Aquarium

~ ~ ~

Dread. I went to sleep with it and woke with it. My mother had found a new way to separate me from my grandfather. He would refuse to sign, and then everything would be his fault.

Steve helping her. They worked late into the night and again until noon.

We have to call Shalini, I said.

Quiet, my mother said. We’re almost finished. She and Steve huddled together at the kitchen table around his laptop screen, proofreading.

I think it’s good, he said, sitting back with his hands folded on top of his head. It’s a new life. It changes everything for you.

Sorry, she said. Let me just finish reading. She was bent close to the screen, as if searching for something, her mouth open. Okay, she finally said. I think that’s it. She turned to kiss Steve. Thank you.

We have to call Shalini, I said.

Okay, okay. I’ll call and then we’ll go print out, then the aquarium, then a notary.

And just tell him there will be a new contract, Steve said, revised after a lawyer takes a look. But I think this one is good.

I stood less than five feet from my mother and Steve, but I didn’t exist. Steve didn’t care that we weren’t calling Shalini, didn’t care what my grandfather would have to sign away, didn’t care that I might lose him. Shalini, I said.

Fucking eh, my mother said. I’m calling now. She went to the phone and looked up Shalini’s number. When someone answered, she explained too quickly. Something’s come up, she said.

Let me talk with Shalini, I said, but my mother gestured for me to back off and then hung up.

Don’t look so sour, my mother said. You’re getting everything you wanted.

Then we were in Steve’s pickup, a red Nissan 4x4. I crammed into one of the jump seats in the king cab, sitting sideways, my feet up on box speakers, the music loud and grinding, some sort of hard rock. Black hole sun, won’t you come, and wash away the rain. .

When we passed the exit for the shipping port, my mother gave it the finger. Fuck you, she yelled, and Steve grinned.

We passed the exit for Gatzert, too, and the aquarium, and not long afterward turned off and parked and the music ended and my ears were ringing. This’ll be quick, Steve said. I’ll just run in and print.

Is this where you live? I asked.

Yep.

I want to see.

Steve grinned. Well, it is a kind of palace, so I guess it shouldn’t be missed.

Inside was like a garage, all gear everywhere. Skis and fishing poles, buckets, hip waders, bikes, helmets, ropes. A bench press taking up most of the tiny living room, a stereo with huge speakers. Groceries on the counters, not put away in the cupboards. A printer on the small kitchen table, stacks of papers, and he sat there with his laptop, my mother standing behind him.

His apartment smelled like the sea, like saltwater and seaweed and rot. A big crab pot the smelliest thing. Other nets and floats beside it.

Have you been here before? I asked my mother.

Yeah. Of course.

When?

I don’t know when. A few times.

She wasn’t looking at me. I went into his bedroom and turned on the light and it was more of the same, piles of stuff everywhere, including a big pile of dirty clothing, most of it black. Bed unmade, and the sheets felt damp in the cold, the heat not on. Smell of sweat and deodorant. My mother had been in here, and when was that? While I waited after school? And the day I was at Shalini’s. And now she’d be able to visit whenever she wanted.

Vamos, Steve said. Bandidos. Un stagecoach waits con mucho gold. Mucho dinero.

Ai yai yai yai yai, my mother said.

They were excited, Steve waving the papers in the air.

We drove through snow and slush to the aquarium, the stereo blasting, and I hoped my grandfather would not be there. I wanted to save him from the bank robbers.

Let me go in first, I said when we had parked in the lot across the street.

We’re all going in, my mother said.

Please. Let me talk with him first. Don’t go in. Wait here and we’ll come out. And I’ll show him the contract.

Maybe we should just kill him after he signs, my mother said. That way we have the house and money and he doesn’t get anything.

Sheri, Steve said.

Okay, fine. He lives. But he’s still getting the best part of this deal. There’s nothing we can do to make the terms bad enough.

I think it’s a good idea to have Caitlin go in alone, Steve said.

Fine. I’m not dying to see him ever again anyway.

That’s the Christmas spirit, Steve said.

That’s what pisses me off most, that he really is getting everything just in time for Christmas.

But you also don’t want to go to work on Monday.

True.

I took the contract from my mother and stepped out into the snow. No sign of his car, but of course it wasn’t something he could drive now anyway.

I hurried inside, where the staff looked surprised to see me. I was never here on a weekend.

I found him kneeling at a tank, his forehead against the glass, eye to eye with a hairy blenny, some sort of communion. Thin covering of hairs on the blenny’s head, same as on an old man.

You’ll never win a staring match with that fish, I said.

Caitlin. He put his arms around me, head against my stomach. Ah, Caitlin. I didn’t think I’d see you today, and I waited yesterday but I guess you couldn’t come.

I didn’t go to school. We stayed home.

He stood up then and held my shoulders and looked at me. I’m so lucky to see you again. I thought I might not. He pulled me close and I put my arms around him.

What are those papers you have? he asked. He sounded afraid.

A contract. My mother said we can come live with you, and she’ll go to school, but she wants money.

Well let’s take a look. He guided me to a bench and we sat and he took the papers.

I’m sorry about your car.

It’s only a car.

But you said it was the engine that would take you to the end.

It’s okay. I can’t read in this light, though. I have to get closer to one of the tanks. Find a bright one.

I took him to a brightly lit tank of triggers. They looked like art projects, colored with blue chalk.

The Bahamas, he said. I wouldn’t mind living there. A place on the beach and go swimming with the fish.

The triggers can eat sea urchins, I said. They blow water to flip them over, then attack the underside.

When we go snorkeling, we’ll have to have some sort of walkie-talkies so you can tell me about the fish.

My grandfather read the contract then, and I could see the two of us in a tropical paradise with palm trees and white sand, swimming through bright blue water with our walkie-talkies. Purple sea fans and giant green brain coral, sea anemones orange and white and triggers chalked blue. Parrot fish patterned in turquoise or red. Nurse sharks sleeping in piles on the bottom. Everything peaceful and warm and easy, the two of us just floating along.

Well, he said. I’ll have no security anymore. I’ll have to go back to work, which means I won’t be here after school. Although maybe I can get an early shift to get out in time. They might give me that. We parted well enough.

I’m sorry, I said. She’s mean.

No, no. Caitlin. I’m the one who failed. Your mother has done nothing wrong. And I’m lucky to have this chance. The contract is only money, and money is worth nothing, it turns out. All my life I was ruled by it, and finally I get comfortable enough and find out it’s nothing. What matters is the chance to be with you and also to get to know your mother again. I would sign something a hundred times worse to have that chance.

So you’ll sign?

Yes, of course.

I started jumping up and down. I couldn’t help it. He laughed and said, That’s worth three houses right there.