Zephaniah

"This is so bad, Zeph. This is so, super bad." Mum sighed, stuffing some more chocolate cake into her mouth.

My eyes squinted lightly, I had to laugh. Feet were moving around in circles, raising into the air as I was lying down onto my stomach, my elbows propped upon my parents' bed. I swallowed down some chocolate cake as well, watching mum. She was seated against the headboard beside me, the box of chocolate cake on her lap.

"But it's so good. So, super good. Isn't it?" She gave me a soft smile, I returned it, nodding my head slowly. "Cravings are bad, but at least it isn't pickles with whipped cream or ice cream. That's a weird one."

"Pickles with whipped cream?" I frowned, taking a bite off my fork, licking my lips after that. I didn't understand what she meant, who on Earth would eat pickles with whipped cream? Whipped cream was supposed to be served with desserts, an exception was fruit. Until there, I'd go, but further, no way.

Mum chuckled, she stared at me. "Some pregnant woman have the strangest cravings. I just want sweet things. Or pizza, that would do too."

"Maybe it tastes like sour cream." I said quietly, reaching for the box that mum was holding. I looked up at her with questionable eyes, waiting for her consent to take more. She nodded her head, but her eyes were narrowed.

"Sour cream? Why?" She questioned.

"Pickles are sour, whipped cream is cream? Sour cream." I frowned, a little unsure to her question. Wasn't it obvious what I meant with it? Stuffing more cake into my mouth, I felt her hand gently stroking my cheek. I didn't really react to it, too occupied with the food.

Dad was going out for dinner with uncle Sam, they hadn't properly spoken in a while. Mum and I would be alone for the evening, she'd wanted to cut my hair, but I didn't feel like it, knowing how much I disliked the certain feelings of it. I knew I didn't really have a choice, though. She had said before Amsterdam, after all.

Which was soon. Too soon. Just a few days.

Looking down at Cooper, I felt the pain I had gotten while hearing the news coming up again. Before getting the meltdown at University, I had had a lot of shutdowns. Dad said it had been hard to get me out of them. I just couldn't get used to the news.

I wondered when he would die, would it be soon? Did I need to put him down to save him from his pain? The vet had said that he would be doing okay for now, but it could get worse eventually. I didn't think mum and dad had ever wiped away some many tears off my cheeks.

Slipping off my parents' bed, I lied down beside Cooper on the floor, observing his eyes. He seemed calm, his eyes squinted when he saw me. Smiling slightly, I pressed my lips to his snout, wiping the wetness off after that.

"Will the baby be born when I'm back?" I wondered, glancing at mum, who was already staring at me.

"Would be a about three to four weeks later, Zeph. But who knows? It could be earlier." She gave me a smile, closing the box where the chocolate cake had been in. We had finished it, I felt bad for not saving any for Dad, but mum made me feel less guilty by telling me he'd order a fancy dessert, anyway.

Nodding, I sat up, wrapping my arm around Cooper's neck. "Not healthy for- for the baby. If it's earlier, I mean."

"It would be fine. You were three weeks early. You came out pretty handsome." She teased, it made me laugh, but think.

"Is that why I have epilepsy, maybe, uhm, the autism?" I frowned a little, looking up at her. Things weren't fully developed when you'd be born a few weeks early, maybe something had went slightly wrong in my brain.

Mum frowned as well, I wondered if I had said something wrong. "I don't know, Zeph.. I think it has different reasons."

Standing up, I sat down onto the bed again, crawling over to mum. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight for a while. My eyes lingered on her big bump and I slowly and carefully rested my hand on it. Stroking it softly, I intensely watched my own hand, her skin feeling strange due to the pregnancy.

"Mama?" Glancing at her, I looked back down when we made eye contact.

"Yeah, Zeph?"

"I wish you carried me." I mumbled out, reaching for one of her brown- golden locks, twirling it around my finger.

"As a baby, in my stomach?"

