The Fish in the Bowl Grows a Bubble
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The asphalt cracks in a deep line running perpendicular to the sidewalk just outside J’s
Pet Store and Aquarium. It’s in the seedy part of town, where shirtless men in cars drive slowly, roll down their windows, and yell a sexually charged, “Damn! Damn!” when a woman walks by. Today, the woman on the receiving end of the “Damn” that rises and falls in a come-hither twang is Samantha, who turns to her twelve-year-old son and grabs tightly onto his hand. Tyler stares wide-eyed at his mother, but only briefly. The glow in the store window from the aquariums, in the far corner of the shop catches his eyes. Fluorescent pink and blue lights, against a dark-as-night background, call to him. Playful green and plastic plants surround twinkling purple castles and fish swim gracefully back and forth. Inside, the place smells like ammonia, cedar chips, hay, and something ripe—something fully alive, but almost dead—something that lives on the skin of fish and aquatic plants—something that slowly eats away at them, but still somehow keeps them alive. Samantha begins to think that this something has to do with a secret that some pet storeowners know: How to maintain a pet’s life long enough for it to be sold and for it to live a month or two before dying. She knows better than to buy anything from this place, but Tyler wants a dog and Samantha does not. Her husband Felix also wants a dog, but Samantha has convinced the two of them to start with a fish and see how it goes. Then, she might consider a dog.
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She vaguely remembers a fact a friend of hers once told her: Betta fish are sturdy. On a shelf, just behind the aquarium section, tiny bowls line the walls with either one male or one female Betta. They flow like feathered jewels in crystal clear water. Tyler’s eyes fall on a ruby red and royal purple female, which he immediately names Fire.
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“Exquisite,” Samantha says as she buys the fish food, a small plant, a few rocks, and a castle for Tyler’s new friend.
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On the first day, Fire, the Betta, stays inside the castle, tentatively emerging when Felix, Tyler, and Samantha drop one pellet each into the bowl. Fire remains brilliant and more curious throughout the week, developing a subtle playfulness that the family of three feels privileged to watch. But, as shiny new things fade and as there’s work to do, homework to complete, and problems to solve, Fire becomes a delightful, showy creature taken for granted—a red feathery thing in the corner of the room, caught from the corner of the eye, from time to time. One quick glance confirms the following statement: Good, she’s still alive.
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The ritual becomes automatic. Samantha, Tyler, and Felix check to see that Fire’s still moving. Then, they feed her and leave the house for hours on end. Finally, they come home tired and look for her in her bowl, just to confirm that all is well. One day though, the happy crimson figure that moves is no longer red, but white.
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“Mom! Dad! Fire lost her color!”
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“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Samantha says when she enters the room. Felix inspects the bowl and the fish, and concludes that since she still appears healthy, no one should worry about the change in color.
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“Fire has turned to ice, it seems, but she’s still breathing—still a happy fish,” Felix reassures.
But the family has now taken to recording their observations. The first day, they note a bubble forming over her right eye. The next day, it doubles in size. The day after that, it grows to the size of over half her body. Nonetheless, “still alive” makes it into the records that the family keeps.
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The following morning, the cyst has burst and “Ice,” as she’s now called, runs into the sides of the bowl more often while swimming. She also has trouble finding her food when Samantha, Tyler, or Felix feed her. So, they lightly touch the skin of the fish and guide her to her food.
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Tyler’s room is the first to take on the odor of the pet store—that faint stench of death that lives on the skin of fish and plants, but Ice is still moving and breathing—even picking up speed as she swims. However, the smell remains and lingers and spreads. Samantha notices it follows her day and night, getting stronger when she sleeps and wakes up in a pool of sweat.
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“I think my skin is emitting a strange odor,” she tells Felix one night. “It’s a smell I associate with age—a moldy smell—one that lives on the skin of fish and well...old people. I’m getting older, Felix! I'm getting older!”
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Felix tells her it’s just her imagination, but he smells it too—on his skin—and it’s undeniable in Tyler’s room. The whole house is filled with the scent and follows them even outside and into other buildings.
