The Housemaid is Watching

The aftermath of trauma plays a large role in The Housemaid Is Watching which suggests that traumatic experiences can fundamentally alter perspective and judgment.

The most immediately apparent trauma response is Millie’s. In the first two novels in the series, Millie undergoes a series of horrific events, including killing a man to defend her friend from rape, being tortured by another man before killing him in self-defense, and being lied to and framed for murder. All these experiences shape how she sees the world, making her particularly attuned to the pain of women being abused by violent men. While this narrow focus makes her a hero to the women she saves, it also hides from her the torment and abuse her son Nico experiences.

Millie’s understanding of Nico’s dramatic personality change is informed by her personal trauma. When she and Enzo discover Nico’s secret clubhouse—a dirty, dangerous room under the stairs—the space reminds Millie of the attic room in which she was locked and tortured in The Housemaid, which has left a lasting impact on her psyche: “Something like that gives you permanent claustrophobia” (134). Because she sees Ada crying in the little room, Millie implicitly equates Nico with the man who locked her in the attic, and Ada with the other women Millie has seen victimized. This will lead her to fundamentally misinterpret Nico’s increasingly disturbing behavior as the actions of an aggressor rather than a trauma victim.

Millie is a concerned mother who worries about her children. Considering the move to Long Island, Millie thinks, “I’m hoping by the fall, they will both be settled in and the trauma of moving in the middle of the school year will be a distant memory” (14). Though she is attuned to the chaos that moving can be, her use of the word “trauma” both foreshadows the extremely negative impact the move has on both Nico and Ada and demonstrates that she doesn’t foresee much bigger problems for them than adjusting to a new school.

When Jonathan Lowell starts abusing Nico, Nico responds to the traumatic experience by becoming more violent, punching other kids when he gets upset. He also shuts down emotionally; speaking harshly to Ada and not caring when he gets grounded for assaulting another player at Little League. Millie interprets Nico’s acting out as latent aggression: “He slams the door behind him—a very angsty move for a nine-year-old boy” (170). Nico is acting out of character, both for his personality and for his age; it reminds Millie of her own capacity for violence and Enzo’s shrouded past. Although Millie notes Nico's other symptoms: loss of appetite and limited interest in the things that he used to enjoy, such as mac and cheese, her internalized shame about her incarceration leads her to conclude that Nico has a mental health condition. She looks up the symptoms of psychopathy and worries about his future.

When the truth of Jonathan’s depravity is revealed and Millie finally learns what Nico has been facing, she leaps into action. Knowing the psychological impacts of trauma, she decides to put the entire family in therapy. After Jonathan’s death, the family begins to heal. At breakfast two weeks after Enzo’s release, Nico has regained his appetite: “‘I love chocolate chip pancakes,’ Nico says as he happily digs into the plate of pancakes I made” (370). His love for food returns, as does his happy, childlike disposition. The trauma will affect him, as it does Millie, but he can still find healing and happiness.

Secrecy and deception are not simply individual concerns in The Housemaid Is Watching; rather, they reflect the environment in which the characters live, which consistently buries unpleasant truths.

The wealthy Lowell family is emblematic of the idealized suburban facade into which Millie badly wants to fit. While getting ready for a dinner party she worries about her ability to socialize on the Lowells’ level: “I feel this desperate need to impress Suzette Lowell” (38). The word “desperate” highlights her desire for Suzette’s acceptance, illustrating the degree to which Millie believes the beautiful Suzette represents suburban perfection. Millie believes if she can win over Suzette, she can fit into the cookie-cutter suburban mold, find belonging for her family, and erase her troubled past. Millie does not want her children to live with the financial instability and personal strife she has faced.

However, Millie soon sees that Suzette’s appearance may not represent the reality of her life. When Millie can’t find the kids after she comes home late from work, she considers calling the police, but “Suzette grabs my arm, her fingernails biting into my bare skin. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Don’t call the police’” (128). Millie is confused by Suzette’s reticence; typically the police respond favorably to rich white families in the suburbs. Suzette’s strange behavior is a clue into the awful secrets the Lowells are hiding beneath their shiny exterior.

When the truth about Braden Lundie comes to light, Suzette tries to rationalize her behavior in covering up Jonathan’s crimes, still clinging to the veneer of perfection that she’s built her life around. Suzette tries to reframe her decisions to cast herself in a heroic light, as defending other children from pain: “I couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with that man. But I stayed with him to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t do anything…you know, like that ever again. I kept any other children from getting hurt” (367). But her actions belie her excuses: She knew about what was happening to Nico and did not stop it.

Millie finally sees that Suzette cares primarily about her image: “I had no idea that she would cover up such horrible crimes just for the sake of her own reputation” (368). To maintain the idealized appearance of her life—her large house, successful husband, and thriving real estate business—Suzette was willing to cover for a child murderer.