Only One Take

Take 2

             Josephine thanks Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan for the money as she exits their two-story brick home after breakfast. The kids are still in their pajamas, but they’ve eaten well – Josephine prepared them homemade pancakes – and now they are watching Saturday morning cartoons. She’s done her job well, and the parents are happy.

             As she heads towards her car, she feels the fatigue draping over her. She’d barely slept all night. She’s only seventeen; as a babysitter, she’s nervous that she’ll miss something. A kid will make a sound but she’ll sleep right through it and wake up to find them sick or dead; a burglar will sneak and kidnap the children but she won’t hear. So she’d done her best to stay up and listen, using that time to study – AP exams are coming up, and she needs to do her best. She needs all 5s.

             She’s already been accepted into every college she applied to, but she hasn’t earned enough scholarships. If she can get enough 5s, she can exempt enough classes to just need three years of college, which is cheaper than four. If she can work enough hours, she can earn money to help pay for college.

             She doesn’t know what she wants to be when she grows up, but she knows it’ll be something analytical. She’s good with kids, but she wants to solve problems.

             Her eyelids feel so heavy. She rubs them.

             The door behind her has closed. Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan are tired as well; they’ve just come back from an event in a nearby town. They often have fancy events to go to, which is fine with Josephine, since they pay well. Their two children, Dillon and Kayleigh, are adorable and sweet and well-behaved. It is an enjoyable way to make money.

             Josephine unlocks the car door. She shares an old Toyota Corolla with her mother. She sits in the car and momentarily freezes. Something is nagging her, some piece of information is rattling inside her brain.

             She has to go back inside. She has to kiss each child good-bye. She doesn’t know why, but it’s urgent.

             She runs back to the doorbell and rings it. Mr. Sullivan opens the door. Josephine feels foolish; she’s so tired. “I forgot to say good-bye to the kids,” she says.

             He smiles good-naturedly and calls for the children. Dillon races out from the TV room and hugs. She kisses his mop of bright red hair.

             “Where’s Kayleigh?” she says, the words ringing loudly in the air. Something about those words – it’s important.

             “Kayleigh?” Mr. Sullivan calls into the house once again. “Ms. Joey wants to say good-bye.”

             “Can I finish my show?” Dillon asks. Josephine grins and nods.

             “Is your sister with you?” she asks.

             “Nope,” he says, and he runs away.

             “I’ll check the backyard,” Mr. Sullivan says. Josephine feels guilty. She doesn’t need to say good-bye; she’ll see them again soon.

             While Mr. Sullivan is out back, a tiny voice behind her squeals, “Boo!” Josephine jumps. She turns around. It’s Kayleigh, hiding amongst the rose bushes. “I scared you!” she says, giggling.

             “Yes, you did!” Josephine says, kneeling down and giving the girl a huge hug. “I’ve found Kayleigh!” she calls into the house, and she feels such enormous relief. She doesn’t quite understand why.

*

Take 3

             Josephine hears the door unlock and breathes a sigh of relief. She has been up all night, studying and listening out for the kids, and she is exhausted. She checks the time – it’s 9:00 am. The Sullivans are always punctual.

             The kids are in the playroom, watching Saturday morning cartoons. Josephine has just finished cleaning up the kitchen; she’d made them pancakes for breakfast.

             Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan hang up their coats and then greet Josephine in the kitchen. They ask her how the night went and once again repeat their gratitude that she was able to spend the night.

             “It really means a lot to us, that we can trust you,” Mrs. Sullivan says warmly, and she means it.

             Josephine shrugs. “I love the kiddos,” she says, “and they’re so easy. I can’t believe how quickly they fall asleep! And they don’t wake up – Dillon did once, to use the bathroom, but that was it.” Dillon is the older sibling – seven – and Josephine had listened from the guest bedroom rather than check on him. She’d heard his feet pitter patter against the hallway carpet to the bathroom; she’d heard the toilet seat go up, the trinkle of water, the flush, the sink; and then she’d heard him return to his bedroom and close his door. Only after she was certain he was back in bed did she get up, check that he hadn’t peed on the toilet seat, that he had turned off the light. And she cracked open his door to get one peek at him. He was sleeping soundly, nightlight on, clutching the dragon plushie that he was embarrassed to admit he still needed.

             Mr. Sullivan counts out the money and hands it to Josephine. “That’s correct, right?” he says. “And I threw in an extra twenty as a special thanks. I know you’ve got AP exams coming up and you could be studying instead of babysitting.”

             “I got some studying in,” Josephine says, yawning. She stretches and goes to get her coat. She is so incredibly tired.

