Set the World to Mute

I was being borderline anti-social.

I came to this realization one morning, looking out at my apartment in the gray light of a new day. All I could see was my own stuff. Clothes mostly, papers from school. That picture Sophie drew.

My apartment used to be littered with evidence of life. Movie-tickets, bills, new clothes from shopping sprees with friends, empty take-away boxes, fresh drawings... Now it was all me.

I had to sit down, then, to have a long evaluation of my life. And so I picked up the phone.

¨
Today, Saturday, I am spending the day with Jackie.

She looks great. Happy, organised and in control. The exact opposite of me. The last couple of days with Ben have been... Strange. It's me, it's all me, I know that. I'm actually starting to feel a bit guilty. He has been a true gentleman, not pushing me at all, even if it might be expected, given what happened that morning.

Then again, that might be because I've been reluctant to engage in anything other than what would be expected from a nanny.

"Pretty woman," Jackie says suddenly, snapping me out of my dark thoughts.

I look up from my plate of risotto. It has all but turned to slush under the ruthless movements of my fork. "I'm sorry, what?" I squint my eyes at her.

"There's an example, sort of. Of a woman getting romantically involved with a guy she worked for. Julia and Richard had a real happy ending."

Ah. There's the problem, you see. Getting into it with you employer is probably not the smartest move, especially when you're his nanny and he's ten years older than you. And a mourning widower.

There are so many things I want to say, but I don't know how. I'm starting to think that this whole thing is rotten. There is no communication.

I almost smile, and she looks encouraged. "Cute," I say, and her face drops, "But not really all that realistic, is it? I mean, it's a sweet story and all, kind of. But a bit anti-feministic and very unlikely. And not a parallel to my situation at all. And it's fictional."

She bites her lip and raises her left brow slightly, telling me I have a point. I almost feel bad for shooting her down. She's being very patient and kind, helping me with my useless life.

"I just wish I could ask him what he thinks about it, I think that would help, but you know," my risotto recieves a devastating blow, "he doesn't talk."

"I thought you didn't care about that?" Her big, gourgeous eyes search mine, and I feel a bad feeling rising in my throat.

"It doesn't..." I mumble, "I think it almost makes him better, somehow, but... It makes him less available too." I look at my risotto again, deeming it inedible, and push it away. "I just don't know how it'll work." I bite my lip and her throat makes a little humming sound, sympathy. "I'm stupid, that's it. Typical me to fall for a guy who's unavailable, right?" I look at her, feeling tears prickle in my eyes. I whine annoyingly. "I'm being pathetic."

She takes my hand across the table. I offer a meek smile which she returns.

We lapse into silence, and I go back to the same train as before. Sophie, I think. What if it goes awry, and I lose her? And Emma? Isn't it stupid to risk a great job and a great relationship with two great kids for... For what? Someone you can't even talk to? And even if it worked, how would we explain it to them? It would all fall on me. And what would people say? Me being 22 and him being 32. Me being his damn nanny.

The more I think of it, the more it seems stupid.

"Eva Joly," Jackie says, suddenly, breaking the silence.

I look at her, surprised.

"She was a Norwegian girl, working for this family in France, as an au pair, and she got together with the son of the house, I think!" She looks exited, "And they got married, and she ran for president in France!" She grips my hand tightly. "See, it can work. Their family worked against it, but they won!"

When I don't have the reaction she wants, she tilts her head to the side. "Don't be so gloomy, Alice. You always do this. Find some reason why it can't work. Some made-up reason."

"I know," I admit, and even though I know it's true, it doesn't really change anything. I sigh, and she does to.

"Tell me you won't this time."

I sniff my nose and give her a defiant look, making her smile. "I won't make any promises," I say, and she rolls her eyes. He pink little lips part, but she keeps the words inside. I'm thankful.

We fall into silence again.

"Anyway," I say, tired of talking about my life, starting a new fresh. "Tell me about work. I love hearing about it."

She sighs heavily, not happy about where we leave the conversation, but she can tell I won't say anything more. "Well-" she cuts herself off by pulling my risotto closer, taking a spoonful. "Casper said I have to stop eating carbs," she says through mouthfuls, gleeful at her secret rebellion, "and I said 'fuck you Casper'. Internally of course, but, I'm having mashed risotto - so fuck him."
¨

After walking Jackie home, I find myself outside his door. It feels bad, all of it. Being here and not feeling good, feels bad in itself. It's not what I'm used to. The butterflies are there, but they're of the sickening kind, today.

He's probably sleeping. It's past midnight, and he's a father. He's a father. I bow my head, accidentally banging it loudly against the door. I jerk back and widen my eyes. Fuck.

I take a couple of steps back, my heels clacking noisily against the floor. Fuck.

I stay completely still for what feels like a small eternity, trying to listen for any noise. My heart freezes over as I hear steps on the other side. I turn around and consider making a run for it, but that would be stupid and childish, and I am not a child.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear the door opening behind me. I take a deep breath and turn around, finding Ben in his boxers and a worn t-shirt, obviously on his way to bed. He looks surprised to see me.

"Hey," I croak at the floor.

I can almost hear him nodding.

When I look back up, he's looking at me with serious emotion in his eyes. They are grey today.

"I... Didn't mean to knock," I say apologetically, motioning to his door. "I know it's late, and the kids... I don't really know what I'm... doing here." I look at him and he frowns, leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms. He's trying to read me, I can tell, but I can't even read myself.

"I, um... I don't know what I'm really doing... anywhere. With you."

His frown deepens, and he steps aside to let me in, his eyes asking me to come.

"No, I don't want to come in." I pause. "It's not a work day, so..." He looks more and more confused. I jump in. "Actually, that's what I wanted to say, I guess. Since I'm already here. I think maybe this," I throw my hands up, "Whatever we're doing, is maybe not such a good idea. I mean, I work for you and I love the kids, and it just seems a bit... wrong. Like, bad, and... I think maybe we should just go back to... the way we were?" The last bit comes out as a question, and I dare to make eye-contact, internally terrified of his reaction. I almost want him to object, but he just looks at me.

I advert my eyes to the floor again, wringing my hands. "I mean, as I said, I work for you. You pay me. I... play with your kids, how would we explain? And you're 32, and I'm 22, and we're at completely different places in our lives and you were married not long ago. You would be still, if she hadn't...-" I look at him. He stares at the floor.

"And you don't talk," I say, finally.

He looks up then, and I can't read him. I can't tell if he's upset, or hurt, or angry. His eyes just look dark and closed off. Unavailable.

He opens his mouth, opens his hands, but as usual, no sound is heard. He closes his mouth again and blinks slowly. He looks defeated.

I feel lost.

"I think I should go," I whisper, and without looking at him, I run out of the building.