By spring, life had settled into a new normal. We saw less of Spot, but we saw a bit more of Roller, who always made sure we had our paper. I wondered if Spot sent him. Roller was still a kid, but it was obvious the streets were making him tougher. He would occasionally show up to our evenings on the bench with a shiner or a story of some fight or scam. He never shared the stories when the bigger boys were around, but on occasions he would tell us about a scam that involved fumbling for change so ineptly that the customer would get impatient and just give up. While my eyes widened at the dishonesty to which someone so young would stoop, I learned quite a bit from watching Papa roar with laughter at Roller. I understood that Papa did not judge Roller and that circumstances for the boy must be rough, and I learned not to judge him, either. Ingrid, who had become more of a regular at our outdoor dinners, was learning these lessons with me, and it was nice to see so much of her. She and I often discussed what life must be like for the boys.
"Ace told me that someone tried to rob the lodging house," she told me one day as we stood under an awning to avoid the chilly spring rain that had interrupted our trip to the market.
"Who would do that? And why?" I asked, aghast that such things would happen.
"It was some men who worked on the wharf," she said. "They heard the newsboys kept a jar with money in it, so they went looking for it while the boys were out selling."
"What happened?" I asked, and she looked at me with wide eyes.
"Spot," she said, shrugging.
"What about him?" I asked, confused.
"Ace said that he caught them and beat them up," she said.
"By himself? Grown men?" I couldn't believe it.
"Three of them—all sturdy dock workers, according to Ace. Said that Spot didn't even break a sweat."
I was impressed, but I have to say that it made me wonder once again at the boys' world. My Spot wouldn't hurt a fly! Unless one of his boys needed his help, I realized. It was obvious he was fiercely loyal to and protective of them. I wondered again at his hard life.
"You and Ace sure are getting chummy," I teased, mostly to deflect from the direction my thoughts had taken. Ingrid had the grace to blush, but that's all I got out of her that day, no matter how much I gave her a hard time. Oh, well. She and Ace were obviously attracted, but realistically, Ingrid was too shy for there to be anything to tell anyway.
As March drew close, Papa and I became a bit down. Mama's birthday was approaching, and we desperately needed a distraction. It came to me like a flash one morning a few days before. Spot!
"Papa?" I queried, eager to share my idea with him.
"Kati?" He quipped, looking up at me as we bedded down Maus for the night.
"Papa, Spot told me once that he didn't know when his birthday was, but that it was in the spring. I was thinking—should we throw him a birthday party?"
"You are thinking of giving him your Mama's birthday, ja?" he asked, and I nodded. "Katja, I think that is a wonderful idea. You plan it with those friends of yours. I will celebrate with you."
And so it happened that Red and I schemed with Ingrid to plan a birthday for Spot. The problem was that he hated surprises. It was Ingrid who finally sighed and admitted defeat.
"We can't surprise him, and he won't accept a fuss. It's only natural that you do something more private for him," she said, glancing at Red, the only newsboy with whom we had shared our idea. He nodded.
"Spot can't appear weak in front of the boys, and his mystery is part of his power. The fact that nobody knows how old he is or anything about his past is part of that. Spot can't have a birthday. At best he can celebrate with you without anyone else," Red explained in agreement. It left me no closer to finding a way to celebrate, but at the very least the puzzle had distracted me from the fact that I missed Mama.
On April 5th, I showed up to our bench surprised to find Spot and Papa deep in conversation. I hoped that Papa wasn't going to ruin anything, and quickened my pace. Jimmy bounded ahead on his gangly puppy legs, causing both men to look up and smile. My smile died on my lips, though, as I saw Spot's face covered in bruises and a few small cuts. His entire left cheek was swollen. What the—
"Katja, I am glad you are here," Papa said as I looked at them both in astonishment. "It would seem our friend here has had a rough few days. Maybe you should take him out, cheer him up a bit for us both, ja? I can take care of Maus." He winked at me and pulled me into a hug. I handed him his dinner, and he grabbed my hand and put a few coins in it. "Take our Spot here to dinner." He practically shooed me off, and I just glanced at Spot.
He smiled lopsidedly and we headed off, Jimmy trotting alternately ahead and trailing behind as he sniffed some exciting scent.
"So yer pa seems eager to see the two of us off this evening," Spot said, grinning at me.
"Yeah. What did you say to him?" I shot back, wanting to wipe the smirk from his face.
"Actually, I asked him if I could spend some time with just you, and he burst out laughing! Almost as if he'd been hoping to get rid of ya." Spot glanced sidelong at me. I carefully schooled my face. Spot would know I was hiding something, but he wasn't going to get it out of me that easily!
We found a place to eat—an actual sit down restaurant with reasonable prices that wasn't too fancy. Neither of us was exactly able to dress up.
"What happened to your face?" I asked after we had ordered.
"Coupla thugs," was his only response. I glared, and he threw up his hands in defeat. "Actually, I was glad to have the evening with you. The violence and tension has been a bit much lately, and I've been having to work harder to keep me boys safe. Ace took quite a beating, and Ab' was lucky Red came along when he did. I had to go take care of it, and this happened." He sighed. "You're still my innocent one, Cat. You somehow make all of the other stuff seem like another reality rather than my own life."
"Well, I—I mean—" I stuttered, trying to piece together that answer. "Happy Birthday," I said lamely, handing him a tissue wrapped bundle.
Spot stared at it for a moment before breaking out into quiet laughter. I was confused. What was so funny? My cheeks burned, and I looked at the floor—something I hadn't done around him in ages. "Cat," he managed to gasp between chuckles.
"What?" I snapped. He stopped at that and looked at me carefully. I hate when he does that—probes me with his eyes. I feel so vulnerable.
"You have no idea what I mean when I say you're innocent. You just carry on as if there were nothing but beauty in the world, giving me a birthday as if there were no gangs, no thugs, no soakings, no lodging house to run, no papers to sell, and no kids to protect. You just celebrate a birthday." He ran his hand through his blond hair, then looked at me with such wonder that I began to flush again. He picked up the package and pulled out red suspenders. His grin widened. "Well, these are certainly useful!" he said, and I smiled. I was still a bit confused as to why he had laughed, but he was enjoying his birthday, and I planned to roll with it.
"Ingrid and Papa were in on it, too," I told him, snatching a green bean off his plate. He swatted my hand away, and we were back to the normal conversations. I related the effort of planning something for him, and we shared from books we had been reading. I surreptitiously gave Jimmy, who was sitting quietly at my feet, some food, and Spot gave me a knowing wink. How had he spotted that? He laughed at my surprise and winked again as he told me he had already given Jimmy plenty of food. I hadn't even noticed! All in all it was a nice evening out.
As we were headed back to my place, Jimmy trotting ahead faithfully, Spot stopped me suddenly and looked at me seriously. "Cat, thank you for sharing your Mama's birthday with me," he said earnestly.
"How did you know?" I gasped.
He grinned impishly at me. "You don't get to be the leader of Brooklyn without knowing things," he said enigmatically, and I just gaped at him. He smiled, put his arm on my shoulder, and turned me toward home.