Helping Out

I was worried about dad. He worked so hard, he was never happy or had time to play any more. He was asleep on the couch - he passed out as soon as he got home, just after I woke up. I don’t know why he had to work so late. He said he helped people by giving them money when they needed it, but at school I heard him tell my teacher he worked in waste disposal. All the other garbage men I saw worked early in the morning, whereas dad always seemed to be out all night.

Mum was at work. She said to be a good girl and look after dad. They said I was old enough to help clean up around the house now, but the house already looked pretty clean, and besides, I had a better idea. Instead of helping clean the house, I’d help dad with work - if I did all his chores for him before he woke up, he wouldn’t have to work tonight!

Dad has a diary, just like the one he gave me. Mum says he’s M-E-T-H-O-D-I-C-A-L. He taught me to write my chores and homework in my diary, to make a list, and each day, once I had crossed everything off, I could play as much as I wanted. So I figured if I went and crossed everything off dad’s list for him, he could do whatever he wanted when he woke up.

I knew where his diary was - in the front pocket of his work bag, which was hidden in the closet. It must be super secret for him to hide it like he does. He thinks I don’t know where it is, but I saw him hiding it one day, putting his bag in the bottom of the closet, behind a piece of wood that only comes off if you know how to pull it in a special way.

I snuck into mum and dad’s room, and climbed into the closet. I pulled the wood off the back, and opened dad’s bag. His diary was in the front. In the big pocket in the middle was a plastic bag with bundles of money in it, tied together with rubber bands.

I took his diary out - just like mine, it was a small, black, leather notebook. I asked dad what “leather” was, when he gave it to me, and he said it was made from the skin of cows. I said that didn’t seem very nice for the cows, but he said it was okay, they only took it from cows who didn’t need it anymore. I think he was just making that up to scare me - once grandma told me she would skin me alive when I knocked over her glass of fancy lemonade. I was always very careful around grandma after that. Being skinned alive sounds very painful, and I can’t imagine why a cow wouldn’t need its skin anymore - how would it hold all the bits in? Leather doesn’t look much like skin anyway.

I opened dad’s diary up to this week. On each day there were different names, with an amount of money written next to them. Dad said he gave people money when they needed it - these must be the people dad gave money to. No wonder he was so tired, there were a lot of names from yesterday!

December week 51

Friday 20th

Chen, 90 Lygon Grove, Essendon - $2900

Maria, 2C Leicester Avenue, Footscray - $3500

Davo, 45 Sudan Street, Derrimut - $4800

Sam, 8 Octavia Parade, Altona - $7400

Sunjit, 36 Mason Street, Brooklyn - $1400

I looked at today’s date, and breathed a sigh of relief - there was only one name down for today.

Saturday 21st

Big Jack, 28 McAllister Street, Maribyrnong - $20, 000

Big Jack needed a lot of money.

I took the money out of the plastic bag, and counted it to make sure there was enough for Big Jack. I counted it out like dad taught me - ten notes first, put them in a pile, then counting ten more. I kept counting until they were all in piles.

10 notes

x 20 piles

200 notes

They were all $100 bills, so I multiplied them together.

$100

x 200 notes

$20 000

That was exactly the amount Big Jack needed - dad was very organised! I put the plastic bag of money and dad’s diary in my school bag.

I knew where 28 McAllister Street was. My friend lived on that street, number 45. It was too far to walk, but I could get the tram there - because I’m a big girl now my parents let me get the tram to school sometimes, but only if I go with a friend, and they still drop me off at the tram stop. I knew they wouldn’t want me to get the tram by myself, but I thought about how happy dad would be when he woke up and I had done his chores for him. Besides, I had to show them I’m old enough to get the tram now, otherwise they'll never learn.

---

Dad was still asleep on the couch when I snuck out of the house. I had plenty of time to get to McAllister Street and back before he woke up. On the tram I scanned my card like mum and dad showed me, and sat down. A lady asked me if I was okay and asked where my parents were, so I glared at her and said what dad taught me to say to strangers when I was by myself - “fuck off or I’ll call my dad!” After that no one talked to me again.

