Zephaniah

"Thank you so much," Dad smiled at the waiter, who had just handed us the menu. I had quietly mumbled out a thanks, failed to look into the waiter's eyes.

Opening the menu, my eyes searched for the fourth number, knowing my favourite pizza was on there. It wasn't that I remembered it because we came here so much, those were just details that engraved theirselves into my mind at times. I didn't really know why, though.

"You're going for Margherita without the tomatoes, I suppose?" Dad asked, his eyes roaming over the menu as he, most likely, was deciding which pizza to eat as well.

I hummed in response and took the cold glass of Coke into my hands, taking a few sips. "And you, baba?"

"Tough, tough.. but I think I'll go for Margherita for once as well. Do you want bread beforehand?" He asked, making me frown a little.

Shaking my head, I stared at him, looking into his eyes. "No, I want pizza." I said quietly, not wanting to come off rude.

"I know," Dad smiled, our eyes meeting. "But while they're making it, you can have bread first. Do you want it? Your stomach seems to be never full."

I blushed at that, he was speaking the truth after all. Though, I declined, feeling weird about it for some reasons. "No, thanks, baba."

"Okay, Zeph." He answered softly, continuing to flip through the menu for reasons I didn't know. He had decided after all.

Wiggling my feet underneath the table, I stared outside the window, feeling warm for several reasons. It'd been ten years since I had transferred from Special Education to the regular one. Dad had always told me he thought it was something to celebrate, so he took me out for pizza each year. Usually with mum, but she wasn't feeling well because of the baby.

It made me feel extremely shy, sheepish almost because I never really knew how to handle compliments, so when he wanted to celebrate something I had, somehow, achieved, I couldn't help but feel that way as well, as I didn't really know how to act.

Grateful would be an understatement, of course. Dad had always made me feel so loved, had always made me feel as I deserved to be on this earth, and because of the things he did for me- he'd always made me feel proud of myself.

Suddenly, the waiter stood at our table, and my feet stopped wiggling right after, the dryness appearing at the corners of my mouth, though, clamminess in my hands. I had to ask, I had to ask.

"Have you both decided what to order?" He asked politely, eyeing dad and I, only I didn't look back at him, rather at my hands.

"Yeah, I'd like number four, the Margherita. And Zeph, you?" He asked purposefully, stimulating me to talk and order myself. He knew how difficult I found it, but I also knew he didn't stimulate me to do it to make a fool out of myself.

He only wanted to help me, but sometimes I just wished he'd still order for me. "Uhm, the margherita? Uhm, can I, maybe, uhm, have it without.. tomatoes?" I stammered out, my face probably on fire. I didn't look at him, I couldn't look at him.

"Yeah, totally. Will be here soon!" After that, he asked for the bread, but dad declined, making me feel even worse.

"Baba," I gulped, looking up at him. "Sorry, you can have it still? The bread, I mean."

He looked at me, his face stood soft. "I know, Zephaniah. I didn't want it." He gave me a smile, touching my hand for a split second. "You did well with ordering, I'm proud of you. I know how hard you find it."

"I stammered," I said sadly, looking up at him.

"And that's totally okay. It's a process, Zeph. Practicing is only a good thing. The stammering will get less, the more you practice. And besides, there's absolutely nothing wrong with stammering." He explained, making me feel as if it really wasn't a bad thing to stammer.

I stayed quiet for a while, his words lingering in my mind for quite some time. He stared at me, he did that always. He had once told me he always wondered what was going on in my mind, but sometimes I didn't even know it myself.

"Is it- is it not bad? That I didn't want tomatoes." I frowned, looking back up at him.

"Not at all. They don't mind, Zephaniah. You have the chance to order, you have to decide what to eat. It would be sad if they had to throw the tomatoes away, don't you think?" Baba said slowly, giving me my needed time.

I nodded to that, finding his perspective interesting and much more logical than mine. "Thanks, dad."

"Totally okay, Zeph. I'd kiss your nose if you were little, right now." He said, making me laugh softly. Instead, he tapped it, his eyes always on my face. "I'm so proud of you, do you know that? Life isn't easy, it will never be, and you fight so hard, even if you sometimes suffer with more difficulties than I will ever have and ever had."

I blushed again, my eyes averting to the table.

