Goldfish Funeral at 2 AM

I'm supposed to be studying for finals, but instead I'm conducting a goldfish funeral at 2 AM. Because that's what your life becomes when your parents decide to "take a break" in separate houses and you're the one stuck with the shared custody pets.

Captain Finwick had been part of this family since I was seven. Now he's floating sideways in his bowl like a tiny orange boat that's given up on sailing. I should've changed the water yesterday. I should've done a lot of things.

The back door creaks open and my brother Marcus stumbles in, smelling like cheap beer and regret. He's twenty-two and still figuring out how to adult, which is reassuring and terrifying all at once.

"Who died?" he asks, then catches sight of the bowl. "Oh. Captain Finwick." His voice cracks, and I realize he's crying. My brother, the guy who once punched a hole in the wall because our parents announced they were splitting, is crying over a goldfish.

"I'll flush him," Marcus offers, wiping his face with his sleeve like that makes it less real. "It's quick. Dignified."

"He deserves better than the toilet," I say, and then we're both laughing because this whole situation is completely unhinged.

Zora, our dad's cat, chooses that moment to weave through my legs, purring like she hasn't a care in the world. She's got this whole household figured out - when to be sweet, when to be aloof, how to get whatever she wants without ever having to ask. Sometimes I feel like she's the only one actually adulting around here.

Marcus scoops up the cat, burying his face in her black fur. "Remember when we found her behind the dumpster? She was this hissing disaster of a kitten."

"Now she's basically running your life," I point out.

"Don't I know it." He sets Zora down, and she immediately flops onto the couch like she owns it. "What about Mom's dog? You think he'd do a funeral?"

"Buster? He'd probably try to eat the guest of honor."

Marcus laughs, but then his expression shifts into something I can't read. "I'm sorry, Maya. That you're stuck dealing with all the pet stuff. The houses, the back-and-forth, the... funeral arrangements."

"It's not the worst thing," I say, and I mean it. "Besides, someone's gotta keep it together when you're out there living your best hot mess life."

He bumps my shoulder with his. "You're too smart for this family, you know that?"

We decide to give Captain Finwick a proper burial in the backyard, beneath the maple tree where Zora likes to nap. It's not much, but it's something. As I'm patting down the dirt, my phone buzzes - a text from my friend group, planning something for tomorrow. And just like that, I'm pulled back into the orbit of high school, where the biggest tragedy is who's dating who and what we're wearing to the dance.

But for now, in the quiet of the backyard with my brother and the cat watching from the porch, it's okay to just be sad about a goldfish. It's okay to mourn something small, because sometimes the small things are the only things we can control.

Marcus throws an arm around my shoulders. "We'll get through this, little sis. The divorce, the pets, the whole disaster show. We'll get through it."

I lean into him, watching the first light of dawn creep across the sky. "Yeah," I say. "But we're definitely getting a dog next time. Something that can actually tell us when it's dying."

He laughs, and for a moment, everything feels like it might actually be okay.