The sound of a knock on the door jarred Zach Smith from his uncomfortable slumber on his settee. Groggily, he sat up, only to be hit by a wave of nausea as his hangover exacted revenge for his previous night’s activities. When the knock repeated, he grumbled and decided to give whoever it was a piece of his mind and possibly the business end of his still-shod foot.
His hand fell on the latch, but as he began to turn the knob, the crack of Apparition signalled the departure of his caller. Swinging the door open, he looked down the corridor with the faint hope of catching a glimpse of whoever it was. But, as he had expected, there was no one. With a grunt, he slammed the door and stalked back to the couch, weighing the pros and cons of calling into work the next day.
That was when the knock came again, but this time, it was softer. He was being toyed with. He hated being toyed with. And this time, he was going to catch this person in the act. This time, he took care not to make a sound before jerking open the door once again. Again, nothing.
But there was a tug on his trousers. Curious, Zach looked down. It was a… kid, a little boy, who he estimated to be about three, and it was staring up with giant eyes, still holding a fistful of his trouser. Judging by the clothing, he wasn’t a rich kid, but he looked like someone bothered washing the little brat.
Not sure what he was supposed to say, or even if the child knew how to talk yet or would understand him, Zach asked, “Where’s your mum?”
“Mummy went away,” the boy responded, not seeming overly bothered by it.
“Why are you here?”
“I dunno.”
It was then that Zach noticed a slip of parchment sticking out of the boy’s coat pocket. Plucking it out, he unfolded it and read; he wished he hadn’t.
Zach,
I can’t do this anymore. You need to take care of him. His name is Cameron, and he’s your son.
Mitzy
Mitzy. Just the sight of that name made him want to melt into the floorboards. She had been his working girl (to put it politely) of choice a few years back until she had stopped meeting him. After that, he stopped soliciting her particular profession, not thinking twice about the woman whose naughty bits he could remember better than her face.
In his moment of reflection, Zach had almost forgotten about Cameron until a small hand grabbed onto his. “I’m hungry.”
“Well, bloody good for you,” Zach snapped before having an unfamiliar feeling of guilt for swearing in front of the boy. However, Cameron didn’t seem to notice, so with a sigh, he gestured toward the settee and said, “Come on, kid. I’ll see what I can find.”
Zach did know one thing for sure. He had just successfully bought himself an excuse not to go to work.
If anyone found the sight of a confirmed bachelor Flooing into the Ministry with a kid in tow, there was no sign of it. Zach just wanted to go directly to Level One and get out of the building as soon as possible, so he firmly clamped Cameron’s hand to keep him from wandering off. The last thing Zach’s pounding head needed was having to look tiny person in a giant building. In and out, that was all he wanted to do.
At the lift, he said, “Level One.”
“Now proceeding to Level One,” said the automated voice. “And thank you for visiting your Ministry of Magic.”
With a snort, Zach mumbled, “Piss off.”
“What does that mean?” Cameron asked after pulling on Zach’s arm to get his attention.
Startled by the question, Zach said, “Well, um, Level One is where someone I need to see works.”
Shaking his head, Cameron said, “No. What does ‘piss off’ mean?”
Holding back a groan of frustration, Zach replied, “It’s a word that you shouldn’t use, or spiders will crawl into your mouth and bite your tongue.” He heard a gulp and a sniffle, and when he looked down, Cameron had tears running down his face with his free hand clamped over his mouth.
An unexpected wave of contrition hit Zach. He wasn’t exactly in tune with the child-rearing universe, but even he felt bad about that reddening, wrinkled face trying not to bawl for everything he was worth. Unaccustomed to apology, instead, he said, “Spiders aren’t going to crawl into your mouth. I was joking.”
“Mum said jokes are funny.”
“Tell me about it.” Zach lolled his head back, wondering whether the lift ride could possibly be any longer, but just as the thought jumped into his head, he felt the motion beneath his feet slowly abate.
“Level One: Administration. Thank you, and have a nice day.”
As they stepped out of the lift, Cameron pointed back into the car and said, “Piss off!” He then trotted after Zach, who could only chuckle and ruffle the boy’s hair. The responsible thing to do probably would’ve been to discourage such language, but it was the first genuine moment of enjoyment he’d experienced since his rude awakening earlier that morning.
