Another bloody software update. This seems to happen about every three months now. A box flashes up offering me the chance to:
Chat with one of our representatives now.
I just click the tiny ‘x’ on the corner of that box and then continue to download the new software update. I don’t need to ‘chat’ with anyone. Downloading the latest Kindle update is easy. Dod showed me how to do it.
I couldn’t live without my Kindle. It’s one of the best inventions ever. I have nearly two hundred and twenty books inside this skinny little machine. There’s no way I’d be able to fit all of those books in this basement. Not unless I slept on top of them. Dod still buys me my non-fiction books in paperback form. I’m currently reading about a president of America called Barack Obama. He was the first ever president of America with black skin. I don’t know why I always seem to relate to people with black skin. I think it might have to do with the fact that they were held as slaves for so long until they fought their way to a better life. Maybe I can relate to that in some way. Obama seems to be a real modern-day hero. I’d like to say that it would be great to meet him but I really don’t have much interest in meeting people anymore. It used to be my dream to meet somebody… anybody, but I’ve learned to love my life. It might be restricted; I don’t ever leave this house, except to breathe in some air out the back garden, but I have everything I could ever want. I have all my books. I have Bozy. And I have Dod. What more do I need?
I love Dod so much. He is so many different things to me; a best friend, a parent, a partner, a cook, a hairdresser, a TV critic, a book critic. Sometimes we read the same books and then discuss them afterwards. We both read Dreams From My Father at the same time, although he finished it way before me. Then afterwards, over dinner, we discussed what we both love the most about Barack Obama. We also both read The Hunger Games books at the same time and then discussed them. I think Dod liked them more than I did. We’ve also watched the movies. They’re crap in comparison to the books.
The software update finishes and I click back into the book I was reading: The Fault in Our Stars. It’s very sad. Very, very sad. But it is so gripping. I only downloaded it yesterday morning. Am nearly finished it already.
‘You should read this one, Dod,’ I say.
He looks at me, then squidges his nose.
‘Doesn’t seem like my cup of tea.’
A small laugh comes out of my nose.
‘You’re just afraid you’ll cry.’
He makes a face at me, then continues to paint the wall of my basement. He’s so good at looking after me and my little room. I asked him to paint it light blue, so that it looks like the sky. He bought some paint yesterday and began the job today. The smell is a bit strong, but I don’t mind. It will look great when it is all done.
Dod’s going to buy me two plants as well that I can put in the corner of the basement, just so I can bring a bit of the outside into my inside. We still go out the back, with the lights turned off, every Saturday evening before our Pizza arrives. The smell of fresh air is still a joy for me. We whisper when we’re out there; about anything and everything. It’s normally the best twenty minutes of my week. But anytime spent talking with Dod is always great. He is so clever.
I stare at him as he runs a paint brush up and down the far wall. I think he has lost some weight in the past months. I asked him if he was doing more exercise.
‘No. Apart from running around seeing to your demands!’ he said to me laughing. He says I have him under my thumb, that I totally control him. He might be right. I don’t know. I just know that we love each other. And that neither of us would change a thing. We don’t even hold any secrets from each other.
Well, apart from Betsy’s Basement. I still haven’t told him about it. I’m not sure how he would react to reading it. I think it’s a great book. I really do. It’s a hundred per cent non-fiction now. I got rid of all of the fictional stuff about neighbours who I made up. The whole book now is about my time spent here. It’s like a memoir; a bit like the Obama book in a way, a bit like the brilliant book I read last year: Angela’s Ashes. That kinda thing. Somebody in the future will find it. Somebody will read it and know the full truth about my life in this house. And I will continue to add to it. My life is far from over. I’m only twenty-one. Have lots of years left. My spelling and my writing improves all the time, but it’s still not perfect. I’m sure there are still lots of mistakes in it, but I really like Betsy’s Basement and think whoever does find it in the future will really enjoy reading it. I might even become famous. Only I won’t know. Because I will be dead.
I sniffle up a tear that almost falls out of my eye as I continue reading The Fault in Our Stars. I always know if a book is good or a bad depending on how it makes me feel. Once it makes me feel anything – happy, sad, angry, afraid – then I know it’s good. It’s the writer’s responsibility to make the reader feel… feel something. This book is definitely making me feel something: sad. But that’s a good thing. The writer has done her job. I hope whoever reads Betsy’s Basement feels something. But I don’t want them to just feel sad even though there are sad bits in it. I want them to feel happy too. And angry. And afraid. Because they are all the feelings I have had while I’ve been writing it.
‘Ohhh,’ I need a glass of water,’ Dod says as he scrambles back to a standing position.
‘I can get one for you,’ I say.
He shakes his head.
‘Don’t worry about it. I wanna take a little break. I don’t feel too good. I’m a little light-headed from the fumes, I think. I’ll be back in ten minutes. You just keep on reading.’
I smile back at him and watch as he makes his way up the steps. He doesn’t seem to be walking like he normally does. He’s holding on to the wall for balance as he makes his way towards the light in the hallway.
Then he just drops; his whole body slapping against the floorboards in the hallway.