thank you, Papa,’ the younger one says.
‘Thank you.’
They resume their thumb wrestling.
I load up the next five-top order and bring it downstairs, clear plates, refill coffees, pass around the dessert menus, welcome a new deuce they’ve wedged in near the bathroom. Gory, in whites for a croquet tournament in Lennox in the afternoon, stops by Oscar’s table. A few people nearby look on.
‘Your bennies are up,’ Tony tells me as he whips by with five chocolate bombs up his arm.
‘You are not a waitress if you do not pick up your food,’ Clark says when I come into the kitchen. He snaps a rag at me through the window and it catches on some of the hollandaise, which splatters on my cheek and collar. It burns. I wipe it off and my eyes are watering, but I wheel around with my two benedicts before he can see.
‘Ugly-ass bitch,’ he says as I kick through the door.
It’s a question of displeasing everyone a little bit, spreading around the disappointment evenly. When I get downstairs and drop the meals at table 4, table 6 is ready to order dessert. Oscar and the boys’ food will be up now, but a man at 6 can’t decide between the bourbon pecan pie and the compote.
Clark is waiting for me at the door. His face is slick with grease and bubbled with sweat. ‘I break my fucking balls for your rush, and you can’t be bothered to come get it.’
‘Welcome to brunch. I’ve got to be eight places all at once, up and down, and I get stiffed if I’m not. Sometimes I have to leave a plate of pancakes under the heat lamp for three minutes. I’d like to see you try it. All you do is stand back there and crack eggs and shit all over people.’
Angus, my only ally in the kitchen when Thomas isn’t cooking, lets out a long whistle.
Clark whips around and tells him to shut the fuck up.
‘I’m going to get you fired, you little cunt.’
‘I’m not scared of a fucking brunch chef,’ I say and push past him to get my order.
Out on the floor I tell the boys the plates are really hot and not to touch. I put Oscar’s eggs down last. They look overcooked. ‘More abused than coddled, I’m afraid. The chef today is an untalented prick.’
The boys stare at me.
Oscar’s mouth twitches.
‘I mean a jerk. He’s a jerk. I’m so sorry.’ I look at the boys. ‘That is an awful word, and I should not have used it. He’s a man with a lot of anger, which he tends to dump on me.’
‘He probably has a crush on you,’ Oscar says.
It’s such a clueless, grandfatherly thing to say that I wonder if he’s older than he looks. ‘Definitely not,’ I say. ‘He truly loathes me or whatever I represent to him. I actually think he likes her’—I point to Dana—‘but she’s after him.’ I point to Craig at the bar. ‘But I think he’s pretty asexual.’
The boys stare at me again. I am not used to children. ‘Ketchup?’
‘On eggs?’ the older boy says.
‘There’s a whole swath of people who like ketchup on their eggs.’
‘Really?’ He looks to his dad for confirmation.
‘True fact,’ I say.
‘We are not a part of that swath,’ Oscar says.
‘Nor am I. Bon profit.’ I figure Oscar can handle a little Catalan. I’m eager to get away. I can feel the heat where the hollandaise sauce hit my cheek. And their kindness after Clark’s vulgarity is making my throat hurt.
I get the rest of my tables squared away while they eat.
‘Is that a smile?’ Tony says as we wait at the bar for our drinks and I drag an ice cube over the burns on the inside of my right arm.
‘Fuck no. Put your fake glasses on, four eyes.’
‘You are smiling, and I have never seen you smile.’
‘That’s bull.’
‘Okay, without Harry around. Harry makes you smile.’
‘Harry is very funny.’
‘Is he? I think he’s an arrogant ass.’
Tony has tried to hit on Harry many times with no success.
‘That’s just his accent.’
‘Those kids are staring at you.’
I look over, and they look down.
Craig hands me my screwdrivers.
‘You want to split an apple papillote later?’ I say.
‘Sure.’ Tony says.
I’ve surprised him. It suddenly seems easy to make people happy.
Once he’s had his pancakes and bacon, Oscar’s younger boy comes alive.
‘Do you like mammals or amphibians?’ he asks me.
‘Mammals.’
‘Cards or board games?’
‘Both.’
‘You have to choose.’
‘Cards.’
I know my desserts are up in the kitchen and that