Nanny for the Alien Dad

Chapter 1

Boltor

“What are those doing in the middle of the floor?” I snap.

Lotom, my assistant, appears at the door. “Was I supposed to pack those with the rest of the things?”

     I roll my eyes. “No, I just decided that five bottles of Fron Tree oil would fit the decor. Of course you were supposed to pack them with the rest of things!”

     He picks them up, hurriedly. “I’ll have to unpack the wafers to fit these in.”

     “Maybe in exchange for that, I could pay you some kind of regular salary,” I scoff. He already makes twice as much as someone else in a similar position would. I walk into the receiving room steaming mad, trying to collect myself. It’s just not acceptable that the day before I’m setting out across the river to the next valley that absolutely nothing is ready. The house staff should know better. Could I have prepared better? Sure. But for now, what’s important is fixing the situation. 

    “Any news about that dried fermented gulper?” I ask Kaldon, my secretary. She’s busy herself, balancing our expenses.

     “Nothing since the last time you asked,” she says. “But apparently there’s news of a drought up in the North. It’s looking like a lot of things aren’t going to come in until after the first rains.”

     “Write it down. When I’m back and have ten seconds to myself, I’ll plan an expedition up there. What about the nanny? Anything from her?”

     She shakes her head. “No. I’ve been checking, but still nothing.”

“Of course not. Well, keep checking. And make sure to sniff the air every few seconds. That way you’ll know if the dried, fermented gulper is coming.”

     I duck back into the main room before she can say anything. The gulper was a long shot anyway, and I’m not counting on it to make a profit. 

Still, it annoys me whenever another thing goes wrong.And it reminds me of how much is on my shoulders alone since she isn’t here to help any more. My wife, their mother. Koklani.

     She would have gotten that gulper. And she would have had everything packed by now. I don’t know how she did it. I should have taken notes back then, but I never expected she’d be gone to begin with. Somehow, I’ll stumble through on my own. 

     This is what it’s like every time and how it will continue to be, I think. That’s the most upsetting part of all.

     Lotom pokes his head in. “I think I’ve got good news. I found the nanny who went missing. She got turned around, and she was just stumbling around the back of the manor…”

     It seems like ‘good news’ to me, too, until I see the nanny. Or rather, smell her.

     I stammer for a second, trying to put words to my anger.

     “What exactly is the meaning of showing up in this state?” I hiss. The nanny sways slightly. Her whole body reeks of alcohol.

     “I sort of forgot what day it was, and then there was a problem with transportation, but…”

  Lotom catches my eye before I outright scream at her. I can tell from his face that he’s trying to convey that yelling won’t make anything better right now. There’s the children to think about.

That’s exactly what makes me want to yell. This is not an acceptable state for anyone tasked with the care of children.

     “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of half-baked explanations for your state,” I say. “I’m also sure that I won’t waste my time listening to them. I’m not leaving my children in the care of someone in your state. I wouldn’t leave a dog in your care.”

     “I’m getting better…” she protests vaguely, holding in a belch. Or a retch.

     “Let me be clear,” I fume. “I’m not leaving my children in the hands of someone who doesn’t have the self control of a child, much less the sober head to care for them. Get out of my sight.” 

     “Come with me, ma’am,” says Lotom, guiding her by the shoulder toward the entryway. I stomp up the stairs. Another thing gone wrong. Another thing I have to take care of. Of course.

I almost resent their mother for not being here, and as soon as the thought occurs, I know it’s unfair, ridiculous even. But still. She always knew what questions to ask. It wasn’t a chore to her to hire these kinds of professionals, but something of a priority. She would have had it all sorted a week before leaving, not unsettled the day before. On the other hand, I wouldn’t need a nanny at all if she were still here. 

Either way, I’m not made for domestic life. That’s one reason why I try my best to separate myself from it. Business is where I feel like home — not home itself.

I duck into Tacan’s room. He’s sitting on the floor, looking at a bundle of leaves spread out in front of him and writing in his notebook.

He immediately smiles up at me. He’s always excited when he sees me. “Did you come in here to help?”

“Sort of,” I say, and he frowns. I told him that I would help as soon as I dealt with today’s appointments. I hadn’t counted on nothing going right and no one doing what they were supposed to. “It’s taking longer to finish the appointments than I thought.” A lot longer.

