Two Fish

twenty three || alaska

Alaska woke up in her bed with no recollection of getting there. She did, however, remember the night with Elver. Her stomach fluttered at the thought, how he had held her hand and even hugged her. She rolled over and caught sight of her alarm clock: it was after twelve. She jumped out of bed and tamed her hair to something a little less wild.

Shouts could be heard from Noah’s room as he battled with his friends. Alaska went downstairs in her pyjamas. Her mother was in the kitchen, ironing.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said. Alaska frowned – she had been expecting an onslaught of abuse for oversleeping, but her mother just smiled as she flattened one of her husband’s shirts over the ironing board.

“Uh, hi.”

“Did you have a nice time last night?” she asked. “That’s a nice car Elver’s got.”

“He let me drive it,” Alaska said, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Her mother’s jaw dropped.

“You drove his car?” She stopped ironing. Alaska nodded. “But you can’t drive. You hate cars.”

“He showed me how.” She shrugged. It was nice.”

“Surely he’s not allowed to?”

“Private land,” she said, dropping bread into the toaster. Her mother stopped her.

“Let’s go out for lunch, yeah? It’s been a while since we had a proper chat.” She folded the shirt on top of the pile and unplugged the iron. Alaska put the bread back in the bag.

“Ok. But I, uh, I know about the birds and the bees, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, blushing. Her mother laughed.

“I don’t mean that sort of chat – I need that for Minnie. No, I trust you, Lassie. This is just a catch-up. What do you say?”

“Sure. What about Noah?”

“This is just for the two of us,” she said. “I’ll go and let him know. You need to get dressed.”

It was a wonderfully warm day on the south coast, the hot sun pummelling Alaska’s cheeks. Mrs Gouramie didn’t want to push her luck with the car, despite what she had heard about Alaska’s evening, so they ambled into town at a leisurely pace, catching a glimpse of the glittering sea every so often. It looked so inviting, lapping the pebble-speckled shore. Alaska wanted to dive in, to float alongside the buzzing pier. Loud, bassy music pounded out from the casino, in conjunction with the high pitched squeals emanating from the roller coasters. It had been a while since the last time Alaska had been to the pier: there were too many people making too much noise. It was such a tourist thing to do, especially in the summer, packed with sticky, candyfloss-covered children who cried when it was time to go home and their sugar buzz had crashed.

They sat in the blossoming garden of a pretty restaurant with a stunning sea view, overlooking the glistening water.

“Where’s Minnie?”

“Somewhere down there,” Mrs Gouramie said, gazing out over the ocean. “She came out before you were up.”

They ordered their drinks from a perky waitress: a glass of white for Mrs Gouramie and a pineapple smoothie for her daughter.

“So, how’s it going?” she asked. “You’ve been seeing Elver a lot.”

“Mmm,” Alaska said. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a good boy,” her mother agreed.

“He’s not a dog, Mum,” Alaska said. She sipped her bitty smoothie through a wide, neon green straw; it was a refreshingly fruity concoction of sweet orange, mellow mango and sharp pineapple, perfect for the weather.