The Babysitter

It was near the end of the school year, almost the summer, and I was about to turn 16 and my Mom had told me that she was going to be away a lot. It was just the two of us – I had never known my dad – and she was a bit overprotective. I wasn’t happy or particularly surprised when she said I would still need a babysitter. 

“Mom, I’m basically 16!! I can stay on my own.”

“Honey, you’re still too young. You’re still only 15. Maybe when you’re 16 but you’re not there yet.”

She said it with such comfort and warmth that I knew her heart was in the right place but I still felt annoyed about the whole thing. She told me that she would be home late that night – she worked in a bank and often had client meetings and events that went late – so that she had arranged for a babysitter to come to the house around the time I got home from school. I tried to argue but she insisted and was soon out the door headed to work. 

She meant well, of course, but the whole thing was kind of embarrassing. None of my other friends still needed a babysitter but she was overly protective. Probably because it was just the two of us, but  I couldn’t shake the feeling that part of her protectiveness had to do with my stature or lack of stature. I was 15, set to be 16 in two months, but I was still only 5’2. I had never been ‘the short kid’ when I was younger but now almost all of the other kids in school had shot up as they hit puberty. I kept hoping that I would too but so far… nothing. It seemed like each month went by and I was more and more noticeably smaller than the other kids. Friends who had been around my height, girls who I had liked, were now a head taller than me. Even some of the kids in younger grades would mistake me for being younger than them. It was becoming a real issue.

Earlier that week I had been wandering through the halls of the school when I walked past a group of girls standing in front of a locker. They were three blondes that I didn’t recognize, wearing baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts. They were all giggling together but became silent as I approached. One of them spoke to me, 

“Hey, sweetie. Are you lost?”

I looked at them but didn’t speak.

Another one talked, “Are you here to see your big brother or sister? You should ask for them at the office.”

I was confused and quickly replied, with an annoyed tone, “No… I’m going to Mr. Jacobs’ class.” 

The lead girl looked at me again and went slightly red in the face. She was pretty with her blonde hair down to her shoulders. She wasn’t particularly tall but stood a few inches taller than me. 

“I’m sorry… I thought you were… well… younger.”

They thought I was a kid lost in the halls of a high school!

I stamped away, feeling embarrassed. As I did so, I heard one of them say, “… can’t believe he’s older than us…”

I started to go red too … those girls were in grade 9 but they assumed I was younger than them! This kind of thing was happening more and more and it was a strangely humiliating feeling, always being treated like a kid and ignored by girls my own age.

I had mostly forgotten the experience by the end of the day and was feeling good as I was walking home that afternoon. When I got to the driveway to our house, a girl was sitting on our porch. She had dark hair tied back in a ponytail, blue jeans, and a red hoodie, and was reading a book. She looked up from the book as I approached and she smiled. “Michael?” 

She was quite pretty, with a friendly smile – she wasn’t made up in any way but had a kind of natural, youthful beauty.

“Hi, yeah. It’s Mike. And you are…?”

“Carey,” she replied, and held her hand out to shake mine.

I reached my hand out to her and as I did she stood up, and up, and up. This girl was tall! She had to be 5’10 or so, significantly taller than me.

As she stood up, my hand went somewhat limp and she gripped it firmly and shook it; my hand felt small in her strong grip. Her smile didn’t break at all but I was somewhat speechless as I found myself craning my head to look up at her. My eyes were about level with her chest and I felt quite intimidated by this tall young woman.

“I’m your new babysitter. Nice to meet you!” 

“Um… yeah… hi.” I pulled my hand back and took a step back, still somewhat surprised by her size and my feeling of attraction to this tall woman.

We stood there in awkward silence for a second before she said, “Well, are you going to let me in?”

“Right, of course.” I replied, fumbling with my keys and opening the door. I walked in first and she followed.

I felt a little insecure standing in the hallway next to this very tall young woman. I looked at her feet to see if she were wearing heels or something but, no… she was just tall. She filled the space of the hallway so much and I felt very small in comparison. The two of us standing in this small space made me feel like a kid talking to an adult. 

I made conversation and asked, “What are you reading?”

“Lord of the Flies,” she replied.

“Oh, nice. Is that for your term paper?”

She looked away. “Oh no, just for fun. I like reading a lot. Do you read much?”

