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The day you finished your final college midterm was also the first to show signs of spring in bloom. The sounds of long sighs, popping muscles, scraping chairs and zipping backpacks filled the large hall as you slowly began to gather your belongings. You had taken your exam in a pleasant patch of sun, where you had been comfortable enough that you nearly decided to nap several times. Your brain and body were fatigued beyond belief, but beneath your exhaustion hummed the excitement of finally being partially free for three weeks.
You’d always thought it was a shame that the entire world seemed to want your generation to grow up so fast. You lived in a society that thrived off young, ambitious, tireless workers. If you didn’t do well now, how would you ever succeed in the future? Your parents wanted you to be better than they were, so they sent you to the best school in your area. They filled your head with expectations and harsh realities, scaring you into ardent studying.
At that time, you’d desperately wanted a taste of adulthood because you thought it would free you. Now that you’ve tried it? It’s not as lovely as it looked on TV. At some point in the divide between child and teen, burden after hassle had been strapped to your shoulders, and that load would only become heavier as you grew older. Spring break, for young people like you, wasn’t really a break. It was just a time for you to work a little less.
You longed for your younger years, which were spent sitting under trees and rolling down lush, sunny hills ‘till you were covered in grass stains. You missed having the time to be curious, and the energy to live as you pleased. You couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. You were promised eighteen years of childhood, but you felt that you had only gotten ten. Though, the more you thought about it, perhaps that was less the world’s fault and more your parent’s.
“Hey! Wanna get lunch with me?” Isabel, a good friend of yours, hit you with an eraser. She was childish and never ceased to be playful, even though she was only a year younger than you. She did have a serious streak, but she rarely used it around you. Sometimes, she was an absolute pain when you wanted to be left alone, but Isabel was one of the few people keeping you sane.
You and Isabel had an odd, almost familial connection. Apparently, your dad and her mom had gone to the same study abroad program years ago. They’d been good friends, and decided to keep in touch long after the program had ended. By the time you had been born, her mom babysat you while she was pregnant with Isabel; then, once Isabel came into the picture, the two of you tiny tots were practically inseparable. That friendship lasted for about 2 years before it ended due to your family moving across the country. Both you and Isabel grew up never knowing the other existed until you coincidentally started going to the same college. It took you both some time to figure out your connection, but once you did, you’d picked up like no time had passed at all.
You couldn’t stop the loving curl of your smile as you tossed the eraser back at her.
“Isabel, if you’re offering to pay for my food, I’d be stupid to say no.” You laughed when you saw her eyes roll. As she began to walk away, you wrapped an arm around her torso and vigorously ruffled her hair with the other. Isabel shrieked and giggled and threw you off of her before dashing toward the exit. You ran after her, laughing and weaving your way through the throng of 20-something-year-olds on their way out of the building.
Once you caught up to her, Isabel grasped your hand and the two of you walked to one of the campus’ cafes. Soft sunlight fell between trees that stretched over your heads, spattering warmth along the brick path beneath your feet. The air that flowed was sweet and fresh; it gently tugged at your clothes and hair. Lost between the branches of glowing foliage, flocks of birds twittered to each other from all corners of the campus. Beyond the tree line, beyond the fields of radiant, windswept grass and vibrant flowers, stood the majestic, snow-capped mountain range from which your little town claimed its fame. You hated having to be stuck inside on days like this. Overdale in springtime was breathtakingly romantic.
“Isabel, in all honesty, I don’t know if I can afford eating out right now.” You held the door of La Dalia Bianca open as she stepped inside. Most of the student body prefered leaving campus and going into town for food, consequently overlooking this little gem. It was a beautiful, rustic, cozy little cafe that none too many students frequented.
“Then why agree to come and eat with me?”
“I just wanted to keep you company! We haven’t seen each other in a while; I thought spending some time with you might be nice.”
She gave you a pitying look, then bonked your forehead with the back of her hand.
“You're the reason we haven’t seen each other. You’re always so busy, and I get that you want to do well here, but you push yourself too hard. Come, I’ll get something for us to share--”
“I can’t ask you to do that--”
“You’re not asking. I am offering, and you’d be stupid to say no.”
You sighed as Isabel smiled cheekily and pulled you to the counter. You hated when she used your own words against you.
As she ordered something overpriced from the menu, you zoned out, instead searching for a good spot to sit and eat. It had to be clean, and preferably close to a window but not too close to other patrons-- you found it. You detached yourself from her side and carried both of your belongings to the sunlit table, where you sat in quiet contemplation until Isabel brought her edible haul. You raised an eyebrow as you took in all that was on the tray.
“How many sweets can you eat in a day, ‘bel?”
“Hey!” She slapped her hands onto her waist, “I’m treating both of us because we finished our exams. You should thank me, not chastise me.”
“Thank you,” your eyes glinted in mischief, “but lay off the sweets. They’re not good for your health, or for your figure.”
Isabel grumbled in response. “Thanks mom. Anyways, how did your exams go? You looked pretty out of it when I came into the hall.”
“Let’s not talk about that,” you sighed and grabbed a piece of baklava, “those damn exams are all I’ve heard, seen and thought about for weeks.” You bit the pastry and leaned back in your chair, “I’m thinking about getting a job.”
Isabel’s fork clanged against her plate. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I need the money?” Confusion contorted your face.
“Don’t you know what the word ‘break’ means?” Her head tilted to the side.
“Yes,” you sighed and put the pastry down, “but I’m running out of cash. This place isn’t exactly cheap, even with a scholarship.”
She gently resumed cutting away at her cheesecake, refusing to look you in the eye. “You’re going to drive yourself up a wall if you keep yourself busy all the time.”
