It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

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Hastily throwing on his shirt and house slippers, Matthew scuttled off the massage table. His ears rang.

"Sir," the acupuncturist called. The petite woman had offered him a cup of steaming tea in a while round glass. "Drink before you go. It'll invigorate you." She offered a warm smile before reaching around his neck and plucking a remaining needle from his skin. "You're too stressed," she chastised, returning the needle to her collection. "You'll never fully heal if you don't relax a little."

Matthew turned away, his face flush. His hands trembled as he brought the tea to his lips, the earthy scents blended into a warm golden drink. 'Thank God I was face down,' he mused, followed by scolding himself for such an immature reaction. "Th-thank you," Matthew whispered, downing the rest of the tea in one scathing gulp and handing it back to her. "Y-yes, this was lovely. May-maybe next time I can try that moxi-heat stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you're insistent – "

"Yeah, yeah, this was a really interesting experience and I anxiously await next week's session, bye." The door to the guest room by Yang's office closed. Taking the moment to adjust himself, he nearly departed for his makeshift bedroom for a hot shower, if only to steady his uneasy stomach, before Elliot's lizard waddled passed. Kneeling, he picked up the thrashing creature. "Hi, Waka. Any particular reason you got out this time?"

The lizard said nothing.

"God, I really am still sick," Matthew sighed, taking the ramp up to the second floor.

Elliot's bedroom door was ajar and, to Matthew's surprise, found another lizard in the solarium, rabbit and cardinal nowhere in sight.

Matthew side-eyed the lizard in his arms before plopping it into the glass case without thought.

Audrey swung herself into the bedroom. "Matt, can you – " She groaned as he placed down the tank's cover. "How can you touch that?"

"Easily," he replied cooly. "He got out."

She wiped her face. "Matt, can you tell me where's the window cleaners?"

"Downstairs."

Audrey sighed. "That doesn't help."

"Well, you're upstairs," he continued, turning to her, "and it's all downstairs."

"Matt – "

"Sorry, don't the kids need to be picked up soon?"

"What? No, it's not – " Audrey withdrew her phone. "Oh shit," she hissed, sprinting back down the stairs and towards the ramp down. A low groan seemed to rattle the air as the front door opened and slammed shut a moment later.

Matthew moved back downstairs. His legs wobbled with every step.

"Mr. Robinson," the older man called from across the living room, proceeding towards him in very clearly angry steps, "where is Ms. Culpepper? I have some words to say to her about the current state of the kitchen."

The first thing out of Matthew's mouth was some slurred line that even he didn't understand. Shaking his head, he started again, his words spoken carefully, "She, just left to pick up Lilly and Eli from school."

Mr. Yang checked his watch; he sighed. "They've been out for at least half an hour already. She just left?"

Matthew nodded.

"Good Lord," he moaned, clearing his throat. "Well, when she gets back, please inform her that I'd like to speak to her about the grocery receipts she's given me, then she may go address the smell in the kitchen."

He swallowed back a lump in his throat. Matthew cleared his throat and explained, "Sir...if you want to speak to her, please do so yourself." He steadied himself on the built-in cabinets lining the hall. "I, uh...mean no disrespect, but I..." A shaking breath billowed from his lips. "...I'd be, more than happy to help out...if needed."

Mr. Yang studied the nanny carefully. "No."

Matthew sighed. "Sir – "

"Mr. Robinson, while I admire your devotion to the work at hand, it does me little good to have an employee tasked with taking care of my children not be in top condition, which you aren't." The older man sighed. "One well-worded question from the children flying over your read results on slime science sets for the rest of my life."

"What's stopped you before? Eli buys them, somehow, anyways."

"The answer is still no."

"But sir – "

"This isn't up for discussion, Mr. Robinson, and I've made my thoughts on your physical and mental conditions quite clear." He checked his watch again. "I have a call I need to get to. If you have any emails that require attention, send them to me. Do not reply to them. Understood?"

Matthew nodded.

"Wonderful." In a sweeping gesture, Mr. Yang moved back to his office, the door closing behind him.

Pressing his back against the built-in cabinets, if only to steady his stomach, Matthew groaned. "Why don't you just fire me?" he muttered. "Would make my doing nothing easier." It made no difference; his stomach protested the mere act of standing. His own feet stumbling over themselves, Matthew seemingly limped towards the doors to the carport, his beloved blue Bug missing from view. He popped a piece of nicotine gum at the sight. He clenched his jaw, swallowing back a sickening sad lump.

He answered emails, made mental grocery lists and repairs needed for the house, only stopping when Elliot's tantrum sobs coupled, amazingly, with Lilliana's screams of protest, roused him from the round bedroom.