My Goldfish

We were sitting on my couch when she asked me,

“Does your goldfish ever cry?”
I looked at her and said no.
She asked me how to tell if my goldfish was crying.
I knew I was clever, and I said,
“If my goldfish was crying I wouldn’t know his tears from the water.”
She told me that I was wrong,
“No. It’s because you never ask how his day was.”

Each time I passed my goldfish’s bowl that week,
I stopped and peered into it
Tapping on the sides sometimes
Eventually I would sit and stare at it while eating my dinner.
Finally, I worked up the courage to ask,
“How was your day?”

I knew instantly that I was the single silliest person on the planet.
There is a little girl trying to play checkers with her cat somewhere.
And I knew that even I was sillier than her.

The next week I spent at the aquarium.
Still unable to tell if the sea turtles had tear ducts.
The fifth time I went the ticket woman stopped me,
“You’ve been here every day since Tuesday.
What could be that interesting?”
If anyone knew the answer to my questions,
It would be the woman with the aquarium issued polo shirt.

“Have you ever seen one of them cry?”
Anyway, for the rest of the week
Red polo shirts followed me from the shark tank to the clown fish.
I just stopped going.

I went back to watching my own goldfish.
He circled the bowl.
Circled,
Around and
Around and
Around and
Then he would dip into the rocks
Letting the little bubbles float to the top

There was a rainbow castle inside
And a little treasure chest just like every goldfish has
He never touched them or went inside of them
I wondered if he even knew they were there sometimes.

The next day I went to the pet store to pick out the perfect castle.
Its doors had to be wide for the days he swam a little sideways.
The turrets had to be as close to the surface as possible
So the bubbles wouldn’t get lonely on their way to the top.
It had to be inviting and cozy for the days when he wanted to hide.
After all, he’s on the table to display for any common folk.
I didn’t know if fish had self-conscious days, but I wasn’t taking risks.

The cashier slid my castle across the price zapper.
He commented on my castle’s intricacy and said
I must have a lovely aquarium.
I said, “Actually, no.
It’s just this one piece for the aquarium,
Well it’s actually a bowl, not an aquarium
For my fish, my goldfish. But I’m glad
That you like it. I was unsure about this and
The pirate ship, but the pirate ship seemed
More threatening and ominous.
I didn’t want to scare my goldfish.”

When I got home the first thing I did, of course,
Was give my goldfish his new royal home.
I put it in the bowl and he threw himself to the closest glass wall.
I pulled my hand out and waited. Waited
For days, for my goldfish to use his castle.
I didn’t want to miss his initial reaction.
The milk went sour and my clothes got stale.
I missed a dozen dozen phone calls before I realized
That maybe my goldfish didn’t care about the castle.
That wasn’t what he needed.

I returned the new castle to the pet store.
I told the cashier that it wasn’t what my goldfish needed.
And I was sorry for wasting his time,
My time,
And my goldfish’s time.
He said it was no problem and wished me luck.

In an age where you can Google everything
I turned to the Internet at last
Reluctantly joining a forum for goldfish owners.

I gave them my question,
Downloaded the app for the site on my phone
I checked for answers on lunch breaks,
During commercials,
While I was brushing my teeth,
And sometimes in my sleep.

It wasn’t until days later that I received my private message.
“Hi. You seem very concerned with your goldfish.
I wish I could help you but I’ve never seen a goldfish cry.
I’ve also never seen one not cry.
Have you tried cutting onions next to his bowl?
I’m interested to see if you find the answer you need.
If you do, please let me know.
P.S. What’s his name?”

What’s his name?
What’s his name?
It has been months and I didn’t know his name.
He has lived in my house with me,
Eaten food I bought,
Watched my shows with him,
And not once did I ask his name.

I got really close to the glass.
My breath fogged it over so much,
I almost couldn’t see my goldfish.
I waited until he got close to my face.
And I whispered,
“What’s your name?”

I was no longer sillier than the girl playing checkers with her cat.
Now I was more like the girl playing Monopoly with a rock.

I responded to the other user back.
Simply saying, “I don’t know.
He didn’t tell me.”
The status on the message says “Read”
But they still haven’t responded.

My goldfish was turning into a scab.
I was picking at it every day
I could see it. I could feel it.
But I didn’t know if it was actually progressing.
It was growing greater and greater.
I couldn’t overlook it.
I had to sit him in another room when I wanted to watch TV.
Then, I felt guilty so I’d put a TV on in that room, too.

I started looking up bodies of water nearby.
Where did they open, where did they let out?
What was the quality of the water?
pH balance?
Pollution?
Predatory fish?
Plants.
Oxygen levels.
Sunlight.
Everything.

I had to let this fish go.
We spent so many moments together,
And I didn’t even know him.
I didn’t even bother.
And after all of this time, I didn’t know his name
I didn’t know his pain.

But I also didn’t know what kind of place he wanted to live in.
He couldn’t choose on his own, even when I held the map up to the bowl.
He didn’t say anything and he didn’t have fingers to point.
So he sat there, swimming
Around and
Around and
Around and
Then I did what I knew had to be done.

I flushed.