Babysitter

You're a college student. Your tuition is due in four days.

You need four thousand dollars you don't have.

This job pays triple what you usually make babysitting.

The glass house sits back from the street like a sculpture.

All angles and transparency. Expensive. Cold.

I'm Rachel Carter. This is my husband, Mark.

Ethan is eight. He's very quiet. He doesn't need much.

We'll be back by midnight. Emergency numbers are by the phone.

She doesn't invite questions. Mark doesn't look at you at all.

The pay is triple your usual rate. You have no idea why.

You don't push it.

By 8 PM the Carters' car is gone.

You are alone with their son in a beautiful, cold house.

Ethan eats dinner slowly, not quite meeting your eyes.

After dinner you lead him upstairs to his bedroom.

It looks like a furniture showroom. Nothing personal. Nothing soft.

You tuck him under the covers.

Ethan's eyes open. He stares at you with a steadiness that doesn't fit his age.

He always comes when they leave.

Your hand freezes on the blanket.

He likes girls like you.

You want to ask what he means. The words won't come.

Ethan closes his eyes. He's done talking.

You turn off the light and step into the hallway.

Your phone shows 8:47 PM.

Four hours until the Carters come home.

Four hours until you understand what Ethan meant.