He thought it odd that such a proper woman would conduct an interview in the kitchen of her home, rather than the sitting room – or even the dining room, for that matter. The kitchen was elegant, of course, but he concluded that therefore the rest of the house could only be nicer. Why interview him in the kitchen? It wasn't as though she would offer refreshments.
Her long, fake nails, painted crimson, scratched against the crisp surface of his résumé, which only took up about half a sheet of paper. “How old are you, boy?”
“Nineteen, ma'am.”
She didn't look up, yet he could feel her eyes on him, boring into his soul. “Oh, a rather young one. No university for you?”
“Can't afford it, ma'am.”
“Ah, but surely with your good grades, you could get in on a scholarship.”
He laughed. “Actually, my marks were, let's say, less-than-average.”
“And why is that?”
“Oh, I'm not stupid. I just didn't try.”
“That sounds pretty stupid to me.”
“All right,” he quietly replied.
When she did finally look up at him, he was far less frightened than he thought he would be. She was only a human, after all. In fact, she had that same maternal softness to her eyes that his own mother had. It calmed him. It gave him back his confidence.
“Why should I hire you?”
“Ma'am, I'm the oldest of five, and my parents are both very hard-working people. Not only have I inherited their work ethic, I've also babysat a lot.”
“You've watched your own brothers and sisters. How about anyone else's children?”
“Well, no, but – well, children are children, right?”
“Right,” she said with obvious sarcasm, “children are children.”
“So, do I have the job?”
She was silent for a long time. “You know, I have a nineteen-year-old boy as well.”
“Why not have him do the work, then?” he asked in jest. She did not laugh.
“He is furthering his education.”
“Oh. That's good. You should be proud.”
She returned to him the résumé. At first he thought it was a bad sign. Unfortunately, this woman never seemed to show any emotion, so he couldn't really tell. “You start tomorrow. I want you here at six a.m., no later.”
Five minutes after the mother – who had demanded that he refer to her only as Mrs. B. – had left, he realized he was in way over his head. And the children weren't even awake yet.
Mrs. B. had left him a rather long and intricate list of things which needed to be done around the house. There were the basics, like feed the children and make sure neither of them dies, but there were also a few extraordinary tasks, such as:
Ensure Claudia practices piano between one and three o'clock. She must practice for ten minutes, rest for three, and repeat.
While Claudia practices, Dylan must fold the laundry in the green basket to the left of the washing machine. He is to fold in this order: shirts, then pants, socks, undergarments.
He didn't feel overwhelmed, though. He thought that while these demands were odd, they should be easy enough to accomplish.
He was wrong.
Claudia woke up first, came downstairs, and screamed when she saw him – him, a strange man she never knew, lounging in their sitting room and plotting to kidnap her or kill her or something, and loot all their valuables and sell them for drug money. At least, that was what she hollered at him as he stood in a panic, waving his hands to quiet her so he could explain. She did not stop yelling for a good ten minutes.
But he had no time to explain when she did stop, for the noise had woken Dylan. Dylan, in all of his bravery, had grabbed the toy sword that sat on top of his toy chest in the corner of his room and had gallantly come down the stairs to save his younger sister. Dylan was only eight years old, only four feet tall, yet he did not seem threatened by the six-foot-two man in the sitting room. He ran right up to the stranger and whacked him in the knees with the sword, causing the man to fall to the ground.
“Who be thee, monstrous intruder?” Dylan had the sword pointed at the man's neck now.
“I'm your nanny, I'm here to watch you guys. Jesus Christ!”
“What?” giggled Claudia. With brave Dylan by her side, her fears seemed to have disappeared. “A nanny? But you're a boy!”
“Boys can be nannies, too,” the man said. “Now, will you stop shoving that thing at my throat so I can get up?”
“Why should we believe you?” Dylan asked.
“Your mother hired me yesterday. Look, she even wrote me a list of things for you guys to do.”
He pointed at the chair he had been sitting in. On the seat was the list. Claudia bounced over and grabbed the paper. She held it up to her face.
“Chuh-er-is, th-ease-e ah-r-e s-oh-me th-in-guhs th-ah-tuh–”
“Give me that, you can't read!” Dylan shouted. He leaped to his sister, allowing Chuh-er-is to stand and rub his sore knees. “Kuh,” Dylan corrected, shooting a smug look at Claudia, “ris, these are suh-um thuh-ings that nee – need to bee...”
While Dylan continued to butcher the words (though to a lesser extent than Claudia had), Kuhris seized the opportunity to sneak up behind Dylan and slide the toy sword out of his hands. Claudia shrieked when she saw.
“Dylan, he's got your sword!! We're going to die!!”
“No one's going to die,” Kuhris reassured her. “Will you please settle down?”
“How do you know that no one's going to die?” Claudia asked. He couldn't tell if she was serious or if she was trying to mock him. “Are you psychic?”
“I'm not psychic, but one of the things your mother told me was to make sure that neither of you die. And I fully intend to do my job and do it well. So, no one's going to die.”
“What if you die?” Dylan asked. He consulted the list still in his hands. “This doesn't say anything about you not dying.”
“I'm not going to die, either,” Kuhris answered, though he wasn't entirely convinced.
At lunch, Claudia refused to finish her food, and Dylan threw half of his onto the floor.
“I hate macaroni and cheese!” Claudia screeched. “I hate it!”
