Zayn
"Zeph," I whispered, softly rubbing circles on his- covered in Toy Story's pajama shirt- belly. "Zephaniah, wake up, buddy. Ms. Heather is coming to play with you today."
Zephaniah slowly opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them, sleepily staring at me for as long as it took his little mind to wake up and process. "Want to play with you daddy. Not w-wwith Ms. Heather." He mumbled sleepily.
I chuckled, "Good morning to you too, buddy." I ran my fingers through his dark hair and stared at his green eyes, that were surrounded by thick and long eyelashes.
The seven years old turned onto his side and pressed his finger to my cheek as he looked at me, the nerves already visible on his face. "Morning daddy, but I want- want to play with you daddy, today? Please." His bottom lip quivered - I knew he was nervous to play with his caregivers.
"Zeph," I sighed sadly, "You know what I told you, yeah? Daddy has to work because..?"
Zephaniah looked down and rubbed his sleepy eyes once again, "Because I get- get food and clothes." He said quietly, blinking the tears away.
"Mhm," I carefully lifted my son up and placed him on my lap, cuddling him close to my chest. "Daddy loves you so much, do you know that?"
He looked up at me, his rare colored, green eyes sparkling as a toothy smile appeared on his face. "As m-much as I love dogs!"
I chuckled and ruffled his hair, softly stroking his cheek after that. "That's right, little man. Should we get you dressed?"
Zephaniah pecked my lips and jumped off my lap, walking over to his closet and opening the drawers where his trousers and shirts were stored. He stared at it and I noticed his eyes blinking rapidly, sometimes they widened, sometimes he narrowed them because he couldn't really focus. Eventually, his little hands flapped- the stimulus of seeing too much blocking his little mind.
"Too much choice, buddy?" I said sympathetically, walking over to the closet to see it myself.
He automatically reached for my hand and looked up at me, his green eyes wide. "You choose, daddy. I d-don't know."
I looked through his drawers and chose some denim shorts, as it was rather warm today, and a white shirt with small brown dogs all over it. I still had to find a way to let him choose without getting him overstimulated- but it was rather hard to do so.
"Here, this looks nice to me. What do you think?" I asked my son, who already smiled brightly when seeing the shirt with dogs.
"Love it, daddy. You will- will help me, baba? Put it on." He questioned, his cheeks coloring and although I knew I probably had to stimulate him to do it himself, finding the balance between what would help him or overstimulate him was hard to manage.
I nodded, helped him out of his pajamas and frowned when I saw his blue underwear, remembering I had changed him into it a day ago, "Did Ms. Heather make you change your underwear last night?"
Zephaniah frowned and thought about it for a few minutes. His eyes roaming all around the room and his lips slightly parted in the process. After a minute or so later, he spoke up, "No, daddy."
"Why didn't you do it yourself then, Zeph? You know where we keep your underwear." I crouched down to his eye level and stared right into his eyes.
Zephaniah looked down and his cheeks tinted red while he played with his fingers. "She put- put on my pajamas I can- cannot.."
"So? You could've asked her, Zephaniah. It's not a bad thing to ask." I sighed, not about the fact that he didn't do it himself, because I knew him. He was too shy to ask Heather, scared that she'd be mad as he was such a sensitive and insecure little boy.
It was more about the fact that Heather didn't change it, while she knew it was something I had told her was necessary to do every day. I wanted him to learn how to be clean and hygienic. Those topics were important for a child, but especially mine since he didn't always understand things that we would, naturally.
Zephaniah, of course, heard my sigh and the tears welled up in his eyes. "You m-mad at me, baba? I'm sorry."
I could've known. I'd only have to look a particular way, or I'd only have to sigh and he would think I was mad because of his sensitivity. Which was sad, but mild autism was the cause of it.
I gave him a small smile and stroked his cheek. "No, I'm not mad at you, Zeph. But Ms. Heather has been a bit naughty, hasn't she? She needed to do it."
