By SoDak
With her head resting on crossed arms, Diane sat at the kitchen table, staring into a fishbowl. For the past two years, a pair of goldfish had been her source of comfort. At least once a week, she would just watch the fish, trying to clear her mind. The fish bobbed in the water, regularly breaking the surface to obtain food and some fresh air, given the slight murkiness in the bowl. Diane sighed as she watched this action repeat itself over and over. It was rather hypnotic, distracting her from the fight she had with Greg.
The larger goldfish swam deep into the fishbowl, exploring the corners of this trapped environment. When it reached the bottom, the fish quickly darted upwards, pushing the smaller goldfish to the surface. For the most part, this action was smooth, taking place in a single uninterrupted motion. Every now and then, the larger goldfish would linger on the underside, and slowly nudge the other one to the surface. In these cases, it appeared that the big fish was juggling an orange ball, as if it hoped to receive a treat for its actions, like dolphins at Sea World that are forced to do tricks for someone else’s entertainment. But this relationship was quite different. The action was not done for amusement. Diane did not laugh; the fish did not anticipate any rewards.
Diane was feeling more morose than normal. Watching the fish did not clear her mind. She worked through the events that led to another fight with Greg. She repeated the words that they said to each other. Greg seemed intent on initiating and winning a fight. From time to time, Diane blamed herself for letting their relationship develop in this direction. But the truth was that she did not know what had she done to contribute to this dynamic. She just figured that she must have done something, otherwise Greg would not be so mad so often. Some nights she was able to avoid a conflict by going for a walk with her friend who lived down the street. But she could not escape every night. Plus, she wanted to spend time with her husband, hoping they could enjoy each other’s company and rekindle the feelings that brought them together. Afterall, they had made promises to each other at their wedding.
Tonight, staring at the goldfish, Diane could not dispense the hurt. She remembered that Greg had given her these fish following their first major fight. He was pissed off, because he did not want to go to her parents’ house for Thanksgiving. It seemed like such a small request, but he was enraged. As he yelled at her, she cowered on the sofa. She was petrified by his flailing arms, which only stopped when he paused to throw back a shot of whiskey. This incident marked the beginning of screaming matches and sleepless nights. The next day, Greg brought home a fishbowl and two orange goldfish in plastic bags. Diane hesitantly accepted this peace offering, hoping the night before was simply a one-time thing, as it was unexplainable. She hated stories about men bringing home roses after they had acted like assholes. She was not sure what to make of the gift of the goldfish. Perhaps, it was possible to put things behind them. Greg had never been spontaneous regarding gifts, so he must have felt badly about how irrational he had acted.
Several nights later, Greg erupted again, yelling at her, after Diane questioned his purchase of a sports coat. They were trying to save money, so she could go back to school to get an elementary teaching degree. They rarely went out to eat or to the movies. Greg was a manager at Safeway. He made a decent salary, but buying a house and car kept them in debt. At the grocery store, Greg wore a button-up shirt with the store name embroidered above the pocket. He had no use for a sports coat, so Diane asked why he would buy such clothing. The explosion of curses had venom. He complained about not getting any moral support. He told her “to sleep on the fuckin’ couch” before he stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
It was after this fight that Diane started her routine of staring into the fishbowl, as well as internalizing the blame for their fights. She could not figure out what was causing Greg’s anger, but she figured that she had failed to make him happy. The next day, Greg brought home a plastic house for the fishbowl, starting his pattern of buying figures, such as treasure chests, ships, and people for the fishbowl. These gifts did not heal the wounds from the fights. The plastic world that was accumulating could not fit in the fishbowl, so Diane had to interchange the objects from time to time to make it appear that she appreciated Greg’s acts of reconciliation.
After a fight, a month ago, Diane sat at the table, gazing into the fishbowl. She noticed that the smaller goldfish seemed to have an infection, a whitish spot, on its tail. Also, the larger fish kept nibbling at the tail of the smaller fish. It appeared that the one was eating at the other. Diane was confused. The fish simply entered her life when Greg brought them home. She stared into the bowling, trying to figure out what was happening. Was the infection on the smaller fish caused by the larger fish? Was the bigger fish nibbling at the smaller one because of the infection? She searched for information regarding goldfish—do they ever eat each other? How often did she need to clean the fishbowl and provide fresh water? Maybe it was normal for fish to nibble on each other?
A couple of weeks later, Diane was once again sitting at the table, looking into the fishbowl. The smaller fish’s tail was completely gone; there was just a white nub, as the orange scales were missing, at the butt-end. This fish was no longer able to maneuver itself around the tank. This was when the pattern of the larger fish pushing up the smaller one to surface of the water began. Once they were both at the surface, the big fish would plunge to the depths of the fishbowl, moving between the trinkets Diane begrudgingly placed in there earlier that week. Meanwhile, the smaller fish would slowly sink in the water. Its pelvic fins were extended, trying to balance the descent. The nub moved from side to side, failing to propel the fish in a particular direction. When the small fish had sunk halfway down, the larger one would quickly dart into position, pushing the tailless fish to the surface. Diane watched this pattern fascinated by the assistance the larger fish was giving to the other. She thought the big fish was acting gallantly, coming the rescue of the smaller one. She half-chuckled at this show, but also felt pity for the little fish, assuming that it was going to die, as this pattern could not persist for too long.
In the days that followed, Diane watched this performance repeat itself over and over. She called Greg into the kitchen several times to show him the fish, but he always shrugged his shoulders, filled his glass with whiskey, and went back to the living room to watch television. The intriguing situation and relationship slowly become a painful tragedy that would not end. Each morning, Diane would walk into the kitchen expecting to find the smaller fish floating on the surface of the water, but instead the same routine was taking place.
Tonight, Diane sat watching the fish, no longer thinking about her latest fight with Greg. Instead, she replayed the previous events, contemplating the history of the fish, the fishbowl, the plastic castles, the larger fish nibbling on the other one, the appearance that the big fish was rescuing the little fish from death, and all the fights over the last two years. While the origins of these events could not be identified, the degradation of life was apparent. Diane rose from the chair and took the fishbowl in her arms. She reached into the bowl, with a cupped hand, removing the smaller fish with no dorsal fin. She placed the fishbowl on the counter, walked to the bathroom, put the fish in the toilet, and flushed. She walked back to the kitchen, scooped out the larger fish, raised it above her head, dropped it into her mouth, and swallowed the goldfish. With a slight smile, she walked to the bedroom to get her suitcase.
