Two Fish

three || alaska

Her mother knocked on her door that morning before going straight in, laying fresh laundry in her drawers. Alaska was still in her pyjamas with a rat’s nest for hair.

“Come on, Alaska, you should get dressed. We’re going out soon,” she said, bustling around her daughter’s room. She was already fully made-up with her hair done, tied in a French plait.

“I’d really rather not,” she said, rooting through the clean clothes.

“Careful. I’ve just ironed all that. Don’t get it all creased.”

She changed into the standard jeans and a t-shirt while her mother fussed around her, picking up the rubbish strewn across the floor.

“Honestly, Lassie, you make such a mess. Why don’t you just put it in the bin?”

The bin was full. Alaska hadn’t bothered to empty it in a few days so anything she aimed, however correctly, ended up on the floor.

“Where’re you going?” she asked.

“Town, I assume. Minnie wanted to get something.”

“I don’t want to go to town.” She dragged a brush through her tangles.

“You don’t want to go anywhere. You have to come,” her mother said. She stopped cleaning for a minute and straightened out her skirt. “Only for an hour.”

“That’s an hour too long. Is Noah going?”

“I don’t know, ok? That’s not the point.” She ran her hand through her hair. “The point is, you need to get out of the house. Noah came on Saturday. Just do this, for me, ok?”

Alaska had been named after the state, a place of such beauty and her parents’ favourite holiday destination before children. A wide expanse of land, a free open space. But Alaska the person didn’t much like the idea of that. It wasn’t home. They hadn’t been since she was six.

“Come on. Have something to eat and we’ll go out, ok?” She sauntered over to the girl who seized up when her mother neared.

“How about I go for a walk, on my own?”

“Do you really have to be so difficult?”

Alaska didn’t answer.

“Fine. Fine. Just, get out of the house. And that includes the garden. Out of bounds.”

Alaska said nothing and her mother disappeared with the carrier bag of rubbish. If she could have, she would’ve stayed in her room all day. All week, maybe even all summer. She had no need to leave, save for food and the bathroom. Her friends knew she didn’t like to go out so they had stopped inviting her, sad but true, and she pretended she didn’t mind. After hundreds of declined invitations, she could hardly kick up a fuss.

The thought of having to go out had somewhat taken away her appetite, the rumbling in her stomach replaced with a sick dread. She drank a glass of orange juice and left it at that.

“Is that all you’re having?” Minnie asked, chowing down her toast and cereal.

“I’m not hungry.”

Minnie rolled her eyes and spoke through a mouthful, looking her sister up and down. “Don’t go all anorexic or anything. You’re fine.”

“That’s disgusting. Finish your food before you open your mouth,” Alaska said, inwardly storing away the compliment. “What would Mum say?”

“What would I say?” their mother asked as she walked in.

“Minnie was talking with her mouth full.”

“Don’t do that, honey. So unladylike.” She patted her youngest child’s shoulder and scooted past to fetch her cup of tea. “Decided where you’re going yet, Lassie?”

“I dunno. The park.” She didn’t like the park. It was huge, most of the trees being round the edges rather than interrupting the vast expanse of nothingness. In one corner was a playground; in another, a tennis court. Alaska’s favourite, should she have to like some part of the park, was the pond corner. It was filled with all sorts of fish, mostly koi, and surrounded by benches. On days like this, when she was forced out of the house, she liked to walk to the park the quiet way and sit on a bench. Hardly any people went there; the children preferred to have a go on the swings and the out-of-doorsy types would rather try their hand at a spot of tennis.

She had to leave before her mother to prove that she would actually go to the park. Long ago, her parents had realised how futile it was to offer her a lift: if it was close enough to walk, there was no way she would make the choice to get in a car. Any necessary journey was made with the windows wide open and the doors unlocked at all times to avoid the paranoia of not being able to get out.

It took perhaps twenty minutes to walk to the park, more exercise than Alaska wanted but it got her mother off her case for the day, at least. Maybe a few if she was lucky, but never more than four. 

While the walk wasn’t particularly enjoyable, it was much nicer to be on her own than stuffed in town, being dragged around shops she didn’t care about by her hyperactive, far too energetic younger sister. Noah had gotten away scot free, allowed to stay at home where he would waste another day on the internet. She had left everything at home so she wouldn’t get caught up listening to music and her mother couldn’t say those four words she hated so much: “I told you so,” when she was longer than usual. Just herself and the clothes on her back, sitting on the park bench closest to the creaky, rusted gate.

She stood on the edge of the pond with her arms crossed and watched the leisurely fish gliding through the water, and she had to admit that it was peaceful. There was no-one around to bother her, to dig her out of her tranquil state. She crouched on the edge of the pond. It was the only time when she could as good as empty her mind, thinking only of the fish.

Until, that is, she joined them in the water with a splash and a squeal.