THE GOLD FISH: Finding the Air (3.15)

If you’re new to THE GOLD FISH, start from the beginning.

← Prev. Gifts (3.14)

It was a typical Saturday morning and things were back to normal. At least, what passed for normal in the Ward household.

Barbie was laying on the living room carpet staring up at the ceiling with Gigi curled in a crescent beside her.

Karen sat on the sofa reading a book and picking her lips.

The Belle played with her Playskool boat, carefully arranging her Little People family for an afternoon cruise.

It could have been a coincidence or it could have not, but The Belle’s arrangement was curiously telling, curiously accurate.

The father, at the helm in a jaunty captain’s hat, steered the boat. But rather than focus on what might be ahead, pesky obstacles like rocks, swimmers, or other boats, he was turned to starboard, sightseeing it seemed, and having a grand old time. Clearly he had no interest in, or understanding of, where the hell he was taking the family.

The mother was collapsed, exhausted, on a chaise lounge on the upper deck, one cold shoulder turned to the rest of the family.

Two of the children blithely gazed off into the horizon, while behind them the family dog balanced on a diving board, as if deciding whether to jump ship or not.

And lastly, the third child was off the boat, floating peacefully, on her own, upon a little raft.

Little pitchers have big ears, huh?

Yes they do. Even two year olds apparently.

Because while The Belle created this little tableau, Joan and Don were in the kitchen, their voices drifting towards the three girls like a vaporous cartoon finger, doing what they did best. Bickering.

“It wouldn’t kill you to come home at a normal time tonight,” said Joan in what was, for her anyway, a fairly neutral tone. More of a statement than a condemnation.

“Alright Joanie. Don’t have a baby. If I don’t have a customer, I will,” agreed Don amiably.

On and on it went. But Barbie ignored it. Could ignore it. Because this conversation was benign. There was no recriminating tone. No bite. No fury. No shouts, slams, or stomps. Just everyday background noise. And that was progress.

How long the bickering would remain benign and how long relative peace would reign was anyone’s guess. The sad truth was wounded people and dysfunctional families rarely got any better, did they? More reliably, more dependably, they got worse. Much worse. At least, not without unpleasant self-examinations and therapeutic interventions.

It’s probably safe to say that these activities were not in the Ward family’s future, but it’s definitely safe to say that things would, indeed, get worse. Much worse.

But today, the emotional eddies and undercurrents flowing through the house were gentle. And that was progress, right? Perhaps not enough for long term change, but enough for Barbie to finally relax.

And in her relaxed state, still fresh from the glow of receiving -- and giving away -- her gold (pause) fish, something miraculous happened. The house flipped and began to fill with seawater.

The ceiling’s textured popcorn surface turned to sand and caustics began to shimmer across it.

And as the living room drapes began to billow in the current, Barbie dove down to the ceiling and danced in the light. She frolicked. She twisted and turned through the bubbles she’d made with her own breath.

Her underwater house was back.

Even without her gold (pause) fish swimming alongside her, it was heaven. Because she knew he was happy elsewhere, swimming along with Bridge. Or at least she hoped so.

And with that thought, Barbie popped to the surface and re-filled her lungs with air.

“Hey Kar,” she said, turning to her sister. “Ever wonder what it would be like if the house was upside down and filled with water?”

This was, indeed, not something Karen ever wondered. Or if she did, she kept her wondering smartly to herself. She ignored Barbie’s question.

“And you’d be able to, like, swim from room to room and go up…” She paused to look at the set of stairs leading to the second floor and giggled. “I mean, down the stairs? How cool would that be?!”

Barbie rolled towards her sister, but Karen continued to read and pick.

“Kar!” said Barbie louder. “I said, how cool would that be?”

Karen blinked, as if she herself had ascended from the depths of some imaginary world. “Whaaaat?!” she whined.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool to have the house upside down and filled with water?”

Karen’s right upper lip curled in disdain. “No. It wouldn't. It wouldn’t be cool at all, you weirdo. It would be psychotic. So could you please shut your trap and let me read my book?”

“Whatcha reading?” asked Barbie.

Karen held up her book. It was Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

The book was unfamiliar to Barbie, but as everyone knew, she was partial to cuckoos. “Ohhh… what’s it about?”

“Me!” said Karen. “And this family.”

“Really?”

“Oh my God!” Karen snapped the book shut. Then stood and stomped away to find another reading spot where she could find some goddamned peace. “Don’t drown in your stupid upside down water house!” she called as she went.

“I won’t,” Barbie called after her. “I know where the air is.”

And she did, didn’t she? There were air pockets everywhere. If you kept your eyes open and knew what to look for. All you had to do was swim towards them.

These metaphorical ponderings were soon interrupted, however, when a BANG, BANG, BANG came from the front door.

Barbie hauled herself to her feet and went to answer it.

It was Bridge, standing well back from the front door, her shoulders up around her ears and a look of mild annoyance on her face. She looked as if she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be there.

Regardless, the sight of her filled Barbie with pure joy.

“Bridge,” she whispered.

Bridge shrugged. "Hey.”

