Swimming in Memory

The goldfish bowl sat on her nightstand, a single orange fish suspended in its own quiet universe. Marie had brought it three months ago, during that terrible week after the diagnosis.

"Company," she'd said, setting the bowl down with careful hands. "Something alive in here."

I'd wanted to scream. What good was a goldfish when your best friend of twenty years was terminal? What good was anything?

But I said nothing. I just sat there, watching the fish glide through its tiny world, thinking about how we used to spend every Saturday morning swimming laps at the YMCA. Marie had been faster then, always half a body length ahead, turning her head just enough to grin at me before slicing through the water again. Now she could barely walk to the bathroom without help.

The cancer had eaten her from the inside out. The vitamin supplements she took by the handful—pale yellow pills that promised strength—seemed like such a cruel joke. Like trying to hold back a hurricane with a window screen.

"You should go," she whispered now, her voice thin as paper. "Go swimming without me."

"Don't be stupid," I said, but my throat caught. We both knew the truth: she didn't want me to see her like this. Didn't want the woman who'd once beat me in a college triathlon to be remembered as someone who needed help drinking water.

Her cat, a gray tabby named Jerome, jumped onto the bed and curled up beside her frail legs. The animal seemed to understand something I couldn't—that sometimes love means sitting with someone in the dark.

"I'm tired," she said. "Not sleep tired. Just... done tired."

I took her hand, feeling the bones beneath the skin. "I know."

The goldfish swam to the surface, broke the water with a small splash. A tiny gasp of life.

"Remember," Marie said, her eyes closing, "how we used to race? How you'd always let me win at the end?"

I laughed through my tears. "You never knew I let you win."

"Yes I did," she smiled, faint as sunrise. "A friend always knows."

The monitor flatlined twenty minutes later. The goldfish kept swimming.