We have been in the fallout shelter for two years today. Dad made a chocolate cake with two candles, though it is nothing to celebrate. Other than that we are alive. Poor Dad, he tries to make things as cheerful as he can. I know I do not make it easy for him. The first six months in here were the worse, with all of those poor people banging at the door begging to be let in. That stopped a long time ago. Dad says that it will be at least another four years before we can leave.
I considered how to spend our time. With so many years ahead…
I decided that our lives should become more orderly and regimented. We would go mad with complete freedom and claustrophobia.
In the morning, I made my Dad and I breakfast. Then we would clean. We kept the shelter neat and dust free. After we cleaned, Dad gave me lessons in writing, math, and science. He then read from one of our three books – Grimm’s Fairy Tales, The Collected Works of Shakespeare, or Hans Christian Andersen. After that, my Dad and I would write in our journals. Then it was lunch, more tidying, and then more writing. Each day we worked on short stories. Dad wrote a little more because he was a writing a novel about a father and daughter. After writing, we played chess. Three rounds. Dad always won but I improved each day. Then we exercised. Calisthenics. Dad always did one hundred push-ups. We washed our bodies. Cleaned away the sweat and then made dinner. More cleaning. Then we would talk about the past. I loved hearing about the day I was born. In the meager light, we would read what we had written earlier in the day and critique each other’s writing. Then it was time for bed. We shared a mattress.
This went on day after day. Four years passed. We never talked about happiness. Dad always told me to focus on what I enjoy and never expect happiness. All those years with Dad, learning from him and writing with him, I was content.
Dad opened the door to the shelter. Sunlight rushed in. We squinted and then our eyes adjusted. I could see no one and the grass was green. The Earth was not destroyed.
“Should we leave?” Dad asked.
I shook my head. “No. I was happy in here with you. Can we stay in the shelter? I was never happy out there.”
Dad nodded. “I’ve never been happier than all these years spent only with my daughter.”
We hugged and then closed the shelter door. We might venture out in a year. For food and more water. I sincerely hope we are the last two human beings on the planet.