The Argument

Zoe and her mum were sitting at the dining room table with its high polished surface, its two glass candle holders at either end and centre display of dried flowers.  Her father was sitting as usual in his favourite chair in front of the large white marble fireplace, watching his favourite programme the Antiques Road show on their new 50 inch plasma screen television they had just bought and had installed.
“Mum can I speak to you about my shopping trip to London,” Zoe asked.
“There is nothing that needs to be said, you’re not going on your own and that’s that,” replied her mother.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think you are mature enough.”
“Well that’s not fair, I’m 18 now and an adult and you’re treating me like a child.”
“Age has nothing to do with it; you’re my little girl however old you are.”
Zoe glared across the table at her mother.
“I don’t care; I’m going on my own.”
“And you wonder why I have said no when you behave like this, like a little child.”
“What do you expect, you treat me like one, so I may as well act like one.”
“Now you are just being silly, I thought you wanted to discuss this like an adult,” her mother smiled at the frustration on Zoe's face.
“I would if you accepted that I’m a grown up.”
“So convince me that you can be mature.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that?”
“By being grown up enough to realise that I am only trying to keep you safe, after all you have only been used to village life and going to a big city like London can be a very scary and dangerous place.”
            Zoe was an only child and had grown up in a quiet little village on the edge of Dartmoor; the only town she had visited was Newton Abbott, where she had attended the local high school.    
“Yes but.”
“Yes but nothing, you’ve led a very sheltered life here.”
“I can go where I want, when I want and you can’t stop me.”
“You just watch me; even your father agrees that you are not mature enough to go to such a place on your own, don’t you dear?”
“Erm, yes your mothers right Zoe,” said her father who had just poured himself a whisky and settled back down in his chair, not taking his eyes off the television screen.
“I don’t care what you or dad think I’m going.”
“Yes and I’ve told you for the last time that you’re not going on your own, not as long as you live under my roof.  How many more times do you need to be told Zoe?”
Her mother threw her arms up in the air in sheer exasperation.
“In that case I will move out and get a place of my own,” Zoe shouted
“Yes and I’d like to see you try, it’s not that easy, and don’t you shout at me.”
Zoe hammered the table with her fist.
“Oh yes it is, Michelle got her own place easy enough.”
“Yes and her parents helped her if I remember rightly, but go ahead I wash my hands of you.”
“Fine, whatever!”
Zoe stood up rather quickly and the chair she was sitting on went flying.
“Don’t you damage my furniture in your temper,” growled her mother, pointing and wagging her finger at Zoe.
“Oh forget it then, I won’t go see if I care,” she screamed.
Zoe could feel the tears welling up in her eyes; she turned and rushed out of the room slamming the door behind her.  Oh stuff the pair of them she mumbled, I’ll show them I’m old enough to stand on my own two feet, and with that she stormed off to her bedroom to pack.

Anne Prince