Remember when I wrote this post nearly two years ago? Turns out I never revealed the story.
I'm finally moved into my new place, and in honor of the old one, here's quite possibly the best story from the 249 years:
Amanda's friend Andrea brought Sally to come stay with us right before Thanksgiving. Andrea was on her way to spend time with family for the holidays in Southern California, and we were to fish-sit, as it were, for Sally, a 5-year-old goldfish. Yes. She was five. Or so.
Thanksgiving turned into Christmas, Christmas turned into spring, and then it was July and Sally was dead.
She died on our watch. Well, technically, I think it was Caitlin's sister Colleen's watch. Colleen was crashing with us for a week, Amanda and Caitlin were out, and I was up at Salisbury for 4th of July weekend and Ben's wedding. Sally died -- most likely alone -- while we were all out and Colleen was at a dance rehearsal.
In Massachusetts, I got a text message from Caitlin with the news, responded with an appropriately somber message, and answered a few questions from confused relatives and friends:
"Wait, you have a fish?"
"No, it's Amanda's friend Andrea's fish. We were fish-sitting for the holidays."
"What holidays? Over the winter? Why do you still have the fish?"
"Yes, over the winter, and good question."
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Why were we still fish-sitting more than six months later? Yes, good question. The practical answer is that Andrea lived all the way over in like, Crown Heights or someplace at the time, and just getting the fish over to our apartment was probably enough of a hassle in the first place, nevermind getting her back in the dead of winter.
The more dramatic and effective answer -- at least as far as this story goes -- is that Sally symbolized Andrea's failed relationship. See, Andrea's ex-girlfriend, Mary, bought Andrea two fish, Sally and Joe, as a gift one day five or so years before. Joe died pretty swiftly and was given a proper burial in the pond at Prospect Park. Sally forged on and saw Andrea and Mary get together and break up many, many more times over the next few years. Andrea and Mary were experiencing a reunion period when Sally came to stay with us that Thanksgiving, but experienced their saddest, most permanent breakup only a few weeks later. I don't blame Andrea for needing some space from that fish.
So, it was July, and Sally was dead and stored in our freezer, and Amanda decided that she had to wait for The Perfect Time to tell Andrea. Amanda wasn't worried that Andrea would be pissed at us for letting Sally die -- the fish was geriatric, in fish years, after all. Amanda was worried that Andrea's relationship would die a second death: a symbolic one, which is, of course, the worst kind.
Amanda waited. And waited. And waited. For The Perfect Time to arrive. To no one's surprise but Amanda's it never came. Amanda couldn't tell Andrea on a number of occasions because:
- Andrea was always drunk
- Andrea worked nights and Amanda worked days
- Amanda was drunk the last time she saw Andrea
- Andrea had just experienced another bout of Mary-induced sadness
But, Amanda did not wait for The Perfect Time to Tell anyone BUT Andrea about the dead fish in our freezer. I'm pretty sure everyone in South Brooklyn knew the story of that girl who let her friend's fish die and then couldn't bring herself to tell her. I was just waiting for one of those absolutely insane New York moments, where Andrea would be waiting on a table of two people, one telling the other this crazy story about the secret death of a fish.
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That didn't happen, though. What did happen was in late August, nearly two months since Sally died, Amanda, Andrea, and a few of their friends were out for happy hour in the neighborhood. They were going to another party, and they wanted to come back to our place to store their bikes for the night. Amanda spaced on the sad, Sally-less fish tank sitting empty on our side table, and she and Andrea burst into the apartment. I was hanging out in my room with Matt, and Caitlin was in her room.
As soon as Amanda walked in, we knew she realized that The Perfect Time to Tell had just been forced upon her. She stammered, "Uh, Andrea, I have to tell you something..."
"Sally's dead, isn't she?" Andrea said calmly.
Amanda continued:
"Yeah, and I'm so sorry, because, see, she died last week and it was terrible because like, three weeks ago when she died, I just didn't know how to tell you, and you've just been so busy over the last two months that she's been dead that..."
"It's okay, Amanda," Andrea said, "You know? I kind of knew it in my bones. I saw Mary a couple of days ago, and things just felt so over to me."
Everyone laughed, and no one was too sad, or angry, or anything, really. Except Sally -- she was dead, and in our freezer, awaiting her burial near Joe in the pond in Prospect Park.
Almost two years later, Sally's still there. Well, not in our old freezer, but in our new one. She made the move with us, because now everyone's waiting for The Perfect Time to send her off and really let go.