"Ten years! Goodness, Zeph. Can I just squeeze you into a hug real quick?" He let out a chuckle, but his eyes glistened. I nodded, and felt how his warm and loving arms engulfed me into a tight hug. He pressed his lips to my forehead for a brief moment, his nose to mine. Warmth and the love he had for me radiated off him, making me feel so much, though, I'd never be able to fully express it.

"Daddy, my drink-" I gulped when it almost fell, but baba had seen and grabbed the glass before it could hit the table. He completely let go off me and handed me my drink, giving me a soft smile.

"Got your back, Zeph. Always and always," He said, his eyebrow wiggling, though, the tears were still visible. "No matter what situation you're in."

"Are you sad, baba?" I wondered, staring at the tears that dribbled down his cheeks now, making me frown. Tears were expressed when the emotion sad occurred, that was what I had learned when I was little. Although, I knew, in some other situations, tears could come as well.

He quickly shook his head, "No, no. I'm not sad, Zeph. Just emotional. I'm just so proud, you know? And I have so much love for you, I didn't even know it could fit in my heart."

I brought my thumbs to his face and brushed his tears away, staring into his eyes. "To the sun and back, dad, always." I whispered, knowing that he knew what I meant with that.

"Always," we fist- bumped. We had done that ever since I turned eleven and found out the gesture existed. I thought it had been so interesting to make a fist out of your hand, then bumped, my fingers and knuckles fitting in Dad's ones as if it was a perfectly fitting puzzle, something that belonged together.

Eventually, the pizza arrived and after we had prayed, I started cutting it in eight pieces, taking a slice away at the right corner, top. When I looked up, I saw dad wanted to toast with our coke glasses.

Softly pressing mine against his glass, I listened to dad's word. "To the most intelligent, creative and soft- heartened boy I know. Keep being you, Zeph. You're amazing."

I blushed deeply, and quickly took a few sips of my drink, something I did when I didn't know how to react to a certain situation, certain questions or words. "Thanks," I whispered after that, taking a bite out of my pizza.

"Truth only," dad smiled, copying my actions. "Actually, I have something for you." He reached for his backpack, already making me blush and fiddle with my fingers.

"What is it?" I asked right away, not liking surprises- they were unexpected things, after all. Something I couldn't always handle well.

"Just a little something. You might need it," Dad gave me a soft smile, placing a present on the table, beside my plate with pizza.

"What is it?" I asked again, searching for the little tapes, neatly taking them off. My heart was pounding, what was I supposed to say or do?

"Open it, Zeph. You'll see." He placed his hand on my arm for a brief moment, and I neatly piled up the little tapes, placing them on the right side of the glass of Coke. Once the tapes were all off, I carefully unwrapped the paper, folding it before eyeing the present.

I gulped, picking up the brand new headphones. "Baba- baba you didn't have-"

"I wanted to, Zephaniah. It's okay," he gave me another warm smile and I couldn't help but reach for his cheek, softly touching it. I didn't know how to express my feelings into words, at the moment.

Dad knew I didn't like to dwell onto certain things, so he simply went back to eating- I copied him.

After a few bites, I already started humming, my feet wiggling slowly. The pizza was good, the tomatoes not being on them even better. My eyes roamed over the old, brown restaurant. It looked more like a café, but it was quite cool. It wasn't ever busy, so dad reserved here on purpose.

"Is it good?" Dad asked, making me look at him for a few seconds long.

I hummed, "Always," taking my fourth slice out of the circle, I noticed how dad was still on his second, making me frown. "Are you not hungry, baba?"

"I am! You're a fast eater, which is okay." He smiled fondly at me, "Hey, Zeph? Do you have dog facts still? Haven't heard them in so long,"

I laughed a little, covering my mouth with my sleeve. Dog facts, it was something I used to blurt out all the time when I was little and although I still knew too much about them, I hadn't read the breed book in a while. I still felt the same old, familiar excited flutter in my body once I thought about them, though. Suppressing was hard at times. "Uhm, pugs do look cute but actually it is sad? They are not bred the right way, therefore they have many problems such as eye- eye diseases, joint diseases, breathing problems and uhm, Pug Dog Encephalitis which is a fatal neurological disease."

My gaze was fixed upon the ceiling, my mind bringing the saved information to my lips. I looked back at dad when I had told the fact, waiting for his reaction. "I- I think I told you this when I was thirteen."

