The pit in Matthew's stomach assured him he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.
As soon as Matthew and the children arrived back onto the Cherry Street estate, taking the afternoon to get fast food for lunch, crafts, and groceries, Mr. Yang promptly chastised him for driving around in that "horrible Nazi deathtrap". Biting his tongue, Matthew said nothing, more offended by choosing to scold him in front of the children. "Nice job, setting an example," he muttered under his breath.
"Why was he mad?" asked Lilly, her hands stuffed with plastic grocery bags.
"It's nothing," Matthew whispered, reaching into the passenger seat to withdraw more bags.
"He doesn't like the car," Elliot said, his cousin idling with him behind Matthew.
"Like Janelle?"
Eli scoffed. "I don't know. Maybe."
Unloading the groceries and crafts on the counter, Matthew freed the children to their room while he unpacked and prepared dinner. He didn't feel the need to address the lingering scent of smoke and the dark patch of burned tiles behind the stove top; he didn't have the time. Throwing together a dinner of microwavable foods for the children, the stench of rotted milk undercutting the processed cheese smell made the meal nauseating. Leaving the dishes in the sink, not trusting the clearly vintage appliance tucked underneath the counter, he spent the evening setting up a bedtime routine for the children.
Elliot venomously opposed it. "We didn't have this with the last nannies!" he insisted, yet when Matthew "assured" him this would happen, he threatened another fit.
Meanwhile, Lilliana wanted to amend it to include more time for painting "only on clear, moonlit nights, though".
It took three hours for the routine to be completed, something which should've been done in under one.
Matthew spent the last two hours of the day painstakingly emptying, cleaning, and reorganizing the kitchen cabinets. He vacuumed the entirety of the living room's carpet, awkwardly stepped in the middle to accommodate the chandelier. Every window and door needed cleaning as well, yet Matthew was more puzzled by the countless number of window cleaners at his disposal. The narrow windows facing the front drive, framed in their decorative wooden screens, hung awkwardly by thin hinges held together by corroding piano wire. Many snapped away from their frames at the slightest touch.
Matthew left them alone to clean another day.
This was all regularly punctured by the children coming downstairs, citing a laundry list of obnoxious yet straightforward requests – "my room is too hot, can you fix it?"; "I need water, can you get it?"; "I wanted to try and find my electrocution kit"; "Do you know if the full moon is out?"; "I'm not tired, can I just stay up with you?"; "the monster under my bed needs a snack"; "Mr. Auborine needs a bath!"; and so on.
When Mr. Yang finally retired for the night, somewhere after midnight, Matthew dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the office's windows. Soon after, he retreated to his room, unable to sleep because of the abundance of dust and the draft from the back door just outside.
His second day of employment was met with Matthew's glare meeting the sunrise just after four that morning, only having a couple of hours rest. Finally, his head pounding from the musty, dusty smell, he forced every window open. He vacuumed every surface until the air was bearable to breathe. He left his bedroom door ajar to let the air through and propped up the air freshener stolen from the playroom.
By five o'clock, the sunrise fading into the summer sky, Matthew found that every single pane of glass cleaned, lightly smudged before, were now wiped in white, circular patterns. He had hoped to give Mr. Yang's office a touch-up before he woke.
Walking into the office found the older man, perfectly clothed and stoic, already behind his desk, diligently working. "Mr. Robinson?" he began, his sunken brown eyes never leaving the computer's screen. "Is there a particular reason why you've decided to turn my office into something of a construction zone?" Already, he smelled of cigars.
Matthew very nearly bit his tongue to resist snapping back. He was more stunned that the man was even awake. Amazed, even, at the dedication to the job. "I – apparently, I used the wrong cleaner, sir. Most of them are unlabeled –"
"Then I expect you to do something about it," he interrupted, head scanning the desktop. "I will not have my office in such a state of disrepair like this, as well as your own inexperience in cleaning, do you understand?"
He glanced around the office, staring at the collection of unpacked boxes. "Hm."
"Do you understand?"
His response was slamming the door. Matthew seized up, petrified for a moment. 'If that won't fire me, I'm fucked.'
Retrieving the cleaning supplies, Matthew started, again, on the living room windows and doors. He switched between several window cleaners, all of them failing and smudging the glass more, before finally settling on a white spray bottle that was completely unlabeled. Sighing in relief, Matthew spent another hour cleaning both sides before moving on to figuring out how the garbage is collected, aggressively dusting his room again, and washing his sheets in the sink. His hands shook.
By seven-thirty, the children had risen, insisting on pancakes.
"Lilly, why do you look like that?" he asked, approaching the child.
The girl's face, noticeably paler in comparison to her cousin's, made her look sickly. Lilliana smiled, yet that didn't seem to detract Matthew's concerns. Finally, she admitted, "I was waiting for the full moon to come out."
"But I told you it was going to be cloudy," Matthew insisted.
Elliot raised his hand. "I told her that, too, but she wanted to try and see Venus, too. I mean, I was looking for Venus and she wanted to join me so – "
"You were awake?"
The children took a step back, their gazes dipped to the dirty floor.
Matthew's eyelid twitched. The dull pain in the back of his head throbbed. "When I say it's time for bed, it's time for bed."
"I wasn't tired," Elliot insisted.
"I thought it was going to be a good 'full-moon-painting' night!" added Lilly.
"Bedtimes're dumb," he added.
"I was too excited," she said.
Pressing his hands to his lips, Matthew sighed. "When I say it's time for bed, it's time for –" He caught himself at that moment, letting out a frustrated sigh before physically deflating. Kneeling, Matthew frowned and asked, "What did you last nannies do when you didn't listen?"
YOU ARE READING
It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins
General Fiction[A Slice-Of-Life LGBTQ+ Story about Found Family] Matthew Robinson's career as a teacher seemed to have stalled, yet when the winds in the East suddenly lands him in the employ as a nanny, Matthew realizes he's probably signed up for more than he ba...
