Babysitting

• Ebony Hood-Walsh, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2017

My stomach churned: I stared anxiously at the double-story house. Babysitting a stranger’s kid in the centre of my hometown was hard enough, but out in the middle of nowhere took it to a whole new level. It was a charming neighbourhood, although the houses were miles apart, which was not to my liking. I did not want to take this job, but being a struggling University student with little cash made life very difficult.
My feet moved without command towards the looming front door. Suddenly the door swung open and out sprung a beautiful woman with a baby attached to her side. I give them a tight smile and extend my trembling hand. The woman’s face lights up like an ablaze Christmas tree. “Thank goodness you’re here. I’m sorry I cannot give you a proper tour of our home but I really must go. I am already so late.” In her haste and rushed words, she passes her boy to me. He cradles his head on my shoulder and I cling onto him for dear life. Raising my siblings was easy; I did not partly care if I was a little rough with handling them, but now here I was cradling this baby as if it were a rare object that might break if I held it too tightly. “There is a note inside explaining everything. Thank you so much.” The woman quickly slides into her car and speeds away. I step into the well-furnished house with the baby still in my arms. On the lacquered oak table was a note, which I assumed was for me. I picked it up with my free hand:
Hi Laura
Just a few important details including alarm code information, and also that the gardener Robert will be stopping by later.
Michelle
Taking off my jacket, I scream at the man standing on the staircase, dropping the note and nearly losing grip of the baby. He quickly waves his hands around in a sign of surrender. “I’m Robert, the cleaner,” he points to a name tag and I let out a sigh of relief. He must have come earlier. Well at least I have someone to keep me company. He points to the baby sleeping and volunteers to take him to his bed. I pass him over, graciously, and let my body relax. Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought.
Hours later, I am startled by the phone ringing. I immediately reach for it. “Wilkings residence, how may I help you?”
“Oh hello darling, I’m just calling to see how things are going. I’m sorry Robert couldn’t make it. It seems he’s busy.” My breathing stills and I clutch the phone tighter.
“But Robert is here,” are the only words I can muster before the phone was snatched violently from my stone, cold hand.