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One tiny pellet of fish food, dropped into the bowl of water, sends a ripple of signals that awakens tiny Ice, who moves slowly towards the echo she senses as sound in the form of waves. She gets closer—right within reach, but can’t quite find it. Tyler, Samantha, and Felix take turns pushing the pellet towards her mouth. Then, they give up and gently push the fish’s whole body towards her food. They write in their records, “Losing the ability to survive alone.”
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Samantha tells her family to wash up for dinner and when she turns on the faucet to follow her own orders, she notices some blisters on her hands. They don’t hurt, but they are white, transparent, and don’t appear to be filled with any fluid. Since they don’t hinder her ability to make the night’s meal, she feels no need to tell anyone, yet. However, when she sits at the table, she notices the blisters on the hands of her beloved family members as they grip their knives and forks. They all raise their eyes from their plates and look at each other in silence, but no one wants to say anything. Instead, they take turns recording their observations: “Cysts and blisters have formed on my hands.” “The house smells strange.” “The smell clings to my skin.”
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After 30 days, they find Ice upside-down in the bowl and feel relieved. Maybe she was suffering and maybe now that’s all over. They’ll bury her in the yard maybe and give her a simple ceremony—something dignified for a beautiful Betta.
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Later that night, in the thick softness of the comforter and blankets, with her husband tucked in close at her side, Samantha tells him everything she has been wanting to say about some sudden strange thoughts and compulsions she’s been having lately—ever since the fish died.
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“I feel like I need to build a pond in our back yard. A big, big pond, I guess—for Ice? For her memory? I don’t know why—I just think about it all of the time. I want something extravagant—with fountains and gardens.”
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Felix, with his soft brown eyes, looks deeply into Samantha’s and tells her he feels the same way too.
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Shrieks of terror fill the early morning stillness in the dark. Felix staggers to his feet and runs towards the screaming, which is coming from the master bathroom.
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“Samantha! Samantha!”
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He tries the door, but it’s locked.
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“Samantha! Let me in!”
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Slowly, the doorknob turns and Samantha stands in the doorway, with the light from the bathroom shining behind her. She extends her hands in front of her and turns them around in circles. Felix shields his eyes from the harsh light.
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“I don’t understand. What’s wrong?” he asks.
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“Spots. I see spots.”
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Felix moves in closer towards his wife, moving into the full light of the bathroom to inspect her hands. Sure enough, there are spots. Large yellow, orange, white, and black spots in all kinds of free-form shapes and blotches that flow into one another.
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“The blisters broke and now...I have spots. You have them too,” Samantha says as she touches Felix’s face. Together, they run to Tyler’s room to check on him. He awakens with a start.
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“Mom? Dad?”
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“Let me see your hands,” Samantha says.
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She pulls back Tyler’s covers to reach his hands and...clearly they’re covered in spots and splotches of bright color as well. Samantha is overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. She feels as if she doesn’t start building the pond, they won’t survive.
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Something compels her now—urges her now—to build the pond with the fountains and flowers. Still in her nightgown, she runs to the garage to get a shovel in order to start digging. Felix and Tyler are on her heels, drawing up the plans. Together, they make several trips from morning until night to hardware stores and nurseries, unconcerned with the alarmed and stricken faces of all who encounter them. As they work, the spots grow larger and the stench—that faint fishy stench fills the air—and they just know. They can feel it in their skin, which aches.
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The custom-built craftsman-style house at the top of the hill in Forest Pines Ridge, just ten miles from J’s Pet Store and Aquarium, shows no signs of life, according to neighbors, who notify the police. They haven’t seen the family members leave or enter the house in weeks and weeds have started to grow around the entranceway. The police force an entry, but no bodies or signs of struggle are found. However, in the child’s room, there’s a notebook with an entry dated three weeks ago and it reads, “still alive.” The police officers on call step out into the backyard and scratch their heads. The multi tiered pond and gardens and waterfalls gurgle with the splashes and bubbles of three of the biggest and most colorful koi they’ve ever seen.