completely rebuild everything.”
He finally glances at me. “How long ago did that happen?” I ask.
“Eight years,” he says simply. “But it feels like last week.” I watch as he takes in a deep breath and slowly pushes it out. “The hardest part is that I could help her,” he says. “I could save her…and I won’t even get the chance.”
Jonah’s expression turns blank, like he’s thought about this many times but never actually said it out loud. He sits down next to me on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. “She always wanted fish,” he says quietly. “From seven years old.”
I suddenly feel really bad for Jonah. Is this why he allows me to stay? Why he has seahorses? So he can take care of some living thing without being afraid it will be taken away?
“I liked fish from a young age too,” I offer in a whisper. “I first went to the aquarium when I turned six. Then it was tradition to go on my birthday every year after that.”
His hand finds mine on top of the comforter. “Are the aquariums really big where you lived?”
I nod. “Huge.”
Jonah smiles a little, settling into the mattress next to me. “Tell me about them?” he asks.
And I do. Our hands don’t come apart.
***
Mom and Dad drove me to the airport when I left California. The sun was so bright that day that I had to break out my sunglasses for the first time all winter. Dad sat with the passenger’s seat leaned back so his spine was comfortable, and he was wearing sunglasses too. When I got out of the car with my suitcase and opened his door so I could hug him, I realized he wasn’t wearing them because of the sun.
“You have fun and be safe,” he said into my ear. “And don’t come back until you’ve decided on a really good school.” His voice was tight and when I tried to move away, his hug became even tighter. “Don’t worry about the money, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
I nodded, too afraid that if I spoke I’d start crying as well. For more than one reason.
Mom gently closed the door between us and repeated the same things into my ear as we hugged goodbye, only adding, “Come back as soon as you can.”
I stood inside the lobby and watched through the window as the old rusty car pulled away. It took me a long time to look down at my ticket to figure out where my gate was. It took me longer to move from that spot in front of the window.
***
I went back to the same aquarium the year I turned eighteen, only that time, I was alone. Mom had to work a double and Dad had just had surgery so they couldn’t come. I thought about staying home and just watching TV with Dad, but something pulled at me, deep in my gut, guiding me past the jellyfish and reptile exhibits through the tunnel of sharks, and straight to where I remembered the octopus being. Every year I knew there was a possibility that it wasn’t the same animal. The one I saw when I was six was probably replaced every few years, but I still referred to it as “Dolly”, knowing with absolute certainty that they had recycled the name at least three or four times.
But when I got to the wall that housed the small tank, I couldn’t find Dolly. There was bright pink coral in the white sand, there was dark green and brown seaweed swaying back and forth gently with the current of the filter. Under the tank, the plaque had a picture of the octopus next to the same information I had read from the time I was able, but next to that, where there was usually a separate plaque that read “Dolly”, there was a new tag:
Reserved.
We are currently awaiting our newest underwater friend
A picture of a seahorse was taped to the outside of the tag, possibly hinting at the “new arrival”. It did nothing to comfort me. Dolly was gone. Not only that, but she had been replaced .
***
We spend most of the day talking. Jonah only leaves to make lunch and dinner, insisting we eat upstairs. I think he likes
He finally glances at me. “How long ago did that happen?” I ask.
“Eight years,” he says simply. “But it feels like last week.” I watch as he takes in a deep breath and slowly pushes it out. “The hardest part is that I could help her,” he says. “I could save her…and I won’t even get the chance.”
Jonah’s expression turns blank, like he’s thought about this many times but never actually said it out loud. He sits down next to me on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. “She always wanted fish,” he says quietly. “From seven years old.”
I suddenly feel really bad for Jonah. Is this why he allows me to stay? Why he has seahorses? So he can take care of some living thing without being afraid it will be taken away?
“I liked fish from a young age too,” I offer in a whisper. “I first went to the aquarium when I turned six. Then it was tradition to go on my birthday every year after that.”
His hand finds mine on top of the comforter. “Are the aquariums really big where you lived?”
I nod. “Huge.”
Jonah smiles a little, settling into the mattress next to me. “Tell me about them?” he asks.
And I do. Our hands don’t come apart.
***
Mom and Dad drove me to the airport when I left California. The sun was so bright that day that I had to break out my sunglasses for the first time all winter. Dad sat with the passenger’s seat leaned back so his spine was comfortable, and he was wearing sunglasses too. When I got out of the car with my suitcase and opened his door so I could hug him, I realized he wasn’t wearing them because of the sun.
“You have fun and be safe,” he said into my ear. “And don’t come back until you’ve decided on a really good school.” His voice was tight and when I tried to move away, his hug became even tighter. “Don’t worry about the money, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
I nodded, too afraid that if I spoke I’d start crying as well. For more than one reason.
Mom gently closed the door between us and repeated the same things into my ear as we hugged goodbye, only adding, “Come back as soon as you can.”
I stood inside the lobby and watched through the window as the old rusty car pulled away. It took me a long time to look down at my ticket to figure out where my gate was. It took me longer to move from that spot in front of the window.
***
I went back to the same aquarium the year I turned eighteen, only that time, I was alone. Mom had to work a double and Dad had just had surgery so they couldn’t come. I thought about staying home and just watching TV with Dad, but something pulled at me, deep in my gut, guiding me past the jellyfish and reptile exhibits through the tunnel of sharks, and straight to where I remembered the octopus being. Every year I knew there was a possibility that it wasn’t the same animal. The one I saw when I was six was probably replaced every few years, but I still referred to it as “Dolly”, knowing with absolute certainty that they had recycled the name at least three or four times.
But when I got to the wall that housed the small tank, I couldn’t find Dolly. There was bright pink coral in the white sand, there was dark green and brown seaweed swaying back and forth gently with the current of the filter. Under the tank, the plaque had a picture of the octopus next to the same information I had read from the time I was able, but next to that, where there was usually a separate plaque that read “Dolly”, there was a new tag:
Reserved.
We are currently awaiting our newest underwater friend
A picture of a seahorse was taped to the outside of the tag, possibly hinting at the “new arrival”. It did nothing to comfort me. Dolly was gone. Not only that, but she had been replaced .
***
We spend most of the day talking. Jonah only leaves to make lunch and dinner, insisting we eat upstairs. I think he likes
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