Racing the Sun(88)

I take a sip of wine, wanting to finish the whole glass in one go. It’s just one of those kind of nights. “That’s my fault. You kept inviting me but I just couldn’t find the time.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” she says. “It’s just life.” She looks around her at the kitchen and the rest of the house. “I don’t understand how you can do this, to be honest. I mean, the kids are sweet but you’re practically their mother.”

“I know.”

“And that wasn’t really in the job description. Would you have applied for the position at all if you knew you were going to be a nanny like this?”

“No.”

“And you’re not even a nanny, Amber. You’re like . . . I don’t know. A superhero. I know you get paid for this but how long are you planning to keep this up?”

I frown and my chest gets this cold feeling. “What do you mean?”

She purses her lips together before speaking. “I mean, you’re with Derio. You love him, don’t you? But he’s never here and you’re the one taking on all the work. I know you don’t want to let the kids or him down, but didn’t you have other dreams or plans for your life? Even if you can get this visa to stay here longer, can you continue in this role? You’re so young but suddenly you’re here and you’re thrust into this situation.” She pauses and sends me a sheepish glance. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t even know you that well to be making all these assumptions. I just . . . I feel like one day you’re going to crack, you know? I know what it’s like to resent someone you love. It was Danny’s idea to travel, not mine. And the first month out here, I hated it. I missed my home, my friends, my family. Even my old stupid job at the bookstore. I missed speaking English and having people understand me and I missed my favorite brand of yogurt. And I hated Danny for making me come here. Obviously, I got over it but that resentment was really strong. We almost broke up then. I should have taken that as a sign.”

I’m listening to what she’s saying and taking it all in. It’s filling that cold space in my chest and making it freeze. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t know what the future holds. All I know is right now, I’m really unhappy. And I want him to be happy. I just wish I could be, too. With the racing now, it just seems like either he’s happy or we’re both not.”

“So what would you do if you could do anything?” she asks, smacking her palms on the table, her bracelets jangling loudly. “Pretend there was a nanny here taking care of them and you had another job. And you were still with Derio. What would you do?”

I try to think. “I’m not sure. I haven’t really had a chance to think for myself lately.” I glance out at the dark mist through the back doors. “I really enjoy plants. Maybe I could go into gardening or landscaping. Run a nursery. Grow olives and limes and almonds. Maybe floral arranging.”

She shakes a long fingernail at me. “Do you see your face right now? You’re glowing. You’ve got the same look from when you first met Derio.”

When I first met Derio. I ignore that, swallowing it down like crusty bread. “I guess it’s just something else I could do. Besides this.”

“You don’t have to do this job, Amber,” she says emphatically. “I know you feel a lot of guilt because the kids rely on you and you’re helping out Derio. But he could pay someone else. You could get a job doing something you love or at least something more enjoyable. That’s the way it should be. Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that your boyfriend is employing you?” I shake my head, though I’m lying. “It’s not right, it’s making something like love—which, I know, is extremely messy and complicated—even harder than it has to be. I’m not saying Derio doesn’t deserve things, too. He’s still in his twenties; he doesn’t have to give up his whole life for them. There is no shame in having that outside help to ensure they have the best life possible. Good grief, do you think the twins want to grow up knowing you had to sacrifice everything for them when you never asked for this, or wanted this, in the first place?”

With a shaking hand, I drain the rest of my glass. “I don’t want you to be right,” I mumble.

“I don’t want to be right either. And I hope I’m not. But if I am, maybe it’s best to talk about this situation with Derio before it all implodes. Because it will. I don’t want to seem mean but . . . have you looked in the mirror?”