THE GOLD FISH: Magic (1.13)

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Their shadows were stretched long across the dock by the time Barbie and Joey finally got their chance to fish. In a rare act of generosity, Pop had provided the bait: leftover crusts from the tuna sandwich Helen had packed him for his lunch. And as was only fair, Joey got first dibs on the rod.

Thirty minutes into the endeavor, however, Joey sat on the pier, his body slumped into a comma, his legs swinging languidly over the water. There had been no action and he was bored stiffed.

“Come on,” pleaded Barbie, “you said I could have a turn. You’ve been trying forever and haven’t even gotten a nibble.”

“What makes you think you’d do better?” Joey asked.

“I probably won’t, but lemme at least try.”

With a heavy sigh, Joey stood and reeled in the line. It held nothing but an empty hook and a limp strand of seaweed.

“See!” Barbie cried, “you don’t even have bait anymore.”

 “Oh all right,” said Joey as he handed over the rod. “They’re not biting anyway.”

“We’ll see about that.” Barbie tore off a bit of the bread, spit on it, rolled it into a tight ball, and speared it with the hook. She took a big breath, threw the rod over her shoulder, and let the line fly. The baited hook landed with an unimpressive plop about twelve feet from the dock. Joey’s rod wasn’t exactly a finely tuned piece of equipment.

But that didn’t deter Barbie. She slowly reeled in the line, doing her best to animate the lifeless bait into a facsimile of a tasty marine morsel, her eyes searching the mucky water for signs of interest.

Joey laid back down on the dock, stared up at the sky, and started humming the tune to Elton John’s Rocket Man.

Minutes went by and nothing happened. At least on the surface.

In Barbie’s head, however, it was a different matter. It was full of imaginings of what might be happening below. In her mind’s eye, she wasn’t fishing the mucky waters of Sue Creek, which was infamous for what everyone called its poop bottom, a layer of sticky brown mud so thick it could swallow you up to your waist if you’d ever be brave or stupid enough to venture into it on foot. Not that anyone ever did. At least, not if they could help it. Because Sue Creek’s poop bottom was, in fact, actual poop. Brown waste from nearby residents that was pumped directly and unceremoniously into the creek. A pesky detail that everyone conveniently pushed from their minds. Including Barbie. To her, Sue Creek had a nice sandy bottom sparkling with caustics and just chock full of healthy Chesapeake Bay marine life who were, at this very moment, drifting around her line like the cartoonish fish in The Incredible Mr. Limpet just waiting to pounce on that little ball of white bread.

“Come on,” Barbie whispered to herself.

Joey opened one eye and sang sweetly. “And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time.”

Barbie nudged him with her foot. “Har de har har.”

Joey’s eyes rolled back in his head and he raised his voice. “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids. In fact it’s cold as hellllll...”

There was a sharp tug on Barbie’s line.

“Whoa!”

“Har de har har,” echoed Joey, not one bit fooled.

Another tug. “I’m serious!”

Barbie jerked the rod and set the hook. The line went taut. “I’ve got one. I’ve definitely got one!” The weight and pressure on the line bent the rod in half and pulled her forward. “Oh my Gosh!”

Joey leapt to his feet. “Easy now,” he said, now a believer as well as an expert on fishing technique. “Let him run.”

Barbie let out some line and the fish ran, jerking her hard.

“JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY!”

Joey cracked up at Barbie’s profanity. “HOLD ON! Let him tire hisself out.”

Her bottom lip firmly clenched between her teeth, Barbie battled on for what felt like an hour. In reality, it was maybe two, three minutes. But at last, the line went slack, and a large fish floated to the surface. It turned on its side, defeated, one black eye staring skyward.

Barbie gasped, “what the heck?!”

Joey peered down in disbelief. “Is that a... a giant goldfish?”

Stunned, Barbie could neither confirm nor deny. But she was certain on one thing. The golden fish in front of her confirmed a kind of faith. In what could happen if she just believed strongly enough. If she just worked hard enough.

Finally, she managed a whisper. “He’s magic. That’s what he is.”

The stunned fish lay across Pop’s dirty workbench. “I’ll be goddamned,” said Pop. “Never seen anything like that come out of this creek. Usually just get sunnies. Maybe a perch or a catfish.”

Barbie practically vibrated beside him. “He’s beautiful.”

“What is he, Pop?” asked Joey.

“Looks to me to be some sort of a carp. Of the goldfish variety.”

“But goldfish are little,” said Joey.

“A goldfish’ll grow as big as his container.” Pop sent his gaze out the window. “And Sue Creek is a pretty big container. My guess is somebody got sick of taking care of him and threw him in. And he survived. More than that. Goddammit if he didn’t thrive.”

Barbie shook her head in protest.  “No, Pop. He’s not a goldfish. I mean, he’s definitely a GOLD (pause) FISH, but he’s not a goldfish.”

“Tomato, tomata,” scoffed Pop. “Throw him back.”

The fish jumped, and Barbie and Joey cried “nooooooo.”

Pop looked at the two kids like they’d grown two heads. “What the hell you gonna do with it? A carp’s a mud fish. He won’t be good eatin’, I can tell you that.”

“I’m not going to eat him!” said Barbie.  “I want to keep him.” She knew the odds were slim to none, but she couldn’t resist asking. “Oh Pop, will you mount him for me?”

Pop was apoplectic. “Mount him?! That overgrown goldfish?! Did you fall on your goddamned head? Do you know how much it costs to stuff and mount a fish?”

Barbie had no idea, but pressed on.

“But he’s special,” she argued. “I have to keep him. And put him up on my wall. Like Chompers or Casper.”

Pop looked over at Joey and asked, “She been out in the sun too long? What the hell is she going on about?”

Joey nodded towards the Red Eye. “You know, the stuffed fish hanging up behind the bar.”

Pop laid down the law. “Look. There is no way on God’s green earth that I am spending fifty dollars -- which is probably the LEAST it would cost -- to stuff and mount that ridiculous fish.” He fixed Barbie in his gaze. “And you can be damned sure your parents won’t either. Don’t have a pot to piss in, those two.”

Barbie crossed her arms defiantly across her skinny chest. “They might.”

Pop snorted. “Stuff and nonsense! I am absolutely, posi-tutely sure that Joan is NOT going to pay good money on something so stupid, so idiotic. I know my daughter.”

But given the evidence before her, Barbie now knew miracles could happen.

“She might.”

Next → A Kick to the Nuts (1.14)