As I back down the drive, I catch Mom looking out the upstairs window like a woman from one of those old short stories they make us read in school. Like she wants to jump out.
43
EPISODE 2, SCENES 23–35
MIKE, THE KID from two doors over who Tasha was now “dating” even though it made Dad cringe every time Mom said it, was over at our house. His parents had signed a waiver so he could be part of the show.
He and Tasha were making homemade cookies together in the kitchen.
Dad was still at work. Mom was at the kitchen table yelling out the amounts and ingredients like the good, wholesome chaperone she was expected to be.
When I wandered into the kitchen, Tasha and Mike were having a great time, throwing teaspoons of flour at each other. And sugar. The director gave me the hand signal to stop and go away. I played dumb and kept walking in. I saw from the whiteboard next to him that they were on take three of the same scene, so I tiptoed in and played it very innocent and watched the scene unfold.
Only when Tasha took a wet-with-batter spatula and smacked Mike on the cheek with it did it begin to get ugly. He did the same then, with a spoon. She said, “Ow!” and gave him a warning glance. He said sorry, but didn’t mean it. So then she said, “You better watch it, because I could pour this whole bowl of batter down your pants.”
“Cut!” the director said. He looked to Tasha. “Pants? Come on. You’re twelve!”
“Shoot,” Tasha said. “I meant to say shirt, but pants seemed more real. Sorry.”
“Mike lays in Tasha’s bed all the time without his pants on,” I said.
Everyone got quiet and looked at me. Then they looked at Tasha and Mike, who looked around the room. Mike looked as if he was figuring out which way to run. Tasha looked for the first person to hit. Mike was closest.
She slapped him across the face and then ran to Mom and buried her head in Mom’s shoulder, leaving a glob of cookie batter on her sweatshirt.
Mom held Tasha at arm’s length and said, “Is this true?”
“Of course not!” Tasha said. “You know Gerald is retarded. You said so yourself.”
“I’m not retarded,” I said.
“Are so,” she said. “And you’re g*y.”
Nanny transformed at that moment. She suddenly didn’t care what her hair looked like or whether her dress was the right color for the scene. She didn’t care where her designer purse was or whether her bottled water was the right brand.
She told the cameras to stop rolling and took me and Mom into the living room, away from Mike and Tasha, who were still fighting in the kitchen.
“Calling a young child g*y is awful,” Nanny said. “It’s an unacceptable word. Totally.”
“The kid craps in my shoes and you say Tasha using the word g*y is harmful?” Mom asked.
“Jill!”
“What?” Mom said.
“He’s sitting right he-ah!” Nanny said.
“So?” Mom said. “You can see why I think there’s something wrong with him, right?” Mom got up and went back into the kitchen just as Mike was running out the door.
Nanny turned to me and gave me a sympathetic look. “Was it true what you said about him being in Tasha’s bed?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you were here, too? You and Lisi?”
I nodded.
“Right,” she said. “I think I know what to do here, Gerald.” She looked at me with a smile. Like a real nanny.
The next day was the last day of filming. We had to do the usual end-of-episode family meeting. Dad was home from work for an hour, tops, still in his work suit, and doing that thing with his ankles that he does when he’s stressed out. Like neck rolls, but with ankles. Around and around. Clockwise, then counterclockwise. His tarsal bones cracked each time, like popcorn. Lisi and I sat next to him.
Mom and Tasha were sitting together on the love seat. Ever since the day before, when Mike from two doors down broke up with her, Tasha had been stuck to Mom’s side. The cameras were rolling and the director had already said we should just do the scene and he’d take care of it in the editing room.
“Let’s stah-t with Gerald this time,” Nanny said. “I think Gerald’s come a long way, don’t you?”
No one said anything.
“Well, come on, Faust family. Speak up!” Nanny said. “Gerald hasn’t punched a wall in what? More than a year?”
“True,” Dad said. “And he makes his bed every day and gets ready for school and does a lot around the house to clean up. That’s true.”
“That’s right, Doug. He’s come a long way if you think about where we were last year, am I right?”
The director nodded so they all nodded—except Tasha, who just looked like she was going to cry again.
I’d forgotten about punching walls. It was so episode one. I’d become the Crapper since then. Punching walls was for pussies.
“I think Gerald is awesome,” Lisi said. “But I always thought Gerald was awesome.”
Tasha said, “Well, he never crapped on your stuff, so you would.”
We all looked at Tasha and at Mom, who was still stroking Tasha’s hair like she was a prized dog or something. She didn’t seem at all fazed, but then again, I’d crapped on her stuff, too.
The director walked over to us and said, “Look. We have to have this shot by four. It’s three now. You had plenty of time to get all this family stuff out last night. You’ll have forever to continue figuring it out. Can we just concentrate on the positive things that the show did for your family while we were here?”
He wasn’t asking. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned around and went back to his chair.
But the mere mention of last night made Tasha’s lower lip curl out and quiver again. I don’t know what they said or did to her, but Mom and Dad had her in Dad’s man cave for over two hours, and then Mom and Dad fought all night long—or at least until I fell asleep.
It was about Mike from two doors down. I know that. I know it because Dad asked me and Lisi some questions before the meeting. Did Tasha invite him in? Did he ever touch either of you? Are you sure he didn’t have pants on? How long would they be in her room? Please describe the noises you heard, Gerald. Did Tasha have any clothes on? Describe those noises again?
Nanny moved the scene forward. “You two did a wondah-ful job of keeping those house rules from my first visit in order. These kids know their chores and their responsibilities,” Nanny said, looking at Lisi. “Which reminds me. I think I might have a late birthday gift in he-ah for you, Lisi,” she said, reaching into a bag behind her and pulling out a wrapped gift.