Chris thought of all the things he hated as well (platform shoes, contemporary jazz, the way his neighbor always added extra letters to the word 'hello') and how Claudia was very rapidly making her way to the top of that list. But he kept it to himself and shoved the plate closer to Claudia.
“I don’t care if you hate it, I don’t care if your grandmother choked to death on a piece of macaroni when you were three, you’re going to eat this,” he told her. Claudia looked up at him with teary eyes, her lips trembling slightly.
“Why would you say that about Grammy?”
“Oh, geez, Claudia, I just want you to finish eating. Look at your brother, he—”
Chris had intended to point to Dylan – who, until that moment, had been satisfactorily eating his lunch – and turn his currently good behavior into an example for Claudia He had been relying heavily on Claudia’s admiration for her older brother; unfortunately, Dylan had other plans, plans which involved knocking his own plate (still half-full with macaroni) off of the table.
After the clinking sound of plate-on-floor ceased, Dylan smirked at Chris. Chris sighed and threw a hand over his eyes. A few moments later, he leaned over to observe Dylan’s fallen macaroni, and then calmly sat up straight.
“All right, Dylan, looks like you’ll be eating the rest of your lunch on the floor.”
“What?” Dylan protested. “No way, you can’t make me eat that! It’s all gross, I’ll die from it!”
“The floor isn’t that dirty. And anyway, you should have thought about that before you threw it.”
“You’re mean,” Dylan said, folding his arms over his chest. He made a point of not moving down from the seat to where his lunch now rested. Chris stared at him, hoping that his expression was intimidating enough.
It wasn’t.
“Fine,” Chris eventually said, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. Neither of you have to finish eating.” Claudia and Dylan were preparing their shouts of glee, Chris could tell. “But you both have to sit in the coat closet until one o’clock. And then, Claudia, you have to practice piano, and Dylan has to fold clothes.”
“No!” they both shouted.
“That’s so boring,” Dylan whined.
“The closet is too dark and scary!”
“It’s either that or finish eating,” Chris said. The two children looked at him indecisively, then at each other. They seemed to be conversing telepathically.
After a moment, Claudia turned back to Chris. “Actually, it's not that dark, and Dylan will protect me from all the closet monsters. Right, Dylan?”
“I guess.”
Chris stared at the children with disbelief. They had to be joking, surely. What kind of child in their right mind would rather spend half an hour or better stuck inside of a closet than eat a tiny bit of macaroni? “Seriously?”
Then again, Chris could hardly say that either of the children was in their right mind. Honestly, he had been relieved when he got the job, but now he was beginning to see a potential reason why; Mrs. B. must have just been desperate to find someone else to watch her children, so desperate she would settle for hiring a nineteen-year-old boy with hardly any experience. He started to think that maybe he should have just taken that job at the convenience store.
“I hate macaroni,” Claudia said.
Chris felt like he was going to pass out. Not only had the children been extremely difficult – Dylan refused to fold the clothes in the correct order, and Claudia wouldn't stop banging on the piano – but he had now been at the house for fifteen hours straight.
Luckily, it was the children's bedtime. Chris thought it would have been harder to get them both to sleep, but he wasn't the only one who was tired. Claudia fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down. Dylan appeared to be wide awake still, though Chris decided that as long as his sister was asleep, Dylan didn't seem to pose much of a threat.
He sat down on the couch in the living room and took a deep breath. If he was expected to do this kind of work every day... well, Mrs. B. might just have to find another nanny. Chris felt a wave of guilt at the thought of quitting after only one day, but surely Mrs. B. must have known just how awful her children really were. Or maybe they had inherited their personalities from their mother.
Chris closed his eyes, though he remained awake. An indeterminable amount of time later, he thought he heard the sound of the doorknob turning. His heart sped up with rejoice as he wondered if Mrs. B. had finally returned home and would relieve him of his duty.
The figure that burst through the door moments later was certainly no Mrs. B., though. In fact, it wasn't a Mrs. at all; the man who Chris saw in the doorway looked very young, possibly even the same age as Chris.
“Who are you?” Chris could hear the panic in his own voice. He knew that the question sounded awkward, but he hadn't thought about it beforehand. He was just worried now at the sight of this unknown man walking into the home he was supposed to be watching over.
The man looked up at him, and Chris thought he saw an equally startled look across his face. “Well, I could ask you the same thing. I live here. Who the hell are you?”
“You live here?”
“Yes, idiot, I just said that. Who the hell are you?”
Chris's eyes widened and he suddenly felt livid. Did this man just seriously call him an idiot? He had absolutely no right to sling such insults, considering he didn't even know Chris.
“Mrs. B. hired me to watch her children—”
“Oh, so you're one of them, then,” the man said, dismissively. While the man seemed to have gotten his answer, though, Chris felt cheated. The man made to walk into the other room, but Chris stopped him.
“And who are you, then?” he asked, his tone snippier than he would have liked. The man stopped and dramatically turned around, an action which, oddly, reminded Chris of Claudia.
“Listen, when she hired you to watch her children, she meant them,” he said, pointing to the area of the ceiling where the children's bedroom was located. “I don't need you to watch over me, too.”
Chris felt very confused – until he remembered something that Mrs. B. had said to him the day before:
You know, I have a nineteen-year-old boy as well.
“You're the college boy.”
This statement seemed to spark an unexpected anger in the other man. “I attend university, yes. That doesn't make me a college boy.” He spat the words, as if Chris had referred to him with some unforgivable slur.
“I'm sorry,” Chris said, sincerely, “I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that your mother told me you were in college. I'm sorry.”