             A thought pounds inside her brain, a restless, relentless thought. But she can’t make it out – a warning? Her eyelids are so heavy.

             She remembers her parents’ warnings about driving drunk, and she has never drunk alcohol so the warnings didn’t matter. But she is impaired. Is it dangerous to drive while exhausted?

             “Are you okay?” Mr. Sullivan asks as Josephine stands in the foyer, coat half-on, yawning and unmoving.

             “I think I might be too tired to drive home,” she says. “Can I call my father? He can pick me up.”

             “Nonsense,” Mr. Sullivan says. “I’ll drive you.” He quickly tells his wife, puts on his coat, and gets his keys. They go outside.

             “Thank you so much,” Josephine says. “My dad can drive me to pick up the car later.”

             “No problem at all,” Mr. Sullivan says.

             They get in the car, and Mr. Sullivan carefully checks the mirrors. “Hm,” he says, frowning. “I think I saw something.” He gets out to check. Josephine hears him shout, “Kayleigh! What are you doing here!” The little girl squeals and runs around the car.

             “I scared you!” she says.

             “You should never play behind a car,” Mr. Sullivan says. “Never!” He turns to Josephine. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and he takes Kayleigh’s hand and brings her inside the house.

             Josephine feels such enormous relief, and she doesn’t understand why.

*

Take 4

             “More sugar, please!” Kayleigh commands in her shrill and chipper voice. She’s been up since six this morning; she has already played outside with the dog, watched a few cartoons, and scribbled all over her coloring books. Dillon, who woke up at seven, is a bit more subdued. He has his action figures lined up on the dining room table, watching him eat.

             “You don’t need more sugar,” Josephine says calmly, pointing out the puddle of syrup on Kayleigh’s final pancake. “That’s full of sugar. That’s more than enough.”

             Kayleigh fakes a pout and greedily shoves the rest of the pancake in her mouth. “More sugar,” she says, grinning, with a full mouth and crumbs falling out.

             Dillon giggles and shoves his last pancake in his mouth. “More sugar,” he says, purposefully exaggerating so lots of crumbs fall out.

             Josephine smiles. She knows that this is pretty much the worst behavior these kids exhibit, and that’s pretty good.

             She looks at her watch. It’s 8:40. Their parents are due home at nine and are never late. “Okay,” she says, collecting their plates. “It’s time to go watch TV. Your parents will be home soon.” Dillon scurries away, but Kayleigh stays behind.

             “I’ve watched enough TV,” Kayleigh says. “I wanna play hide-and-seek!” Josephine is too tired for hide-and-seek, and she knows their parents approve of Saturday morning cartoons.

             “No,” she says, and she is about to command the little girl to go join her brother, but something in her brain is warning her and she can’t get the next words out. Baffled, she stutters for a bit before deciding, “Why don’t you help me clean up?”

             Kayleigh is barely five, and Josephine knows that her help will just slow things down. The kitchen won’t be clean by the time the parents get home. She knows that they won’t care, but she takes pride in doing things well. If she makes the kids breakfast, she will clean up after herself. Oh, well. That nagging sensation in her brain tells her that she must keep Kayleigh with her.

             At 9:00, Mr. and Mr. Sullivan arrive, on time. Kayleigh is still wiping the table and giggling as the crumbs fall on the floor. Josephine apologizes for the mess, explains that Kayleigh had a lot of energy and she thought it would be good for her to help clean.

             “Of course,” Mrs. Sullivan says enthusiastically while hugging her daughter. Mr. Sullivan counts out the money and hands it to Josephine, explaining that he added an extra twenty for her troubles.

             “You can go home,” Mrs. Sullivan says as Josephine continues to load the dishwasher. “You must be tired, and I know you have tests to study for. Kayleigh will help me finish.” Kayleigh grins broadly and her eyes sparkle.

             “Then can we play hide-and-seek?” says. Mrs. Sullivan sighs.

             “I don’t know, honey,” she says. “Mommy’s tired.”

             As Josephine puts in her coat, she listens to the chatter in the kitchen – Kayleigh’s high-pitched voice and Mrs. Sullivan’s weary, soft voice. Josephine heads to her car and drives home. She feels such enormous relief, and she doesn’t understand why.

*

Take 5

             The school bus stops on Josephine’s street at 4:55 on Friday, and the bus driver yells, “Joey!” She looks up from the Calculus textbook to see that she’s at her stop. She quickly shoves her books into her bag and hurries off the bus. “Thanks, sorry,” she says to the driver.