“Ummm, a little,” I lied. Truthfully I mostly played video games or watched TV but always thought I should do more reading, become a little more cultured. 

The reading conversation made me feel even more like a kid, talking to this cultured young woman so I made conversation to hide my nervousness: “I don’t really think I need a babysitter to be honest. I’m 15 and I’ll be 16 in a few months.” 

She didn’t reply but smiled at me as she walked into the living room. Carey looked around the house, taking in the photos of me and my mom on the wall, the knickknacks on the shelves, and the candles my mom liked to burn. 

It felt strange to see her in our home – my Mom was taller than me, but not by much, maybe a few inches. So I was used to seeing people my size, maybe a little taller, in our house and now I was struck by just how much bigger Carey was than either of us. Watching her handle our pictures and move through our space felt … weird.

She turned to me and said, “I know it might feel weird, but your mom just wants you to be safe. And maybe it’ll be good for you to have some company.”

Her voice was soothing and she had a way of speaking that was calming. She had this gentle way about her that made me feel at ease.

I had to be honest that her size did make me feel more weird but also secure… safer, even. Given my own small stature, I felt like she was there to ensure things were OK. She was quite pretty too and that didn’t hurt. I didn’t mind spending time with her.

“Okay, I guess I can see that,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“How old are you anyway?” I asked as I watched her holding a photo of my mom and I.

“Almost eighteen. I’ve been doing this for years,” she said quite casually.

“So we’re not that far apart in age?”

“I guess not,” she said with a shrug and then asked, “Want to watch some TV?”

“Sure!” I said. 

She smiled, sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to her. I sat down, feeling slightly uncomfortable with how close she was. Her body was much larger than mine – not just taller and longer but thicker too. But we found a show to watch and got into it. After a little bit we were comfortable and both laughing at the show together. 

“Want a snack?” she asked.

“Yes please.”

“What do you feel like?”

I thought about it, “Well there’s some chips. They’re above the fridge. Mom keeps them there so I can’t reach them,” 

She looked at me and smiled, “Well I can. I’ll grab them!” 

I thought to myself: this was going pretty well. I got to hang out with this cool, mature, pretty older girl and we were getting along quite well. 

I spied a look at her as she walked into the kitchen and admired her height and figure. She wasn’t particularly curvaceous but her height gave her a svelte, sleek look. 

As she walked into the kitchen, I noticed she dropped a few of her cards on the floor. A bank card, a library card, and some ID. I stood up and picked them up.

“Hey,” I called to her in the kitchen, “you dropped a couple…”

My voice trailed off as I held her ID in my hand. I looked at the card, her picture, her height, 5’11, her birthdate… it couldn’t be? How could it be? The license said she was born more than a year after me. 

She rushed back into the living room and said, “Give me those please” in a quick voice. I handed her the cards and looked at her. 

She knew that I knew.

“Your ID… you’re not… 17.”

She looked cross and somewhat embarrassed. “It’s… well…”

“How old are you?” I asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and said, “You can do the math” and paused before admitting, “I’m 14.” 

Standing in there in front of her, my mind started to spin. 14?!? She was so … tall… so mature. I felt tiny standing next to her towering presence, like a child in front of an adult. But she… I stepped backwards and sat back down on the couch. She exhaled before joining me sitting down.

As she sat down next to me I shifted away from her.

I was stunned: “14!?!? What the hell?” I shouted. “You can’t babysit me!! You’re younger than me!”

“You need to get out of here!!”

The whole situation was looking completely different from what I’d imagined. This was crazy and embarrassing! She lied!

She looked at me calmly. “OK, I told your Mom that I was older than I am. But what’s the big deal? She was looking for a babysitter, she wants you to have a babysitter, I can do it. You’re having fun with me, aren’t you?”

My mind was racing, “But… no. I’m not being babysat by you!”

“Listen, Michael. I need this job.”

“I don’t care!” 

We sat in silence for a second. I felt bad that I snapped at her so I contritely said, “It’s not you, Carey. It’s humiliating. Being babysat by a younger girl? No.”

She looked at me, “Well, I need this job, Michael.”

“I don’t care. I have to tell my mom.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit childish?”

I looked at her with raised eyebrows? “Childish!?! You’re an actual child!”

“Technically, so are you.”

“Yes, but I’m not pretending to be older than I am.”

