Quite frankly, I don't consider the whole thing to have been my fault. OK, I know that the parents I sit for have their rules and that I'm supposed to obey them. I understand that. It's just that sometimes situations arise when you have to bend the rules a little. That was all I intended – to bend one little rule just a teeny bit.
It all centred on Bobby, my boyfriend, and my love-life, or purported love-life. My parents were urging me to dump Bobby. "He's a born loser and working hard to make his birthright come true," was my Dad's opinion of Bobby, urging me to dump him at my earliest convenience, or even sooner. Mum's opinion wasn't quite so flattering. They just don't understand him.
That was one side of the equation. On the other side was Bobby, urging me to go faster and farther than I currently wanted to. It hadn't reached the stage of put out or get out, but Bobby had this tendency to observe rather loudly that I was eighteen and I could chose to do what I wanted to and just because my parents were a bit square didn't mean I had to be. We can have some real fun if you just relax a bit, was his daily theme.
What I wanted was a place where I could sit down and chat with Bobby without a), my parents hovering around to put in their two bits worth or b), Bobby being alone with me and pushing me hard for fulfilment.
When I took the job of sitting for Bruce and Mary it seemed like an ideal place to have that little chat. I'd just wait until they'd gone out and the kids were asleep and then have Bobby come over so we could have that talk. That was the rule I wanted to bend. No visitors. But it wasn't as though he was coming over to play; it was just going to be a friendly little chat and he'd be on his way.
So with the best intentions I tipped off Booby, giving him the address and telling him I'd send him a message when it was time to come around.
That evening I went around to Bruce and Mary's place and settled in with the kids. Bruce and Mary toddled off to their party or whatever and the kids and I settled down into a standard routine. After a while the kids went to bed and zonked off. I gave them half an hour to settle in properly them sent Bobby a message. Another half hour passed and Bobby finally turned up.
I suppose it took me about five seconds to work out that I'd erred. Perhaps it was the "Hey, we're finally going to get it on," that he greeted me with that gave me a clue. There again, maybe it was the fact that he smelled like a distillery, and a cheap one at that.
If I'd had a choice I'd have slammed and bolted the door with Bobby on the other side but I'd been so happy to see him that I'd just opened the door wide and he barged right past me.
"Hey, Baby, where's the bedroom," he demanded, and he was talking awfully loudly.
"Quieten down a little, Bobby," I pleaded. "You'll wake the kids. We're not going to get it on, anyway. I wanted you here so that we could talk about where our relationship is going."
"To bed, is where it's going. Now. I told the guys that I was finally getting it on with you tonight, so you got no choice."
The hell I had no choice and what did he mean, he told the guys? Bobby was being loud and obnoxious and all of a sudden I was looking at him through Dad's eyes. Maybe Dad was right for a change.
"Forget it, Bobby. It isn't happening. I wanted you to come here so that we could talk but I think you've had a little too much to drink. You'd better go home and sleep it off and we'll talk tomorrow."
"Don't worry about a couple of drinks, honey," Bobby replied, his voice seeming louder than ever. "You'll find they don't slow me down any. Come on. No more hard to get."
He made a grab for me but he was so uncoordinated that it was easy to evade his clumsy lunge. I was starting to get irritated and I wished he'd just shut up, or at least lower his voice somewhat. He was practically shouting. And I wasn't too enthralled with what he was now saying, either. He was starting to get abusive.
To put the icing on the cake Emma's bedroom door opened and she came out, wanting to know what was going on.
"Who's he," she asked. "I don't know him. We're not supposed to have visitors while Mum and Dad are out."
"I know, honey," I said softly. "That's Bobby. A friend of mine. He just dropped in to see me. He's leaving now. You go back to bed while I see him out."
I managed to steer Bobby towards the front door. He at least had enough brains left not to try to grab me with a ten year old child watching. I noticed that Emma was still standing watching as I ushered Bobby outside.
"Um, how did you get here, Bobby?" I asked, viewing the absence of his car with mixed feelings. No car meant he wouldn't be driving. No car also meant I didn't know how he'd be leaving.
"Caught a taxi," he said.
He was, I noticed, visibly swaying in the open air. I steered him down to the front gate and got him to prop against an electric pole.
"Stay there," I told him, speaking nice and firmly. "I'll call a taxi to come and get you."
With that I raced back inside, closing and locking the front door in case Bobby decided to come back.
"Bed," I growled at Emma, who was still in her doorway. She looked guilty and vanished, while I called for a taxi.
Taxi on the way, I looked out the window and could see Bobby slumped against the pole. I'd keep one eye on him until the taxi arrived. First thing first, I went to see Emma.
"You OK, honey?" I asked. "Bobby decided to drop by and see me. He's gone now. Why don't you go back to sleep. I'll stay here with you until you do, if you like."
Emma muttered something and snuggled down into her bed. I sat on the bed next to her, talking softly, and she was asleep again very quickly. Kids are lucky that way.
Leaving Emma's room I checked up on Bobby. It must have been a slow day taxi-wise, as there was one already there to pick him up. I'd warned them that the passenger had had a few and the driver was helping Bobby into the back. The driver stayed at the passenger door for a few moments before closing it and I saw him counting money as he walked around to the driver's side. Getting his fare in advance, I guessed. And would probably collect again when Bobby got home on the assumption that Bobby would forget he'd already paid. Such is life.
So Bobby had come and gone and Emma was asleep and all was well. Except for my relationship with Bobby, which I think just crashed into a brick wall. I'd see him tipsy before, but never as obnoxiously tight as he was tonight. Thinking back over the times I'd been out with him I could now see that he was often tipsy. I think I might be well out of it.
Things came crashing down on me five minutes later. The doorbell rang. Telling myself very firmly that it couldn't be Bobby, the taxi had taken him away, I still made sure to keep the security chain on when I opened the front door a little. The man there looked both familiar and strange, sort of like someone I should know but couldn't place.
"You're Carly, the sitter?" he asked, and I nodded.
"I'm Mark, Bruce's brother. Emma said there was a problem here. May I come in?"
Politely requested, but I could hear the underlying determination. He was coming in to make sure that everything was OK and that was that. I could see the resemblance to Bruce now he'd identified himself, but I felt like being difficult.
"Um, do you have some id?" I asked, smiling.
Unsmiling he produced his driver's license.
"If that's not enough you can have Emma confirm who I am," he said quietly. "Now, may I come in?"
"Emma's asleep, and I don't want you waking her or her brother," I said firmly, while releasing the safety chain. "What's the problem?"