The man's anger washed away at Chris's apology. “It's OK.”
“I'm Chris, by the way.”
“Jonny.” He looked around the room, briefly, and Chris thought his cheeks were flushed. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his earlier outburst. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Um...”
“I mean, like water or soda or something. I may be in college, but I'm not much of a partyer or anything.”
“No, yeah,” Chris said, nodding. “I'm fine, thanks.”
He found himself once more surprised as Jonny made his way over to the couch and sat down beside him. He thought Jonny would have just gone on to the kitchen to get a drink without him, but apparently he was wrong.
“So, this is your first day with the brats?”
“First day, yeah.”
“And last?”
Chris looked at Jonny. As his tone had suggested, Jonny seemed to be pleading with Chris through his eyes, begging Chris to answer in the negative. The expression made him feel slightly uncomfortable, though, strangely, not in an entirely undesirable way.
“I really need the money,” Chris said. Jonny smiled at this.
“Most of the people my mum hires only stay for about a week, then they leave, screaming and ripping their hair out.”
“Well, your brother and sister are certainly a handful,” Chris laughed. “How is it that you've managed to keep your locks in tact?”
“I don't have to watch them,” Jonny told him. “I don't really have to have anything to do with them. And I'm nineteen. By the time Claudia could talk, I was practically an adult.”
“Oh.”
“But you should see my dad. I swear, the man's got a bald spot the size of London.” Chris laughed as Jonny motioned to the top of his head.
Despite Jonny's earlier similarity to his sister and the bit of attitude he had given Chris, Jonny was really nothing like either of his siblings. First of all, he was actually tolerable. Excluding the complaints about his siblings, Jonny didn't even whine once during the whole conversation. He was easy to get along with, at least from Chris's point of view. Chris found himself becoming more and more relaxed as the night went on.
Chris and Jonny had been talking for what felt like hours – and what technically was hours; two whole hours, in fact – when the sound of the doorknob turning came once again. This time, Mrs. B. really was the one at the door. She smiled when she saw her eldest son before her.
“Hello, Jonny!”
“Hey, mum,” Jonny answered.
“I see you met the new help,” she said as she made her way across the room. Chris noticed the harsh look Jonny gave her afterward, which he thought was peculiar. “How were they for you?”
Chris just barely realized that she was speaking to him now (and he figured that she had not properly addressed him, because she couldn't remember his name). He tore his gaze away from Jonny and stumbled over the decision of whether or not to tell her the truth.
“Could have been better,” he said with a shrug. “And... well, I guess they also could have been worse.”
“Doubt it,” Jonny muttered. Mrs. B. appeared not to have heard it, but the remark was only just audible to Chris, who then stifled a laugh.
“Good, good. I'm just going to freshen up in the ladies' room. I'll leave you two to your chat.”
Chris watched as Mrs. B. exited the room, and then he turned to Jonny again. Jonny had his embarrassed look on.
“So, what were you saying before? Something about a band...”
Jonny's expression turned to a pensive one. Then he seemed to remember where he had left off. “Oh! One of my friends says he wants to start a band, but... I don't really see it happening. I think it's just another one of his harebrained schemes.”
“Aw, what a shame. You should join him. You two could rise to fame and take on the world.”
Jonny gave a look which indicated how unlikely he thought that to happen, and Chris smiled. He felt like he had hardly stopped smiling during the past two hours, though. He wondered how his cheeks weren't sore.
Then Jonny's voice took on a rather serious tone. First, his face went blank and he leaned forward a little. “Listen, Chris...”
“I'm all ears,” Chris told him. He waited for several seconds before Jonny finally continued.
“Never mind. It's... it's too soon.”
“No, come on. You can tell me.”
Jonny let out a sigh. “I can't tell you, otherwise I may as well just do it.”
“Then do it.”
He shot Chris a skeptical look. “You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?” Chris shook his head, the most innocent expression on his face. He wasn't sure why Jonny was suddenly so somber, but he was certain that whatever he had to say couldn't have been so bad.
After a while, though, Chris realized he wasn't going to get Jonny to speak. He became suddenly all too aware of his tiredness. “Well, I guess I should get going home, then.”
Jonny didn't reply. Chris walked out of the room and towards the coat closet. He wasn't sure where Mrs. B. was exactly, but he didn't feel like looking for her to bid farewell. She could probably figure out for herself that he had left.
When Chris walked back through the living room, Jonny was exactly where he had left him, sitting on the couch. It wasn't until Chris was already out of the house that he became aware of any movement at all from Jonny.
“Chris, wait.”
Chris pulled his foot back from the top step and turned around to see Jonny on the other side of the porch, in front of the door. He didn't know if he should walk back to Jonny or just stay where he was. Jonny, on the other hand, took several steps forward, until he and Chris were within a foot of each other. He seemed nervous.
“Same time tomorrow?”
Chris smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah.”
There were a few moments of silence – comfortable silence, not awkward, though Chris could tell that Jonny was still anxious. Jonny's foot tapped on the ground a few times, as if he were willing himself to move forward. Why he would want to move forward, Chris couldn't guess, since there was almost no room between them even now—
In what felt like the blink of an eye, Jonny finally pushed himself forward, his lips crashing into Chris's cheek, and quickly he pulled back again, and Chris could see the fear flash through Jonny's eyes, and the somber nervousness suddenly made sense.
And then Jonny was gone, disappeared through the door before Chris could even really register what had just happened...