I nodded, grabbed more strands and braided her hair, like she had taught me when I was ten. Left over the middle, right over the middle, left over the middle, right over the middle. Didn't the middle have to be moved? No, the middle was either the left or right one, it changed itself while braiding.

"I do too, Zeph. But the fact that it didn't happen that way does not make me love you any less. Never, ever." Her warm hands cupped my cheeks, breaking my attention from the braid, resting it on her face instead. I looked into her eyes, she softly pressed her lips to my nose. "I love you."

"I love you too, mum." I whispered, quickly reaching for her braid when she pulled away, she handed me a hair tie, I used it for its purpose. "Do you remember when we made an autumn craft?"

"The hedgehog?" She questioned after calling out random but wrong crafts we had made a long time after that, making me nod. "Of course I do. You made that for Dad, but gave me credits for it too. My heart had melted, Zeph. I didn't even do anything."

Resting my head against her shoulder, I straightened the chocolate cake box that was still on her lap- she had messily placed it. "You gave the idea and put glue on the leaves." I mumbled, glancing at the rush basket that contained the barber stuff.

"Sometimes I can't believe how.. how do you even remember these little details?"

I looked up, uncertainly. "Doesn't everyone?"

Mum gave me a soft smile, it looked a little sad. She didn't say anything. I understood, it was the autism. The different mindset, the different world.

She patted my stomach, I groaned, the chocolate cake making me feel extremely stuffed. "Time for your hair, alright?"

I simply sighed and stood up from the bed, slowly walking down the stairs. Cooper followed me closely, sniffing my hand and barking twice, clearly noticing my discomfort. "It fine, Coop." I whispered, dragging a chair towards the mirror that hung in the small hall.

Sitting down, I stared right into my own eyes, the strange, green colour reflecting. Just, Zephaniah. Just, just, just, Zephaniah. My eyes trailed down my own face, lingering on my eyebrows, nose and lips. My fringe hung slightly underneath the eyebrows, I knew it needed to be cut.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I kept staring at myself, kept wondering. Staring into my own eyes didn't make me feel as uncomfortable as staring into somebody else's. Dad had told me that girls at church thought I was handsome, how would other people see me? Different perspectives, different definitions. I didn't have an opinion about the way I looked. It was simply me.

Mum stood behind me, wiping away the fringe from my forehead, it feeling cold at the loss of warmth from my hair. "Take off your shirt if you don't want to wear the gown, Zeph." She said softly, taking the gown out of the basket.

I shivered by seeing it, already feeling the itchiness yet tightness in my neck, as if I couldn't breathe when it was adjusted around it. Taking off my shirt, I folded it and handed it to mum, who placed it onto the stairs. I pointed at it through the mirror, shaking my head. "Third step, mum."

"Sorry, sweetheart. I knew that." Once she had replaced it, I glanced through the mirror, feeling satisfied that I could see it- that I could make sure my hair wouldn't land on it. I didn't want to go through the feeling of putting a shirt on that made your back and stomach extremely itchy due to the hairs that had crept into it, without notice. "Waterspray." Mum mumbled, preparing me for what's to come.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I shivered when she started spraying the water onto my hair, wetting it because apparently cutting was easier that way. It felt strange, though. I disliked wetness, especially when it was outside taking a shower. I opened my eyes and stared down at my flapping hands, trying to focus on something else.

Mum wetted the fringe, I wanted to move it away, but she held me back. "It needs to be like this, love. Do you want me to do the fringe first?"

"Okay." I breathed out. Truth was, I strongly disliked the fringe part. But I knew, at the end I would be close to being overstimulated already, so it was best to do it now.

She went through the fringe with a comb, I squeezed my eyes closed again, trying hard to ignore the uncomfortable feeling. It scraped against my skin, sometimes hitting my nose. My skin was sensitive, my fringe was wet and stuck to my forehead, it hurt me. "It's not knotted!" I exclaimed, the feeling getting ahead of me. "Stop." I whimpered, pushing the comb away.

