Get a Job

By Abigail Falanga

“If you don’t mind, Ellie,” Mr. Hill smiled pleasantly, again. “I’d rather not say anything more unless you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement.”

An NDA seemed extreme as a requirement for a nannying job. But then, many things about this position were odd. I liked Mr. Hill (not like liked—he was no Christopher Plummer, and he was married) and his children sounded nice on paper.

But I had yet to meet them. Or his wife. And their house was modest, not promising a budget that would accommodate a full-time nanny. And, honestly, I felt overqualified; fully certified to care for and educate children with special needs and no indication that Chloe and Zach had need of such care.

But I’d read through the NDA and signed it. Curiosity might have gotten the better of me.

“Yes…” I pulled it from my bag. “It’s unusual to require one. I mean, people are more accepting of physical abnormalities than you might expect, if that’s a concern.”

“No physical abnormalities, thank God,” he muttered, distracted as he glanced over the paperwork. “This seems in order. Thanks for your willingness to meet us halfway.”

“Can you answer my question now? Why did you pick me?”

“Well, firstly, your training—helping children with special needs to grow and flourish according to their limitations and ability.”

“Yes, and I love working in that field,” I said, and got carried away. “Many people don’t realize that kids with special needs need a friend more than anything else—someone to come alongside and show them that they’re not alone. Not just a coach to help them understand, function, and communicate with the rest of the world.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Hill nodded, disconcertingly pleased.

I was starting to wonder what was behind that smile.

“And besides your excellent qualifications and the kindness and compassion you’ve demonstrated, we decided that you are the best candidate because of your brother, Gareth.”

My brother?

Gareth, whose text-of-the-day sat on my phone, a long mathematical riddle as usual.

Gareth, who somehow knew I’d be able to decipher it.

Gareth, who I had not mentioned once in any interview.

“Graduated high school and college simultaneously with an undergrad degree in conceptual mathematics.” A woman, slim, dark, and smiling, sauntered into the room. “Everyone says you two are close, seem to understand each other. That you always look out for him.”

“Only as much as he looks out for me. But—”

“Your relationship with Gareth is why you’re our first choice, Ellie.” She held out a hand. “Hi. I forget—you haven’t seen me before. I’m Kristin.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hill—Kristin,” I gulped, trying to be polite. “Finally—I mean, I know you’re busy, but normally moms like to meet potential nannies earlier in the process.”

“Oh, I’ve been involved, just out of sight.” She sat on her comfy gray couch beside me, displacing a half-folded pile of socks and a kindergarten textbook. “Hendrick and I do a lot of travelling at unpredictable times and, with Chloe and Zach getting older, a full-time nanny makes sense. Care and education when we’re at home is a bonus.”

“Yes.” Now I was on firmer ground. “Children and work can be exhausting.”

She laughed. “More than you know!”

“So, I’m really excited to meet your kids.”

“I think it’s time we introduced Ellie to the kids,” Mrs. Hill said to her husband.

“So it seems,” he replied. “Do we tell the kids first?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sink or swim?”

“So cautious, Hendrick! What do you think?”

“Ellie intends to swim. That’s something.”

“I certainly do!” I interposed, annoyed at being discussed as if I wasn’t there. “So, can I meet Chloe and Zach now?”

“Of course! Please follow me.” Mrs. Hill went down a hall, the sounds of kids playing growing, though I hadn’t noticed them before.

I followed with Mr. Hill. This time, I could see through his pleasant smile. He was amused. I was almost offended. Did he think I would fail? And then a stranger thought: What was he hiding?

“I am sorry we haven’t met before.” Mrs. Hill glanced back. “We have to take precautions, you’ll understand.”

Before I had a chance to reply, she opened the door into a large playroom, which was in a normal state of two-kids-under-eight chaos. Or… My eyes adjusted to the chaos… Not so normal.

A five-year-old was clinging by his fingertips halfway up the wall, scowling at his sister. She yelled at him from the floor and threw a pillow. He leapt across the room, bounding to the ceiling, and then above the window.

The girl stamped her feet and threw out her hands. All the water flew from a fish tank into a whirlwind, aimed at the boy.

“This is why we chose you,” sighed their mother. “Someone normal, who understands abnormality enough to have compassion on it.”

I gaped at her and—

She flickered out, then became visible again.

“Sorry,” she grinned.

“Chloe, put Mr. Fluffy back in the water,” Mr. Hill said in a booming dad-voice. “Then both of you come and say hello to your new nanny.”

The unperturbed fish plopped back in the tank, along with a little water.

And both children ran up to us, big friendly smiles wiping out their squabbles.

They were cute, friendly, and so very far from normal that I knew nothing in my certifications, classes, qualifications, or internships had prepared me for this.

I was speechless, barely summoning a sickly smile and a wavy wiggle of my fingers.

What had I gotten myself into?

Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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