Page 10 of Paddy

You would think a few death threats would be the thing that makes him do right and be around more often. I tried not to show it, but those letters I found downright terrified me. I had performed all at all-white spaces and bars and more racistenvironments than Boston would ever know, and I still felt safer there than being home when I was alone so much.

Knowing a person like that knew where I lived made even the return home, a bit of a challenge. Deep down, I wished I had never seen those letters, at least then I could pretend to be blissfully unaware. Maybe I just had too many things to be worried about, and maybe I needed to be worried about the one thing I actually had control over, my marriage.

Distracted by everything weighing me down, the sound of crunching metal and broken glass accompanied my screams as I slammed into another car. Dammit! Had I not been paying attention to see that stop sign?

Looking over at the other car, my heart sunk into my stomach. Why, oh, why did it have to be a white man? I know not a lot of Black folk lived around my way, but I would have moved mountains just for this exchange to be with a Colored man instead. The rage in his eyes instilled a fear in me that I didn’t know was possible, and as he exited his car to approach mine, my heart pounded fiercely as he put his head through the driver’s side window, choosing not to even knock on the door. The man had no boundaries.

“Get out of the car.”

The first thing I noticed, were his eyes. One of them looking completely darker than the other, but I penned it to be a trick of the light.

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me. Get the hell out the car!”

He wasn't serious, was he? Times were changing; Black people, we were getting better opportunities, and different races were allowed tomarryeach other now. But he had to know, as a white man, telling a Black woman to get out her car wasn't harmless.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re a nice man, but I don't feel safe enough to be around some stranger with no credible witnesses present.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. If I was going to do something to you, nothing would have stopped me from dragging you out this car. And Ineversaid I was a nice man. Now, get out the fucking car,” he demanded once more, forcing me to follow him despite my reluctance.

Walking over to the backside of his car, he pointed out the damage like I was a child or a pet you stuck their face in their mistake to help them learn a lesson. “You know how reckless you have to be to driving to put a dent in a car as tough as this,” referring to his American make and model. I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew when it was American.

“I apologize. I was just distracted and on my way home from a long trip—” With his mouth, he made this sound that was between sucking his teeth, matched with a condescending laugh.

“See, this is why women shouldn't drive.” I get that he was upset, but I wasn't about to let him demean me for an honest mistake.

“I don't see what my gender has to do with it.”

“You women are far more emotional. You ladies get your cycles and things like that make you too emotional to pay attention to a goddamn stoplight.” At this point, I was convinced he only wanted to argue, not offer solid solutions.

“If it's about money, I could have it both towedandfixed?—”

“You God damn right you'll have it towed and fixed. Even if I have to pay for it, you sure ashellare reimbursing me,” he rudely interrupted. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my card and offered it to him. At first, his reaction gave me caution, giving the card a look over with a menacing stare. Finally, he shook his head and proceeded to laugh to himself.

“Thisis where you live?” Was hetryingto piss me off? Because I was about two seconds away from hitting the other side of his damn car.

“Actually, it is. Black folks can have money and live in decent neighborhoods too, you know?” I said appalled.

“Change of plans. This is how we're going to do this. You are going to givemethe keys to your car, and I'm going to drive to the first mechanic we see and have them tow and fix mine.”

“Why would I trust a complete stranger withmycar?” This man had lost his got damn mind.

“Well, you're about to trust me with your kid. Sorry we couldn’t have had more of a formal introduction but today is your lucky day. You’re looking at your new nanny.”

Five

Paddy

“My newwhat?” Gosh, for an apparently smart business woman, she sure didn't listen much. Grabbing my duffel bag out of my trunk, I threw it in her backseat before deciding to introduce myself.

“Paddy Sullivan. New nanny at your service,” I said, as I held out my hand and she reluctantly tossed me her car keys.

“Wait, how do I know you're telling the truth?” Her features adorably furrowed with little frown lines.

“Your husband's name is Nathan Washington. Tall, dark skinned, square type. Son's name is Elijah. You're coming back from Chicago after a three-month gig. Your husband hired me with the intention to start today. Guess I know now I know why.”

If she wasn’t convinced before, she sure was now, as she pranced that pretty arse away from the car wreckage and into her passenger seat. Having such a good look at her, she hadn’t at all been what I was expecting.

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