When
The fourteen-year-old has experienced an epiphany: She has become aware of the futility of our existence. This flash of reality has exposed her susceptible soul to the wolves, who are circling.
“What’s the point?” she says, when I suggest she eat her vegetables.
“To be healthy and live longer.”
“We’re going to die. It doesn’t make a difference when.”
She scrapes her carrots into the bin.
“What’s the point?” she says, when I suggest she do her homework.
“So you get good grades and a well-paid job.”
“Wealth isn’t freedom. Look at my dad.”
She sticks her headphones back in.
“What’s the point?” she says, when I suggest she make her mother a birthday card.
“It’ll make her happy.”
“A card can’t make a person happy.”
She wanders down the hall.
“What’s the point?” she says, when I suggest she reconcile with a friend.
“Because being alone is miserable.”
“Not if you accept yourself.”
She stares into her book.
“What’s the point?” she says, when I suggest she watch TV with me.
“Desperate Housewives is on.”
“Really?”
She follows me downstairs and her budding nihilism is bludgeoned by a dose of drab TV.
The Male Nanny
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