As bloody always. Fish thought.
His eyes scanned his tank. Scanned the pebbles. Scanned the castle. Scanned the reflections flickering across the sides. Then the room in which his tank sat, nestled between a tiny empty cage and the counter. His mind wandered about. His thoughts about his constant situation switching from one boring subject matter, to another, and another.
"Shopowner didn’t mop the floor last night. It looks a m-
-maybe I should have a shifty at the castle-
-Cat over there is STARING at me! Cheeky bastard! Well I will stare RIGHT back at-
-around and around and around the tank I go, clockwise……..annnnnnd…….anticlockwise."
The problem with being a Fish in a tank is obvious. It’s boring. But being a fish in a tank, in a shop specifically for "pets" is even more obvious. CONSTANT boredom. Yes maybe a girl, or a boy, or woman, or man, would stop and look. Poke his tank. Make some noise. (Most often when he isn’t ready. Generally the moment before he has buffed up his scales, or just about to give his gravel a quick swish……or after he has just finished having a big poo).
But these events were always a moment. Relatively quick and relatively similar, and relatively painless.
There were the others, Fish supposed. Cat. Fish two (three, four and five). Hamster. Guinea Pig. Mouse one and two. Sometimes Rabbit. And once Dog. Some came and went. Some stayed. Like cat. And himself.
Unwanted.
Cat was terrifying at best. Fish was, well, a very normal fish. The other Fish. Hmmm. Fish did not approve. Flashy and stupid, they could barely hold a conversation.
And so that was Fish. His tank. His life. His world. Full of ever lasting boredom and melancholy monologues. Nothing changed. Nothing happened.
But today was different, even though fish didn’t realise it.
He woke up.
That was his first disappointment of the day. His big glossy eyes flicking up. And down. From one side, to the other. He flexed his tail and swam his two circuits of his tank. And settled in the centre, not too high in the water, not too low. And not too close to either side.
But something was happening. It took Fish a few moments to pull himself out of his stance to understand it. Shopowner was doing something. Ferreting about and generally making a noise.
How annoying.
How disrespectful.
After Fish’s initial anger died down a little, his intrigue took the better of him. Shopowner did things like this every so often. Moving boxes and cages and food and water and mops and things like that. Shopowner was making space for a new pet. That was it.
Great. Another one. Another oddball to pretend didn’t exist. Or another show off. Full of colour and energy and bravado. Something to hate and scorn, especially when it was bought RIGHT in front of him, as he stayed behind. Swishing about and scowling.
Un-wanted and un-loved and ugly.
Fish began to settle down into his thoughts again. Refusing to pander to any of this ritual that would ultimately occur due to social "norms". The others would giggle and gossip, squawk and squeak. They would get-to-know this THING. Laugh and take great delight in one another’s momentary company.
How exciting.
But then Fish heard something. Something so subtle and charming that it shook him.
Shook him out of his angry little thoughts.
It was singing. A voice so pure and innocent, yet bold and passionate. Transfixing him, enveloping him and dazzling him. It was beauty in its truest form.
Fish didn’t understand what was happening. Something was both entering him and coming out of him. Changing him. Something much bigger than he ever thought was happening to him right there. Right then.
Full of this sudden charge, fish became frantic. He simply must know what was making such a noise. Must witness it and understand it and protect it.
Shopowner was moving some books and papers away from the counter next to his bowl. And in place of these things that had always been there, items that were part of the dull background that displayed Fish’s tedious life, shopowner eased something on top.
Shopowner was in the way. He couldn’t see the being that was making such splendour so easily. His nerves were tingling from the tip of his lips to the bottom of the thinnest part of his tail (that was itself wiping from side to side with a huge amount of building ferocity.)
GET. OUT. OF. THE. WAY!!!
And then there it was. Bird. Chirruping away and swaying its head with such elegance it transfixed him even more.
Fish couldn’t think anymore. Fish wasn’t Fish. Fish wasn’t anything or anywhere. No time. No space. All he could do was stare and listen. Bird’s song was in tune with the beating of his heart. And Bird, now he was able to see, matched this noise so perfectly it hit him with another jolt of splendour. Of hunger. Of need. Of fear.
Bird was slender and elegant, but with a strength that exuded power and independence. Every shade of gold flowing through Bird’s feathers hinted to another shade of another colour altogether.
Feathers so light it was as if they had kissed the sky. Some so dark Fish thought it was as if even the shadows themselves were drawn to such magnificence. A beak that curved with such grace. And eyes. Oh my goodness, the eyes. Fish had never seen such intense yet comforting eyes. Deep and boundless.
So full of such conflicts that it was too hard to comprehend. They sat entwined with one another. Loving one another. It was magic.
