Chapter 8: It's A Disaster!

As Maryanne says goodbye to her coworkers and runs to her warm car, she can’t help but to feel anxious. Her chest is tight, her throat closing up as she imagines all of the things that could go wrong back at the house.
“Why did I let him stay home with her,” she grumbles aloud, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
As her mind goes off on a tangent, Maryanne’s chest is pulled. Her legs ache from walking up and down the aisles and standing on the ladder to reach books that were higher up. All she wanted was to relax and sit with Max and Riley as they enjoy the evening.
She blinks the thoughts away, “That’s odd.” Her brow twitches at the new emotions running through her.
Maryanne finds herself pulling up to Max’s mansion quickly, her thoughts clearing. She grabs her purse and enters into the bitter cold New York air. Biting a shiver, she runs into the front entryway, her eyes scanning for any signs of life.
No sounds drift toward her as she stands quietly.
There is an eerie silence that sets Maryanne’s nerves on edge. Swallowing, she begins to slowly inch her way into the house, peeking into the rooms.
In the kitchen, there are pots and pans everywhere. They are on the stove and even on the ground, some dirty with a type of goop within. There is an open loaf of bread, as well as jars of peanut butter and jelly on the counter. Cringing, Maryanne pivots away and reaches the bottom of the stairs, her heart thundering. Where are they?
As she ascends to the second floor, voices begin to reach her ears. Max’s deep tone causes tension in the back of her neck as she reaches the landing and heads down the hallway.
She stops herself before she steps on a small doll, about five inches tall. Sighing, Maryanne continues on, kicking small toys with almost every step. A ball ricochets from her foot and bounces against the wall before flying through the air and crashing into a statue.
Grimacing, hoping that the figure won’t be broken, Maryanne continues on, entering Riley’s play room.
The two are sitting on the ground in the middle of the room, a Barbie in both of their hands. As soon as she opens the door, they both look up.
“Oh, welcome back,” Max grins up at her. His large frame hunched over, with pink surrounding him is an odd sight indeed.
Maryanne fights not to raise her voice, “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” He leans back to analyze her expression, his brow furrowed.
“It’s a mess. The kitchen is a disaster. There are toys all over this house.”
He ponders for a moment, “It’s not that bad. We were only playing.”
Riley giggles, throwing a Barbie across the room. She does her best job at jumping up and down, ending up only rocking back and forth.
“Play,” she heaves through her chuckles as she picks up another doll and brushes her hair with her hand.
Irritation lines Maryanne’s mind and she folds her arms as Max stands.
He makes eye contact with her, acknowledging her disapproving expression. He rolls his shoulders as he sighs, “What?”
“I left you along with her for six hours, that’s all. In that amount of time, you were able to destroy the kitchen and make her play room into a war zone. Not to mention having her toys strewn all over the ground outside. I know that kids cannot understand cleaning up after themselves, but you are an adult, her guardian, Maxwell. You couldn’t even clean up the counters?”
“Jeff will do it when he comes in tomorrow. I gave him the night off to take his girlfriend out on a date.”
“You don’t think that he will be upset to come in and see that his kitchen is a complete wreck?”
“Mary, what is the big deal? I pay him to cook for me. He cleans up after himself too, what’s the difference. It still goes on his salary.”
“The difference is, you are relying on your money too much. I am sure you pay them well, but a parent’s job is to keep the house clean. You do not pay others to do that. I thought you wanted to prove that you could take care of Riley on your own.”
Anger starts to build on his brow, “Just because you have no money to hire employees yourself, does not mean you can belittle my way of living. You are forced to do it all on your own. Believe me, if you had the opportunity to hire your own maid and cook, I know you would.”
“I would at least treat them better. They are not supposed to be taking care of Riley or cleaning up messes you made watching her. A parent has to not only care for the child, but also clean the house and keep things orderly.”
“I will not stand here and allow you to undermine all that I have done. I am taking the night off from Riley. It’s your turn now,” he growls before brushing past her and storming down the stairs.