What had just happened?
Chris tried very hard the next day to forget about the incident on the porch. He wasn't trying to act as if it hadn't happened, though; he still did not fully understand what Jonny did, and he really did not need any stress additional to that associated with caring for Claudia and Dylan. He simply wanted to focus on watching the children and wait until Jonny returned that night to dwell.
The children had new chores this day. Now, Dylan was to practice piano and Claudia was to dust the living room. Like the day before, neither cooperated. Dylan ran his hands up and down the keys constantly, refusing to actually play any of the sheet music in front of him. Claudia simply skipped around the room with the duster in her hand, pretending to be a fairy. When Chris asked her to stop, she tried to dust his face instead.
“Claudia, knock it off!” Chris shouted through the duster, before he could think of his own diction.
“Knock what off? Knock this vase off?”
Claudia moved across the room, and Chris could finally see again. But now he panicked – he had never gotten the hang of wording commands correctly around children, and now his lack of talent was going to cause him big trouble.
Luckily, Chris managed to grab Claudia's wrist before she could even touch the vase sitting on a table in the corner of the room.
“That's it, you're going in the closet.”
“What! No!”
Immediately, Claudia calmed. Her arms fell to her sides and she looked solemnly at Chris.
“Well, if you can't behave yourself, then you're going to be punished.”
“What about Dylan?” Claudia asked with a bit of hope. “He's not behaving, either! He should have to go in the closet, too.”
“Dylan hasn't tried to break anything,” Chris answered. “Yet.”
“But it's really scary in there.”
“Good.”
Claudia looked as if she were about to cry, her eyes shining and her lips trembling. She seemed genuinely afraid, not simply trying to manipulate Chris, but it had no effect wither way. Chris had to stick to his threat or else she'd never learn.
He grabbed her wrist again and led her to the closet. He realized that some people may have frowned upon forcing a six-year-old to sit in a dark closet as a punishment, but he merely thought of it as a time-out. There was just no other room in the house in which the children would not have access to items they could play with – or break.
He did feel guilty when he closed the closet door and heard Claudia whimper, but he knew it was for the best.
After the children went to bed, Chris sat on the couch as he had the night before. He stared at the front door, waiting for it to open and reveal Jonny. As the minutes passed, the burning sensation in his stomach intensified and his chest seemed to tighten with every breath.
But Jonny never showed up. Chris waited for two hours, and when the door did finally open, he was disappointed to see that Mrs. B. was the one entering the house. She came in and greeted Chris, inquired about how the children had behaved that day. Chris told her about Claudia's disobedience, but Mrs. B. hardly seemed to honestly care.
He did think it curious that she also didn't care about Jonny's whereabouts; perhaps she already knew where he was, or perhaps he stayed out late quite often. He was an adult, after all.
Ten minutes later, once Mrs. B. terminated their conversation about her children, Chris grabbed his coat from the dark closet and prepared to leave. Maybe he would have the chance to speak to Jonny tomorrow instead. At least now he knew that no matter what Jonny's intentions had been, he clearly regretted his actions. Chris wasn't so sure that was a good thing, though.
An owl hooted in the distance as he closed the door to the house behind him. He slowly turned, and that's when he noticed the man sitting on the porch swing to his left. The man was mostly just a silhouette, but Chris knew exactly who he was. He looked like he was trying to blend into the darkness.
“Hello,” Chris said in a flat voice. Jonny didn't look at him.
“Oh... hey... It's a nice night out, huh?”
Despite his tiredness, Chris walked around to the empty space on the swing beside Jonny and sat down. He let out a deep sigh and stared with Jonny into the dark lawn before them. Jonny was fidgeting, though it seemed like he was trying his best not to.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Jonny groaned, and his head fell into his hands. Chris turned to him. He thought of what he could say next, but he wanted to give Jonny plenty of time to speak first. Jonny didn't seem to have any intention of speaking, though. Maybe he was waiting for Chris's reaction, the reaction which he had missed the night before.
“Jonny?”
“I always do this, you know,” Jonny mumbled through his hands. “I always do things without thinking about them first – well, I think about them, but not about what comes after, and then I just... well, what does come after is just...” He made another groaning noise, though this time it more closely resembled a whine.
“So... you didn't mean it or...?”
“No, I did mean it, that's the problem!” Jonny finally lifted his head and met Chris's eyes, continuing in his distressed tone, “Listen, Chris, I had a really great time talking with you last night and you're hilarious and all those other predictable compliments. But I'm a complete idiot. There was absolutely no reason for me to... to kiss you. Even if it was only on the cheek.”
Chris watched Jonny for a while, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I'm not sure I understand. You meant it?”
“Yeah, but that doesn't mean I should have done it!”
“Well, you don't have to sound so upset about it,” Chris said with a sudden dejected quality to his voice. Though he now better understood why Jonny had kissed him, he still struggled to comprehend Jonny's reaction. Had Jonny changed his mind?
That was probably it. Jonny had felt attracted to Chris, but then once he actually kissed Chris, he realized that his expectations had not been met – or something along those lines. Chris frowned; he felt that was highly unfair. They hadn't even properly kissed. What was there for Jonny to judge?
“I'm sorry,” Jonny said. “I'm an idiot, I know.”
Then Chris simulated Jonny's earlier words by acting without thinking of the consequences; he quickly leaned forward and kissed Jonny on the lips. Jonny was clearly startled, but after a few seconds he started to kiss back.
