Page 14 of Nanny for the Doctor

As I walk over, I eye the house. It’s beyond nice, and while there are definitely signs that people live here, it doesn’t feel homey or have the piles of stuff that seem to accumulate around all children.

“Hi, Henry. I’m Mae.” I look at the TV. “What are you watching?”

“It’s an Avengers cartoon.” He doesn’t seem nervous about meeting me, but he’s also not interested, it seems.

I sit down next to him, biting my lip. This is precisely why I like to have the parent around.

“Oh, I love The Avengers. I love Black Widow because, you know, girl power. But I’m definitely a Cap girl, not Team Iron Man.”

Henry perks up and looks over with a smile. “I love Captain America. He’s really brave. He sticks up for people, you know?”

“Yeah. That’s why I love him, too. He’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. Plus, he’s got a very cool shield.”

After shoveling in another bite of cereal, Henry wipes his mouth and squints at me.

“I thought you’d be an old lady or something.”

I chuckle. “Ha! Nope. I’m actually your dad’s best friend’s little sister. Oof, that’s a mouthful.”

He laughs with me and then stands up, holding his bowl.

“So you’re going to take me to school? And pick me up?”

“I am. It’ll be a new routine. Is that okay with you?” I try to come across as open as I can.

“Yeah. It’s better than having to wait for Dad. Um, so you know my dad?”

I furrow my brow. “Uh, sort of. He’s really good friends with my brother. I’ve met him a few times before when they would hang out. It’s been a while since your dad came by, though.”

“He’s always working.”

A slight pang stumbles through my heart as I look at Henry. He seems so detached from his dad.

“Yeah. It must be hard to be a doctor.”

“I guess.” Henry reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. “I’m going to brush my teeth and get dressed for school.”

I smile and nod. “Okay, I’ll get your lunch bag ready. Do you have stuff that needs to go in your backpack?”

He nods his head at the kitchen counter. “There’s a folder with everything over there.”

“Oh.” I see the plain blue folder that’s neatly organized with his lunch bag and backpack sitting next to it. “Did your dad put that together?”

“No. I did. I’ll be right back.”

Henry takes his bowl into the kitchen and rinses it out in the sink before loading it into the dishwasher. Then he hurries upstairs, but not in that excited, clumsy way most kids do.

He just lightly jogs up the stairs and disappears around the corner.

I don’t hear any banging or drawers being slammed. There’s only the hum of water running in the bathroom and a door opening and closing gently.

I pack the folder into his backpack, then I open the fridge to see if there’s something already prepared to send with him for lunch. Sure enough, there’s a little meal prepped in a Tupperware container.

I go to the edge of the stairs and yell up. “Is this Tupperware for you? Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, that’s for me. I packed it yesterday with the food Dad bought. I only need my water bottle. It’s in the fridge.”

Henry calls down the instructions to me like a professional, and my heart sinks even further. He’s seven. He shouldn’t have to be this prepared and organized.

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