Two Fish

fifty three || alaska

“It’s just a sprain, Elver. Seriously, we don’t need to be here.” Alaska sat hunched over in a spindly plastic chair with her elbows on her knees, beside Elver. He was cradling his arm against his chest and his cheeks were void of colour.

“But it really hurts. I don’t think you understand,” he said dramatically, his eyes widening. “Maybe I broke it.”

“You’d know if it was broken. Trust me.”

“Have you ever broken your wrist?” he asked. Alaska held out her left arm and pointed to a white line on her wrist that he hadn’t noticed before. It stretched vertically from the base of her palm to a couple of inches down her forearm.

“I really screwed it up,” she said with a laugh. Elver traced his finger down the line.

“What’d you do?” he asked. She scratched where his finger had been.

“I was messing around on the swings with Noah when I was ten and decided I was really good at jumping off when it got to the highest point.”

“Not a good idea,” he said.

“Not a good idea,” she echoed. “I landed on it somehow smashed it up. You could see the bone.”

Elver recoiled into his chair and shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“I know. I cried for hours and hours. Mum joked about putting me to sleep.” She straightened out her jumper and shuffled in the uncomfortable chair. “Anyway, that’s why I’m right handed now.”

Elver’s jaw dropped. “You were a leftie?”

She laughed. “Uh, yeah. Why do you think my handwriting’s so bad?”

“I never really noticed,” he said meekly. He had thought her writing was nice.

“Yeah, I had to have it tied up for, like, three months. It was pretty bad, so I just learnt to use the other hand.” She shrugged as though it was no big deal.

“That’s really cool. Can you write with your left hand still?” he asked, forgetting the pain coming from his own wrist. He had only just managed to drive them to A&E and even that was with extensive complaining.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You haven’t tried?”

“I never thought to. I did when I was first allowed to take the cast off but I could barely hold the pen. It just annoyed me then so I never really tried again.”

“That’s cool.”

“Not really. For the first few months, my writing looked like a toddler’s. It was so embarrassing. They gave me a computer to work on at school.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, yawning. “Can we just go home?”

“It’ll be my turn soon, I’m sure,” Elver said. They had been waiting in the germ infested room for more than an hour already and it wasn’t that busy. Alaska sighed and rubbed her arms. She hadn’t thought to bring a coat in Elver’s desperation to get his arm checked out. The tough guy act hadn’t lasted long before he had nearly fainted, a combination of acute pain and being a drama queen.

“I don’t want to spend my whole night in A&E,” Alaska said. She leant across the armrest between them and put her head on his shoulder, tilting her chin back so she was looking up at him. Then she kissed his neck and closed her eyes and before she knew it, his lips were on hers. It was an uncomfortable position for both but neither moved.

“I love you,” Alaska whispered, their mouths still together. Her teeth knocked against his and she laughed, pulling away. “Sorry.”

“Me too.”

“What for?”

“No, me too as in I love you too,” he said, blushing. He kissed her again. The routine carried on for the best part of the next hour.

“Elver James?” called a nurse from the desk. He and Alaska quickly pulled apart and scrambled to their feet. The nurse, a skinny woman with a bad fringe and a lopsided smirk, took them through to a curtained cubicle where Elver sat on a bed and they waited a minute or two until a short man came in.

“What’s the problem here?” he asked. Elver explained what had happened while Alaska stifled her laughter, standing by his side with her hand over her mouth. Her sparkling eyes gave away her amusement though.

“Bit of rough and tumble?” the doctor joked.

“No, no,” Alaska said, her expression turning to shock. “He really was pretending to be a boxer.”

“Alrighty,” he said, prodding Elver’s wrist. He asked more questions and Elver dutifully answered. Alaska put her hand on his shoulder when she noticed his discomfort, his wincing each time the doctor touched his wrist.

“It’s just a sprain,” the doctor said.

“Are you sure it’s not broken?”

He laughed and patted Elver’s wrist. He winced. “You’d know if it was broken.”

“See?” Alaska said, prodding his shoulder. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“It’s true. Well, you’re free to go. Just, don’t go punching sofas again. Or walls.” He wrote something on a clipboard and tucked it under his arm, giving them a knowing look. “Have fun.”

When they were back in the car park, Alaska laughed.

“What?”
“That doctor! He was a complete creep,” she said. “What a perve.”

“Why?” He got into the driver’s seat more carefully than he needed to and Alaska plopped down beside him.

“He was winking. He was basically saying, I think you’re off to … you know. He was weird.” She did up her seatbelt and sighed.

“And wrong. This isn’t just a sprain.” Pouting, he started the engine. “I’m very damaged. So no rumpy-pumpy tonight.”

Alaska snapped her fingers. “Damn, I was looking forward to that.” She grinned and turned the radio on. “What’re we eating tonight?”

Elver groaned. “I don’t know, I can’t possibly cook. What with my arm and all.”

“Yet you can drive just fine?” She raised an eyebrow and he coughed.

“Gotta get home somehow,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. The drive was nearly half an hour so it was half past seven by the time they got back and Alaska’s stomach growled. They’d forgotten to go shopping but the fridge was still fairly stocked from Elver’s aunt’s generous leavings. Elver sat down in the kitchen and inspected his wrist while Alaska put together a haphazard meal of barely buttered bread and slices of chicken.

“What’s this?” Elver asked when she handed it to him, as well as a hacked up apple and a scattering of crisps.

“Well, unlike you, I don’t really cook. So we’re having sandwiches.”

Elver held up the bread, ripped by the hard butter, and the chicken fell out. Both laughed at the absurdity. “You call this a sandwich?”

“I do. You want something better, you make it yourself.”

“This will have to do.” He chowed down on the pathetic excuse for a meal and was soon done. Alaska polished off the last of her crisps and suppressed a burp.

“Sorry.”

“Such a lady, aren’t you,” he said dryly, kissing her. “Oh, because of my injury, I’m going to take the bed tonight.”

Alaska frowned. “Well, see, I kind of decided I’d sleep there tonight,” she said.

“Then we have a problem.”

“We do.” She sighed and crossed her knees, scooting closer to Elver. “I guess we’ll just have to share.”