"And I thought the pugs looked so cute with their flat noses. And, I wouldn't remember if you did tell me at the age of thirteen." He smiled softly, biting onto his pizza. "Intelligent thing you are,"

I scrunched up my nose in response, not really knowing what to say. We ate in silence for a while, thoughts running through my mind while the strong flavours of the pizza kept satisfying me. I felt bad for mum, she couldn't join because she wasn't feeling well.

It made me slightly worried, I didn't really know what pregnancy did to women. Would it be normal? "Baba?"

"Yeah?" He answered, swallowing down his mouthful.

"Is, uhm, mama very sick?" I questioned, my eyes averting to the table. I still hadn't told them how I truly felt about it, after all.

Dad gave me a soft smile, slowly shrugging his shoulders. "It belongs to the pregnancy, Zephaniah. It's the hormones, and all. They can make women feel nauseous, especially in the mornings. It's nothing bad." He explained slowly, his eyes lingering on my face. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, slowly reaching for another slice of pizza, bringing the warm food to my mouth while I tried to process baba's words with the right meaning.

"Zeph?" He swallowed, not his food, though. Perhaps, dad was nervous. "Can you tell me now? How you feel about the baby?"

Glancing at him, I focussed on his expression, trying to read it. I didn't fully understand his expression, it seemed nervous, or was it sad? It made me swallow as well, what was I supposed to say? The truth, Zephaniah. Always the truth.

But what was the truth? The change, the thought, the feelings still hadn't quite processed and connected, I simply didn't know it. "It's good, dad. That you and mum love each- each other so much that you do.. that."

Dad observed my face, I could feel it. "Do you like it? That you're getting a brother or sister?"

"I-I don't know," my cheeks reddened, I felt bad. Really bad, and I was afraid that I had hurt him. Tears sprung into my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away, staring at my pizza. "Need to experience it first, baba. I don't know if-"

"That's okay, Zephaniah. It will be different, it will be new. Even mum and I will need to adjust to that new life once the baby is there, yeah?" He said softly, reaching for my hand. "Just know that you can always talk about it, okay? We'll always answer all of your questions."

I hummed shortly, finishing my pizza after that. Occasionally, dad would speak up, but other than that, I stayed quiet, just enjoying the silence and the presence of my father, until my thoughts led to Haven.

Had I talked too much, that day on the trampoline? I didn't understand myself, but talking to her almost went automatically. It scared me, it barely happened to me. Of course I still had insecure thoughts and struggled with the eye contact, but other than that- things flowed.

"Dad?" I brought out, staring at the dessert that was now served onto our table.

"Yeah, Zeph?" He answered, licking his spoonful of ice cream.

"Uhm," I flinched when a kid started crying, the loud sound hurt my ears. I frowned deeply, and pressed my palm to one of my ears, trying to focus back on what I wanted to say and reduce the noise of sobbing and screaming. "Uhm, dad?"

"Yeah, Zeph." He answered calmly.

"When do you know you can trust someone?" I wondered, looking up at him.

Dad licked his lips and brought his spoon down, staring outside the window. "Oh, I think that's a feeling, Zephaniah. When I got to know your mum, Hannah, I had a hard time expressing my emotions and feelings. But, talking to her, it just happened. I couldn't stop myself. It was a sign that I trusted her, that she made talking about my own difficulties and struggles easy. It hadn't happened with other people before. That's when I knew I trusted her."

I stayed silent for a very long time, my mind running and processing as if it had to win a race. It took me a lot of energy to save the information dad had just told me, it made my head ache.

"You had it too, Zephaniah. Do you remember? You had trouble with the other caregivers. You never liked playing with them and barely dared to utter a word to them. When Hannah came, you, obviously, were shy in the beginning, but eventually you started singing around her, held her hand and talked to her as if you had known her your whole life. You trusted her, Zeph. It's a natural process." He explained, making the information he had told before suddenly much clearer for me. Examples were a trick at times, though, not always.

I did trust mum, who was Ms. Hannah back then. I hadn't known why, but maybe there didn't have to be a reason.

Therefore, I thought, that maybe, I trusted Haven.

~~~

Father and son dinner!! Did you miss their moments?

I have much chapters planned before the trip to Amsterdam. Currently writing the trip. I just had a question, would you mind if the chapters from their trip will be longer/ will be a lot of chapters of their trip?

Its a seven day trip and a lot happening there.. please let me know!

Also, Zeph trusting Haven??? !!!!

If you have any questions about Zayn / Zephaniah / Haven / Hannah / Tara / whoever, please ask :)