Giving him a kiss on his cheek, I took his small hand in mine and led him over to the bathroom, where I opened a drawer and took out his green boxers. "Here, change them."
Zephaniah changed his underwear quickly after standing still and flapping his hands for a brief moment- not exactly understanding the situation- and walked back over to his bedroom, where he was quick to put on his outfit with a little bit of help from me.
"I don't have to go to s-school today?" Zephaniah frowned when he realized he wasn't wearing his uniform.
We both walked down the stairs and I shook my head once we entered the small dining room. "It's Saturday, buddy."
Zephaniah laughed sheepishly as his big green eyes looked up at me, his teeth showing as he smiled, "Oh, right, daddy. I almost f-forget."
We both sat down, where Heather, the red haired caregiver from Zephaniah, had made us sandwiches. "Thanks," I gave her a small smile and prayed a small prayer together with Zephaniah before I let him eat.
Heather joined us but didn't eat, she was only on her phone. Which annoyed me a lot, but I let it slip, just like the fact that she hadn't changed my son's underwear.
"Daddy?" Zephaniah said so quietly, that I could barely hear it.
"Yes?" I looked at him and noticed he hadn't taken one single bite out of his sandwich yet, which confused me, as he didn't have any problems with eating his breakfast.
Zephaniah looked doubtful, like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated to do so. His tongue moved around his mouth, it was his tic to sensory issues. "P-peanut butter."
I frowned and looked up at Heather, who was still typing something down on her phone. "Hey, Heather? You know he doesn't like peanut butter."
Heather looked up at me and slightly raised her eyebrow, "So you don't let him eat it? He's only eight. Kids that age eat everything. You need to stop spoiling him that much, Zayn."
"I'm not spoiling him," I scoffed. "He doesn't like it because his throat gets dry. Does anyone force you to eat something you simply don't like? And besides, he's seven."
"Look, Zayn. Do it yourself if you know everything better," Heather sighed and faked a smile when Zephaniah stared at her with a nervous look on his face.
"Well, obviously. He's my son. But you applied to give him the care he needs, which also consists out of listening to him." I sighed and shoved my chair away as I stood up, switching my Nutella sandwich with his peanut butter one. "Eat up, buddy."
Zephaniah stared at his sandwich and he rapidly blinked away the tears in his eyes, his lip trembling in the process.
I sighed softly and pulled Zephaniah on my lap when I noticed what was happening. "I'm not mad at you, Zeph. Eat up your sandwich and take your medication because then you can play with Ms. Heather."
Zephaniah nodded and ate his sandwich slowly. Once he drank his glass of milk and took his much needed pills, Heather grabbed his hand softly and led him to the hallway. "We're going to go to the playground. See you around, Zayn."
"See you. Have fun, buddy." I waved at Zephaniah who sadly waved back. I sighed a little and walked over to the office, where all of my work was stored.
Being an accountant for several companies was hard work, especially when I was the only source of income as I didn't have a wife, but the money was needed. The money was needed for the basic needs but also the special care Zephaniah needed, such as medication and therapy at times.
It was already a hard task to convince the companies I needed to do the work at home and not at an office at the company itself, as I needed to be home for Zephaniah. But not being able to give him the attention he definitely needed, I decided to look for a caregiver.
Many came and went, as they simply didn't qualify as much as I would've liked. From forgetting his medication to not giving him the guidance he needed. It was a hard task to find someone that could help my little boy.
I wasn't a hundred percent happy about Heather either, as Zephaniah got nervous every time she was around. It wasn't a good sign, it needed to be someone he loved spending time with.
She simply did too many things.. not right. Her phone was more important, she used her own opinions all the time. Of course she could give me her own opinions on things, but I was the one raising him and raising him wasn't a competency that was written on the vacancy. I had warned her about it several times, but she didn't seem to understand.
