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Back Nanny Dearest Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. Part Two
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. Part Three
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Soon the picture is sopping wet, the paper so soggy that it tears at the slightest flick of Suzy’s hand, the orange so muted it’s barely visible at all.

23

When I wake up the next morning, I expect the bracelet to be gone, a bad vision from an old nightmare. But it stares at me, its presence shriller than any alarm could ever be.

Last night was the first time I’ve slept poorly in months, waking hourly to shadows in the corners, sweat coating my armpits and the creases behind my knees. I make a pot of coffee using the coffee maker I’ve left untouched for weeks, then slip back into bed as I hear it spit and sputter.

With the new day come brighter thoughts, a promise my dad always made to me when I’d cry about a bad grade or a fight with a friend. Sleep is the ultimate solvent, the universal solution, he’d say as he rubbed my back, made me tea, when I felt like my world was collapsing onto me.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t sleep after he died.

There must be a reason Anneliese has the bracelet. A very reasonable one at that. And as I sit in my unmade bed and drink my coffee, cupping the bottom of the mug so nothing dribbles on the sheets, trepidation creeps up my spine. I jumped to conclusions so quickly. I hope I hadn’t been too cold, too callous in my final hours last night. The thought of that makes me want to roll right over and cover my head with my pillow, go back to sleep until it’s dark again.

But the proper thing is to go over there, to show her the bracelet and ask her about it. And then we can put this all behind us and I won’t tell her about its history, how this little object caused such a crazy rift in my family.

I text her, say that I’m up and I want to meet, even though it’s unnecessary now. I’ve shown up at the apartment countless times unannounced, even on days like today where I haven’t planned to babysit the kids. She responds with a few heart eye emojis, and I get up, throwing the bracelet like it’s trash into the bottom of my backpack, piling my books, my sunglasses, everything else I’ll need for the day on top of it, burying it.

Anneliese texts me to say she’s at Tompkins Square Park, to meet her on the benches there, and somehow it feels poetic. The place where we get over our first hurdle will be the exact same spot where we had our first real conversation. The only thing missing is the stroller, which Lola outgrew about a month ago. Hopefully Jordan won’t fall.