The girls stared at each other across the gaping, six-foot chasm that stood between them. Unsure what to say next, what to do next.

As usual, Mr. Charles was on his own porch, an ever-present witness to the Ward family’s never-ending mini-dramas. But was Mr. Charles sorry to be there at this particular moment? Did he wish he’d vacated the premises moments before? No, he did not. Not this time. He wouldn’t miss this moment for the world.

But out of respect, he did raise his paper a bit, making his presence a tad less obvious.

Bridge lowered her shoulders, as if coming to a decision. “So, Jeannie told Heidi who told Robbie who told me that Pickles has a black eye.” she said in a rush. She paused to look Barbie up and down, as if in disbelief. “And you’re the one who gave it to her?”

“Uh huh. I did.” said Barbie.

And then Barbie did something she’d never done before. She lifted her upper lip, and in imitation of one of Bridge’s own FANG-baring smiles, flashed her own set of nonexistent fangs and said, “someone had to show her who’s boss.”

“Right on,” Bridge snorted. Then, doing her best to hide a smile, asked, “so you wanna walk to the tunnel, or not?”

“Yeah. Sure. Definitely,” said Barbie.

“Right on,” said Bridge.

“Give me a sec, okay? Gotta grab a jacket.”

And with that, Barbie ran back into the house.

Bridge waited patiently, before glancing over at Mr. Charles who had lowered his newspaper to regard her with a twinkle in his eye.

“MISS Bridget,” he said with a courtly nod of his head.

“MISTER Charles,” she responded.

Barbie burst back at of the house. “Okay, let’s go.”

She and Bridge started down the steps, but Mr. Charles had one last thing to say.

“Hey Red,” he called after Barbie.

Barbie stopped and turned towards him. “Yeah?”

“Nice work.”

She blushed. “Thanks Mr. Charles.” Then ran off to follow her friend.

Mr. Charles watched the two girls skip off down the sidewalk, before turning to address his faithful Tricksie. “Well, girl. I think it’s time to go.”

Mr. Charles had been feeling for quite some time that his days on Pitney Road were numbered. He had gotten too embroiled in the goings on next door, too emotionally invested. It wasn’t right, he knew. There was no there, there. For him, anyway.

Besides, he needed to start living his own life. He thought he might move back down south. His parents were getting older, and for the first time ever, they had actually asked him for help. He was needed there.

And as he heard peals of laughter coming from down the street as Barbie and Bridge turned the corner, he knew he was no longer needed here.

:::

Barbie and Bridge stumbled up to the Tunnel, then collapsed against the weedy slope.

“So…” began Bridge, sneaking a curious glance at Barbie. “The fish?! You gave me your gold (pause) fish?”

“Uh huh.”

“I thought it was gone.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Barbie didn’t feel the need to explain further. She wasn’t sure she could explain further. Besides, the details didn’t matter. What mattered was the fish had come back to her. What mattered was Bridge had come back to her. Even with a million words, how could she ever explain that kind of magic?

Bridge couldn’t think of anything to say either. Until it came to her.

“You’re cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

Barbie grinned. “I know you are, but what am I?”

The two friends flashed fangs together and giggled.

Barbie dug into her jacket pocket, retrieved a crumpled Doral Light cigarette and a book of matches, and handed them to Bridge.

Bridge’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get that?”

“Took it from my Dad,” said Barbie with a shrug. “He’ll never miss it. And if he does, he’ll think Karen took it.”

“Right on,” said Bridge. She lit the cigarette, took a puff, and passed it back to Barbie.

As usual, after taking a drag, Barbie coughed and sputtered like a dumb doobie. “This is terrible,” she said, handing the cigarette back to Bridge.

“I know, right? Smoking is beat.” And with that, Bridge flicked the cigarette into the small stream of water trickling out of the tunnel. Then she stood and brushed the dirt off her pants.

“Should we hit Woolworth’s?”

Like smoking, Barbie’s life of crime was over. The rewards just weren’t worth the punishments.

“Only if we hit the car wash first,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Right on,” said Bridge, turning to head into the Tunnel.

Shoplifting was definitely a crime, Barbie had decided. But pilfering coins from a car wash and swiping cigarettes from her father? Not so much.

She might be a dumb doobie, an sap, and an eager beaver, but she was no goody two-shoes.

“Right on,” she agreed. Then turned and followed her friend into the Tunnel.

~~THE END~~

A final note:

Huge and heartfelt thanks to all the devoted readers who have followed my little story from the beginning. It means the world to me.

For those of you who typically read chapters on email, I know leaving comments is difficult. It requires you to access the Substack website or app. But if you can, I would still love to hear what you think. Feedback is the only way I know to hone my skills and become a better writer. Could you relate to this story? What particular bits resonated? Which characters did you like best? Did you wonder what was factual and what was embellished? Do you wonder what happens next?

(Spoiler alert: I’ve written two other volumes, albeit in screenplay form only, following Barbie’s journey in high school and college, respectively. I’m currently debating adapting those for Substack as well. After all, creativity wants out!)

Again, thanks friends, from the bottom my heart.