I sighed and rubbed my already tired eyes as I started up my MacBook, shoving my glasses up my nose after that. Piles of paper laid next to the laptop, my brain already internally screaming as I knew I had to finish the paperwork this week.
At least I didn't have to wear button ups and pantaloons every day, and could just work in my underwear, (not that I actually did it), as no one would see it, anyway. Except for Zephaniah if he stormed into the room to ask for his computer time.
Which happened about three hours after I started to work. I looked up when I heard him entering the room, Heather nowhere to be seen. "Daddy, can I go to dog.com for com-computer time." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
"Where's Ms. Heather?" I asked him, slowly stretching out my body as I had been sitting in the same position for over three hours.
Zephaniah bit his lip and pointed to the door, his eyes wide and nervous, "She sitting on- sitting on the couch, daddy. Can I read about d-dogs on computer time? Or not, sorry, daddy."
"What's she doing then? Don't you want to play with her?" I asked him and he looked down when he shook his head.
I held back my sigh and stood up as I walked over to the living room, where Heather was seated with her phone in her hand. I raised my eyebrow and looked at her. "I'm paying you for watching Zephaniah, not for your data."
Heather's eyes widened and she quickly locked her phone. "I was looking if, uhm, the indoor playground was open."
"He can't go to there, Heather. You know exactly why. Look, I've seen you with your phone several times and I let it slip, but.. come on." I frowned and I saw her cheeks tinting red.
"Zeph, wanna go color?" She quickly asked him. Zephaniah nodded, although I knew he wanted to read about dogs on the computer as he was weirdly enough obsessed with all the facts about dogs. He was too shy to decline her offer.
As the two went off to the living room, I shook my head and went back to work, only to be interrupted by either Zephaniah or Heather all the time.
And when I caught her playing on her phone when she was helping Zephaniah in the shower, and when I saw her forgetting his medication, the last straw was starting to get close to me.
Especially when Zephaniah came into the office, only in his underwear. "Daddy, she d-don't know where- where my pajamas is." He played with his fingers as he had a small frown on his forehead, his hands flapping briefly- he was nervous.
"And she sent you to ask?" Zephaniah nodded and I sighed deeply, bringing Zephaniah back to his bed where I changed him into clean pajamas myself, which where in his drawer for crying out loud, and laid him down in bed.
"Goodnight, buddy. Daddy loves you. Sleep well, yeah? Tomorrow it will be you and me only." I kissed his cheek and closed the door, quietly walking downstairs, where Heather was once again seated on the couch with her phone glued to her hand.
"Look, I'm starting to get impatient now. It hasn't been only today that I had to remind or warn you about specific things and it keeps happening again." I started, Heather looking up at me with a frown.
"First about your phone use. Can't it wait?" I asked. "I mean, a few messages or a call, okay, it's whatever, but constantly? Come on, Heather. Zephaniah came into my office several times just because you were on your phone and he didn't know what to do." I sighed deeply and rubbed my temples.
"Secondly, his epilepsy medication. What if he gets a seizure? Will you finish your text message first, then slowly open your timer app to time his seizure and then see how he's doing? That's not how it works." I shook my head.
Heather stood up, her expression changing as she started to become annoyed, but I couldn't care less. Was it so wrong for me to want the best care for my own son?
"Look, Zayn, if you want the best care for your son, then why don't you do it yourself?" She snapped, checking her phone to see if she had any more messages.
I kept shaking my head, "I want to give him that, and that's exactly why I'm working that much. He needs food, he needs clothes, he needs medication. You know what, Heather? You're fired. I can't cope with you anymore."
And that's how my fifth caregiver left.
~~~
Hey hello and welcome to my new book! I'm very excited to start this, and I hope you'll be too!
This story is inspired by a young boy I work with at my internship, but mixed with 99% of my imagination of course.
Zayn, Zephaniah and the new caregiver that will come will be equally the main characters.
When it comes to updates- I'm not sure how many times I will update, but at least once a week!
Let me know what you think of it!
Love,
H.