Tears fill my eyes, and a now familiar pain makes my tummy hurt. In a rush, the bad memories from the last few weeks come back.
I’ve had so many firsts this past week.
My first funeral.
My first time seeing Daddy cry.
The first time I had to wear all black clothes.
I don’t like black, but Daddy says that’s what people do when someone they love dies. I tried to tell him Mommy wouldn’t like it. She doesn’t like that color. She always wears pinks, and purples, and reds.
But Mommy isn’t here anymore.
I know my nanny, Jessica, made the new black clothes I find in the box, all miniature versions of my own meant to put on my Barbie.
But Barbie doesn’t like to wear black either.
“Oh good, you’re awake. I see you got the gift Jessica left for you,” Daddy says from just inside my bedroom door.
“I don’t like black,” I remind him, pouting.
“I know, sweetie, and I promise you don’t have to wear your new black clothes in the penthouse. Only when we leave home. Like… this morning.”
More bad news. I don’t want to go anywhere or see anyone.
I just want my Mommy.
“You said once we finished the funeral that we could stay home.”
“I know, but I still need to take care of The Whitney, don’t I?” he asks, not even giving me enough time to answer before adding, “I have an important business meeting up at The Rooftop restaurant. Let’s get you dressed. I’m sure Chef will make you the Mickey Mouse pancakes you love.”
I had to hear Daddy wrong.
“Mommy says I’m not allowed to go up to The Rooftop. It’s off-limits to little girls.”
I watch Daddy’s face get really sad and realize that always happens when I talk about Mommy now.
“Your Mommy was a smart lady and I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy that I’m taking you there for breakfast this morning, but Jessica is visiting her family for the next two days, so that means you need to come with Daddy for Sunday brunch. It will be alright. I promise.”
“Do I really have to wear the stupid black dress?”
Daddy hesitates, but finally agrees. “Since we’re staying in The Whitney, you can wear whatever you want to the restaurant, princess.”
I’m not sure if it’s because I get to wear my favorite Cinderella gown or if it’s because he called me his princess, but I feel better already.
Even though I’m with my father, I still feel naughty stepping into the elevator, knowing we are going to the only place in the hotel higher than our penthouse. It’s also the only place in the entire building off-limits to me… until today.
Mommy made sure to teach me my letters and numbers. I can even read a lot of words, and that’s how I know how secret The Rooftop is. There is no button to push to get there. No sign explaining how to get to the restaurant Daddy told me has the best view in the city. Daddy even has to use a special key that looks like a fancy pen to make the elevator go up.
When the doors slide open, a part of me is excited to explore the forbidden, so when we walk into a huge open room the size of our entire penthouse, I can’t help but be disappointed.
It doesn’t look very different from all the other restaurants in The Whitney, at least not at first.
There are tables and booths—a long bar with lots of bottles filled with things I’m not old enough to drink yet.
But as Daddy weaves us through the half-filled tables, nodding at the guests as he goes, I start to notice what isn’t at The Rooftop.
There are no kids… or mommies. In fact, I don’t see a single lady unless you count the one on her hands and knees next to a table with three scary looking men seated at it.