‘Are we seriously still talking about this?’ my father threw his hands up, clomping down the stairs.
‘Yes, Dad, we are,’ I huffed, following after him.
‘Well, can we… stop?’
‘Why are you so opposed to it?’
‘Because it’s a bad idea!’ he exclaimed, leading me into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He pulled out a can of soft drink and cracked it open.
‘No thanks, I’m fine,’ I rolled my eyes, taking a seat at the counter.
‘I’m just not interested, Georgie, sorry,’ he shook his head. ‘End of discussion.’
‘For now, maybe.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that one day you’re going to hurt yourself climbing out of that bath, and we’re going to have this exact same conversation from your hospital bed.’
That shut him up – he took a long, long sip from his can.
‘Say I was interested in some sort of… bathtub modifications for seniors,’ he started hesitantly. ‘What would they actually do to my tub?’
‘How should I know?’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t work for them.’
‘You haven’t done the research?’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘To be honest, I didn’t think I’d even get you this far.’
He rolled his eyes and crumpled his can, throwing it in the trash and walking out of the room. I quickly slid off my chair and picked it out of the garbage, putting it in the recycling and following after him.
‘You’re being a baby,’ I called after him. ‘Just let me call the bath tub conversion experts servicing Sydney, please?’
‘I don’t need to be handled!’ he shot back. I frowned and followed his voice into the downstairs bathroom.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He grinned at me from the dry bath he was sitting in, fully clothed.
‘See,’ he gestured. ‘No need for a bath tub cutout, or anything like it.’
‘Oh, really?’ I crossed my arms. ‘Get out then.’
‘Easy,’ he grimaced, reaching for the sides, his arms shaking a little bit.
‘And while you’re doing that, I’m just gonna quickly read you some options from their website…’