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She must have lost something on the floor.
Unlike the other restaurants where we eat most of our meals, I don’t recognize any of the waiters up here. They don’t even have on the same kind of uniforms.
The farther into the room we go, the harder I squeeze Daddy’s hand.
A bald man with lots of tattoos smiles at me, but I look away.
I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.
Daddy finally stops when we get to the very last table in the corner. It’s one of those round booths that Mommy always makes me scoot in first, so she doesn’t mess up her dress.
Finally, there are people I recognize.
“Hi Dex!” I call to my friend, the only other kid that lives in The Whitney like me.
Dex taught me to play Uno last year. I wanted to play Chutes and Ladders, but he said that was a baby game.
Daddy waves his arm to have me scoot into the booth ahead of him. Once I’m next to Dex, I ask, “Did you bring the Uno cards with you?”
“Why would I do that? Girls aren’t supposed to be allowed up here,” he says, sounding kinda mean.
“Well, my daddy says it’s alright and he’s in charge.”
“Not up here he’s not. My dad runs The Rooftop.” He makes a funny face at me that makes me feel anxious.
“You’re wrong! My family owns this whole building!”
“You’re just a baby. What do you know?” he says.
“Dexter Andrew. Enough,” his dad growls.
I look down at my hands in my lap, picking at a loose string on my Cinderella dress.
Dex’s father scares me. He always seems so mad at everyone. Mommy told me it was because he was just lonely after Dex’s mom moved away, but that makes me even more afraid.
Now that my mommy is gone, will my daddy start getting angry like Mr. Cohen?
I don’t have time to worry about it because Mr. X arrives and he’s carrying a, “Baby!” I shout.
“Katja, no yelling young lady,” my daddy admonishes.
I’m too excited to let it deter me. “Can I hold the baby?” I ask boldly.
Mr. X looks across the round table at me and only then do I regret asking. Dex’s father seems like Santa Clause compared to Mr. X. Mommy told me to never go anywhere with that man, so when he sits down at our table and reaches over to hand me the sleeping baby, I’m so torn.
Mommy would never allow this. I glance at Daddy for permission. His face looks red, but he finally nods.
I reach out and Mr. X almost throws the baby into my arms. He—at least I think it’s a he because he’s wrapped in a blue blanket—is so much heavier than my American Girl doll, Molly. I rest him on my lap and hold his head up like Jessica taught me with my dolls.
The baby makes funny faces while he sleeps. I’m watching him so closely I’m not paying much attention until Mr. X raises his voice so loud, I can’t help but listen.
“…bitch tried to hide him from me. I knew something was up when she left town without a word last year, but Johnny saw her last week at her father’s butcher shop in Queens. She was pushing a stroller and gave him some song and dance about taking a job as a nanny, but I had Quido dig into it for me. All this time, I’ve had a son and didn’t even know it.”
Daddy glances at me, and I can tell he is nervous, but he doesn’t say anything so neither do I, until my question just bursts out. “What’s his name?”
“The bitch—” Mr. X stops mid-sentence, looks at my daddy and says, “Sorry, I’m not used to having kids around.”
I’ve heard bad words before. Mommy and Daddy use them sometimes when they have an argument, and once I even heard Mr. Cohen use a word that started with an f and Mommy yelled at him. When I asked Mommy what it meant, she said to mind my own business and never use that word.
