The Goldfish Bowl

At the wake, Elena found herself staring at the mantle where the goldfish bowl sat—Murphy's final, ridiculous request. "Keep Ferdinand alive," he'd made her promise on his deathbed, as if a three-dollar pet from a carnival booth mattered more than the twenty years of friendship they'd carefully dismantled piece by piece.

She should have left. The room was thick with people who'd loved Murphy better, more consistently. But there she was, trapped by the weight of a dying man's whimsy.

"You're going to take him, aren't you?"

Elena turned. Julian stood behind her, Murphy's older brother, wearing that ridiculous fedora Murphy had bought him as a joke five years ago. Julian never could pull off hats. The brim cast a shadow over eyes too much like his brother's.

"Someone has to."

"He's just a fish, El." Julian's voice cracked. "Murphy knew you'd feel obligated. That was the point."

Lightning cracked the window, sudden and violent, illuminating the half-empty glass of scotch in Julian's hand. Outside, the September storm had finally caught up to them.

"Obligated?" Elena laughed, bitter and sharp. "Is that what we call it now? Twelve years of history, and I'm *obligated* to care about his goldfish?"

"You haven't spoken in eight months, Elena. You came to the hospital once."

"He didn't want visitors. He said—"

"He lied." Julian swallowed the rest of his drink. "He was proud, El. Too proud to call. You were his oldest friend. He should have called."

The room had gone quiet around them, conversations dipping like tides. Elena watched Ferdinand swim lazy circles in his bowl, oblivious, orange scales catching the flash of another lightning strike.

"What do you want from me, Julian?"

"The same thing Murphy wanted." Julian reached out, took her hand. His palm was warm, familiar. "For you to stop being right and start being there."

Outside, thunder rattled the windowpane. Ferdinand darted to the bottom of his bowl.

"You'll take the fish?" Julian asked, already knowing.

"I'll take the fish."

The hat tipped low over Julian's eyes as he nodded, once, and turned back to the cluster of strangers who'd known his brother in all the ways that mattered.

Elena lifted the bowl, feeling ridiculous and heartsick and exactly where she was supposed to be.