Page 7

CALLIOPE

T rue to her word, Monica sent me the ticket to the Minutemen’s game, which arrived in my electronic wallet well before the game and before I had to head to Sam and Kelsey’s home to meet everyone.

Before heading to Beacon Hill to meet Kelsey, Tom, and Crew, I had texted my sister Juno and brother PJ on our sibling group text, hoping we could have a real chat before I left for the game.

Me: Guys. I need you!

Juno: What did Zander do?

PJ: If this is about Zander again, I’m out.

PJ had hated Zander from the start, he wasn’t sad to see him go, but he was pissed at how he’d stolen my work.

But not enough to spend another chat dissecting our relationship and trying to find the missed red flags.

My brother had learned to tolerate a lot of annoying shit, but he was DONE with anything that had to do with my breakup. To be honest, so was I.

Me: I got a job!

The telltale tone was almost immediate. I clicked to connect, and PJ and Juno’s faces popped on the screen. PJ took a little longer to come on screen while he found someplace more private where he could talk without interruption.

“Ok, sister, dish,” Juno rushed out while PJ fumbled with his earbuds.

“You know how Monica is a personal assistant, right?” I asked. Monica had been like a fourth sibling since I met her in high school. They knew about as much about her life as I did.

“Yeah, she’s still working for several of the Minutemen.

Are you working for her now?” PJ asked. PJ was a major Boston sports fan, and in the past, anytime Monica came over, he would try to get as much team news as possible.

Lately, the two of them had been unable to be in the same room together; something had happened, and neither would spill the tea.

Monica was as tight-lipped with that incident as she was with all her clients.

We only knew some of her client lists because she’d been pictured with them.

“No. But the Minutemen pitcher, his wife, and a hockey player from the Blizzards are looking for a nanny…”

“Wait, you aren’t applying to be a nanny. Shit, Callie. I know it sucks losing the internship, but I know you’re not that desperate,” Juno said.

“Hold on…” I said, texting the salary for the position in our sibling chat.

“Is that the salary?” PJ asked wide-eyed. “I guess that’s what you can afford when you have the highest salary in the entire league.”

I didn’t pay a ton of attention to the rumors about our local baseball team, but Sam Drummond’s contract had made front- page news. His salary routinely came up every time he pitched a losing game.

“Yeah, it’s more than double what I made at my internship, and it includes room and board in both Boston and Colorado. I met the little boy, and he’s fucking adorable.”

“You know you can’t swear around kids, right?” PJ asked.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m not an asshole, guys. I have a conditional offer, and part two of the interview will be at the Minutemen’s game tonight. Sam will be pitching, but I’ll be in the stands helping Kelsey and Tom.”

“Wait, is this Tom Campbell from the Blizzards?” PJ practically jumped through the phone. He got even more excited as he began to piece together what he’d learned from the news and realized that as their nanny, I would have a front-row seat to their lives.

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know much about hockey. Their son is about sixteen months old and needs a nanny who can travel back and forth between Boston and Colorado. The position also includes travel time for some away games, first class all the way.”

“You realize how much travel hockey players do? And you’re going to be responsible for a cranky toddler on an airplane?” Juno asked, unable to hide her shudder. “Remember the flight to Miami with the screaming child whose ear hurt?”

Juno reminded me of the flight on which we were seated next to an unaccompanied minor who must have had an ear infection.

During takeoff, she felt intense pain, and it never subsided.

The two of us spent the entire flight from Logan to Miami doing our best to console the poor girl.

Every time the flight attendant looked at us, she gave us a thumbs-up and proceeded to avoid our row, letting us be responsible for the child.

“His mother will be with me for our first trip, and from what she said, he’s been flying since he was three months old,” I explained, almost as much for my benefit as theirs.

“And what, you’ll be going to a bunch of hockey games? For free?” PJ asked, his jealousy showing once again.

“Peej, I’ll be there with a toddler. Even if I were interested in the game, I would probably spend most of my time wiping sugar crystals off his face after I’ve bribed him with cotton candy.”

Juno cringed, “Sounds sticky.”

PJ loved sports, but Juno feared little kids. The unpredictability of small children and their tendencies to find their way into literal, sticky situations was more than enough for her to avoid them altogether.

“Are you sure this is what you want? I know you want to be independent, but Mom and Dad aren’t pushing you out of the nest,” PJ pointed out.

Yes, I wanted independence. Yes, I wanted my parents to no longer need to make my rent payments. But I was at a crossroads with no idea which path I wanted. I had started to look at this position as a reset. It would give me time to think, work through my options, and set a new path.

“It won’t be my forever job, but I need some time after what Zander did. I’ll be able to lick my wounds, make a plan, and figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

“Shh, don’t say that too loud. Daddy needs someone in marketing.

He’ll start a pressure campaign if he knows you’re looking for a job,” Juno said.

Juno had accepted a position at the pharmaceutical company my father led.

We’d stopped calling her a nepotism baby only because we’d realized how much it hurt her to think she hadn’t earned her position.

While Dad’s name got her in the door, she’d earned the position and excelled at everything she did.

“Well, if Daddy asks, I need you both to help me in a little white lie. I’m going to tell him I accepted a marketing position for the Blizzards.”

“How are you going to explain it when you’re in Boston? Or pictured with a toddler on your hip? Or the fact that you don’t know anything about hockey?” PJ asked, pointing out the obvious flaws in my plan.

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. I’m sure there’s a market on social media for family interaction. And they don’t need to know every time I’m in Boston. I can slip in and out of town, and they’d never know it.”

The conversation then morphed into PJ’s updates on the start of his classes. He was starting his second year at Boston University Medical, and outside of class and studying, the most social interaction he got was these phone calls with us.

All three of us had gone to BU, where our parents had graduated, and their parents had also graduated.

All three of us had received so many benefits growing up and never had to worry about our education costs, but it came at the expense of having autonomy in our decisions.

I think PJ was happy with his decision, and Juno was great at her job, but this nanny position might be precisely what I needed.

I could leave the nest, get my bearings, and then decide on my long-term goals.

If this position gave me a little more time to focus on my music, I might be able to reconnect with myself at the same time.