We said ‘goodbye’ to Fishie this week. Here is what happened….

Day 11 (but feels longer):

Fishie is still doing well but how long can that last?

Mrs. B is back from her trip. The girls swear they saw her car.

Fishie may well be going home tonight.

I am suddenly nostalgic for our time together. All those times she swam to the glass and waved her fins at me as if she knew I was like her temporary fish mother. Or the way she would pretend to be dead just to scare me then act all swimmy once she got the right amount of attention.

I am going to miss that fish!

A little.

Lunch:

No sign of Mrs. B. I will give it a couple of hours.

3:15PM:

Time to collect the big kids from school. I drag the three-year old to the door. She wants the stroller but we are actually on time today so I insist that we walk.

We make it all the way to the corner before slipping in an enormous mud puddle (like a small lake!) and landing in a tangled heap in the road. One of us is crying.

We scurry home to change into the closest clothes to the front door. Now we are late.

We head out to the car (no time left to walk) and 3-year-old tells me: “This is why we should always drive.”

Did she almost drown us in that puddle just to make a point….?

We make it just in time to pick up girls and when we get home, the 3-year-old and I, still quite muddy, take a shower. I put on my nice flowery sundress with my new black flow-y top and feel much better.

The doorbell rings.

It is Mrs. B!!

She has a potted orchid in her hands and she smiles as she looks me over. “Are you expecting?”

I should have killed her fish.

“Uh, no. It’s just a flow-y shirt,” I tell her. “It’s new.”

I am throwing out this top!

“Oh!” she says, like she only sort of believes me. She hands me the orchid. “This is for you. Thank you for looking after my fish. He is such a nice fish. Is he still alive?” she asks.

HE???

“Fishie is fine. Great actually! I’ll get him for you right now,” I tell her.

But no. Mrs. B says she has to go! The laundry repair guy is there, the rest is lost in the blur of her running away.

We still have Fishie!

Fuck.

“I’ll bring her over later today!” I shout at Mrs. B’s back.

She gives a little wave over her head without turning around, and is gone.

Day 12:

Tried and failed to return Fishie. Could have sworn I saw movement at Mrs. B’s house. The girls and I walked Fishie across the street, slow and steady, careful not to slosh but there was no answer even after 50 or so rings.

Does Mrs. B not want Fishie?

Day 13:

Our landlord visited today. He noticed the Betta and told me that he used to pet-sit for Mrs. B when he and his family lived here.

“Watching the fish used to stress me out,” he told me. “Do you know how easy it is to kill those things?”

Day 13 (later):

Fishie is gone.