“But you’ll be able to help today?” he asks brightly.

I sit on the bed. “Remind me. You said you’re supposed to make a guide to all of these plants you collected. Is that right?”

He nods. “Yes! And I’m supposed to have uses for each one and enough information to tell all of them from each other. And I’m doing okay, except…”

He fishes out two leaves from the pile. “Except for these two. I know that one of them is for teas and one of them is for spice, but I can’t tell the difference between them. Which one’s which?”

A big project for a child who’s only nine years old, I think. Then again, it’s important that they know their way around the local plants, and Tacan in particular loves it.

After all, it’s just a step away from what I do. Once you know how to recognize the uses of all the various plants, you learn where they are common and where they’re rare. Then, you can make quite a good living for yourself by taking things from one place to another.

That is, if you can handle the trek across the jungle and the risk of bandits. And if you can find someone to take care of your children.

I look at the leaves. It isn’t easy to tell them apart immediately. Both are crumpled and at least one of them has been picked a little bit too early. I’m starting to look closer when I hear the door downstairs open.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Tacan. “I have to see someone about some dried fermented gulper. But I’ll do my best to come up and help you later.”

“Okay,” he answers. “I’ll see you then. Thanks, Papa.”

     I wince at the way he says it. Like he knows that I won’t. For one moment he thought I was actually going to keep my promise, and now he realizes it was silly for him to hope.

     If I didn’t have the trip tomorrow, I tell myself as I walk down the stairs. But isn’t there always a trip tomorrow? Or a merchant I have to talk to, a rumor I had to follow up on? Hasn’t that just been the way it’s been? At least since…

     I have to do something about it. Not tonight, but I will do something. I’ll fix this all some way or another.

     I walk into the receiving room by the front entrance, beaming at the merchant. “Why, hello! You smell like you’ve had a good crop!” I sit through the meeting thinking of all the other things I have to do.

     Somehow, even with all the meetings of the day, I get everything packed and ready for the voyage tomorrow. Everything except for the nanny, of course. I don't have a plan for that, apart from hoping for a miracle. There’s still the option of desperately throwing money in front of anyone who will talk to me, but not tonight. Tonight, there’s nothing to do but sleep.

     Tarcan had figured out on his own that the two leaves smelled different on his own. He’s done with the whole thing by the time I go upstairs to tell him and Kala, his younger sister, a story before bed. It ends up being a story about one of my adventures, as usual. I exaggerate only a little and cut out inappropriate details a lot. I’m probably more tired than either of them by the time I go to my own bedroom.

     Things can’t keep on like this, I think as I lie there. Something has to give.

     I don’t know how long I stayed there like that, but I must have dozed off at some point because I bolt awake at the sound of a small cry.

     Kala, I think immediately, racing for her room.

     She’s in her bed, curled up tight. It takes me a second to notice her, because she’s camouflaged herself to match her bedding. She often does that when she’s had a nightmare. I used to do it too when I was young. It felt safe to be invisible.

     “It’s okay,” I tell her, sitting on the bed next to her. “It was just a dream. You’ll be okay.”

     I feel awkward. There has to be some right thing to say, something that will help Kala calm down and get to sleep, but I can’t think of anything.

     How many times had she done this for Kala instead of me? I always felt selfish then for leaving her to take care of it by herself, and now I feel foolish, too, since I have to do it myself anyway.

     “Could you sing me something?” Kala’s small voice comes from the just barely visible spot of light-colored scales lying on the bed.

     I nod, and launch into the first tune I can think of. It’s a slow, sweet tune, about a lover waiting for their beloved. I’m well into the first chorus before I remember where I’ve heard the song.

     It was one of Koklani’s songs. She always used to sing it when she was sitting and working on something or playing with the children.

     My singing slowly trails off. I can almost hear Koklani singing it in the silence. The ghost of her voice is more beautiful to me than anything that I can manage with my own lungs.

     “You miss her too, don’t you?” Kala says, slowly allowing her scales to become darker.

     “I do.” Koklani and I didn’t share the Jalshagar bond, but we made something precious between us. I do miss that. I do miss her.

     “I can get to sleep,” she says. I nod and tuck her in.

Something has to give, I think as I walk back to bed. Something has to give.