THE NANNY CAMERA

In other words, after years of men who won't make commitments and can't be depended on, a son becomes a man substitute. "Oh, yeah," said Janice. "You can't trust men. You can't trust anyone who isn't your blood.

"My husband is really a second-class citizen," she said. "I used to be pretty crazy about him, but then the baby came along. Now, if he's like, 'Could you please get me a Diet Coke? I tell him to buzz off."

Meanwhile, a small, wary crowd had gathered in the middle of the loft. Wobbling a bit was a tiny girl wearing pink ballet slippers and a tutu. "Brooke insisted on wearing her ballet outfit today. Isn't it adorable?" said a tall, beaming woman. "When I tried to put pants on her, she started crying. She knew. She knew she had to wear her ballet outfit today so she could put on a performance, didn't she, pumpkin? Didn't

she, pumpkin?" The woman stooped, her hands clasped to her chest, her head cocked, and her face frozen in a large fake smile inches from the child's face. Then she began making odd gesturing motions.

"Blow a kiss. Blow a kiss," she said. The little girl, smiling fixedly, brought her little palm to her mouth and then whooshed out air between her hps. The mother screamed wildly.

"She curtseys, too," Amanda said with some derision to Carrie. "She does tricks. Her mother got Brooke on the cover of one of those baby magazines, and since then, she's gone nuts. Every time we call her, she's rushing Brooke off to a 'go-see. She's with a modeling agency. I mean, she's cute, but. ."

Just then, another mother walked by, holding the hand of a two— year-old boy. "Look, Garrick, table. Table, Garrick. Can you say table? What do we do at a table? Eat, Garrick. We eat at a table. Can you spell table? T-a-b-l-e. Garrick, rug. Garrick. R-u-g, rug, Garrick. .»

Amanda started making onion dip. "Excuse me," said Georgia, a woman in a checked suit. "Onion dip? Just be sure to keep it away from the kids. The salt and fat makes them nuts." This sentiment, however, did not prevent her from dipping her finger into the heinous concoction and sticking it in her mouth.

"Hey, have you guys checked out the Sutton Gym?" Georgia asked. "It's fabulous. You have to take Chester to the Sutton. It's like a David Barton gym for kids. Has he started to talk yet? If he has, maybe we could make a play date. Rosie is nearly one, but I want to start her on improving playdates.

"I also recommend the baby massage class at the 92nd Street Y. Very bonding. You're not still breast feeding, are you? I didn't think so." Georgia extracted another glop of onion dip. "Say, how's your nanny?"

"Fine," Amanda said, glancing at Packard.

"She's from Jamaica. We're lucky to have her," Packard said.

"Yeah, but are you sure she's taking good care of httle Chester?" Georgia asked.

"He seems fine to me," Packard said.

"Yes, but I mean, good care," Georgia said, looking at Amanda meaningfully, at which point Packard shpped away.

"You can't be too careful with these nannies," Georgia said, leaning in toward Amanda. "I went through eleven nannies. Finally, I got the spy camera."

"Spy camera?" Carrie asked.

Georgia looked at Carrie as if seeing her for the first time. "You don't have kids, do you? Anyway, I thought it was going to cost a fortune, but it doesn't. This friend of mine saw it on Oprah. A guy comes to your house and sets it up. You can watch your nanny for five hours. I called mine and said, 'What did you do today? She said, 'Oh, I took Jones to the park, then we played. It was all a he. She hadn't even left the house! All she did all day was watch TV and talk on the phone. She practically ignored Jones the whole day. I've got all my girlfriends doing it. One of them watched the nanny trying to dismantle the spy camera!"

"Wow," said Amanda.

I'm going to get sick, Carrie thought.

"MARRIED SEX"

Carrie went into the bathroom in Packard and Amanda's room. Julie was still in the bedroom with Barry. He was lying on the bed with his head in her lap. Becca and Janice were in there, too. Talking about their husbands.

"Let me tell you something about married sex," Becca said. "What's the point?"

"What's the point of a husband?" Julie said. "I mean, who needs two babies?"

"I totally agree," said Janice. "Except that now I want to have another baby. I was thinking of getting rid of my husband, but now I'm not sure that I want to—yet."

