"My Yellow-Toenailed Babysitter"

Now mom and Jack are heading into Sayville for one last look at antiques before school starts tomorrow. After a week of mom’s phony pleasantries and my responsive grunts we are each sick of the other. “One last chance,” mom says, reaching for the front door.




I shake my head.


“Suit yourself.” She opens the door to reveal Bea Krantz, our next door neighbor, dressed in a flowered housecoat and slippers with yellow toenails sticking out. “Thanks for coming over, Bea.”


“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bea trudges past mom and Jack. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this one behaves,” she adds, gesturing with the reading glasses that hang from her thick neck.


“Thank you,” mom says and walks out with Jack. I speed past the old steamboat and out the door. “Mom, what are you doing to me? For Christ’s sake, I should be babysitting her!”


“You know, that’s not a bad idea, Amelia,” she smiles and wraps an arm around Jack who practically purrs from her touch.


I storm back into the apartment and slam the door behind me. Bea is sitting at the kitchen table with one of her many large print romance novels splayed open. She does not care if I slam a zillion doors. The woman is nothing more than a heavy lump of clay with a pulse. If there were a fire or a burglar she probably wouldn’t even see or hear anything and I’d be the one protecting us. But somehow, this woman with three hairs sticking out of a cheek mole makes mom feel safe leaving us.


As long as I stay in the apartment, Bea lets me do pretty much whatever I want. And other than to get a glass of soda or use the toilet, she keeps her eyes on those huge books the entire visit. But with all of this freedom, Bea Krantz is still one large thorn in my side. I’ve daydreamed about putting some of mom’s sleeping pills in Bea’s soda and rolling her large derriere next door. Then, our apartment would seem like a little palace all for me. But then Bea would eventually wake up and never be willing to ‘watch’ me again and gone would be any hours devoid of Sam Fluchter.


“You know, I’m almost fifteen. Soon, I won’t need a babysitter,” I say and stare at her gummy eyelids.


“You think I care?” She licks her thumb and turns the page.


“Amelia?” a male voice calls from behind the front door.


“Seth?”


“Oh, you’re seeing boys now, huh? Now you listen to me young lady, you keep yourself clean,” she points a gnarled finger at me and adds “and not just with soap and water.” With her reading glasses, Bea’s eyes remind me of Beaker from The Muppets and I stifle a giggle. I head for the door but Bea stands up and blocks my path. “What’s your business?”


“I came to fix Mrs. Fluchter’s fridge light,” Seth says and holds up a small bulb.


“You Vinny’s kid?”


“Yes, he sent me. Well, I wanted to come,” he says and a huge weight inside of me lifts.


“Yeah well keep your pants on, Romeo, and get to work,” she plods back to her chair and resumes reading as if it is Bea and me all alone again.


Seth winks at me and my stomach flip flops like crazy. I feel closer to a homeless mutt than a human being whenever I’m around him, desperate for his attention, desperate to not seem desperate.