“This is a beautiful view,” the girl sitting on the ledge said. I couldn’t argue with her. New York took on that majestic quality when you saw it from up high. It quietly let you know that you couldn’t explore all of it if you tried, if you lived a thousand years.
I got called out on this one. Maybe because I’m old. Maybe because I have a daughter her age or just maybe it was my turn in the scheme of things. But with all I’ve seen these many years on the beat, I can’t say that I believe in a god or fate—I’ve seen too much.
“Benny’s,” I said.
She doesn’t turn to me. She can guess my schemes.
“Benny’s is where I got my first collar. This punk came in and tried to hold up the place. Everyone knew that’s where the cops hang out. And this kid just comes in with a little pea shooter. So while my buddies are just calling it in, I put down my meatball hoagie, slam him against the counter and cuffed him.” I wait for a second. “And then I went back to my sandwich because I hate when my sandwich gets cold.”
That usually got a chuckle, but she’s what, five feet from me, and she’s far away. I can close the distance and I can get to her, but I can’t guarantee I can get her off the ledge. And I can feel I’m losing her, not by any measure I can teach at the academy some day, but I can feel it just the same.
“I got a daughter your age.”
I get a small shrug out of her.
“So I got a question.” I take a breath. “How do I keep her from doing what you’re doing?”
“Not be a shitty father,” she says, and it comes out like a gust of wind from a blizzard.
“That’s going to be tough there because I’m not great. I’ve missed a ton of her school stuff and I couldn’t name three songs she likes.”
“That’s different,” she says.
“How so?”
“Cause I’ll bet you don’t beat her and make her feel like dog shit all the time.”
“Nah, I don’t do those things. But she has said her ‘fuck you’s to me like you wouldn’t believe. I don’t like the boys she likes and some of her friends are just god-damn dumb. Get this. Her friend Evie thinks the world is fucking flat.”
She turned her head slightly and I think she might be stifling a laugh.
“No really. This Evie. Her parents are fucking doctors. And this girl will just tell you that Australia isn’t fucking real. It’s made up. With a straight god damn face. Like how many glue sticks do you have to eat to get to a place where you don’t think a continent exists?
“I just don’t want my girl to wind up on that ledge. And yeah, It’d bust my heart in a billion pieces, but she’s got friends that love her and she’s the god-damn brightest of all of them. By miles. Who’s going to take Evie to Australia? Not this asshole. Evie is going to be on her own if I lose my little girl cause I’m a shit father.” I rub my hands together. Fucking cold up here.
“You got anybody like that? Someone who needs taken care of?”
She mumbles something.
“What? It’s fucking windy up here.”
“My little brother Sal,” she says. “He’s not like the other kids. Built different, real sensitive. Cries at sad movies and even sad commercials.”
“Right. Right. Sensitive-Sal. I mean he’s not a glue-stick-Evie, but I get that. My cousin was like that. He’s a therapist now. Helps war vets fix their lives. My sister Deena kept his dad off his back.” I pause for just a second, “So what’s Sal going to do? When you’re gone and such. Who’s going to watch out for him?”
She turns her head back to me and I see her eyes are green like Central Park in the early morning.
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