Fish realised that he was still staring. At some point Shopowner had left. At some point everyone had settled down. At some point the world had moved on.
Bird was still singing. Still lost in it’s own tranquillity. Unaware. Unaware of Fish’s eyes captivated and locked on. Fish’s normal eyes. Everyday eyes. Nothing special eyes. Ugly eyes. HORRID EYES.
A wave of alarm smashed into him. Mortified, he looked down and away so suddenly his mind slipped from under him.
Fish tried to hide, just in case Bird were to glance over. His actions were too fast, too jumpy, so he tried to hide more slowly. He knew he was blushing. Knew that his orange scales were becoming redder and redder. He got to the castle and sighed with such relief he shuddered.
Peeping around the side of this ridiculous plastic mockery of a castle that had become his saviour, he caught another glimpse of Bird. Such beauty. Angelic. So perfect and utterly….there were just no words. Fish was lost. Once so sure of everything, everything in it’s tiresome cyclical way. But now everything had changed. The world had ended and in it’s place was Bird.
The day went on. Moving as it did from another moment to another. Customer’s walked in, poked about, and walked out again. Cat still screeched and Shopowner still bustled about. But Fish’s life was no longer absorbed by this. His rituals were forgotten. His constant internal essays on “Why exactly Hamster was annoying” and “Why Cat is a bloody nutcase”, or “Blah blah blah life is so boring blah blah blah” were a thing of a past that he could no longer remember.
Fish’s day was now much more simple. And yet not simple at all. Simple because ALL he now did was wake, and settle in the centre of his tank. And stare. Not constantly. Not too obviously. But that was his task. He would glimpse and look and peek forever. Look at this angel and listen to it’s song. His heart skipping. His blood rushing.
The way Bird preened. Gently lifting one lustrous wing…..and then the other. The way Bird would tilt its head so coyly to the side in wonderment at it’s surroundings. Calm and peaceful, but with so much intelligence and consideration.
And when the nights crept in, and the blinds were drawn, Fish would really watch. Unstopping, unashamed, unrelenting watching. The day’s coy glances and eavesdropping were a joy, oh yes. But the second Bird’s lids gently slid down, deeper and further until Fish was absolutely SURE Bird had fallen asleep, he would observe in earnest. Fish would watch Bird dream, and at the same time he would dream. Dream of touching those feathers. Placing a fin carefully on the beak, and sliding it slowly across its silken surface. To brush his lips against the curve of Bird’s cheek. And most of all, to imagine embracing such a creature. To hold. To hug. To never let go.
And then the day came.
The most dire and disgusting and soul-tearing and shocking and shattering day.
Bird was bought.
Fish was busy. Neglecting his Bird-watching-duty for just a minute. Just one. An instant.
Fish felt he just HAD to eat. For some unbeknownst reason he decided he must scour the pebbles for flakes. How greedy. How irresponsible. How reckless. It all happened too quickly. One second he was nudging a pebble. The next, an elderly woman was leaving. Leaving with something in her arms. A cage so familiar.
How funny! How strange! That cage looks just like Bird’s cage!
Realisation. Devastation. Even before he turned his head to the counter he knew Bird was gone. Knew he would never hear or see or dream or love again.
His heart was broken. Not just broken, but stamped on. Stamped on and beaten and hit and burnt.
No more watching. No more listening. No more fantasizing or wondering or guessing or wishing.
Fish would wake. Flick his eyes up. And down. From one side….to the other. Flex his tail. A slow swim around the tank. Then settle. In the centre. Not too high. Not too low. Not too close….to either side.
No more monologues. No more feeling. His eyes would look ahead. Dead and dark and seeing but not seeing. The world would scuttle by in a swish of unremarkable colours and sounds.
Fish barely noticed his tank wobble. Barely noticed his water smack from side to side. Barely noticed his being plucked out, put in a bag and taken out of the shop. The light, severe and blistering, was lost on him.
Out of the bag. Into another bowl. He found his centre easily. Another plastic castle. Underneath him lay a hundred pebbles. They were brown. Or black.
He sighed. He was a fish in a bowl.
But a sigh answered his. A sigh full of such feeling and melody he jolted. Up from the depths life came back into Fish and he looked up. Perched on the rim of his new glass bowl it sat. With all it’s beauty and all it’s charm, it’s intelligence and elegance and allure.
There sat Bird.
Without even realising it, Fish was speaking. Speaking words he never thought he would say. Never thought he’d say because he never thought of them before.
“My heart for you. Entirely and forever. My hug for yours, take it, it's all for you. My darling. My friend. My love.”
And in reply, Bird sang a song. And it was dedicated to and only for the ears of one.
Fish.
