Goldfish & Papaya Summer

The goldfish, which I'd creatively named Goldie, stared at me with what I swear was judgment. I was house-sitting for my cousin Tessa — she who was somehow popular despite being literally obsessed with this fish — and I'd already failed approximately thirty minutes into the gig.

"Just don't let anything die," she'd said, breezing out the door in an outfit that definitely cost more than my entire wardrobe.

Now Goldie was floating sideways, and I was googled "do goldfish play dead" while Tessa's dog, Beefy — a chihuahua mix with abandonment issues — stared at me from the kitchen. Beefy had already eaten three of my hair ties and was currently eyeing my left sneaker like it had personally offended him.

My phone buzzed. Kai, the guy I'd been low-key flirting with in bio lab since May, had somehow convinced me to come to his party tonight. You know, the party that everyone was going to. The party where I would definitely not be the awkward girl standing by the snacks, faking interest in whatever conversation was happening within three feet of me.

"u coming?" his text read.

I stared at Goldie. Goldie stared back. Was it... twitching?

"Maybe?" I typed back. So smooth. The epitome of cool.

Beefy chose that moment to discover Tessa's fruit bowl on the counter. I heard the crash from the living room.

"NO BEEFY NO"

I sprinted into the kitchen to find Beefy standing triumphantly over a demolished papaya, seeds everywhere, looking pleased with himself like he'd just accomplished something remarkable. The papaya that Tessa had specifically mentioned she was saving for something important.

I sank to the floor. Beefy immediately abandoned his papaya victory to lick my face, because apparently emotional contagion was real for dogs. I checked on Goldie. Fish was still sideways. Kai still hadn't texted back. I was covered in papaya slime and dog affection.

Then: a tiny bubble from Goldie's mouth. Then another. The fish slowly righted itself and swam normally, like nothing had happened. Like it hadn't just given me the most terrifying fifteen minutes of my life.

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. Beefy barked, joining in. The absurdity of it — the fish, the papaya disaster, the party I was terrified of attending — it all hit me at once.

I wiped papaya from my cheek, texted Kai "yeah I'm coming," and decided that sometimes the disasters were just part of the story. Even the ones involving tropical fruit and very judgmental fish.