Two Fish

six || elver

Elver sat in his car in a layby, just a little way down from Alaska’s house, and thought about what had just happened. She was weird but something about her was intriguing. He’d never met someone so averse to being touched. He didn’t stop thinking for quite a while: the image of her was stuck in his mind, as though it had been carved into his memory, branded like cattle.

When his phone beeped, flashing a low battery reminder, he snapped out of his reverie and realised he should probably get home. It was his day for cooking anyway, and he wasn’t prepared at all. Cathy always wanted him to make stew because apparently, he did it better than the guy who taught her cookery course a few years ago. He sighed and slowly, unwillingly started the car. What if Alaska was the one, and he had just let her go without knowing anything about her but where she lived?

When he unlocked the door, he was exposed to chaos. Cathy was running around with a needle trailing thread; his mother was dragging an old television set up the stairs, her t-shirt stained with something brown and sticky-looking, and his father was on the edge of his seat, yelling at the football match on the television. The kitchen was dotted with piles of ironing.

“Hello?” Elver called. Nothing stopped. The chaos didn’t go away. “Mum? I’m back. Anybody care?” He shrugged off his jacket and dropped his bag at the bottom of the stairs with a sigh, trailing up to his room and scuffing his feet on the cluttered stairs.

“Oh, Elver, I’m sorry hun, I didn’t see you. You should’ve shouted up to me,” his mother said. Elver rolled his eyes and found himself picturing him and Alaska, holding hands. If only she would let him touch her.

“Are you ok, hun? You’ve gone blank,” his mother pointed out.

“Oh, sorry, fine. I mean, could I maybe talk to you and Cathy for a second?” Elver asked.

“Of course, I’ll be down in a second,” his mum replied, tipping some newly washed laundry on top of the stairs. She often did this, dumping clean things around the house for people to come and sort out themselves. It was a habit that rather annoyed the rest of the James household. Elver trundled back down the stairs and cleared some space at the kitchen table, knocking a few dried-out pens on the floor in the process. Cathy came in a minute or two later, humming along to some inane pop song. She grabbed a slice of bread and smeared a lump of chocolate spread on top of it before scoffing it down; she sat opposite Elver who felt slightly intimated, as though he was about to be interviewed for a job.

“So, is my big brother in trouble?” Cathy teased. “I hear you’ve called a family conference.”

“Well,” Elver said, pausing for a moment. His mother wasn’t there: a second to her was an hour to everybody else. When she wasn’t there after a couple of minutes, Elver spilled out the whole story to his little sister, his tale of the pond and Alaska getting knocked in, then him giving her a lift home – he told her about the way she had acted around him, all stiff and sharp.

“Well, you are strangers. I’m not surprised she was a bit iffy. I wouldn’t be best pleased if some skinny weirdo pushed me in a pond and offered me a lift home,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It sounds to me like you like her.” She was half questioning him.

“That’s what I’m not sure about.” Elver said, ready to pull his hair out. He stretched out across the kitchen table and groaned.

“Well, you can’t exactly just turn up at her house,” Cathy said, adopting her helpful sister stance. “That looks creepy; you’ll have to hang around by the pond until she comes back, then act casual and strike up a chat.”

“Oh, come on, Cath, you know me. I can’t just strike up a conversation; I’ll mess it up in some way or another,” Elver moaned. “Plus, she said she doesn’t like the park.”

Cathy frowned. “Why was she there, then?”

“Her mum made her get out of the house.”

Cathy sighed. “Well, there’s not much else you can do, Elver. She sounds like a bit of  a weirdo. Did you get her number?”

“All I know is where she lives and her name, but I think I really want to see her again,” Elver said.

“Wow, you sound pretty desperate. She might not even like you,” Cathy said, amused.  But there was no chance for Elver to reply; his mother burst through the door with a bundle of dripping wet clothes in a plastic bag, wearing a very confused expression.

“Honey, whose are these?”