The knife sliced the tip of her finger. "Ouch!" Blood began to ooze out of the cut making November feel a little bit queasy. She had never been able to stand blood; hers or anyone else's. Hurrying over to the kitchen sink, she turned the tap on and stuck her finger under the running water. When it was clean, she wrapped a few sheets of paper towel around the finger, so that blood didn't drip everywhere.
"Bandaid, bandaid, I need a bandaid," she hummed to herself, looking around the kitchen. Her mother usually kept a box of bandaids under the kitchen sink for this very reason, but when November looked in the cupboard, she couldn't find the box anywhere. Thinking there would be bandaids in the bathroom, she made a beeline for it. However, the medicine cabinet above the sink had everything but bandaids, as did the cupboard under the sink.
"Shit."
November heard the gasp behind her, and cringed. Clutching her hand to her chest, she turned around slowly. There, standing in the doorway, was four-year-old Savannah, the child she had agreed to baby-sit for her parents.
Savannah was staring at November with wide eyes, green in colour. Her bright red ringlets framed her round face making her look like a cherub.
"You said a bad word."
"Yes, I did," November agreed, "a very bad word. One that you are not allowed to repeat to anyone. Ever. Understood?"
"Daddy says if you say a bad word you have to put money in the bad word jar."
"I don't have a bad word jar."
Savannah cocked her head to the side. "You should have a bad word jar. Daddy says it will stop you from saying bad words all the time."
November smiled. "Okay, Savannah. I'll start a bad word jar."
Savannah's smile lit up her whole face. "Can I draw on it?"
"Sure," November nodded, "but right now, I need to find a bandaid. Do you know where they are?"
"Why do you need a bandaid?"
"I cut myself."
"Can I see?" the little girl asked excitedly.
"Uh," November thought, "no I don't think that's a good idea. Just tell me where the bandaids are."
"You didn't say the magic word."
"Please?"
"That's not the magic word!"
"What is the magic word, then?"
"You have to guess."
November sighed, her patience wearing very thin. "Savannah, listen to me. This is very important. You need to tell me where the bandaids are; quickly, because I'm feeling sick."
"Are you going to throw up?"
November took a deep breath in through her nose, and blew it out slowly through her mouth. "Yes, I think I might."
"But I need to go to the toilet."
"Savannah you need to tell me where the bandaids are first."
Savannah shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I don't know."
November groaned in frustration and left the bathroom. "Don't forget to flush the toilet," she instructed as she disappeared down the hall to her parents' bedroom. Opening and closing drawers, she finally found a box of bandaids and ripped it open. Pulling two out, she ripped open the first packet with her teeth. Pressing down on the paper towel on her finger, she wiped the wound of fresh blood, and then quickly stuck the bandaid over it. She put the second bandaid on top, just in case one wasn't enough, and smoothed it out.
She left her parents' bedroom and went back to the bathroom to dispose of the bloody paper towel and to wash her hands. Seeing that Savannah had neglected to flush the toilet - again - she sighed, and flushed it herself.
"Kid never listens," she mumbled to herself, as she left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen to resume the task of making peanut butter sandwiches for Savannah. When she finished, she brought the plastic plate of food into the living room where Savannah was watching television, and placed it on the coffee table.
"Lunch, Savannah."
"Did you throw up?" the little girl asked as she climbed up on to the couch and placed a pillow on her lap.
"No, I didn't."
"Can I see the cut now?"
"No, you can't."
"Why?"
November sighed. "Because I need to keep the bandaid on the cut so it will heal."
"How will it heal?"
"There's special medicine in the bandaid that will heal it."
"What kind of medicine?"
"I'm not sure, Savannah. Now eat your lunch." November placed the plate on the pillow on Savannah's lap, and watched her eat.
"Did you find a jar to use?" Savannah asked around the food in her mouth.
November frowned. "You shouldn't talk while you have food in your mouth." Savannah made a point of swallowing her food and then opening her mouth wide enough for November to look into. November's frown deepened. "You shouldn't do that, either."
"Why?"
"It's rude."
"What does rude mean?"
November ran a hand over her tired face, pressing her thumb and forefinger down on her eyes to relieve the pressure slowly building behind them. She was just about to tell Savannah to be quiet and finish her lunch when the telephone rang. Jumping up, she told Savannah to finish her lunch while she answered the telephone.
"Hello?" she breathed into the mouthpiece.
"Hi honey," her mother's voice greeted her happily. "How's everything going?"