Chris was apt to say that it was strange, but really it was only strange, because it didn't feel strange. He had never kissed another man, but it felt no different from kissing a woman. He thought he might have just stumbled upon an unexpected discovery regarding his sexuality – but there was plenty of time to worry about that later.
When they pulled apart, the confusion that Chris had felt earlier (and would probably soon begin to feel again) was clearly strewn across Jonny's visage.
“I certainly didn't expect that,” Jonny murmured.
“I just thought that if you were going to reject me, you might as well know what it actually feels like.” Chris wasn't sure if he had made much sense with that statement, but it seemed to spark something in Jonny's mind, judging by the way his eyes lit up.
“I wasn't rejecting you.”
“You weren't?”
Jonny rubbed one of his hands over his forehead. “I feel like neither of us is being very clear about anything in this situation.” After a moment, he let his hand fall down to his legs and took a deep breath. “Chris, I really enjoyed talking to you last night and I was sad that you were leaving, because I wanted to talk to you more and maybe do some other things, too, and that's why I kissed you, but I'm an idiot, because we barely know each other to begin with and I had and still have no idea how you feel about me, so I was just apologizing for not considering your feelings before, but not rejecting you.”
Chris stared at him for a few seconds, and then gasped a little. “Oh, is it my turn now? Right. Jonny, I really enjoyed talking to you last night as well, but then when you kissed me I felt really confused, because I didn't realize that you felt that way and I actually wasn't sure exactly which way you did feel and then you apologized and said there was no reason for you to do it and I just thought that it was because you thought it was awful or something, but it wasn't even proper, so I figured that I would show you what it was like to properly kiss me and then you could reject me based on that. I'm not sure how I feel about you, either. Before the kiss was one thing, but now...”
“Maybe for now, we should just talk. Get to know each other better.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, smiling a little. “I'd like that.”
Chris stood in the doorway of Claudia and Dylan’s bedroom. Thinking back on the day, he was surprised to find that not once had he needed to punish either of the children. They had both been extremely well-behaved, never acting out or arguing with Chris, just doing exactly as he asked.
Now, the children lay in their beds, staring back at Chris. Once they were both settled, Chris flicked the light switch and said goodnight.
“Goodnight, Chris!” the children chirped back. Chris briefly wondered if this moment wasn’t simply part of a dream; then he left the room, smiling, headed downstairs to wait for Jonny.
Chris had been working for Mrs. B. for a month now. Jonny told him that was the longest anyone had ever stayed. Chris felt a rush of pride at hearing this information. Although Claudia and Dylan were a nightmare when he first arrived, the two had really grown on him, and he was pretty sure he’d grown on them as well.
And, of course, every day he looked forward to talking with Jonny. They hadn’t discussed their relationship since that second night, but Chris had a feeling that Jonny was still attracted to him, and to be honest, Chris was attracted to Jonny as well. He thoroughly enjoyed their nightly chats, but he felt now that he was ready for more. The only obstacle was tackling the nerve to tell Jonny this.
Jonny was already waiting for Chris on the couch when Chris finally arrived downstairs. He didn’t seem to hear Chris enter the room, though, so Chris smiled to himself and snuck up behind Jonny.
He waited for a few seconds, and then quickly reached around and covered Jonny’s eyes with his hands and said, “Guess who?”
“Oh my God!”
Clearly, Chris had been right in thinking Jonny hadn’t noticed he was there. Chris kept his hands over Jonny’s eyes and chuckled. “God? Jonny, I’m flattered, but no.”
“Well, you took away my eyesight, I could only assume you were some divine being,” Jonny said. “By the way, can I have that back now?”
“Hmm… maybe. What’s in it for me?”
“I do have my own hands, you know. I could easily remove yours.” Chris took note of the fact that while Jonny could, he didn’t. He smiled again and slowly pulled his hands away, and then leaned over Jonny’s shoulder to see his face.
“Better?” he asked. Jonny looked at him.
“Yeah.”
“You're back kinda early tonight, huh?”
“Traffic,” Jonny replied.
“You mean there wasn't any?” Jonny nodded. “Are you sure you didn't just want to see me?”
“Well...”
Chris walked around the side of the couch and flopped down in the seat beside Jonny. “Your siblings were well-behaved today.”
“I don't think I've ever heard those words uttered before in my life – at least, not when directed at me,” Jonny said, smiling. “You must be some sort of miracle worker, Chris.”
“Yes, well, just because I'm not God doesn't mean I can't have some divine powers, right?”
Jonny rolled his eyes. “Oh, right, you just reek divinity, you know, from those huge sparkling eyes to those golden curls.” Jonny flicked a lock of Chris's hair. Sometimes Chris thought that moments like this were nice enough by themselves – did he and Jonny really need to declare anything to each other? Their feelings were obviously mutual.
“Well, what about you?” Chris asked. “You've got those green eyes... I never see anyone with green eyes around.”
“Green eyes are a sign of witchcraft,” Jonny said. “Clearly satanic.”
“So, I'm divine and you're satanic? That's quite a match.”
“It's like you're some sort of angel and I'm just a lowly wizard.”
“No, I don't think you're lowly.”
Chris felt a burning in his throat; it seemed as though he and Jonny were moving closer to each other with every second that passed. His heartbeat sped up and he thought this might be the perfect time to gather up his courage.
But at that precise moment, a noise came from the stairway. Chris and Jonny whipped their heads around to look; there were no visible bodies at the top of the stairs, but the two men could hear a noise which distinctly sounded like Claudia giggling.
