“Okay, fine. Tell me the story,” I responded after thanking her.
He was up to something. I knew he was, I just wasn’t sure what exactly. Yet.
“Right, where to get started.” He rubbed his hands together before continuing. “Zac’s mother, Maria, used to work for us many years ago as part of the cleaning staff. She was, and I am sure still is, simply the nicest lady you’ll ever meet.” His smile was a little sad, as though he missed her.
“And I can tell you right now, Milly, where that boy gets his work ethic from. She was the absolute hardest worker on that team. She was always on time and never missed a day. Not to mention humble, kind, and absolutely beloved by everyone.” His lips pursed determinedly when he said this, as if it were an indisputable fact. “Anyways, she had immigrated from Brazil a year or two before we hired her, and her English was still quite broken at the time.
“Now, this was still a time in my career that I was constantly having to work late, and when I did, I would see a small young boy hanging around her in the evenings. I eventually learned through the grapevine that it was her son and that he would come here every day after school because they lived in an unsafe neighborhood and she did not want to leave him home alone. So she had received permission to have him around on the condition that he wouldn’t be a distraction.
“And he never was distracting as far as I could tell. Most of the time he would be keeping to himself, quietly doing his homework or reading a book while his mother worked, bless his little heart.”
I watched my father’s face as he talked about young Zac. His features lit up with both joy and a touch of pride, as if he was quite attached to the boy in his memories.
“But sometimes,” he continued, “he would be reading his books to her out loud, first reading the lines in English and then translating them to Portuguese, before taking the time to explain to her the words or phrases that she did not understand. I thought it was just the sweetest thing, so one day I went over and introduced myself.”
Butterflies released inside my chest, fluttering about. I ignored them.
“We became fast friends, that young man and I. He was sharp as a tack, especially for someone his age; very clever and such wit.” He paused and took a sip of his tea, smiling fondly at the memory.
“One day, a few months later, he showed up at my office unannounced at lunchtime. He was quite small for his age, you know. You’d never think so looking at him now, but he was. But he still walked in with the same determination and confidence you see on his six-foot-plus frame now.
“He told me that he had something important to ask but wanted me to first promise that I would not mention any of it to his mother, including the fact that he had snuck out of school to come and see me. Curious as I was, I of course gave him my word. And that, Milly, is when Zac asked me for a job.”
“He asked you for a job? He was ten.” It was the first time I’d spoken since he’d started the story. It had been more captivating than I’d anticipated.
“Precisely. Most children at that age do not go around asking adults for jobs. So I needed to understand where the request was coming from. He seemed rather reluctant to give me an answer when I asked, but I reminded him that I couldn’t help if I didn’t know what the problem was.
“After making me promise once again that none of this would be mentioned to his mother, young Zac finally admitted that he had woken up many times to find her crying quietly in her room, and he was sure it was because they didn’t have enough money. He had stopped asking for toys and new clothes, but none of it seemed to help, because ‘the men won’t stop calling,’ he’d said.”
The tea cup cradled in my hands had started to go cold as I continued to listen, my heart sinking in my chest for ten-year-old Zac and his mother.
“Now, Milly, you know very well that all of our staff is fairly compensated. And I do mean all of our staff. I make sure of it. It made very little sense that Maria was struggling this much financially. Especially because I was also aware that she held a second job. But he shut down again when I asked him if he knew who the men were that kept calling, and wouldn’t budge this time when I pressed. Judging by his expression, it seemed like a sensitive topic, so I thought it best to stop pushing. And even though I didn’t know what the full situation was, I was still very impressed with the boy. I thought it was quite brave of him to attempt to take on the responsibility of helping his mother. So I offered him an interview.”
“You did?” I found myself rooting for the child, even though I knew there was no way this story would end with my father employing a ten-year-old.
“I did. Though only on the condition that we conducted it over lunch, having correctly guessed that he hadn’t eaten yet. So we went to a small restaurant near here that your late grandfather was quite fond of and had our interview over tacos. And when it was over, I offered him a job.”
“Wait, you what?”
“Not right away, of course. We came to a compromise. Firstly, I made him promise that he wouldn’t skip school anymore. Instead, he would study hard, get good grades, and go to college. The job would be his as soon as he graduated. Additionally, I would get his mother a raise to help with the financial burden so he wouldn’t have to look for a job anymore. All of this would be our little secret, but only on one condition: that he would come straight to me if at any point in time he felt that his mom or he himself were in any sort of danger.”
“And did he? Ever come to you, I mean?”
My father shook his head. “I still don’t know what the full story was, but I made sure to keep in touch with him often just in case. After a couple of years, he was old enough to be trusted alone at home, and he stopped coming around the office. So instead we would go to the same restaurant every once in a while to catch up. Eventually he got into the University of Toronto on full scholarship and graduated with a near-perfect GPA while working two part-time jobs. I hired him as soon as he was done, just as I’d promised.”
I didn’t say anything, still processing the information.
“Milly, I know you and him did not get off to a great start. But I promise you, my darling, he’s not as bad of a person as you think.”
I almost wanted to believe him. My heart ached for the little boy who had been so good and so brave, wanting to help his mother at such a young age.
I began to feel ashamed for having gotten angry last night over this whole thing. It seemed a little silly now. But I was also starting to think that maybe it wasn’t me that had gotten upset.
I remembered the many years while growing up when my father’s long work hours consumed the majority of his energy and time. It lasted from as far back as I could remember to around my first year of high school.
During that time, I would be lucky if I caught him in the few minutes between when he got home from the office to when he retired to his study.
My mother passed when I was five, and it only got worse after that, as though he were drowning himself in work to distract from the pain and grief.
I was glad he found a way to cope, except it left me all alone.
I rarely had the opportunity to have a meal with him. Even special occasions were sometimes delayed or fully canceled last minute, either due to meetings that went over their allotted time, longer-than-planned business trips, or some other work emergency.