"Fine, but when are you and dad going to be home?" she asked, trying to keep the slight desperation she felt out of her voice.
Penelope chuckled. "Why? Savannah isn't giving you any trouble is she?"
"She won't stop asking questions."
"She's just curious."
"Well I wish she'd be less curious." November crept down the hallway and peeked around the wall into the living room. "You know I'm not good with kids," she whispered into the telephone. "Why you thought I'd be the perfect candidate for baby-sitting duty, I have no idea."
"What are you talking about?" Penelope asked. "You love looking after your nieces and nephews."
"Well that's different, isn't it? They're my flesh and blood!" November argued. "Besides, Savannah's a toddler."
"So?"
"Shit, mum, you know I don't relate to toddlers, like, at all."
"Don't curse," Penelope scolded. November rolled her eyes. "Just keep her occupied, honey, and your father and I will be back before you know it."
"Keep her occupied how?"
"By colouring in, drawing, playing with your old dolls. Use your imagination."
November snorted. She didn't think she had much of an imagination anymore, let alone one that could keep a toddler busy. "Yeah, okay."
"We'll be back soon. Bye!"
Placing the phone back in its cradle, November reluctantly returned to the living room and found Savannah sitting on the floor playing with some Lego. She looked up when she heard November, and smiled. "My show ended. Can we do something fun now?"
November groaned, but agreed. For the next four hours, she helped Savannah draw, paint, and dress her old dolls up in outfits that would give her mother a heart attack. When Savannah had had enough, they played hide and seek. Thankfully, Savannah had gotten tired quickly and November was happy to put her down for a nap. She was not so happy, however, when Savannah came into the living room a mere thirty minutes later looking to get started on round two of their 'fun' activities. Eventually, November got desperate and agreed to give Savannah a make-over, and even let Savannah give her a make-over in return. That had not been the best of decisions, November decided, when she looked in the mirror and found Savannah had plastered lipstick all around her mouth, and eye shadow all around her eyes. She looked like some kind of deformed raccoon-clown hybrid.
"Pretty!" Savannah declared proudly.
November couldn't help but smile. "Okay, now it's time to wash it all off."
Savannah pouted. "Why?"
"It's not good to have too much make-up on your face for too long," she lied. When Savannah continued to pout, November added, "You can keep your make-up on, if you want."
Savannah's smile was bright and made the corners of her eyes crinkle. "Okay! Now what can we do?"
"Um…" November started. Luckily, she didn't have to finish because she heard the front door open and close, and her father's voice calling out to them. Savannah squealed and ran out of the bathroom. November bent over the sink and splashed water on her face, softly scrubbing it clean of make-up.
"There you are," Penelope said, coming to stand in the bathroom behind her daughter. "What are you doing?"
"I'm washing the make-up that Savannah haphazardly applied, off of my face."
Her mother's laugh echoed off the walls. "It was that good, huh?"
"I looked like a clown," November said, patting her face dry with a towel.
"Well her make-up looks very beautiful."
"Her father won't mind will he?" November asked.
"No, I don't think so. I suppose you could ask him when he comes to pick Savannah up. He should be here soon."
"Oh, no," November shook her head and slid past her mother. "No, I'm going for a long walk; a very, very long walk."
"Why?"
"I've been cooped up in this house all day with a four-year-old for company. That's why. I need some alone time with only me and my adult thoughts."
"But…"
"No buts, mother," November cut Penelope off with a raised hand. "Besides, technically, he doesn't know I'm the one that looked after her, so it won't matter if I'm here or not."
"Yes, it will."
"No, it won't."
Penelope frowned and followed her daughter into the kitchen. "November, I really think you should be here when…"
"Why?" November asked, turning her grey eyes onto her mother's face. "Why are you so determined to have me be here?"
"Well…" Penelope stumbled, "I just… You know what? You're right. It doesn't matter. Go for your walk."
November eyed her mother curiously, but then shrugged and kissed her cheek. "I won't be gone long."
Penelope sighed as she watched her daughter walk across the backyard, open the gate leading out into the street behind the house, and disappear. Henry sidled up next to her, Savannah in his arms.
"Well, that didn't go as planned."
"Oh, ye of little faith," she said, turning to tap her husband on the nose. "Things will fall into place, all in good time." Humming to herself, Penelope winked at her husband and took Savannah from his arms, asking her how her day had been. Henry could only shake his head and smile at his wife's stubbornness and determination, as he watched her gasp and laugh at Savannah's detailed description of the day's events.