She was silent. I know I was being unfair and lashing out, but I was confused and hurt by the situation.

We were both sitting on the couch with about two feet between us. Neither of us moved but I was keeping my eyes off of her. This was worse than the situation in the hallway earlier today – I felt deeply embarrassed. It was as if the feelings of inadequacy had been crystallized: this younger girl was taller, more mature, more confident. Something about her presence was different now: her size was comforting but also strange and uncomfortable.

She sighed, “The way you’re acting… I think you do need a babysitter.” 

I looked down at the couch.

We sat there for a second in silence before she continued.

“It’s humiliating right? To be babysat by a younger girl?”

I replied quietly, “Yes, exactly.” 

She paused for a few seconds before she spoke again, this time with a different tone: “How would the kids at your school act if they knew?” There was something in her voice.

I looked up at her. “They’d taunt me. I’d never hear the end of it. It’s hard enough being so small.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, “So you… don’t want me to tell them?”

I thought for a second. “No, obviously. We both don’t want people to know about this.”

She continued looking at me in silence. Waiting for me to catch up. There was a patient, knowing look on her face. Suddenly, I knew what she was thinking. 

“You wouldn’t,” I said.

She looked stern but spoke calmly, “I would. I told you I want this job. Probably about as much as you don’t want me to tell everyone that you’re being babysat by a younger girl.”

I was silent, contemplating my position. She had me cornered.

“Please… you can’t.”

“Imagine what they would say. You’re what… almost 16? I’m 14 but your mom put me in charge of you. You’d be the laughingstock of the school.” 

“No, don’t.”

“And look how easily you agreed to be put in my care. Why did your Mom hire me as your babysitter? Why did you accept me as the one in charge? Because I’m taller? More mature? More confident?”

She let the question hang before continuing, “Why did you accept it? Because you’re so small? Because you don’t have confidence? Because, maybe, deep down, you need someone to take care of you.”

I sat there silent. She was speaking to some deep part of me that had never been aired in public.

“I don’t want to tell anyone, Michael. But I will if I have to.” 

We sat in silence for a few seconds before she continued. 

“Of course, if you don’t want me to tell anyone, you know what to do.”

“What…?”

She reached over and put her hand over mine. It was larger and felt comforting.

“Let me babysit you. I need the money. You need a babysitter. If you agree not to tell your Mom my real age, I’ll agree not to tell the other kids that I babysit you.” 

I felt cornered, humiliated. She had me. Somehow, I was trapped by this younger girl into pretending she was older than me. It felt deeply humiliating but also … something else. I didn’t want to admit but it also felt… nice. To be taken care of. To have my power taken away. I was so confused and my emotions were so mixed: on the one hand, I knew this girl was younger than me, on the other hand, she had taken charge of the situation so easily that I felt oddly comforted in her control. I wanted to do what she said. 

“I.. I…” I thought of another possible answer, a way out.

“Michael. There’s no choice for you. Either you accept me as your babysitter or I tell everyone that your own mom wanted you to be babysat by a younger girl. That you’re still a little boy who needs to be taken care of. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No…” I said quietly.

“Think of what they’d say. Your size. How small you are even compared to a girl my age. You’ll never live it down.”

“I…I don’t want them to know.” I was on the verge of tears

“Good… then just accept the situation. Just accept that it’s going to be my way.” She squeezed my hand gently, comfortingly.

“And you know what? We’ll have fun. Weren’t we enjoying ourselves before, right? Let’s just do that and it won’t be a big deal. What do you say?”

I thought about it for a second. I didn’t have a choice, “OK.” My voice was wavering, I was so upset. My heart was racing.

She smiled at me and, sensing my fear, ran her hand along my cheek.

“Shhhh, it’s OK. Don’t be upset. That’s good, Michael.” 

It felt calming, reassuring.

She then smiled and me and patted my hand reassuringly and then reclined on the couch. 

“Can we agree that we can just keep having the fun we were having and not worry about ages?”

I paused and then replied, “Sure.”

“Great, Michael. Don’t worry. This is going to be fun. We can just hang out.”

We went back to watching our show but I felt a strange mix of emotions: I was intimidated by Carey, bowled over by her logic, but also comforted by her presence.

