She’s 14, and confined to her room. The blinds down and at 45′ stopping anyone from seeing anything but thin lips of light. The carpet is the best in the house, soft and deep pile, silvery grey and the bed is a double with a soft headboard. The light fitting has a bulb which can change colour with a controller, and the TV is bracketed to the wall, so she can watch it from her bed. I have’t been in for days now, only poking my head round to say goodnight or shouting from the other side of the door for her to come and get her breakfast or supper or get ready for school. I feel like I’m living in a boot camp sometimes and regret all this shouty business, but what can you do?
I decide to go in, i’ll try a softer approach, try to appeal to her sensibilities, maybe she’ll welcome me in with open arms. Hand on the latch, deep breath. I have to duck my head as the door is a very low one, people were smaller in the olden days (thats what we told the kids when they were younger).
“Hi Sweetheart, hows it going?”
‘Daaaddd, I’m trying to watch something, can you get out please?” she whined.
That’s me told, as I shut the door, latched.
“Love you” she chimed from behind the door.