Part 4 — They Did Not Pay My Mother’s Salary for Eleven Weeks, and I Went to the Most Dangerous Man — the Restaurant Owner’s Face Changed

After Vincent’s words, every sound in the room died away.

My mother squeezed my hand more tightly.

“Who is speaking?” she asked.

Vincent handed the memory card to Elena.

“Let us call the lawyer first.”

David took out his phone and dialed a number.

“Richard, come here. Right now.”

He listened for several seconds, then his face changed.

“Of course, I will pay you.”

He clearly did not like the answer.

“No, you cannot refuse. I am your client!”

He slammed the phone onto the table.

Vincent looked at him calmly.

“If your lawyer no longer protects you, you probably should understand the reason.”

“You cannot do this!”

“I am doing nothing, David. I am simply no longer allowing others to do it instead of you.”

I looked at my mother. A tear ran down her cheek, but this time she did not look as she had the previous night. It was as if she had breathed out for the first time.

The police arrived in ten minutes.

David immediately pointed a finger at them.

“This man is frightening my employee’s child! He is holding them by force!”

One of the policemen looked at Vincent.

“Mr. Kane, you will need to answer several questions.”

“Of course. But first watch this.”

Elena opened the laptop. David appeared on the screen, in the back office, on the same day when my mother demanded her salary. His voice could be heard clearly.

“Tell Rose that the money will be next week. Transfer the rest to the account.”

The accountant asked:

“And if she demands it again?”

“Then I will fire her. Women like that are always afraid that they will not be able to find a better job.”

My mother lowered her head.

I watched the screen and could not understand how a person could say such words in the same voice with which he wished the guests well-being.

David listened to the recording.

“That is not me.”

Elena stopped the video and pointed at his face.

“You did not recognize your own voice?”

The policeman picked up the phone.

“David Sterling, you have the right to remain silent.”

David stepped back.

“Call Richard! He will arrange everything!”

“Richard has already refused,” Elena answered. “He knows that the documents signed by you are enough.”

David’s hands began to tremble.

He looked at the Porsche keys. A short while earlier he had been proud of this little metal object. Now it looked heavy and useless in his hand.

The police took him away.

My mother immediately looked toward Vincent.

“Why did you help us?”

Vincent did not answer. He returned to me the diary he had taken from me.

“Because someone once recorded for me too every day when I had no food.”

His voice lost its hardness for the first time.

“Who?”

“My mother. She too waited a long time until someone brought justice. No one came.”

That evening my mother received her salary in full. The documents stated not only five thousand four hundred thirty dollars and thirty cents, but also additional overtime pay. The accounts of the other employees were opened as well.

The restaurant was temporarily closed.

Several days later David’s lawyer asked to come to us. My mother did not open the door.

“You should tell him only one sentence,” I said.

“Which one?”

“To wait one more week now.”

My mother smiled at me, but shook her head.

“No, Rory. We will no longer become like him.”

In the following weeks we went to the police several times. My mother attended every employee’s testimony. Vincent handed over his accountants to the investigation and not once said that he wanted thanks in return for it.

And I saw for the first time that a strong person can stand silently too.

Three months later my mother found a new job at a small family café. There the boss gave her a salary receipt every Friday, and my mother checked it twice, as if she still could not fully trust the numbers.

We moved to another neighborhood. The sound of trains could be heard from the window. In the morning my mother made coffee, and I drew on the kitchen wall.

One day she asked me:

“On that night when you were drawing stars in the diary, were you really not afraid?”

“I was afraid.”

“Then why did you go to Vincent?”

I stopped the pencil.

“Because you were more afraid.”

My mother lowered her eyes. Then she hugged me so tightly that I pressed my cheek against her apron.

Several months later the first snow came. I was already five years old. When I returned from school, a small box was waiting for me at the door. Inside was a letter from David.

“Rory, tell your mother that everything was a mistake. I can return the money to you if a conversation takes place between us.”

My mother read the letter to the end.

“What will you answer?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Whoever leaves us without food should no longer knock on our family’s door.”

My mother crumpled the letter, but did not throw it away. She put it on the windowsill to give it to the lawyer the next day. Then she took my old red shirt, which was already small for me.

A small piece of purple pencil was still in the pocket.

“Why do you keep this?” my mother asked.

“Because I drew stars that day.”

“And what did the last star mean?”

I enclosed the piece of pencil in my hand.

“That in the end someone still came.”

My mother put the shirt away in the closet. The red fabric was slowly covered with white points of dust, but the purple pencil mark on the pocket remained clear.

I no longer remember what David looked like when the police took him away.

I remember only my mother’s face that evening.

For the first time she was no longer waiting.

And the little star hidden in the red shirt was still shining.