Two Fish

forty five || alaska

 “How long until we’re there?” Alaska asked. They were on the motorway now, cruising at seventy. The mint and lavender had soothed her stomach and on such a smooth road, she was unfazed by the speed. Elver checked the clock on the dashboard.

“Probably another four hours still,” he said. The sun was fading fast, the clouds getting heavier as they got ever closer to their final destination. “But we’re on the motorway for a lot of it. It’s a smooth journey.”

“Ok. Will we stop for lunch?”

“Of course. Whenever you want. It’s nearly one now so, you know, whatever.”

“Elver?”

He turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Yellow car.” She grinned and pointed at the buttercup coloured car.

“Nice one. One nil to me,” he said.

“What? But I just got a point.”

“But you lost one earlier, remember? For the van? Don’t think I’d just forget about that.”

“Damn it,” Alaska mumbled. She turned down the air conditioning and tucked the blanket under her legs, rubbing her hands on her arms.

“Cold?”
“Yeah, a bit.”

Elver held down a button and within a minute, warm air blasted out of the vents directly at Alaska. She held her hands in front of the heat and smiled.

“This is nice,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She rolled her head over to look at him, though facing in any direction but straight forward never had a good effect on her. “Look at us, going on a road trip,” she said.

“I guess. Though I wouldn’t have thought road trip would ever be something you’d be interested in.”

“Neither would I. But you know what they say about good company.”

“What do they say about good company?”

Alaska faltered. “I, uh, I don’t know. There’s probably a saying somewhere. But something about how with good company, it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Is that a saying?”

“I don’t think so. But I like it. Who’s to say you can’t be the one to invent your own sayings?” In the second he took to smile down at Alaska, she spotted another yellow car.

“Ha, one all. Right?”

“Right. The next services are in ten miles. Want to stop?”

She nodded and pulled her shoeless feet onto the seat, tucking her knees under her chin, closing her eyes for a few minutes. The heat was making her drowsy and during her ten minute doze, Elver saw another two yellow cars. He didn’t add them to his tally.

Alaska stirred when she sensed the shift from the  motorway to the slow turn into the services.

“Was I asleep?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Sorry. Are we stopping?”

“Yup. Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Alaska sat up straight. “No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I do not.” She kicked the blanket off and undid her seatbelt when Elver parked. He laughed.

“I’m telling you, Lassie, you do. You were mumbling about your fish.”

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“I forgot to tell Mum to feed him.” She scrambled for her phone in her pocket and dialled her home number, clicking her short nails until her mother picked up.

“Hello?”

“Mum, I need you to feed Gordon,” she said, without any form of introduction.

“Um, ok, sure,” her mother said.

“I mean it, Mum. Don’t forget, ok? Just a few flakes a day.”

“I know, Lassie, I know. We’ve had fish before. I’ll feed him.”

“Don’t forget,” Alaska said, a hint of desperation in her voice. “Maybe twice a day, if he’s hungry.”

“If I can get across your floor. You should really clean your room.”

“Ok, well, bye. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget. Have a good time.”

“I am.” She hung up and flashed Elver a smile. “Shall we eat?”

“We shall.”

The services were heaving, the lunch rush hour of holidaying families with bored children, whinging their way around as their parents stocked up on food for the rest of the journey. Alaska took a tray in the main food court.

“What do you want?” she asked him, eyeing the piles of food in the metal pans.

“Whatever. What looks good?”

“Hmm.” She moved along, peering at each meal. “Well, the pasta bake looks good. And the chicken thing.” She pointed at two almost identical meals.

“Let’s get those then.”

“Well what do you want?”

“We’ll go halfsies on those two, eh? Mix and match?”

“Sure?” Alaska was leaning over the counter, trying to get closer to the food. The smells were intoxicating, a hot, greasy mess.

“Absolutely.”

There was only one free table, next to the enormous floor to ceiling windows, tucked into the corner. Alaska carried the food, swerving through the crowds with expert ease while Elver held their drinks, a couple of lemonades. Instead of halving the two dishes, Alaska delved into Elver’s with her fork once she has tasted her own.

“I think I made a good choice,” she said, chowing down the casserole. Elver leant across the table to take a piece out of the bake.

“Not too shabby, I must say.”

It didn’t take long for both meals to be demolished, mostly by Alaska, much to Elver’s surprise.

“You know, when we first met, I never would have had you pegged as a foodie.”

“Are you kidding?” Alaska choked on her lemonade. “Food is my life. I mean, literally, I can’t live without food. Obviously. But you know, I really like food.”

“I can tell.” He wiped a smear of tomato off her chin, nearly knocking her lemonade over. “Pudding?”

“You know it.”

Armed with a box of donuts, Alaska and Elver set on their way again for the next leg of the journey. The motorway was running freely, but so was the rain. It clattered down on the roof of the car, drowning out the radio even when it was nearing full volume. They munched their way through four of the eight donuts until Alaska had perked up, riding a sugar high, and it was Elver who felt a bit queasy.