Criminal

thirteen

Present Day

SUZANNA FORD

She missed Dancing with the Stars. She missed Bobo, her little dog who’d died when she was ten. She missed her grandmother, who’d died when Suzanna was eleven, and her grandfather, who’d died a few months later. She missed Adam, the goldfish who’d died the night they brought him home from the store. Suzanna had found him in the tank just floating on his side. His eye was blank. She could see her reflection in it.

Suzanna called the store to complain.

“Just flush ’em down the toilet,” the manager said. “Come by tomorrow and we’ll give you a new one.”

Suzanna had felt uneasy at the prospect. It felt wrong. Did Adam mean nothing? Was he that replaceable? Just plop another fish in the tank and forget he even existed? Call that one Adam, too. Feed him Adam’s food. Let him swim through Adam’s secret treasure box and pink coral castle?

In the end, there was nothing else to do. Suzanna flushed him down the toilet. As the water circled around the bowl, she saw his fin flip up. The glass orb of his eyeball turned to her, and she had seen something like panic.

In her dreams, Suzanna was the fish. She was Adam One, because of course the temptation was too great—they had gone back the next day and gotten a free Adam Two.

That was the entirety of the dream:

Suzanna One, helpless, staring up at the ceiling as she spun, spun, spun quickly down the drain.