Chris exchanged a glance with Jonny. He turned back to the staircase and loudly said, “Claudia.”
The giggling only grew louder. Chris was about to stand up when he noticed that Jonny was already making his way up the stairs. Chris decided to follow him anyway.
When they both reached the second floor of the house, though, Claudia was nowhere in sight. Jonny walked to the doorway of the children's bedroom.
“Claudia?” he whispered.
“Jonny?”
“Go to bed, Claudia.”
“Wait, Jonny!”
Chris stood a few feet away from the door frame. He heard several muffled noises which he thought might have sounded like feet on carpet; several seconds later, Claudia appeared in the doorway and threw her arms around Jonny's waist. Then, without saying another word, she disappeared once more into the darkness of the bedroom.
Jonny turned to Chris, looking as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what to say. At the very least, he seemed surprised by Claudia's actions. Chris smiled at him as if to say that it was all right. Eventually, Jonny simply shrugged and nodded toward the stairs. The two men returned to the couch.
As usual, Chris and Jonny spoke for roughly two hours before Mrs. B. returned. Chris told her about how well the children had behaved, but she didn’t appear to be truly listening. He thought maybe there should be someone watching Mrs. B. and her parenting methods as well as her children, although she had managed to raise at least one respectable son.
Jonny rolled his eyes as his mother left the room, and Chris laughed. “If she came home one night and you told her that Dylan went on a shooting rampage at the park,” Jonny said, “I bet you she’d just nod and say, ‘All right.’”
“Probably.” Chris stood up, but hesitated to move further. “I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, he returned with his coat, pushing his arms through the sleeves. Jonny stood now, too, and he walked towards the front door, which he then held open for Chris.
Once Chris was on the porch, he turned and waited for Jonny, who closed the door and faced Chris. Jonny seemed to expect Chris to speak first, perhaps because he, like Chris, felt no desire to bid the other farewell. Chris didn’t even feel tired; after spending so many days working long hours, he had become accustomed to staying up late. All he wanted to do was talk to Jonny until the sun rose and he had to watch the children again.
Chris was unsure of how much time lapsed while they both just stood and stared at one another. It felt like no time at all, though he was vaguely aware of the minutes rapidly passing by. He had so much he wanted to say, but none of the time or bravery to say it. He had so much he wanted to hear Jonny say, but he figured that he and Jonny were probably stuck in the same boat. He suddenly became aware that he was tapping his foot, in very much the same way Jonny had done that first night they met…
Something sparked a fire inside his body, and he felt himself move forward without any consciousness of what he was doing. But once he felt his lips brush against Jonny’s, his mind went blank and he found the he simply didn’t care what he was doing anymore; this was the moment he’d been waiting for all night, if not for the past several weeks.
Jonny didn’t hesitate. As soon as Chris kissed him, he had his arms wrapped around Chris’s waist, pulling him closer. Chris slid his hands up to Jonny’s neck, fingertips brushing the ends of Jonny’s hair.
As they finally pulled apart, Chris whispered, breathless, “Same time tomorrow?”
Claudia poked at the peanut butter sandwich on the plate in front of her. Despite her request of a crust-less sandwich, Chris had left the bread completely in tact. He stood on the other side of the counter, preparing another sandwich for Dylan. He paused, butter knife hanging in the air, and stared at Claudia.
“You're supposed to eat it,” he said. “Not poke it.”
“You were supposed to leave the crust off,” she retorted.
“Eating the crust won't kill you. It's good for you.”
A few off-key notes rang out from the piano in the other room. Chris glanced at the doorway.
“Dylan, stop messing around,” he shouted. Moments later, the small boy appeared in the doorway, hands behind his back.
“I wasn't doing anything,” he said with a slight smirk, which gave him away.
“Well, now you are. Come over here and eat.” Chris slapped a piece of bread on top of the one which he had already slathered peanut butter on. He was never much of a cook, really.
Dylan hopped up to the seat beside his sister. Unlike Claudia, Dylan was much more willing to eat the crust from the bread. He tore into the sandwich with a vicious jerk of his head that made Chris glad he hadn't put anything in the sandwich which could fly across the room. If he had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he'd have quite a mess to clean up.
“Chris,” Claudia began, still looking at her sandwich with distaste, “I think my brother likes you.”
Chris paused. He had, until that moment, been returning the jar of peanut butter to its rightful place and was right in the middle of setting the butter knife in the sink. “What?”
He turned. Claudia poked at her sandwich. She shrugged, indifferent. “Jonny was home all weekend from school and all he talked about was you. He only does that with boys he likes.”
“Well, all right. That's kind of... that came out of nowhere.” Chris finished his previous task. He thought about washing the butter knife while he was right there, but then decided against it. They would have another snack in a few hours, anyway. He walked over to the counter.
“I was just thinking about how sad it would be if you were together and you made him a sandwich. He doesn't like crust either.”
“Well, I'll keep that in mind.”
With this, Claudia perked up in her seat. She narrowed her eyes and smirked at Chris. “Do you like him?”
“I-”
She squealed. Loudly. Chris almost flung his hands over his hears in response. “You do!” she cried, and then proceeded to sing. “CHRIS AND JONNY SITTING IN A TREE–”
Dylan decided, with a mouth full of sandwich, that this would be an appropriate moment to join in. The children's voices rang through the room, echoing off the walls and into Chris's ears. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
“Oh, my God.” Chris buried his head in his hands. He sincerely hoped that this serenade would be over soon enough.
