The Goldfish at the End of the Bar

The pool wasn't really meant for swimming — it was more of a decorative feature, something to catch the light from the paper lanterns strung across Elena's backyard. But there I was, waist-deep in chlorinated water at 11 PM, my linen trousers ruined, watching a single goldfish dart between my legs like it owned the place.

"You know," Sarah said from the edge, her signature wide-brimmed hat finally abandoned on a nearby lounge chair, "I read somewhere that goldfish have a three-second memory. Makes me wonder why they bother swimming anywhere at all."

Her hair — usually pulled back with the precision of a corporate attorney who just billed her sixtieth hour that week — was loose now, dark waves falling around her face. She'd removed her shoes. Her bare feet dangled in the water, toes painting ripples on the surface.

"That's actually a myth," I said, because that's who I was. The person who corrected myths at parties. "They can remember things for months."

"Well."

She slid into the pool beside me, fully clothed, silk blouse and all. The water rose around us. We stood there, two grown adults in our late thirties, submerged up to our waists in suburban excess, while the goldfish — I'd named him Gerald in my head — circled us with what I desperately wanted to believe was curiosity.

Sarah's palm found mine underwater. Her skin was soft, warm against the cool water. "I'm getting divorced," she said.

The goldfish swam between our joined hands.

"I know," I said. "I heard."

"I'm terrified, David."

"I'm moving to Portland," I said back.

She turned to me, water dripping from her eyelashes. "You hate Portland."

"I hate staying here more."

The goldfish broke the surface, gulping air, then disappeared again into the depths. Some things swim in circles not because they've forgotten where they've been, but because the circle is the only shape that fits them. Sarah squeezed my hand. We stood there until the party emptied out, until the lanterns burned down to nothing, until the water went cold and we had to decide whether to climb out or sink all the way down.