Found

Passing through the disorienting tube of blue, she gasped. Not sure if anyone ahead noticed, Ki instinctively turned around as if to imply it was someone else, but no one was there. Turning back, another mother looked at her with a mix of concern and sympathy, but not her own. Never her own.

Ki never felt more alone than in the company of the one that bore her, and subsequently all but abandoned her.

At times Ki imagined she had. Even wished it.

Feeling guilty, the girl of nine and a half always stuffed those thoughts away, but frantically and compulsively they arose. Never in the moments of fear or angst, or even anger. It was always in quiet moments. Happy moments, too. It was as if the peace and contentment in those times called for its own permanence. That sort of quiet life was simply out of reach, but the tastes of it were enough to keep Ki wanting, longing.

Taking a slow, deep breath in, Ki reminded herself she wasn’t underwater, though she was…technically under water. It was working, and her brain began to beat back her fears.

Other children seemed dazzled and delighted gazing into the blue abyss, teeming with writhing creatures and schools of passing fish in myriad hues. She wondered why she didn’t feel the same as the others — why she couldn’t, even when she tried. Were they all scared, just actively convincing themselves they weren’t drowning? Were they just better actors than her, putting on a front of joy to appease parents who seemed equally enthralled by it all? They collectively “ooh” and “ahh”-ed as a school of bright yellow fish passed.

Ki figured they can’t possibly be that good of actors. For a fleeting moment she considered if they had all practiced the bit earlier, just to make her feel small, to feel broken for not being the same. A collection of strangers coordinating to see what she might do. Like that one movie asshole-Chuck used to watch all the time. The one with the man in the giant dome, and nothing he knows is real. Everyone is an actor.

Ki brushed it off as improbable. Who was she to be worth the time?

She hadn’t thought of asshole-Chuck in a long while. Ki can’t remember meeting him, but she remembers he used to be just “Chuck”, then “uncle Chuck”, or “UC”. Then, he was gone and Ki quickly learned she wasn’t to utter the honorary “uncle” prefix anymore. One swift smack taught her that.

Another one taught her “asshole” was not like “uncle”. It wasn’t a good thing. That smack hit harder, though. Not only because it came from the source himself, with hands thick like permanent leather mittens, delivered with a force that knocked her back as she excitedly ran towards him after months of him being away, yelling his name “asshole-Chuck!”.

The extra hurt she felt was not even from the deep confusion as she discovered the only kind man, only kind adult, in her life turned sharp like a jagged shark’s jaw, threatening and menacing. This strike struck deep because Ki knew everything that came after it was her fault. It also was the last time she saw him.

By the end of that night, most of it spent sitting curled up to keep warm on the stingingly cold hospital benches, and hearing her mother’s wails as the sutures, all thirteen of them, were neatly stitched into her jawline, Ki could only hope to never see AC again. She didn’t talk about him anymore either, by any name.

Catching herself, Ki noticed she’d drifted off for a moment or two, then remembered she was supposed to be breathing, but then realized she was breathing already. Click. She didn’t need to remember to not be scared, she just needed to forget to be scared at all. Distraction is the key.

Just as this new life hack washed over her, she turned, looking for her mother, and instead came face-to-face with an actual shark. Peering down on her from behind the thick glass, this giant beast that seemingly ignited the otherwise nonexistent fears in the other children, and even some of their parents, should have been terrifying. He should have sparked panic in Ki. But he didn’t. She didn’t even feel compelled to step back. Instead, Ki stood, and looked. And Mr shark floated, and looked back at her.

She felt bad for him, realizing he’s not just a floating piece featured in the aquarium, the way paintings and photographs are hung at the Art Institute, or bones of dinosaurs are on display at the Field Museum, resurrected in form, but not in life. Mr shark was still alive, but put into a box as if he’s not, expected to simultaneously represent his kind for all the people watching, while behaving nothing like his kind at all. Ki wondered how they convinced him not to eat all the other fish. She wondered why he didn’t bite any of the workers who’d go in and clean coral in scuba gear. Do some sharks just not bite? Even if they’re in the ocean, are all sharks not mean, evil murderous…assholes? Mr shark didn’t seem like asshole-Chuck. That’s for sure.

Ki wondered where his family was, if he had one at all, and then she wondered the same for herself.

Turning away, Ki pushed off the glass she hadn’t realized she had been pressing against with her whole, tiny body. When she looked again for her mother, she wasn’t there. Not ready to leave Mr shark’s view, Ki gave a half effort leaning and looking for her mother from the spot she stood, then quickly gave up and returned to Mr shark.

As the minutes, hours, and hundreds of people passed, Ki eventually found herself a comfy spot on the concrete, just below the barrier bar, leaning back on an upright post. She sat inches from the glass and watched as Mr shark roamed his enclosure, always making his way back to her. He combed each zone methodically, as if he was running tests or gathering data for an important report. His movements weren’t perfect overlaps with each tour around the pool, but they weren’t random, that’s for sure. Mr shark had patterns he lived by. Ki couldn’t tell if they were his purpose or a trap. Either way, he didn’t seem to be able or interested in stopping, so she supposed something you do could be both.

Just as the sun was setting and reflecting golden light down the hallway past the tunnel, Ki heard a screech of “child!” barked at her and felt an unfamiliar yank on her left arm, pulling her away from the light. She looked up.