There was a kid in the front seat. He was 3, maybe 4, with confused blonde hair and pajamas on. He rode buckled in the passenger side, but not in the required child safety seat that belongs in the back. His father pulled up fast to the curb. Immediately, the valet made his way to open the driver’s door. Instead the driver got out and walked past the red-coated guy with all the keys and raged in the front door. Through squinted eyes he surveyed the small, brick bistro. Then at the same speed he entered, he left to pulled his sleepy boy from the car.

When his father jerked him out of the car abruptly, the child began to cry. Tired, quiet, pleading cries that echoed once his dad took him inside the restaurant. Against the wall sat a young couple, she taller than he, smiling and sharing risotto. She jumped in her seat when the man carrying the boy stood him hard on the ground in front of her. Her  gasp seemed to empty the room of all it’s air.

"You won’t be fucking tonight!," he screamed at her and turned to leave. The child’s sobs grew louder and he grabbed at his father as he stomped out the door. The child only managed two fistfuls of coat before his father tore off. He drove away too soon, since the valet was calling to have the vehicle towed.

The young couple at the table swooped up the boy in their arms and took him outside for fresh air and calm. Within minutes they were back at their table, happily playing a card game, but they left soon after. As they exited I heard them fretting about not having a car seat for the ride home.