When Jonny first came home, he and Chris sat on the couch and talked, something they did every night. Jonny spoke about his classes that day, and Chris told the story of the lunchtime singing session. Jonny looked slightly embarrassed afterward, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes, making a comment about how typical that was of his siblings.
An hour and a half later, they were no longer conversing, at least not in the conventional way. Occasionally, a low grunt would rumble through vocal chords – a gasp for air heard every so often. Hands spoke more than words could, fingertips brushing over bare skin. Neither laid on the couch, but their positions were far from sitting; Jonny's back pressed in between the back of the couch and the arm rest as Chris leaned into him.
They broke apart momentarily for air, during which time Chris took the liberty to slide his hand further under the hem of Jonny's shirt. He wasn't sure where exactly they were going with this, how far they would end up going, but he acted on instinct and decided to just follow along until something felt uncomfortable. His fingers skimmed over the slight patch of hair on Jonny's stomach as they continued to travel up.
Chris caught the look glimmering in Jonny's eyes, which seemed to be pleading, begging for more. They brought their mouths together again, each frantically fighting for the upper hand, just as Chris's hand stopped. It rested over one of Jonny's ribs, as far as Chris could reach without being in an awkward and probably painful position.
It was strange for Chris to think about how natural being with Jonny felt. He was well aware – especially with their bodies pressed together as they were now – that Jonny was not a girl, like he was used to, yet not one ounce of his person seemed to care, body or mind. True, he had thought about it and had come to the conclusion that if Jonny actually were a girl, he might like him (or her) even more, but that didn't stop his heart from racing whenever the other boy was near, when they just sat on the couch talking and their hands brushed.
Jonny was exciting, and funny, adorable, honest, and he made Chris feel like he had never felt before. Though Chris was the oldest in his family and therefore the only one of the children who had ever experienced what it was like to be an only child, the title hadn't lasted long at all, and he had spent almost his entire life surrounded by siblings who needed just as much attention as he did. He never went to a private school, as he assumed Jonny probably had; he had gone to a public school with far too many children, the classes filled with thirty or more students. Chris was used to being only one of many.
But Jonny had a way of making Chris feel, as cheesy as he knew it sounded, like he was the only other person in the world. He could have gone without the attention, but it created this connection between them which Chris decided, in his youthfulness, he never wanted to give up.
And so, as they rested, making out on the couch, Chris never even considered the fact that they were in a rather public area of the house. Neither boy considered the possibility of Mrs. B. returning home half an hour earlier than her usual time, only to find that her nanny was practically lying on top of her son. They only just heard the sound of Mrs. B. clearing her throat as she stood in the doorway.
They broke apart again, now for a much longer span of time. Chris sat back, though he did not turn his eyes away from Jonny. He could tell already that the situation was no good.
“I cannot believe this,” Mrs. B. said in an unusually calm tone. Chris had thought she might flip completely and start throwing at him any random objects within close proximity, but such was not the case. She was clearly angry, but as Chris kept his gaze on a spot just to the right of Jonny's nose, he heard no movement coming from her direction.
“Mum –” Jonny, who had braved a glance at Mrs. B., began, but he was almost immediately cut off by her next statement.
“You're fired.”
Chris actually turned to face her now, devastation slowly sinking in. There had to be a way to fix this. He couldn't lose his job.
Jonny decided to fight back first, though. “Mum, that's not fair! You can't fire him just because he and I are togeth–”
“Oh, I don't care about that,” she snapped, in a way that made it seem as though Jonny had protested similarly in the past, despite his mother's acceptance of his sexuality. Briefly, Chris wondered if she had ever caught him like this with any other boys...
But then Mrs. B. continued, and Chris broke free of his thoughts. “You,” she snarled, pointing a finger directly at Chris, “are supposed to be watching my children, not feeling them up and snogging them into the cushions.”
“But, Mrs. B., Claudia and Dylan went to sleep almost two hours ago,” Chris protested. He knew he should have stood at this point, walked over to Mrs. B. to apologize, but a fear kept him glued to his seat. His hands started to tremble. “They've been upstairs ever since.”
“Well, what if one of them had woken up and needed something? You'd have been too busy fooling around with my son to notice.”
“He would have noticed!” Jonny shouted, so loudly that Chris thought he might have woken the children. “He's not some stupid kid, he takes really good care of them and you can't just fire him like this.”
Chris sighed and put his hand on Jonny's arm. “No, she has a point,” he quietly said. Jonny turned to him with a look of confusion, but Chris ignored him. He stood up and left the room to grab his jacket. When he returned, Mrs. B. and Jonny remained where they had been before. He faced Mrs. B. and tried to look directly at her, though he still felt some of the fear from earlier. “I'm sorry. It was irresponsible of me. I hope you have a pleasant night.”
With that, Chris headed straight for the front door and the outside world. Jonny followed him, as he thought the other boy might, and so when Chris stepped onto the porch, the front door did not close all the way behind him. He paused, waited, but he didn't feel like turning around to actually face Jonny. After a few moments, he heard the door close and felt the air behind him move as Jonny stepped forward.
“It really wasn't fair of her to fire you like that.”
“Actually, it was.” Jonny exhaled, very loudly and in a way that suggested he was tired of trying to convince everyone that he was right. Chris looked at him and reestablished his grip on his jacket. “I don't blame you or anything. I'm not mad. But I understand where your mum was coming from.”