             She races into her home and upstairs to change and pack her bag. She has an overnight babysitting gig tonight. It’s the Sullivans, and she’s babysat overnight for them before. Their children are darling, and they pay well, so she was excited to say yes.

             She looks at all of her books and notebooks, thinks about the tests she has to study for and the paper she hasn’t even started. Her eyes well with tears as she realizes how exhausted she is. These past four years, her entire focus has been on doing well and being well-rounded so she can get into a good college. All work and determination – and it had paid off. Her teachers love her and praise her. She’d gotten into Harvard.

             But she doesn’t have the money. And now senior year is near the end and time is running out.

             She accepted at a state college, crying as she signed the form. Her parents have been supportive, but there isn’t much they can do. They can’t afford Harvard.

             With luck, she can do a year and then transfer. Or just graduate in three and do grad school at Harvard. She’s given herself plenty of pep talks and she’s reconciled herself to her future.

             She still has a future.

             She goes into the kitchen to grab a snack. She can eat dinner with the kids; Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan always make sure there is enough food. But Josephine doesn’t want to eat too much of their food.

             Her dad is in the kitchen; he often leaves work early on Fridays. He notices her tired, red eyes.

             “You okay, kiddo?” he asks. He is worried about her. He knows that she is stressed. He knows that her life isn’t going exactly according to her plans – but that’s how life is. She is still going somewhere, just taking a slightly different path than she’d hoped for.

             Josephine downs a glass of cold orange juice, and that refreshes her. She nods and smiles. This is easy.

             That pounding in her brain – what is it? She can’t figure it out.

             She bursts into tears.

             “I’m so tired!” she sobs. “And Mrs. McKenna said we have a test next week – we shouldn’t have any tests now, just AP prep! And the English paper – Daddy, I haven’t even started it!” She hasn’t called him Daddy in years.

             He hugs her. “It’s okay, Joey,” he says, “it’s okay. We can’t do it all.”

             Josephine hiccups into his shoulder. Something’s wrong, but she can’t figure out what it is.

             “I can call Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan,” he says, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

             “I can’t do that to them!” Josephine protests. “I made a commitment! They’re counting on me!”

             “And they understand how important school is,” he said. “School comes first. This is a charity event for Mr. Sullivan’s work; Mrs. Sullivan doesn’t have to attend. But if she wants to, I can volunteer to have Dillon and Kayleigh spend the night. It’s not a big deal. Your mom won’t mind.”

             Josephine sighs. She feels defeated. She feels like a failure. But she also feels such enormous relief, and she doesn’t understand why.

*

Take 1

There is only one take.

             Josephine babysat the Sullivan kids overnight, she made them breakfast, she cleaned up the kitchen by herself. She smiled and thanked Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, and she ignored how exhausted she felt. She could sleep over the summer, she reasoned, once this all was over.

             She trudged to the old Toyota Corolla, got in, turned it on. She yawned and blinked. Just a five minute drive her house. Then she could sleep, or study some more. She hadn’t even started that paper. She glanced at her bag on the passenger seat, overflowing with work. She sighed, put the car in reverse, and backed up.

             Thud! The car hit something rather hard and kept rolling backwards. Had she hit the mailbox? She wasn’t that close, was she? She looked out the windows and didn’t see anything. But she heard something – a loud, shrill squealing.

             Thud! The front tires rolled over whatever it was, and the loud noise stopped. Josephine stopped the car, in a daze, too exhausted to think straight. She just wanted to go home.

             The front door opened, and Mrs. Sullivan stepped out. Her face instantly changed to sheer horror, and she screamed for all the heavens to hear, “Kayleigh!” And she ran towards the car.

             Josephine put the car in park and stepped out. Only then did she see it.

             Her head felt like it was about to explode.

             There – under the front tires, crumpled and bloody – lies the mangled body of a just-turned-five-year-old girl, a dear, sweet child who just wanted to play hide-and-seek.

             Josephine’s head is spinning; her ears are pounding with the sound of the mother’s desperate cries.

             She falters and leans against the car. The world is fading out. The past few minutes, the past few hours, the past few days repeat in her head – what did she do wrong?

             She could go back in time, check in on the kids before she drives away, find Kayleigh before she backs up.

             She could go back in time, admit her exhaustion and ask for a ride home.

             She could go back in time, keep Kayleigh close to her, cleaning up, so she won’t run outside and play behind the car.

             She could go back in time, admit her exhaustion and cancel the babysitting gig.

             The piercing screams jolt through her brain as she realizes that in life, there is only one take.