“I’m grateful for your concern, truly, but I’ve made up my mind.” She bit her lip as you continued speaking, “I won’t apply for anything super hard or inflexible. It’ll have to be part time, or at least not take my whole day away from me, and it can’t be too much longer than three weeks. Maybe there’s a paid internship at a law firm somewhere? Who knows, if I like it and the money’s good, I might try to balance everything once school restarts--”
“No!” Isabel reached for your hands, uncaring for the food and drink on the table’s surface. “Burnout is a disease, and at the rate you're going, you’ll be miserable. You love kids, don’t you? Why not babysit? That way you’ll get to play with children and be paid to do it; here,” she pulled her phone from her backpack, “let me check our forum for you.”
“What forum?” You asked, sipping at your milk tea. Isabel rarely tried to dissuade you from anything, so you thought you’d entertain her effort this time around. You knew she hated telling people how to live, and she only spoke up when she was concerned for your well being. Besides, you’ve been a bit restless lately. Maybe something less intense would be good for you.
“There’s this online forum for babysitters in Overdale; I use it to stay away from seedy clients. We share news, tips, warnings and job offers with each other on it. It keeps us safe, you know?”
You nodded your head and watched as she scrolled down her phone. Isabel was unable to find anything for the next ten minutes, so you glanced out the window and nibbled on sweets in the meantime. The background noise of the cafe served to dull your senses until Isabel suddenly gasped. You watched her expression widen in satisfaction, but then sour almost instantly.
“There’s only one job available right now, but… I wouldn’t suggest taking it.” She looked up into your eyes. “Can you wait a week or so? Just until a few other parents put out jobs.” Isabel looked like she didn’t even want to tell you the offer existed in the first place, but that only served to pique your interest.
“Wait, hold on a minute, let me see what it is at least.” You held out your hand expectantly, and Isabel reluctantly dropped her phone into it.
The gig was offered by one Gabriel Reyes, who, strangely enough, refused to specify anything else about himself. There wasn’t even a contact photo attached to his profile, just a small blurb asking that babysitters ‘send their applications through the forum provider only. If adequate, the employer will contact the babysitter-- no need to try and reach out.’
Ha! Like you’d be able to contact him without a phone number or address anyways. What did he expect, that he’d be hunted down by kids in college?
The descriptions of the children were even more sparse: their names and ages weren’t listed, just that this ‘Gabriel’ had three children in total. There was no discussion of payment, expectations, or preferences.
This didn’t seem like much of an offer at all in your opinion.
“The only problem I have with this is it’s lack of information.” You held Isabel’s phone out for her to take. “Do you know something that’s not written there?”
“I’ve heard things from other babysitters. Apparently, the kids are absolute monstrosities; they’re uncouth and rude and very disrespectful. Oh! And they’re well-known for pulling some awful pranks. You wouldn’t believe some of the horror stories from the sitters they’ve managed to scare off… I can’t imagine it’s very easy for Mr. Reyes to get a sitter anymore, no matter how much he promises to pay. This latest offer has been sitting untouched for at least a month or so. The funny thing is that the kids are quite manageable when their father is home; he seems to be the only person they ever listen to.”
“Has anyone tried to tell him that?” To you, it seemed like these kids were just seeking his attention. They were going about it the wrong way, but still.
“Oh, yes, many sitters have, but Mr. Reyes never listens. He doesn’t seem to believe that his kids are capable of that kind of misbehavior. And even if he did, I doubt he’d be much help. He’s in some branch of the military, but no one seems to know which one. He’s important though, that’s for sure. He’s rarely home, and sometimes he dumps his kids with the sitter longer than what they agreed on because he can’t get back on time. But that’s not all: when he is home, he runs a tight ship. He’s quite callous, and I’ve heard that he treats his kids like little soldiers rather than children. He doesn’t even let them play!”
You sat and digested this information. Those poor kids-- theirs sounded like a case of neglect to you. Coupled with what you assumed to be high expectations from their father, of course they’d lash out. What else is a child to do when one of their parents won’t pay attention to them? And Mr. Reyes-- he sounded rather ghastly. You tried to picture what a man so unloving would look like, but you stopped when you’d conjured something particularly vile. You thought you understood part of what these kids felt, and you had a sinking feeling that they were steadily losing their childhood to a man who had no idea what he was doing to them.
“And Mrs. Reyes, what of her? Is she frequently gone as well?” You thought it was odd that Isabel never mentioned her.
“Oh… I don’t think there is a Mrs. Reyes. I’ve heard of many.. erhm.. mistresses, though. I don’t know much else; not many sitters have stayed long enough to figure out more, but it’s enough to know this isn’t a good job. So, let’s wait ‘till another is posted, okay?”
The logical answer, for the sake of your sanity, would have been ‘yes, I’ll wait for another opportunity.’ But you kept thinking back to those three, unnamed children. What if causing trouble was the only way they knew how to get attention? What if all this was a cry for help?
With that thought in mind, you couldn’t leave those kids to suffer. Yes, it wasn’t any of your business, but as someone who had to survive your household, you wanted to try ensuring that they didn’t end up as miserable as you were.
“No, Isabel,” you sat taller in your chair, “I’d like to apply for this one.”
Isabel gawked and began to speak, but you cut her off. “How do I send in an application?”
Isabel watched your face for any signs of uncertainty, and when she found none, resigned with a sigh. She knew you would not change your mind, and she knew that she had helped you to get there. Isabel just hoped that you knew what you were getting yourself into, and was mentally preparing herself to help you get out if things went sideways.