Morrow

Fish.

Blake's eyes were glued to the mirror as she sat naked, her towel damp and forgotten in the corner. Wide, brown eyes stared back at her. She blinked twice, quickly, testing the reflected version of herself. Would it be able to copy such fast movements? Blake sighed. She couldn't see if it did because her eyes were closed.

"Stupid," she groaned.

Brown eyes dropped down to her pink, plump lips. She watched as her tongue darted out like a snake to wet the plush pillows. Weird. Blake's eyes continued their journey of self-inspection. She examined her brown skin and wondered why some people thought that it made her less of a person. Her eyes scrutinized the medium sized lumps on her chest. Why couldn't they be smaller? Why couldn't they be bigger? She pulled a funny face in the mirror and stood up.

It was around 10 am and Blake wished she were still asleep. However, her mother, Eliza, demanded that they go visit Harvey during his morning break. Blake hummed and ran a hand through her messy, auburn hair. What to wear? She settled on a red and white striped top, boyfriend jeans and black docs. Grabbing her bomber jacket and a scarf, Blake shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

"Where's Wally?" Blake smiled and pointed at her top.

"Funny," Eliza said dryly, without so much as a smile. "Are you ready to go Blake-Marie?" Using Blake's full name was a torture that only her mother enjoyed.

"Righto," Blake's mood had quickly punctured in the time that she had spent in her mum's presence. They walked to the garage and climbed into the silver people mover. Blake never understood why they owned such a large car; there were only three people in their family. A people mover felt excessive.

Blake watched closely as her mother carefully operated the vehicle. Eliza Dix was a supposedly attractive woman, for her age. She had clear, porcelain skin and piercing blue eyes that distracted from the surrounding crow's feet. Her platinum blonde, can-I-talk-to-the-manager haircut added to her soccer mum aesthetic. Blake speculated over whether this was her intention. Eliza wore large reading glasses and attempted to ooze class with her knock-off designer handbags. Unfortunately, she fell short and landed as a mini van driving, wine mum.

"Your hair is getting long," Eliza pointed out as they turned onto the main road.

"I know, I hate it," Blake groaned. Her once sharp pixie cut was now overgrown and messy. She often had to sweep it to the side in order to see.

"Well, I think it looks nice," her mum responded pointedly. "I always liked your hair long."

Eliza knew that this was a low blow. If she didn't know it before then the look of utter betrayal on her daughter's face made it evident. Six months ago, Blake had long curls of hair, flowing down to just above her waist. But Blake was not well liked. And so, when Tabatha Paisley got fed up of her stuttering answers in calculus, she leaned forward and hacked off Blake's ponytail. Much to the amusement of the entire classroom. If she was being honest with herself, Blake would admit that having her hair forcibly cut was kind of a relief. Long hair had never quite felt right but her mum wouldn't let her cut it. So on the down low Blake thanks Tabatha Paisley, the stupid bitch that she is. However, secret relief that it is, she didn't appreciate that her mum brought it up, as she knew that Eliza Dix did this purely to hurt her.

The car skidded to a stop as they pulled into a parking space in front of The East Port Port. Blake had always found this name hilarious. Residents of the town where she lived, East Port, became confused that their main source of employment and the namesake of the town didn't have an official name. So the town called it East Port because it's a port on the east coast, very clever. However, the easily perplexed residents became even more confused that their town and place of work had the same name. And thus, in 1862, The East Port Port was christened. Nobody had ever bothered to change it.

Other than Dr Rooney's Bean Harvest, The East Port Port was Blake's favourite thing about East Port. The neat lines of boats, cold colours and crisp air were very calming. Visits to the port also meant that she would be seeing one of her favourite humans, Harvey. Harvey was a deckhand on the fishing boat: Stacey's Mom. He hoped to become a skipper on his own fishing boat someday, hopefully one with a better name.

"Harv," Eliza called out to her husband who was smoking with a group of men. Harvey left the group and approached Blake and her mum.

"Hiya girls," he ruffled Blake's hair and tried to give Eliza a kiss.

"Fish, Harvey," Eliza recoiled and Blake rolled her eyes. Only her mum would complain about the smell of fish after knowingly marrying a fisherman.

"Right, sorry love. Shall we go to Rooney's? I wanna see the old man before he goes in for surgery," Harvey smiled and opened the car door.

"No can do Harvey," Blake piped up, "Dr Rooney already went in for surgery. His niece is covering the place and she doesn't seem very nice."

"Well, where do you suggest we go then, Blake-Marie? We can't avoid the only café in town, you silly girl," Eliza scolded from the front passenger seat. Blake met Harvey's eye in the rear view mirror, he offered a friendly smile and wink.

"I'm afraid your ma is right this time, kid. Rooney's it is," he said.

Harvey drove swiftly to the place that normally made Blake feel content. This time, however, she dreaded their arrival to the table that overlooked the river and sleepy willow trees. The cosy fireplace and faint smell of cinnamon, coffee grounds, leather and sandalwood. She cringed thinking about the duck egg blue chairs and matching coffee cups. Blake would rather hide in the bathroom and endure Mr Ackerman's aftersmell than sit at that table. And all because of a moody, temperamental barista called Morrow.