The tram got to McAllister Street, and I started counting down the house numbers until I saw 28 go past. I pushed the button, got off the tram, and walked back to the house. It wasn’t a very nice house. It was painted white, but looked dirty, and the wood was falling off in places. I walked onto the front porch and rang the doorbell.

Big Jack wasn’t big at all. Well, he was bigger than me, but he was definitely smaller than dad. Dad was a “big guy” - everyone said so. Even though I’m pretty big now, dad can still pick me up with one arm, that’s how big he is. Jack looked at me, a cigarette in his mouth. Mum and dad said smoking was bad. They both smoked, but never inside the house - mum caught dad smoking inside one day when she came home early, and they had a fight, and he never smoked in the house again. They both still did it though, outside in the sideway, where they thought I couldn’t see them.

Big Jack looked at me - “whatchya want, kid?”

I got out dad’s diary, and checked his name, just to make sure - “are you Big Jack?”

“Sure, who are you?”

“My name is Sally DiMarco, I have something for you.”

“Sally Di…. You’re Tony’s little girl?”

He stuck his head out the door and looked around frantically.

“Where are you Tony!? You said I had until tonight! This is messed up! Bringing your little girl here it’s” -

“My dad’s not here! Hey!” I waved my hand in his face.

He stopped, stepped outside and looked around the porch - it was a pretty small porch, so not much to look around.

“What are you doing here little girl, where’s your father?”

“He’s asleep, I’m going to do his job for him before he wakes up so he doesn’t have to work tonight.”

Big Jack started laughing - “You’re doing his job for him? How old are you?”

“Nearly ten” I lied.

“Nearly ten, wow! Okay what you got for me in there? A gun? A horse’s head?”

Big Jack must be pretty stupid, a horse’s head would never fit in my schoolbag. I opened my backpack, took out the plastic bag of money, and gave it to him. He looked at it, and his face went pale - “this isn’t mine.”

“You have to take it! If you don’t take it now dad’s going to have to come back here later and he’ll be really angry I caught the tram without telling him if he still has to work anyway!”

“Why are you giving this to me? Let me look at that book.”

I knew I shouldn’t let him have dad’s diary because it’s super secret, but he snatched it out of my hands and held it out of reach. He flipped over and read a few of the pages, and started smiling. He looked at me, then back at the book - “so you’re saying this is for me?”

“Yes!” You idiot, I added under my breath.

“Well thankyou - what’d you say your name was? Sally? You’re a good girl, I bet your dad’s very proud of you, go on home now.”

“Give dad’s diary back!”

“Of course! Here you - one second, I’m just going to write a little thankyou note, that okay?”

I thought I shouldn’t let anyone write in dad’s diary, but he ducked inside and closed the door on me. He came out a minute later, and gave it back - “You know how to get home Sally?”

“Yes, I get the 128 tram for six stops, then turn left when I get out and walk two blocks.”

“That’s great, say hi to your dad for me, make sure you get home safe!”

He looked around again and shut the door before I could get off the porch.

---

I walked across the road and waited at the tram stop. Even before the tram came, he came out of the house with a big bag, got into his car, and drove off faster than I’ve ever seen anyone drive before. I opened dad’s diary, and looked at what he wrote.

Thanks for the retirement fund Tony! I’ll send you a postcard.

I could see why he was in such a hurry now - he was going to be retired! Uncle Chris doesn’t come around any more, and I asked my dad why, and he said he was retired. I asked what that meant, and he said it was like they were on holiday but forever. Mum was upset about it, and dad told me not to talk about him anymore. I was sad as well because we wouldn’t get to see him, but I was happy for him too. I looked through dad’s diary. Every now and then, a name was crossed off with “retired” written next to it. A lot of dad’s friends are retired - he must get a lot of postcards.