Fine
It’s our after-school
ritual;
Every day,
About twenty past
four,
She crashes
through the door.
‘HELL O!’ she
sings
‘HELL O!’ I sing
back.
She kicks off her
shoes
Dumps her bag on
the chair
And then I go, all
casual dad,
‘So? How was
school today?’
Quick as a flash
She replies
‘Fine’.
But that’s not
‘fine’ like nice weather
Or ‘fine’ like
excellent wine
That’s teenage ‘fine’
as in
END OF DISCUSSION FULL STOP LAST WORDS
DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT FINAL
DON’T GO THERE
END OF THE LINE
FINE!
It doesn’t matter
what day it is,
What lessons she’s
had
It’s always
‘fine.’
And then we move
on to toast;
‘Strawberry
Jam?
Honey?’
‘Fine.’
But ‘fine’
Isn’t fine
By
me.
I really want to
know what school was like on Monday
And
Tuesday.
I want to know who
came top in history.
And
Who got told off
in Maths for cheating.
(even if she didn’t really do it )
I know to know
what poem she did in English
I want to know
about bullies and drug dealers
And detention
And that teacher
who
Keeps
Fall ing
A sssleep
In
Lessssonzzzzss
I want to know
about Best Friends
And
Worst Enemies.
I also want to
know why
the canteen cheese and potato pie
tastes so much nicer than mine?
So one day
I’m popping the
toast in the toaster
And I just come
out and say it:
‘It can’t always
be ‘fine’ you know.
Not every single
day.’
Inside a little
voice is going
Stop now.
You’re digging a hole
You’re falling in.
I’m in mastermind
dad mode,
I’ve started and
I’ve got to finish,
‘What
On earth
Does ‘fine’ mean
anyway!’
That does it!
She looks at me
As if
I’ve just put
pants on my head,
As if I’ve just been unmasked
As
The
Idiot of the World.
Then she explains
The meaning
Of
fine.
‘It means that I
have had enough,’ she says.
‘It means that I
have been doing things
All day
Talking and
listening and looking at screens
All day
Asking questions
and writing answers
All
day.
It means I can’t
face
Doing it
All
over again.
That’s what ‘fine’
means.
OK?’
Well...
Obviously
At that moment
There was only
One thing
Anyone
Could possibly
Say...
Jonathan Shipton