The Aquarium of Unfinished Things

The vitamin supplements rattled in Arthur's palm as he stood before the aquarium, watching his daughter's goldfish circle endlessly in the murky water. Sarah had left for college three years ago, abandoning the fish — and him — without much ceremony.

He should have flushed it. That's what reasonable men did when their children moved out and left behind living things that required care. But Arthur had named the fish Jerry, after his father who'd loved baseball more than anything in the world.

Jerry Senior had died before Arthur could tell him he was gay. Had died thinking Arthur would marry that nice girl from accounting, give him grandchildren who'd play catch in the backyard. Instead, Arthur had poured his father's ashes into the Pacific Ocean and come home to an empty house.

Now, the goldfish —Jerry Junior— floated toward the glass, mouth opening and closing in silent accusation.

"You're still here," Arthur whispered.

His phone buzzed. A text from Marcus: *Still on for dinner?*

Arthur's thumb hovered over the keyboard. He'd been canceling on Marcus for months. The vitamins were for energy he never seemed to have. The water in the tank needed changing — again. Everything needed maintenance.

He dumped the pills into the trash can.

The goldfish watched him through the distortion of glass and water. Arthur pressed his palm flat against the aquarium, feeling the cold vibration of the pump.

His father's baseball glove sat in the closet, leather worn soft from decades of use. Arthur had never played. Had sat in the stands, pretending to understand the intricacies of a game that captivated his father completely.

*Still on for dinner?* the text waited.

Arthur typed back: *Yes. Pick me up at 7.*

He drained the aquarium. Let the goldfish swim in a clean bowl while he scrubbed the glass, thinking about beginnings, about how you could always start over — even at fifty-seven, even with your history leaking out of you like water through cupped hands.

When Marcus arrived, Arthur was ready. The goldfish swam in its newly clean world. And Arthur stepped out into the evening, leaving the door unlocked behind him.