Electric Fish

The goldfish - Susan's goldfish, technically, though she'd been gone six months - was still alive, swimming its endless laps in the bowl on my bedside table. I'd named it Lance. It seemed appropriate for something that survived on my particular brand of neglect.

"Your swing's getting tight, David," Marco called from across the padel court. "Relax your grip."

I nodded, sweat dripping down my spine. At forty-three, I'd taken up padel because James at work said it was what the divorcéés did. Matched polo shirts. Weekend tournaments. A structured way to meet people who weren't already coupled up, as if romance were something you could schedule between sets.

My iphone buzzed in my bag near the bench. I shouldn't look. I never should look. But I did, stepping off the court as Marco served to my opponent.

Susan. *Can you feed Lance tonight? One last time. I'm selling the place.

The message was dated three weeks ago. I'd read it fifty times. The way "one last time" could mean so many things - the fish, or us, or the version of ourselves that had shared a mortgage and a life.

Lightning cracked the sky open. A jagged white scar against steel-gray clouds. Everyone on the adjacent courts paused, balls forgotten. Something electric in the air, something that demanded attention.

"You okay?" Marco asked, walking over with his racket.

"Yeah," I said. "Just... think I need to go home."

"The storm's blowing over. We could finish the set."

"No. I mean really go home."

I didn't go home. I drove to the pet store instead, standing paralyzed in front of the fish tanks until a teenager with facial piercings asked if I needed help. I bought a larger bowl. Decorative gravel. A little ceramic castle.

Lance was still swimming when I got back, circling his tiny world with the patience of something that had never known anything else. I transferred him gently, watching him explore his castle with what I decided was wonder.

My iphone lit up on the counter. Susan again. *You didn't feed him, did you?*

I typed: *I got him a castle. And I'm keeping him.*

Delete. Send.

Outside, lightning struck again - closer this time. The power flickered, then died. I sat in the kitchen watching Lance navigate his new terrain, realizing I'd been swimming in circles too, waiting for permission to build something larger. Sometimes the storm has to break everything open so you can see what's still alive swimming in the dark.