The Secret Goldfish
Told by Izu Souma
“My goldfish is dead.”
Told by Izu Souma
“My goldfish is dead.”
Those were the first words I spoke when I realized what had been done and unfortunately it was far too late. Poor Alphonse Edward II was dead and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. As I brought him into the bathroom to say my final goodbyes, I couldn’t help but think of someone I knew. Someone I cared about. Someone who had died. It felt like such a long time ago, but it was only two months since I had said goodbye to poor Alphonse Edward Thatcher.
You know, according to my brother, everyone always remembers something from their lousy childhood. Opps. Momma said I wasn’t allowed to say that. She said it’s not ‘proper’ for young boys to speak that way. Anyway, my brother said he’ll always remember this girl Lucielle LeBlanche who lived down the street, but that’s an entirely different story. The one person I’ll always remember is Al. He lived in the house next to mine, and we always played tag outside until our moms said to come inside and wash for supper. Honestly? Al was probably my best friend. But one day he got really sick with influenza and he died. The funny thing is, I don’t remember my mother coming in at ten-thirty and waking me up. I don’t remember how she cried and held me as she told me that my only best friend in the whole world died. But I do remember saying goodbye. Knowing he was in a casket about to be buried was a funny concept to accept, but saying goodbye was even harder to accept. And now my second best friend, the goldfish no one else but me ever saw, was dead. And I couldn’t do anything about it.
See, this secret goldfish business all started after Al died. My mother and father thought it would be a good idea for me to have a pet to try and help cope with the ‘grief and agony’ I was dealing with. Well, I never liked dogs; they’re slobbery and like to chew your shoes. I don’t like cats either because Al and I had a theory that they were plotting to enslave the human race and take over the world. As far as gerbils, rats, mice, and bunnies were concerned, I was public enemy number one. So they decided that if I earned enough money and did all my chores for a week, I could get any pet I wanted. Earning money wasn’t the hard part, but man, chores for a whole week! Usually I paid this kid Randy Owens five cents to do my chores when my parents weren’t home, so doing them myself was hard. But, after a whole week of sweeping the house, dusting the living room, and helping my dad with the trash, I had saved up five whole dollars. The very next day, my father took me to the local pet store where I could choose any pet I wanted, and boy there were a lot to pick from! The birds were okay, but they’re so noisy and messy that I wouldn’t really enjoy it that much, and of course he wouldn’t let me get a snake. After twenty minutes of looking around, I was about to give up hope when I spotted the goldfish. Running up to the tank, I watched as they swam around, their scales reminding me of pumpkins and oranges, though I noticed one floating by itself at the top.
“Daddy…what’s wrong with it…?” I asked, though clearly it was dead. Of course, I knew it wasn’t alive anymore, but that’s the thing about me. When common sense says,
‘Hey, stupid! That fish is dead!’ I still have to ask, just to be sure.
Anyway, I looked at my father and I said to him that I wanted a goldfish. So the store clerk came over to put the fish in the bag, tied the bag, and handed it to me. Thinking that it’s the best day ever, I ran over to the counter and handed the lady fifty cents for my goldfish, food, and a bowl, then ran outside to the car, eager to get home. Of course, my father had to stop for gas which only irritated me more. But! We got home, which is the important part.
The problem didn’t start until we got home and my mother wanted to meet my new pet. For some reason, I didn’t want her to see it, her and everyone else who wanted to see it, I didn’t want them to even take one peek. Why? Because it was mine and mine alone. I worked for a whole week to buy it and I didn’t want anyone else to enjoy the goldfish but me. That night at dinner my mother wanted to know what I had named my new pet and after thinking long and hard, there was only one name I could come up with.
"Alphonse Edward II." came my reply, along with a spoon full of mashed potatoes and gravy. That’s the thing, I don’t think my mother and father liked Al’s name that much. They said it would remind me of my best friend who had recently died of the influenza. When I told them it would be fine, they shook their heads and mumbled something about how we kids ‘never learn.’
Anyway, everything with Al was going great! We went outside together, and we played chess together, shoot, we even took baths together! But you wanna know what the funny thing is? I never ever let anyone else see him because he was mine and that’s why. Well, a few weeks later, I started to notice that Al wasn’t as jumpy and playful as he always was. Thinking he was hungry, I fed him some extra food, said good night, and went to bed. The next morning, Al was floating up on the top of the fishbowl like the one I had seen in the store. Calling in my dad, again, I asked him what was wrong. He just shook his head and said that Al was in a better place. Common sense told me that fish was dead as a doornail. That’s when I got mad. So I picked up the fishbowl and threw it at my bedroom wall. Wanna know why? Because my dad had seen my goldfish, my Al. He had seen the very thing I hadn’t wanted anyone else to see. And now he was dead. Poor Alphonse Edward II was dead.
I have a confession to make. I wasn’t there at Al’s wake. I was at the funeral, but not the wake. My brother said that a wake is really sad but also really important because you really get to say goodbye to the person you cared about. He said it’s better than a funeral because you get to see that person’s body before they are buried. He said it makes ‘closure.’ Going over to the corner, I scooped Al into my hands, and then the darnest thing happened. I cried. I held that tiny little fish in my bare hands and I cried. I cried because my best friend was gone. I cried because my fish died. I cried because all I wanted to do was protect Al so that we could be friends forever. But Al died of the influenza. He died in a fishbowl. My secret goldfish wasn’t a secret anymore. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Community Member
You thought I was really crying, didn't you? Hell no. ;>> I wouldn't get that worked up. You want to know the good news?
The plant lived. o-o;