I went back to my own room to get my shoes so I could walk around the grounds. There was a woman in the room, and she was making up the bed. I instantly felt guilty that I hadn’t done it after I woke up. “Hey,” I said, and she startled, but then relaxed.
“Hello, ma’am,” she said.
“Thank you for making up the bed,” I told her, but she looked embarrassed. I grabbed my shoes and hustled out of there. I still hadn’t brushed my hair or my teeth. I hadn’t brought anything with me. I knew that if I asked, a hairbrush would appear, a toothbrush and four different kinds of toothpaste, but I tried to pretend I was self-sufficient. A lot of times when I think I’m being self-sufficient, I’m really just learning to live without the things that I need.
I followed a stone path to the guesthouse, where I’d be living with the kids. It was a two-story wooden house, white with dark red shutters. The door didn’t even have a lock on it; I walked right in. The walls were painted with orange and yellow polka dots on a white background. The floors were made of a kind of spongy material, bright blue. There were lots of beanbag chairs, primary school furniture. The whole place felt like Sesame Street mixed with a mental health facility. But it wasn’t bad. It was clean, like someone had designed a scientific experiment, but inviting enough that I could live in it. There was so much space that I thought I’d have places to hide when I felt like strangling the kids.
When I looked up, I saw an unbelievably complicated sprinkler system and blinking red lights from smoke detectors. I wondered if the house had been stuffed full of asbestos. How did one prepare a house for the possibility of fire children?
“Do you like it?” someone behind me suddenly said.
“Fuck!” I shouted, whirling around, my leg involuntarily doing this little judo kick. Carl was standing there, his arms crossed. He wasn’t even looking at me; he was staring at the sprinkler system.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but he actually didn’t seem all that sorry. It felt like this had been a test, to see how badly I could be scared. I had pegged Carl as a cop, but now I reconsidered. He seemed like one of those faceless suits in sunglasses who tracks down E.T. He was the bad guy in an eighties movie.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I told him.
“The door was open,” he said. “I was just checking it out.”
“This is where I’m going to live,” I said.
“Yes, for now,” he said. “And Mrs. Roberts has informed you of the situation?”
I stared at him because it felt good to make him work for it.
“The children?” he finally said. “Their . . . situation?”
“They catch on fire,” I said. “I know.”
“May I ask you something, Ms. Breaker?”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Do you have any experience with childcare? Do you have medical training? Do you have a degree in child psychology?”
“I can take care of two kids,” I told him.
“I’m not trying to be rude. For instance, do you know CPR?”
“Jesus, Carl, yes, I know CPR,” I said. “I have a certificate, even. I’m certified. I can bring the kids back to life.” Two years ago, an old lady had died in the produce section while I knelt over her, waiting for the ambulance. After that, the owner of the store made everyone get trained in CPR and first aid.
“Okay, that’s good,” he said, smiling.
“I took a class in fire safety, too,” I said. “I know how to use a fire extinguisher.”
“On a child?” he asked.
“If they’re on fire,” I told him.
He walked over to the kitchen and opened the door to what I thought was a pantry. Instead, it was filled top to bottom with gleaming red fire extinguishers. “Well, then I guess you’ll be fine.”
“Carl?” I said.
“Yes?” he replied.
“Do you think I came up with this idea? Do you think I scammed Madison into giving me a job taking care of these weird fucking kids?”
“No, not at all. I think Senator Roberts and Mrs. Roberts have been placed in an unusual situation. I think they are doing the best that they can; they are trying to be responsible and empathetic, considering the circumstances. And I think you are simply a part of that larger desire to help these children. But I do not think this is the correct response. I think this is going to be a disaster.”
“They’re just kids,” I said.
“I’m here to assist in any way that I can,” he told me. “Think of me as someone who can help you when you run into unforeseen problems.”