What We Keep in Water

The goldfish was dying, that much was clear. It floated at an angle in the bowl on Mara's kitchen counter, its orange scales dulling by the hour. We'd bought it together three years ago, on that Tuesday we both called in sick to work and drove to the beach instead. We named it Gerald because we'd both slept with a Gerald in college — different Geralds, same disappointment.

'This is pathetic,' Mara said, leaning against the counter. Her hair was wet from the pool downstairs, chlorine tang sharp in the air between us. 'We're twenty-eight years old, mourning a fish that cost three dollars and lived too long anyway.'

'He was supposed to be a temporary pet,' I said. 'Like everything else we kept saying was temporary.'

Mara's palm pressed against the glass, her fingers splayed like she could transfer something vital through the barrier. We'd been friends for eleven years, roommates for six, sleeping in the same bed for three months without ever putting a name to it. Some arrangements worked better unexamined.

'Remember,' she said quietly, 'that party where we told everyone Gerald was a metaphor?' She laughed, but it was thin. 'We said he represented our inability to commit to anything that required actual responsibility. God, we were pretentious.'

'True,' I said. 'But he outlasted your degree program, my relationships, and most of our other friends.'

Mara turned to face me. The pool had made her eyeliner smudge in a way that should have looked messy but didn't. 'What happens when he goes?' she asked. 'The last thing that connects us to who we were before.'

I stepped closer. 'We don't need a fish to stay connected to each other.'

'No,' she said. 'But we've been using him as an excuse not to figure out what comes next. If we're not just two people who happen to share a fish, what are we?'

The goldfish stirred, flickering upward to break the surface. We both watched, holding our breath like we could oxygenate the water through sheer will. He settled again, listless.

'I'll flush him tomorrow,' Mara said finally. 'Unless you want to do the honors.'

'Tomorrow,' I agreed. 'We'll do it together.'

She nodded, and her hand found mine, her palm cool against my skin. 'We should go back to the pool,' she said. 'Before they close. Before we have to figure anything else out.'

'Just tonight,' I said. 'We can figure out the rest tomorrow.'

She squeezed my hand, something like surrender in the gesture. 'Tomorrow's always the plan, isn't it?'