Soon, they were outside the door marked ‘Department of Family Services’. Not entirely certain of the etiquette for approaching this particular branch of the Ministry, Zach decided to slowly open the door and peek in. He was surprised to find a room lined with file cabinets, which surrounded a large wooden desk, piled halfway to the ceiling with file folders. Behind the stack sat a middle-aged woman with glasses and a hair style that looked far too tight to be comfortable.
Her eyes never diverting from the document she was examining, the woman said, “Come on in. I don’t bite.”
Judging by her severe expression, Zach doubted that assessment, but he complied and led Cameron into the office. He took the seat opposite a placard that read ‘Betty Perkins: Head of Family Services’ and fidgeted whilst she kept on writing. Finally, after a veritable eternity with nothing but the sounds of shuffling paper and Cameron trying to blow bubbles with his saliva, Betty was finally ready to get to him.
Stowing away her work in progress, she folded her hands on the desk and looked directly at him. “So, Mr Smith, what can I do for you today?”
Zach was momentarily startled that she knew his name, only to remember that it was on the badge he was given at the visitors’ entrance. “Oh, um, I needed to see if there was anything to be done about a, er, problem of mine.”
“Hmm, I see,” she said, glancing over toward Cameron, who had been distracted by a small box of toys in the far corner of the room. “Are you not making enough to make ends meet, Mr Smith? There’s no shame in asking for help.”
Shaking his head emphatically, he said, “No! My family is one of the wealthiest in the country! That’s not my problem.” Jerking his thumb toward where Cameron was playing, he said under his breath, “That’s my problem.”
Betty’s expression immediately became severe. “Mr Smith, parenthood isn’t something to be taken lightly, and it’s not only your biological responsibility to care for your child, it’s your legal one, as well.”
“But I didn’t know he existed until this morning!” Zach was surprised to find that he was standing, leaning quite threateningly across the table at Betty, who, to her credit, didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it. Sinking back into his seat, he said, “He was dumped on my doorstep this morning with a note from his mum, telling me that he’s my problem now. I… I don’t want a kid, and I don’t know how to take care of one.”
“Where is the mother?”
“I don’t know!” Zach exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair whilst feeling the urge to pull. “She was just someone who I, um, employed. She would be my ‘date’ for family functions and rubbish like that. Occasionally, she would provide other… services, but she always used contraception.”
“I see,” Betty said, disapproval oozing from her voice. “And what is the mother’s name?”
Zach scoured his brain, trying desperately to remember a surname, but none were coming to him. “Mitzy. Just… Mitzy. Don’t know her last name, or even where she lives.”
Betty stopped mid-stroke on the new form she had begun filling out. “You don’t know?” When Zach gave her a blank look, she sighed and rubbed her temples. “I hadn’t realised that was Cameron. I haven’t seen him since he was six months old.”
“Er, you’re going to have to fill me in, here. I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”
“Mitzy’s in jail, Mr Smith. She was just arrested this morning.” Rifling through the litter of case files, Betty pulled out one near the top and opened it. “She turned herself in this morning on several counts of petty theft and fraud in exchange for a lighter sentence. She’s supposed to be arraigned tomorrow morning.”
The room began to close in around Zach rather ominously. “You mean I’m stuck with this kid until she gets her loser arse out of jail?”
“I’m afraid so, Mr Smith. It might even make up for the nearly three years’ worth of child support you never paid.”
“I’ll pay it! Just… can’t he be put in foster care or something?”
Betty removed her glasses and gave Zach the full benefit of what he figured was her most scathing glare. “Mr Smith, dozens of children live in this country without parents for reasons beyond anyone’s control, and we have a foster system designed to make sure their needs are met. We do not cater to apathy and irresponsibility.”
Zach knew that she meant every word, and he felt his stomach lurch. He could barely scrape himself out of bed in the morning, let alone be responsible for feeding, clothing, and providing supervision for a creature more helpless than a puppy. But Betty was letting him know under no uncertain terms that he was stuck with this kid.
With a sigh of resignation, Zach held out his hand and said, “Come on, kid. We have to go now.” The boy complied, which mildly surprised him, but they proceeded out together. However, Betty’s voice stopped them.
“Oh, and Mr Smith, you’ll be getting a home appraisal soon. It would be in your best interest to do well.” Returning to her paperwork, she said, “Have a good afternoon.”