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Madison
o o o
My first week is pretty dreamy as far as jobs go. The downstairs suite is almost as gorgeous as the penthouse. I wake every morning to a beautiful peach sunrise, yawning over Manhattan in a king-size bed as soft as cotton candy. The building has round-the-clock security with cameras both outside and in the lobby and stairwells and at least one guard manning the office at any time, which allows me to feel safer than I ever did in Italy.
Leo is the sweetest little boy I’ve ever worked with, the polar opposite of Roman. He has a gentle soul, and we’ve bonded over his love of animals and baking. Like most kids, he requires patience and is quick to get upset, but I’m learning how to help him talk through his feelings so we can work it out together.
Honestly, I’m a little bit in love with him. If he was my kid, I’d never be able to leave for some stuffy office every day.
Roman, on the other hand, is as irritating as ever. He’s cold and snappy when he gets home from work, always quick to dismiss me once Leo is in bed. He’s usually late, and that makes Leo sad. He craves quality time with his father, asking for him at least three times a day, but Roman doesn’t seem to see how his obsession with work and wealth is driving a wedge between them.
I’ve seen it happen before in my own house. My Dad spent the first twenty years of my life acting more like a flaky roommate than anything else. Things only began to change when my Mom threatened a divorce six years ago, and to his credit, he’s been trying since then. He’ll never be the most sensitive or understanding, but I at least see him now.
Maybe that’s what Roman needs: a woman to keep him in check. Unfortunately, nobody seems up for the job, and I can’t blame them.
I’m getting pretty frustrated myself tonight. I check the ticking clock for the third time in as many minutes. Roman is two hours late, and while he warned me of his long working hours, it feels pretty disrespectful not to update me at least. What if I had plans after work?
“Where’s Daddy?” Leo questions. If I had a dollar for every time he’s said it today, I wouldn’t need to work for Roman anymore.
“I’m sure he’ll be home any minute, sweetheart.” I distract him by pulling out a purple crayon and beginning to color a triceratops in his dinosaur book. Pointing at the adjacent page, full of pink and blue scribbles, I animate myself despite my tiredness. “Hey, that’s a cool one. What type of dinosaur is that?”
Leo shrugs, though I know he knows. He told me all about velociraptors — pronounced in this house as ‘velcropastors’ — this morning. He’s clearly reached his limit with me. I practically had to beg him to eat dinner, and only with the promise of cookies after.
I’m relieved, then, when I hear the front door open and shut. Roman’s shiny leather shoes squeak down the echoey hallway, and finally, he appears.
“Dad!” Leo brightens up instantly, rushing to greet his father.
Roman chuckles, dropping his bag before lifting Leo high in the air so that his T-rex puffs with air. “Hi, bud.”
“Guess what?” Leo asks excitedly, settling into Roman’s arms.
“Tell me!”
My heart warms, a drastic difference from the bitterness it was drenched in only a few moments ago. I never thought I’d see Roman so gentle and calm, but Leo brings out the best in him — on the rare occurrence they’re both in the same room.
“I baked cookies for you today!” Leo points toward the kitchen, where half a plate of chocolate chip cookies has been left on the marble counter. I tried to put them away so they’d stay chewy in the middle, but Leo insisted they should be here when Roman came home.
Now, he barely glances at them as he sets Leo down. “That’s great. Listen, I still have a little bit of work to do in my office. Madison, would you mind putting him to bed tonight?”
Leo’s chin wobbles and my own stomach sinks. I wish I could say no. I wish I could say anything, but Roman is a blur as he leaves the living room, heading up the spiral staircase towards his office.
“But I want to eat cookies with Dad!” Leo whines.
“I know, sweetie, but not tonight. How about I read you a bedtime story instead?”
For once, I can’t console him. Leo runs off to his room with his hands balled into fists, almost slipping on the shiny hardwood floors. I wince and decide to give him a few minutes to cool down, glancing up at the golden chandelier.
What is all this opulence for if he isn’t using it to nurture his relationship with his son? I appreciated my own security and privilege growing up, and I know how lucky I am to have my parents’ finances to fall back on if I ever run into trouble again, but the money isn’t what I love most about my Mom.
I love her singing when she’s baking in the kitchen with me. I love the way she looks in her sunhat when we go down to the beach. I love it when she tells me about her childhood, when she opens up to me, because I know that honesty means our connection is strong. That she trusts me. That she loves me. Mostly, that she chooses me.
I can’t imagine growing up without it, and I hope Leo won’t have to. I hope he won’t feel the aching abandonment and rejection of having a parent who invests more time into work than family because it’s not pleasant. Not in the slightest.
I see it so often in the families I work with, but it never gets easier. Not for me, and certainly not for the kids.
Roman is lucky. With all his money, he never has to work another day in his life. He could spend every minute with Leo if he wanted, yet he’s taking advantage of it.
While I wait, I grab my mug of coffee. It’s cold now, but I can’t complain. Roman’s top-of-the-range machine makes better brews than any café; they taste nutty and creamy, enough to keep me going through the long days.