"I'm sorry, Zephaniah." Mum apologised, but I knew she probably didn't have to do it. "It needs to be in a neat line. We don't want you to walk around with a fringe that's poorly cut, right?" She teased, trying to enlighten the atmosphere. I gave her a small smile, even when it didn't portray how I was actually feeling.

Fluttering my eyes open as she held the fringe between her fingers, I watched her as she retrieved the scissors, her eyes on me. "I'll cut now, okay?"

I didn't answer, but my eyes furrowed. I didn't know if it was in frustration or to protect myself from the feeling. I cringed when I heard the sound of scissors chopping off hair. The feeling that came after that was awful. Shivering like thousands of little pins were stabbing my nose, my cheeks and chest- the little hairs falling onto my skin.

The feeling stayed, but mum was skillfully- the fringe was done within a minute or two. Opening my eyes again, I realised my view was blurry, tears being the reason. Mum blew the hairs out of my face, it was a huge relief.

"Still don't want to use the hair clipper for the sides?" Mum questioned, she always did. She wanted to make me feel at ease, and she succeeded for as far as my autism would let her.

"No." I frowned, shaking my head.

"Alright." Her finger lingered on a specific spot on my head. She glanced at me through the mirror. "Did you tug your hair?"

"When the vet told us about Cooper. The meltdown at Uni." I shrugged, avoiding eye contact. I knew how much it hurt them when I would hurt myself, but I couldn't help it.

"It's almost bald.." She sighed sadly, stroking my cheek for a brief moment. "Sides shorter, hair on top a little longer than the sides?"

"Fine by me." I mumbled, wanting it to be over as soon as possible.

Mum sprayed some more water onto my hair, wetting it completely. I flinched away a couple of times, not being able to hold back the whimpers. I moved away quite a lot. I wondered how mum was able to give me a neat haircut each time because of that, especially when I was little.

Once it was fully wet, she briefly ran the comb through my hair but stopped as soon as I started going against it. My hands flapped again, rapidly, just like my eyelids blinked. I cringed away each time mum cut more hair, especially when it was the hair around my ears. The sound was extremely loud, the feeling of the hairs falling on my skin painful.

A tear or two slipped out of my eyes and I softly pushed mum away, shaking my head.

"You need a break? That's okay, Zeph. Really." She assured me, laying the scissors aside. I avoided looking at myself through the mirror, hating the state I was in right now as it happened every single time.

Once I had gotten myself together, sort of, mum continued. I told her to continue for as long as it took her to finish the hair cut. At the end of it, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. I was in pain, I was close to being overstimulated and that was the most awful thing.

I disliked that I cried after a simple haircut, I disliked that I couldn't handle the water spray, the sound of the scissors, the feeling of hairs falling onto your skin, the comb, the clippers.

I disliked that people would think I was childish. How would they feel if a thousand pins were constantly pressing into their skin? That every time something would be cut off, the sound would make your ears peep? That every time a tiny, single water drop would be sprayed onto your hair and your skin accidentally, it would feel like somebody pressed a snowball into your neck? The comb feeling as if it scraped open your skin? The gown as if somebody was tightly pressing their hands onto your throat, suffocating you?

It was they way I experienced it, the way I truly felt it.

Tired, I was exhausted of pretending I could handle it. Tired of pretending to be normal, tired of trying to fit in. I was autistic and nothing was going to change that. It was time for me to accept it. My parents, my family, her parents, her family and Haven did it already, after all. Wasn't that what she had said?

Accidentally catching a glimpse of myself through the mirror, I was sure about one thing.

I would never be just Zephaniah.

~~~

Zeph and Hannah.. I love them. Sometimes I think back of them in Zephaniah and my heart swells!!

Zeph remembering all the details, always?

His haircut.. I hope I portrayed well why Zephaniah was so upset. Just remember he truly felt that way!

GUESS WHAT?! Amsterdam journey starts in the next chapter!!!! Fasten your seatbelts everyone..

Let me know your thoughts!! Votes, feedback, comments much appreciated ❤️ 85 votes?