“Mom, Talia does bad things in the basement,” my 11-year-old son said as calmly as if he were asking for more milk with his cereal.
And not talking about Talia, our nanny.
A little boy sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
A little boy sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
I paused, my hand on the refrigerator, already forgetting what I wanted from it anyway.
“What do you mean, Ethan?” I asked. “What kind of bad things, honey?”
But right then, the front door creaked open, and Ethan stiffened.
Derek, my husband, walked in, wiping sweat from his brow, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door as always.
Car keys on a hallway table | Source: Midjourney
Car keys on a hallway table | Source: Midjourney
Ethan’s eyes darted to the floor.
“Hey, buddy,” Derek said, ruffling his hair. “Hi, Jen.”
My husband walked across the kitchen and reached for me, pulling me into an embrace. Behind him, Ethan was already down the hallway.
A boy walking down a hallway | Source: Midjourney
A boy walking down a hallway | Source: Midjourney
That night, I made grilled chicken and veggies. I had to make something quick. Something easy. Something that didn’t need any mental capacity. My brain was already gnawing at Ethan’s behavior.
What could have been so bad? What was Talia up to? And why was Ethan suddenly keeping his distance from Derek?
Ethan had always been his father’s son. From the time he could speak, everything was about Derek. Sure, I was the one who fixed all cuts and bruises and made his favorite meals… but Derek?
A plate of food on a table | Source: Midjourney
A plate of food on a table | Source: Midjourney
Derek was the man who put the stars in the sky.
I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong.
After dinner, I left Derek to wash the dishes and tidy the kitchen and slipped into Ethan’s room.
My son was curled on his side, the way he did when his stomach was sore. Now, he lay there, fidgeting with the drawstring of his pajama pants.
A little boy laying on his bed | Source: Midjourney
A little boy laying on his bed | Source: Midjourney
“Why did you stop talking earlier, baby?” I asked, keeping my voice even and light. “You got really quiet when Dad came home… Did you not want him to hear about Talia?”
Ethan stared at the ceiling for a long moment. For a breath there, I wasn’t sure if he even knew I was in the room.
“Because, Mom,” he said. “I don’t trust him.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
A close up of a frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
A close up of a frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
“What don’t you trust about Dad? Ethan? I’m going to need you to tell me everything.”
He sat up then, knocking over his stuffed penguin. He crossed his legs, his expression unusually serious for the carefree child I knew.
“Mom, Talia locks the basement door every time she’s here. She says that she’s using dangerous chemicals to clean and take out stains from our clothes. But she’s lying. I know she is!”
“Okay, that’s strange,” I agreed. “But what makes you think she’s lying?”
A stuffed penguin | Source: Midjourney
A stuffed penguin | Source: Midjourney
I watched Ethan’s face fall.
“Hey, hey,” I said quickly. “I believe you! I’m just trying to understand, okay?”
He nodded.
“I’ve heard weird noises down there. Like there’s someone else waiting for her! Or… meeting her. But whenever she’s fetched me from school, there’s never been anyone else at home. Look, Mom. I think we need to put a camera in the basement.”
An upset boy sitting on a bed | Source: Midjourney
An upset boy sitting on a bed | Source: Midjourney
My heart sank. Nothing good could come from anything my child had just told me.
Talia had been with us for over a year. She’s 25, has a bright smile, is efficient, and soft-spoken. She started as a part-time cleaner, trying to earn some money while studying, and slowly became more of a housekeeper-slash-nanny.
She came after lunch, stayed until I got home, and watched Ethan while Derek and I were working.
A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney
A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney
I’m a nurse. I work 12-hour shifts when I’m on rotation, sometimes longer if the floor’s short-staffed. Derek runs a custom furniture business. He’s always running in and out, always “checking on the guys,” and always conveniently too busy to pick up groceries or take Ethan to the dentist.
I trusted Talia. Or maybe I just never thought not to.
But Ethan had never said something like this before. He wasn’t dramatic. He was observant, cautious, and thoughtful. He wasn’t the kind of kid who made things up.
A nurse standing in a hospital hallway | Source: Midjourney
A nurse standing in a hospital hallway | Source: Midjourney
So, I didn’t tell Derek.
I trusted my gut, ordered a basic camera online, and paid extra for one-day delivery.
The next night, I waited until Derek was in the shower before sneaking downstairs. I tucked the camera up in the beams of the low basement ceiling, angled just right, and connected it to an app on my phone.
The basement was mostly unused. There was some old workout equipment, paint cans, and a fridge that hadn’t worked in years. No one cleaned down there. And certainly not with chemicals.
A fridge in a basement | Source: Midjourney
A fridge in a basement | Source: Midjourney
Which is why the first time I saw the motion notification light up my phone, my stomach twisted.
I was in the break room at the hospital, sipping watered-down coffee, trying to keep my eyes open. I tapped the alert and pulled up the feed.
It was Talia. She walked in calmly, her hair tied back, holding her phone. I knew Ethan had soccer practice after school, so his friend’s mom would drop him off at home.
A nurse holding her cellphone | Source: Midjourney
A nurse holding her cellphone | Source: Midjourney
Talia glanced around before locking the basement door behind her. She typed something into her phone quickly, then sat down in one of the old armchairs that I had been asking Derek to reupholster for years.
She sat there and waited.
Five minutes passed. I watched, unable to look away.
Then the side door, the one that leads to the outside, the one no one ever uses, opened.
A young woman standing in a basement | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply