Seven Days

"Heyyyy you. I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you got back I got held up at work. Have you been back long?"

"Hi mum. About an hour I guess."

"I've missed you. Have you eaten? How was your week with your Dad?"

"Yeah we stopped for something on the way back. It was good. Really good."

"Oh. It was?"

"Don't act so surprised."

"Well honey you didn't really want to go so…"

"OK well I'm glad I went. We had fun."

"That's great. Really great. I missed you though."

"I know you said already."

"Did you miss me?"

"Erm sure."

"Erm sure? Wow. Thanks a lot. So the sun shines out of your Dad's arse now is that it?"

"Look, you wanted me to go, I went. We sorted through a lot of issues and I had a good week. Would you rather I had a bad week and said don't ever make me do that again?"

"Is that your Dad speaking? God I can't believe that man he never changes."

"What do you mean he never changes? I don't think he said a single bad word against you all week."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah really. You've been home less than five minutes and you're already bad mouthing him. The week was about me and him spending time together. We've not started a secret club all about you. Get over yourself."

"Where are you going?"

"To my room. It would be nice if you asked me what I did while I was away and showed some interest but I guess that's too hard?”

"Woah less of the attitude young lady!"

"Why does the truth hurt mum? Did you secretly hope I'd throw my arms around you when you walked through the door? I'm not a baby anymore."

"No one said you were."

"Good then don't treat me like one."

"OK FINE! Sit down and tell me about your week. What did you two do together?"

"You know what, maybe you should have a cup of tea. Figure out whatever it is that you need to get past first and then we can talk. I'm going to sort my stuff out." 

And with that Charlotte got up from the sofa and left her mum open mouthed, aghast and horrified at the new version of her daughter that hadn't existed a week before. Much huffing and puffing ensued on Emily's part. All her insecurities rose from their concealed compartments to the surface. Cupboards were slammed, swear words were mumbled under her breath as spoon hit mug, boiled water hit tea bag and so forth.

It's funny how so many of us have conversations with ourselves out loud when no one else is listening. It's part self soothing, part therapy session. If you're fortunate you'll at least remember to tell yourself that you're being an idiot and that maybe, just maybe, you should wind your own neck in and shut up. What happens all too frequently though is people skip that part. We tell ourselves we are the centre of our own universes and worse still we make the mistake of believing it.

Brew number two within an hour of getting home and like the tea consumed Emily’s temperature had risen to boiling point and come back down a further time. Unlike the banged cupboards downstairs, there had been no teenage retaliation strike upstairs. That was new she thought to herself.

Somewhere between brew two and brew three Emily had taken to WhatsApp on the single mothers group, the name of which can never be divulged to anyone outside of the group. She had written in anger So Lottie's back and had a great time with her Dad thinking everyone would naturally understand her point of view. After the fourth response which included heart emoji's and words like That's great or I'm so thrilled, excellent news she'd thrown her phone at the corner of the sofa in disgust.

Brew three however did come as a double round and a swallowing of pride as she took them upstairs and stood outside her daughters bedroom door. "Lottie I've got tea." No response. She left her internal kettle start to boil her piss again. "LOTTIE!" She calls louder this time like she was shouting at a dog misbehaving in the park. There was however a noise from behind the door this time, a creaking of the bed and quick footsteps to the door which opened.

"Hi mum. Sorry I had my headphones on."

"Oh. Well erm I made you tea as a peace offering."

"Thanks."

"And I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me too."

Emily wasn't sure if that was an apology back or a statement of fact. She did however decide quickly that the precise answer wasn't important. She lost her train of thought at the sight of a record player at the far end of the room. "Is… is that a record player?"

"Uhhh yeah."

"OK random. Sorry I was not expecting that. Why do you have a record player?"

"Because I wanted one and Dad brought it for me as a gift."

"You wanted a record player?"

"Yeah."

"As a gift?"

"Yeahhh."

"Huh."

The two now stood and stared at each other through the door.

Maybe I'm still dreaming? Emily thought to herself and I'll wake and have a good laugh about this.

"Mum?"

"Uh yeah, what?"

"Did you want anything else?"

"Oh right, right. Sorry the record player threw me. I mean I never had a record player and… and you don't care about that sooooo um. So you had a good week? That's great. That's really great. I'm pleased for you. Really pleased for you Lottie."

"Thanks Mum. Can I ask you to do something? You might not like it."

"Oh my God you're not going to ask if you can live with your Dad are you?"

"No. Sorry. No. It's just…well I'm not sure how to say it?"

"Then just say it."

"OK. Well, could you not call me Lottie anymore?"

"Oh. Well. Oh, ah, erm, um, sure. OK. What err, what do you want to be called? Charlotte?"

She shook her head. "Charlie"

"Isn't that a bit boyish?" Emily asks and instantly regrets saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. Instead of apologising she doubled down by extracting one foot from her mouth and putting the other in its place. "You're not about to come out to me are you?"

Well if looks could kill.

"What the … mum?" She replies leaving the pause for the obvious missing word from the sentence.

Emily stands rooted to the spot mortified by her own behaviour now desperately hoping she really was asleep and this was some sort of lurid nightmare.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" she says over and over like a mantra as if at least one time she says it, it might stick and mean something.

Finally Charlie interrupts clearly fed up of the entire situation. "No I'm not coming out. I made some new friends and they were calling me Charlie and I kinda liked it."

"Oh well OK. Sure, sure I can do that. So Charlie it is. Didn't you yell them your name was Lottie?"

"Well I went to and it sounded babyish in my head and so I said my name was Charlotte and they thought that was too long and a bit stuck up and posh and they came up with Charlie and I thought yeah that's OK I've no problem with that."

"Huh', Emily replies stumped, using the word to replace a sighing sound. "Can we err, sit and chat rather than talk through the door?"

"Yeah I guess. In here or downstairs?"

Emily looks for a place to sit amongst the teenage detritus "Downstairs?"

"OK."

The two reconvened in the living room.

"Charlie."

"Yes mum."

"How about you tell me about your week whilst I listen and try not to upset you further and put my foot in my mouth?"

"OK."

"Great."

Silence.

"Okayyy how about I ask a question and you answer? Did you… did you have a heart to heart talk that cleared the air?"

"Actually we did. It was great. We had a beer in the garden…"

"Wait what. He gave you a beer? Jesus Christ what is wrong with the man? Who gives their 14 year old daughter a beer?"

Charlie laughs.

"What's so funny? Do you see me laughing? I don't think it's funny?"

"It was NA mum."

"Non applicable? I don't think it's non applicable."

"Non alcoholic mum! Jesus who gives their kid a beer at 14?"

"Oh. Well why didn't you say?"

"Because I wanted to see how you'd react."

"Well you know how I'd react. Like I just reacted."

"Well maybe you deserved it for always thinking the worst of people."

Kettles on, another cup of brewed piss incoming. Emily desperately tried to find the internal off switch and chewed the inside of her bottom lip stopping her from saying anything in retaliation.

Finally Charlie continues. "So he sat me down and said it's important we had the chance to clear the air and I could do it whichever way felt best to me. I could shout at him, hit him, ask him questions, whatever way. The only thing I couldn't do was not get it out on the table. I had to show my hand. You know. Get it all out in the open. Then he said he was sorry and told me to remember he'd only been a dad for as long as I'd been a daughter."

"Your dad said that?"

"Yeah I just said that."

"That's doesn't sound like your Dad? Who did he steal that from? Was it on a TV show or something? What does it even mean anyway?"

"Jesus mum there you go again. What does it matter if he did steal it? It made sense to me. It's his way of saying he's learning just as I am."

"So did you shout at him?"

"Why? Because that's what you'd have done?"

If you've ever wondered whether the truth really does hurt, if only I could show you a photo of the look on Emily's face. That bottom lip is going to look like it's been stung by a wasp in the morning, it's taking that much of a biting right now.

"There was no shouting. He did a lot of listening. He didn't interrupt me. He let me finish. He let me be honest and he didn't treat me like I'm still a kid. Then as the week went on, well, things got easier and we had some great conversations."

"Like what?"

"Well he had some great theories on what it's like to be a teenager compared to what it was like for him."

"Go on. I didn't realise your dad had taken up philosophy."

"Oh for god's sake mum grow up. Get over yourself. Do you want to listen or do you just want to insult him all evening and expect me to agree because I've better things I can be doing right now?"

This was turning into one of those Disney films where the adult and the child have swapped bodies.

"Fine! I'm sorry. Please go on. I'll stop interrupting."

"Right. I said I was bored and he was like OK why are you bored when anything you want is basically on tap and I was like I don't know what you mean? So he was like when I was a kid we didn't have the Internet, we didn't have on demand TV. If you liked a song you couldn't just hear it anytime of the day. If you didn't know what it was called and it was on the radio you'd have to write it down with a pen and paper and go buy it on a record. No, wait what did he say? Oh…we'd have a tape recorder and listen to the charts on a Sunday and you'd record the song you liked and hope someone didn't talk over the start or the finish and that's what you listened to."

"I don't get his point."

"Well his point was here's all these things I like that I can get anytime of the day. So how can I be bored? If I want to watch an episode of something I don't have to wait until it's broadcast at a certain time on TV. I don't have to wait seven days until the next episode etcetera and I'm like oh maybe he has a point? How am I bored if I can get anything I want at the click of a button?"

"Actually maybe he does have a point."

Oh that one must have really hurt her.

"Dad said how do you know if you like something if you pigeon hole your identity?”

“What does that even mean?”

“He was trying to say what if you think you're a Taylor Swift fan and really you're a Michael Jackson fan and you never knew it.”

“Your dad hates Michael Jackson!”

“To be fair I didn't see any Taylor Swift posters on his wall either!”

“Did he say Taylor Swift? I doubt he knows who she even is.”

“To be fair no he didn't say Taylor Swift but I had no idea who he was on about but I remembered the Michael Jackson part. Anyways he was talking about when he was a kid and how he ended up liking lots of different music. How he'd listen to hip hop and they'd sample a record and you'd look at the record and see what the original was and then he'd listen to that.”

“And that's why you got a record player?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Well OK that makes sense. Couldn't you just have used YouTube?”

“Yeah I guess but I kinda like the feel of holding a record in my hand. Then music has more of a value. Does that make sense?”

“Your dad has a record player? When did he buy a record player?”

“I don't know I didn't think to ask him. Do you want me to ask him for you?”

“Nooo.” Emily scoffs at the very suggestion.

“OK then I won't.”

“Great.”

“Look long story short we played some records, his taste in music isn't as bad as I thought it would be. We went into town one day and we stopped at a record café and there were boxes of records everywhere and the guy who owned it was super nice and was asking questions about what I liked and he kept referencing all these old artists that I might like and it was really fun and Dad ended up buying me this huge pile of records and then figured I needed something to play them on so ordered me a record player online.”

“Oh so he brought you off.”

“No mum. He did something nice for me!”

“Fine! How did you get it all back upstairs when you got home?”

“How do you think? Dad carried it up for me.”

“He was in my house?”

“You weren't here! He took his shoes off. It's not like he had the guided tour. He literally carried everything up to my room, moved the drawers closer to my bed and put the record player on top, made sure I was in and OK and then left. It's no big deal. He wouldn't have come in if you were here.”

“Well why not?”

“What do you mean why not? You've just made a big deal that he came in the house, now you seem insulted that he wouldn't have come in if you were here. Which is it? You can't have it both ways.”

“Oh well I, erm. I don't know. I'm sorry OK. You left as Lottie, now you're back as Charlie. You hated your dad now you think the sun shines out of his arse. It's all a lot to take in.”

“I get that but it's not a competition. You don't need to try score points. He was really nice about you.”

“Your dad? Your dad was nice about me?”

“Yes mum. I told you! He didn't say a bad word about you. He has better things to do with his life.”

“Oh he does, does he?”

“Yesssss. Why is he going to spend his life thinking about you?”

“Well we were together for a long time and … we had you!”

“You've been separated for how long now?”

“Eight years and seven months.”

“Do you think it's healthy that you not only know the answer but that you didn't even have to think about it?”

I guess she got you there.