Julie leaned over her son. "When are you going to grow up, baby baby?"

Carrie went back into the living room. She walked over to the window for some fresh air. Somehow, Garrick had become detached from his mother and was standing, looking lost, in the corner.

Carrie leaned over. She took something out of her purse. "Pssst. Hey kid," she said, motioning. "Come here."

Curious, Garrick wandered over. Carrie held up a small, plastic package. "Condom, Garrick," she whispered. "Can you say condom? C-O-N-D-O-M. If your parents had used one of these, you might not even be here."

Garrick reached out for the plastic package. "Condom," he said.

Two days later, Amanda called Carrie. "I've just had the worst day of my life," she said. "My nanny has a kid—a son—three months

older than Chester. Her kid got sick, so I had to stay home.

"First, I tried taking him to the park. I didn't know where the gate was to the playground, and I felt totally embarrassed because all of the other nannies were already inside and I couldn't figure out how to get in. They were all looking up at me like, Who are you? Then Chester wanted to go on the slide. Like twenty times. I kept looking up at the big clock on Fifth Avenue. Five minutes had passed. I swung Chester on the swing. Another five minutes. I let him play in the sandbox. Then more sliding. A total of fifteen minutes had passed. 'Haven't you had enough? I said. I put him kicking and screaming into his stroller. 'We've got to run some errands, I said.

"Poor Chester. I was racing him up the sidewalk, and he was bumping around in the stroller, not knowing what was going on. I tried to go shopping, but I couldn't get the stroller into the dressing room. Then we went to the bank, and the stroller got stuck in the revolving door. I mean, how am I

supposed to know that you're not supposed to put a stroller in a revolving door? We were trapped. Some man had to push us through, inch by inch.

"Finally, it was eleven-thirty. I took him home and cooked him lunch. An egg."

Later that night, Carrie called Mr. Big. She forgot about the time difference—he was sleeping. "I just wanted to tell you," she said. "I got my period."

"Oh. So. . no baby," he said.

They hung up, but two minutes later he called back.

"I just remembered the dream I was having," he said. "I dreamed we had a baby."

"A baby?" Carrie asked. "What kind of baby?"

"A little tiny one," said Mr. Big. "You know. A newborn. Lying right here in the bed with us."

20. When Mr. Big is Away, the Girl Comes to Play

Carrie met the Girl in the bathroom stall at a club. She didn't mean to meet the Girl.

Someone was knocking on the door of the stall. Carrie was in a good mood, she was hanging out in the stall with Cici, so instead of telling the person to buzz off, she opened the door a crack. The Girl was standing there. She had dark hair and she could have been beautiful. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Carrie said.

"Excuse me," Cici said, "but do we know you?"

"No, we don't," Carrie answered.

"What do you have?" the Girl asked.

"What do you want?" Carrie said.

"I've got some great weed," the Girl said.

"Good," Carrie said.

The Girl lit the joint and held it up. "Best weed you've ever smoked."

"I doubt it," Carrie said, inhaling deeply.

The club was crowded, arid it was pleasant to be hanging out in the bathroom stall. The Girl leaned back against the wall and toked on the joint. She said she was twenty-seven,

and Carrie didn't believe her, but that was okay, too. Because, at first, she was just a girl she met in the bathroom. It happened all the time.

"So, hke, what do you do?" Cici asked.

"I'm developing my own skin care company," the Girl said.

"Ah," Carrie said.

"It's based on science. I'd love to take care of your skin for you."

"Oh, really?" Carrie said. She lit up a cigarette. Other people were banging on the door now.

"We should get out of here," Cici said.

"I'd like someone to take care of my skin," Carrie said. "I don't think it's quite as good as it could be."

"Let me out," Cici said.

"I can make it better," the Girl said.

She was on the short side, but she had presence. A cool face that could be beautiful, but you had to keep looking at it to make sure. She was wearing leather pants, boots. Both expensive. Her voice was low.

"There are people out there who know me," Cici said. She was fidgeting.

"Chill out," Carrie said.

"I want you to hang with me," the Girl said. "I want you to stay with me the whole night. I think you're beautiful, you know." "Yeah, sure," Carrie said. But she was surprised.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 1196