As we watched the show, I had a vision of the kids at school surrounding me, laughing at my height, my predicament, my humiliation, and a vision of Carey standing between them and me. Her arms crossed over her chest, me hiding behind her. The feeling of worry ebbed away as she held my small hand tightly in her larger one. I felt… protected. 

I looked at her and smiled, “OK Carey. Let’s do things your way.” 

“Great!” she said with a beaming smile. “Let’s get back to our show.”

We watched another episode, laughing at the jokes and enjoying the experience when she said she would heat up the dinner that was left. It was chicken, rice, and vegetables and smelled great. After a few minutes, she called out that it was dinner time. 

I came into the kitchen and sat at the table with her. I was surprised to see that she had removed her hoodie and was now wearing a t-shirt – I could see that she was quite thick in her upper body. Not fat all and not heavy but clearly quite strong. Definitely stronger than me.

My eyes lingered on her arms for a second before I sat down at the table and began eating. I devoured the chicken and the rice but left the vegetables. I was about to get up and leave when Carey said, “Oh no, eat everything.” 

“I don’t really eat vegetables,” I said, as I began to stand up.

“SIT DOWN” she said loudly and sternly. My heart jumped and I froze in shock.

She looked at me intensely. “You will eat your entire dinner.” 

Once again, she put her hand over mine. “Sweetie, did you ever think that maybe one of the reasons you haven’t grown is because you don’t eat your vegetables?”

I was silent.

“I got big and strong because I eat my vegetables. When I’m in charge, which I am, you’ll eat your vegetables too. Now, go ahead. Do what I say.” 

I looked down at the plate.

With a sigh, I picked up my fork and started pushing the vegetables around. They were steaming hot and I didn’t like the look of them but I knew I had no choice. She watched me closely, making sure I didn’t just push them around but actually took a bite. With a grimace, I put a carrot in my mouth and started chewing. It was crunchy but pretty good.

“See, that’s not so bad. Now please eat them all. That’s important.”

As she cleared the plates, she began explaining the rules for the night.. I knew that she had taken charge of the situation and that she was going to look after me.

Later, as I was doing my homework, I heard the door open and my mom come in. She walked into the hallway and slipped out of her heels as she came into the kitchen and smiled at Carey. The height difference between them was significant as my Mom only came up to about Carey’s shoulders. She looked up at the young girl and asked, “Well, how did it go?”

“Great,” said Carey with a smile. “Right, Michael?”

"It was good," I replied.

Carey spoke up before I could say anything else. "Your son and I had a wonderful time, Mrs. Thomas. We watched a bit of TV, had dinner, and now he's doing his homework."

I was about to speak when Carey chimed in again, "He even asked if I would be his babysitter this summer. I wouldn't mind." 

I looked up from my homework, surprised by her audacity. She didn’t acknowledge me, just looked at my Mom.

“Really?” my Mom said, with genuine surprise. “Is that right, Michael?”

I was shocked, looked at Carey whose expression told me that I needed to agree. 

“Uhhh.. yes. We had fun so why not,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm, though inside I was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. 

Mom crossed her arms and thought about it before saying, “Well, to be honest, I thought Mike could start staying on his own once he hit 16 but…” she contemplated, “if you’re available Carey, and Mike, if you’d like to do that, then that works for me.” 

Carey replied and said, “I’d be happy to do it. Michael is great and I could help him with his adulting,” she then laughed and Mom joined in.

My Mom replied, “Sounds great then. OK, let’s do it.’

With that, Mom walked over to Carey, took out her wallet and starts to count out some cash. "Here you go," she says to Carey, "and thank you for agreeing to babysit Michael all summer. I really appreciate it."

My heart sank as she handed Carey the money. This was not what I had signed up for.

"Thank you, Mrs. Thomas," Carey said, taking the cash with a graceful nod. "It's no problem at all. I'm happy to help."

My mother then turned to me, "Isn't that great, Mike? Carey will be here every night I'm not."

I nodded, feeling trapped. My Mom then headed upstairs to get changed and Carey shouted, “I’ll be heading home now, Ms. Thomas.”

She looked at me and smiled, leaning against the counter, “It looks like we'll be spending the summer together Michael."

I whispered to her, “What the hell? This was supposed to be a one time thing.”

She replied, “Don’t get so upset. I want to make sure you're taken care of this summer. Besides… you don’t really have a choice.”