Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

19

19
Anastasia's butter-soaked fingers venture threateningly close to my crisp baby blue shirt as I cast her a cautionary look.
"The operator is unable to reach you right now," my call goes unanswered. I slouch back into the comforter.
Some dude thought it would be super funny to drag race along a national highway. Now it is either closed or the traffic is moving at the pace of 1 km/hr.
It's a two hours drive to Philly, with the intensity of the delay the news is reporting, it will take us a good six hours. I had already called in and gotten us a place for the night but. There is always a but.
I am not sure Anastasia can take the journey, confined to that crouched passenger's seat space.
I watched her trying her best to hide her face while she bit down her lower lip letting herself down on the wheelchair this morning.
"What's up?", she asks.
"The helpline operator did not pick up."
"Maybe they are busy averting the traffic."
"Exactly. That is what leads me to think it is pretty bad," I say, "We can stay here for one more night."
"Check out is in half an hour."
I let out a frustrated sigh, "I know! I can't make up my mind. I don't want to screw things up and get stuck in traffic for hours."
She pushes the plate of overpriced breakfast toast towards me, "Hey, we'll be fine. Let's go around Jersey and kill some hours. By evening, the scene will be a bit better."
I look down at the plate of bread breaking apart from the excess oily butter and the broken sunnyside up, "Where do we go?"
"Good for you, my friend. I did some research. Adventure Aquarium. Wheelchair accessible. Good for kids and whatever. Also has sharks."
I check my watch. 20 minutes to check out.
"Let's go," I grab the bags from the bed.

Anastasia and I give each other a slight side-eye of 'We may have fucked up' as we roll through the entrance and a kid runs straight into Anastasia. The mom strides forward in an aggressive gait but assumes an air of softness at the sight of Ana in her wheelchair.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologizes.
"It's okay," she grabs her wheels and moves forward by herself.
"Keep moving," she speaks through her clenched teeth after covering some distance.
She inhales sharply at the kids shoving their hands in and beating the water with their fists at the open stingray display. She waves at a distant stingray, "Hello. Hate to remind you but Steve Irwin was a cool dude, man."
I hold the giggles in.
"I have a feeling we are going to have to find a less crowded place," I tell her.
We come to a halt before the shark tank with hammerheads swimming around. Compared to the rest of the displays, this appears empty, downright empty.
"Nature does not attract anyone's attention until it's fucking you over," Anastasia whispers.
A volunteer helps carry the wheelchair as I help Anastasia down a flight of stairs to the first row, closest we can get to the tank.

Suddenly, "Don't move!"
She produces a polaroid camera from her backpack, "Hold it right there. I love the light."
She presses the shutter, seconds later a photograph slides out. She shakes it and flings it at me.
"I did not know you brought a camera over," I ask.
"I get only twenty or forty pictures out of this. So I save it for the very best."
I turn the picture around and see she was right. The blue light flooding from the sunlight passing through the tank water casts a happy glow across the room and setting shadows along my deep relaxed jawbones and becoming one with a union with my similarly colored shirt.
I go to give it back to her. "Keep it. It's yours," she smiles. I put the picture inside the shirt's pocket.
"Is that shark trying to-"
I turn around and before she can finish her sentence, the hammerhead shark grabs a smaller stingray by the wing. A scream cuts through the air.
"Mommy, it got it!"
A crowd of kids rushes in through the narrow flight of stairs. I grab and pull Anastasia to one side.
The kids put their faces against the glass and some bang on the glass. A volunteer runs in, "Excuse me, everyone! We request you to step away from the tank!", nervous and obviously with orders to quell the chaos. His request falls into deaf ears.
The stingray struggles to get away from the shark but the shark bites into more of its wing with every wiggle.
"What a genius idea to put hammerhead's favorite prey along with the hammerhead," Anastasia snaps at the volunteer.
"We-we didn't know," the volunteer croaks out.
I feel a sadistic pride as Anastasia condescendingly shakes her head at the cock-up.
Some kid starts squealing like a pig facing slaughter, "IT'S EATING IT!"
"Yeah, animals do that," Anastasia answers that kid. I understand it is time to walk away.
I grab the volunteer's forearm, "Need your help." He nods. I pick Anastasia up as she struggles to get me to let go and the volunteer grabs her wheelchair.
The shark finally lets go of the stingray as it retreats back into the sand.