The Fish Effect- Love, Labor, and Loss

Joe*, who sits across from me, tells me the story of his first heartbreak. He remembers walking into his room, looking around, and relizing that someone was missing.

"Ahhh, I'm gonna jerk some tears for this one. I was about to go to bed...and I only had two things left to do. I had to clean my fishbowl and change the water...and then I had to brush my teeth. Okay, um, so, sorry, I started to fill my fishbowl...it was kinda dark, only my night light, and I looked down..."

Joe was unable to finish this sentance as he broke down, and punched the table with his bare fist.

Joe is one of the many affected by fish suicide. It leaves only a shell of a man, his eyes are now glassy and welling with the ghost of his dead companion.

"Um, I have liek 40 goldfish. I don't know. Oh! I know, my fish was called blinky! Yeah. I remember why I named it that- after that Ms. Pac-man character."

Devastating, I felt my own eyes water as I listened, enraptured, to his woeful tale. It is undescribable, the loss of a companion who loves you unconditionally, who's life was composed of simple joys... who's life, you feel, is undeniably in your own two hands.

"Continue," I told him. He choked on his words. He shook his head with sadness. "I understand I told him." He swallowed hard and went on:

"Yeah, so, um, wait, where am I?"

I looked at him confused. He gazed off into the distance.

"So I thought I put the right amount of water in the bowl, then I proceeded to brush my teeth, super fast, for I had businnes to do. I had to turn off my night light. SO then I carried the bowl like a sacred artifact to the bathroom. I don't remember that much. It wasnt' really a big deal. I hated that fish. He was a bully and a jerk. I went to bed and dreamt of cabbage and little kids. I woke up and I looked to my fish and give it its morning kiss. I usually put on my snorkel and scuba dive in there and give him a big wet one.

He wasn't there.

I was DEVASTATED. I've never felt so alone in my entire life. I was frantic, I ran around the room to see where he was. I ran in circles, for heaven sake, tearing my hair out of my head and praying for god to give me what's his name back. Later that day I was going to my grandmother's house. She's my favorite. I was planning on visiting with her- not after this tragedy though. I couldn't face her smiling face, knowing that somewhere Blinky was lying dead on the floor. She had taken too much vicadin and couldnt' even remember my name. In her confustion, she broke the bowl and fell to the floor. When she was on the floor, she found Blinky's dead carcus. She ate it, thinking it was a burrito of some sort. My grandmother is an immigrant from Mexico. "

Joe took his glass of wine and held it up to the light, swirling it in the glass. He lifted his cigar out of the ashtray with his other hand and took a long puff.
"I'm not one to drag on..." He said, "but this story cannot be cut short. Soon after I got a tatoo with a portrait of blinky, in old english that says ride til ya die."

"Ride...till you die?" I asked.

"Yeah...me and...Blinky? Yeah, me and Blinky rode a lot." He looked out the window, and sighed. "Yes, we had some good times."

"Maybe you shouldnt have taken your fish in the car..."

"Oh, he liked it." Joe assured me, nodding his head vigorously. "As much as my grandmother liked burritos." At that, he broke down again, spilling his wine all over his lap. "Yes, just as much."






*Name has been changed.