Jonny took another step closer to Chris. “She's never going to find anyone who can handle those kids like you could. Maybe... maybe if you just give it some time, she'll realize that and then you can come back.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. Listening to the way Jonny spoke, it sounded as if he was afraid that the end of Chris's job as a nanny meant the end of their time together. “I'm not leaving you,” Chris told him. Jonny gave him a pained look, one which meant he knew that Chris wasn't leaving him, but that he was still worried about their future together.
“We won't be able to see each other if you're not here anymore.”
“What do you mean? Of course we could.”
“I'll be at school all day, and you'll be working, and then you'll go home to your house and I'll come here.” Jonny folded his arms over his chest, whether because he was cold or because he was trying to protect himself, Chris was unsure. It was a bit chilly, after all. “We'll never see each other.”
“What about weekends?” Chris asked. Jonny continued to frown, indicating that it would still not work out. Chris sighed and tried to think of something else. He didn't want to agree with Jonny, though he realized that Jonny was, to an extent, absolutely right. They'd never have time to meet up.
Several minutes passed in silence. Jonny kept his arms over his chest, though Chris noticed that there were no goosebumps on his skin. Chris had thoroughly searched his brain, but had come up with nothing so far; however, he firmly held onto his reluctance to accept defeat. There had to be a way around this mess.
“What if we got a place together?” Chris finally spoke. “I've been thinking about moving out of my parents' house for a while now. I could, and... and you could move in with me. You could go to school all day and then come home to our place.”
After he finished speaking, Chris realized how ridiculous the proposition probably was. He and Jonny had known each other for a very brief amount of time, two months at the most. Jonny would surely think this a sign that they were moving too fast.
And yet, the look on Jonny's face certainly didn't portray any hint of disapproval. He stared at Chris for a few seconds; then, slowly, a grin broke across his face.
Chris flipped the page of the newspaper. He knew it had been a bad idea to move out of his childhood home and into a new apartment before finding another job, but he had saved up quite a lot of money working for Mrs. B., and Jonny was still being supported financially by his parents. For now, they need not worry about being able to make rent, though Chris did look through the paper every morning to see what was being offered.
He circled a few of the advertisements, though none really caught his attention. He was merely looking for a job so that he could maintain his lifestyle, he didn't need anything fancy.
Jonny stumbled into the room, looking like a zombie as he staggered towards Chris. Chris tilted his head back so that Jonny could lean over and kiss him while he stood behind the chair. After Chris went back to looking at the paper, Jonny chuckled and muttered, “Lazy.”
Chris spun around to face Jonny, who was already at the counter now, grabbing the items necessary to make a pot of coffee. He narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Jonny.
Even though Jonny's back faced Chris, he must have known what Chris was doing. “If you want to keep that tongue of yours, you better put it back into your mouth.”
Chris smirked. Living with Jonny had turned out to be a lot better than he had planned. Sure, it was his idea in the first place, but he knew that often a person can change – or, rather, one's perception of another person can change when those two people live together. He had been excited by the prospect of sharing a flat with Jonny, sure, but he was also wary at first. He knew now, too, that things could still go downhill for them. No reason he shouldn't enjoy himself in the meantime.
He had also been surprised to find that Jonny's parents had let their oldest son go without much of a fuss. Chris had worried that they might try to hold on to Jonny longer, especially since they were still paying for his school and everything else. Of course, he had never met Jonny's father, but Mrs. B. was certainly not too fond of any of her children. Chris wondered if she would have minded if he and Jonny had asked to take Claudia and Dylan as well.
Chris's parents seemed eager to be rid of him, too. He understood their reason, though; even having one less child to support relieved a lot of their stress. They would miss him, of course, and Chris had very plainly seen both of his parents hold back tears on the last night he spent in his childhood home (he'd kept back a few himself, too).
“Can you make me a cup, too?” Chris asked, referring to the coffee Jonny was in the process of making. Jonny snorted in response.
“How long have you been up for? You could have made some yourself.” Jonny walked across the tile floor and sat down next to Chris at the table. “And you're not helping to prove yourself not lazy.”
“I never said I wasn't lazy,” Chris said, grinning. “I just asked if you could get me coffee.”
Jonny shook his head, laughing along. Chris continued to smile at him for a while, watching as Jonny's face slowly transformed into a concentrated look. He seemed to be reading, but Chris didn't feel like turning to see what he was looking at. Jonny was nice enough to look at, and Chris especially liked the way Jonny's eyebrows curved toward each other just slightly when he read.
“How did you like being a nanny?” Jonny asked. Chris shook his head, though only to bring himself back to the moment.
“What?”
Instead of properly answering, Jonny pointed to the newspaper lying on the table. Chris glanced over and saw in the middle of the page an advertisement which said the following:
WANTED
Full-time nanny for three boys, ages 5-9.
Chris stopped reading right there (the rest of the advertisement only contained contact information, anyway). Did he like being a nanny? Over time, he had grown fond of Claudia and Dylan, and he did enjoy taking care of them. But that didn't mean he would feel the same being a nanny for a completely different family.
On the other hand, he was in no position to turn down any job offer that he was qualified for. After having tamed Claudia and Dylan in a retrospectively short amount of time, he felt certain that he could handle whatever was handed to him next. And, he thought as he gazed at Jonny again, sometimes being a nanny for a bunch of bratty kids can lead to a happy ending.
