Caleb or Beth smile at me and it would make me happy that they liked having me around. They seemed genuinely saddened when I left every Friday. I was kind of sad to not see them for two days, but I needed my weekends. My two days off were critical. I was exhausted by the end of the week. I never realized how much went into rearing a kid. My mother caught on to that and kind of ragged on me about it. She said that I was making her look like a ball of energy. After my first two weeks were over, my mother came by to visit me on her lunch break. Mrs. Austin permitted me to have a single guest at a time so long as I did not abuse the privilege. I told Mrs. Austin that my mother was visiting me from the home country. My mother came in and hammed up an accent of her own. She gave me a wink as Mrs. Austin turned her back to us. We started to talk as I took care of the kids. My mother noticed their affinity towards me, which was more than mutual by that point. I noticed she was taken aback by our shared attachment. I believe that my mother did not think that I would take to the job, but I was proving her wrong before her eyes. She had an understandable worry about it. I can see things from her prospective. I mean if I were here, I would not be happy that the son that I put through college was working as a nanny. I don't think there are many women out there that would be really happy to have their son's going to work dressed like a woman. I understood her distress. Not only was her only son not acting like a man, I was enjoying it. I was fulfilled by it. She probably took it as a sign that I might not ever go back to the man I had been raised to be. My mother tried to hide it, but she couldn't. It was too much for her to conceal. She would never say a word about it, but her face said a lot. It was not the only thing she realized. She looked at Mrs. Austin's interaction with the kids. As close as I was them, she seemed as distant. When Mrs. Austin walked out of the room, she turned to me. She made sure no one else was within ear shot and said, "Do you notice anything odd about your employer and her kids?" "Yes, they're distant." "That's not right. You should try to do something." I shook my head at her and said, "It's not my place. I'm an employee. Would you like someone who worked under you telling you how to raise your kids?" My mother shook her head and understood my delicate situation. As much as she wanted me out of the job, I know that she did not want me to leave on terms other than my own. She wanted me to make the decision to become a working man once more. After lunch, my mother left to go back to work. Her suggestion gnawed at me a little. As much as I didn't want to lose the job, I figured I owed it to the kids to at least try to help their relationship with their parents. I went to Mrs. Austin and asked to talk. I tried to breach the subject the delicately, but I was shot down. She spoke down to me in a stern manner. She told me I had to know my place, had no right to criticize her parenting and should never bring it up with her again. That was all she would say on the matter. When Mr. Austin came home that evening, I approached him about it. He was more willing to talk about it. Mr. Austin explained that he was trying to toughen up his son. I tried to tell him there were other ways, but he did not want to hear it. It was how he was raised, so he figured it would work for his son too. I understood that I was not going to change anything there. I left for home that day a little beat by the fact. I had to accept there was only so much I could do. The following week, while I was playing with the kids, my cell phone rang. I did not answer it, but I heard that a message was left. After Mrs. Austin came back from a lunch with her friends, I stepped out the door and listened to the message. It was a call from Mr. Austin's company. They were looking for me to come down for an interview. They liked me so much from my first interview with the job that I was one of three finalist for the new opening. I was torn about going. I could get the time off, but I wasn't sure that I wanted the job. It would be a simple office job. It was far more monotonous than being a nanny, but it offered better pay and a return to my old life. That was pulling me towards the interview. I knew my mother would be happier if I got the job. I knew that my life would be somewhat more predicable. I would have a return to normalcy. I would go to work in boxers instead of panties or hosiery. I would be in suits again. I was not sure it was worth it though. Breaking the oral deal was no big thing. Roberta Garcia could disappear, and the Austin's would never find her to hold her to her word. Still, it meant abandoning Caleb and Beth. I could already feel the hurt I would cause by leaving them if I got the job. I didn't know what type of nanny they'd bring in next. I had no way to know if she would give them the attention they needed. I had very little faith in the Austins to do right by them. I mulled it all over as I stared at my cell phone. I called the company and politely told them that I was no longer interested in their job opportunity. I hung up and headed back into the Austins' house. Caleb and Beth pulled me over to show me what they drew as their mother gave us all a disinterested look as she peered up from her fashion magazine. I looked at the kids pictures and gave them a hug and complemented their work. Their smiles made me realize I had made the right choice.