The Jellyfish

Hideko was not my sister’s name when she was born, but it became hers when she took it from my mama. Since then, my little sister, who I called Kinoko for her mushroom shaped head, has been a plague to our family. From ventilators to medications and hour long trips from Ogaki’s run down neighborhoods to Iwakura hospital, the cost of caring for Kinoko added up. Papa worked two jobs and with all the steroids she needed to survive, Kinoko got fatter. Still, I played with dolls and curled her hair with mama’s old curlers. She was always unaware of the rice on her face and the drool that dribbled from her lips when she got excited. I could not hate her. Bills and expenses, I could.

Even when everything else was about Kinoko, papa still managed to make me feel special on my birthday. It was my fourteenth birthday when he handed me a heavy tank with a jellyfish inside. Her name, papa said, was Aphrodite. Even though that was three months ago, I feel much older now.

Mama used to raise jellyfish to sell long before she took her last breath. She kept track of her sales in a little black book, each one marked with specifics on her product that she managed to hustle to the stupid Iwakura rich people. I studied it closely over the time that Aphrodite grew and decided to adopt her business venture.

But instead of jellyfish, I bought Betta fish from our local pet store and took however many I could manage to Kinoko’s hospital visits. Outside, I sold the fish to the dumb rich people who were happy to throw their yen at me to please their whining children.

Kinoko never whined, even when she was getting platelet transfusions and her hair began falling out. Kinoko was only three, but she never, ever whined. I resented the begging rich children for their curdled cries and tantrums, but always sold the fish with a smile on my face. For Kinoko, I would smile. For papa, I would smile. For mama, I would smile.

I marked down every sale in the little black book like a personal diary of finances just as mama used to. As it got colder, the less people would buy the fish. Soon I was bringing other things like steamed buns and small cups of yudofu, but those only went so far.

Once Spring came and the weather warmed, I decided to make a sign. Written in large, black letters, the sign read JELLYFISH and other small fish FOR SALE. I hung the sign on the concrete slab just below Aphrodite’s tank. I had no intention of selling jellyfish, but all of the sick, spoiled children loved to watch Aphrodite bounce around her tank.

Having Aphrodite with me seemed to be the missing piece. I was swarmed by dozens of mumbly, too-busy parents who quickly aided their children’s desires. Each one of the sticky fingered kids wanted to poke around at Aphrodite, but I insisted they only look. When inquired about her price, I made sure the absurdity of asking was clear. 20,000 yen I’d say. A dirty look and a begging child soon turned to compromise and the rich parents would buy a Betta to keep the whining to a minimum.

For at least a month, Kinoko’s condition kept us coming to Iwakura and the rich children kept wanting and the careless parents kept buying. I made a name for myself outside the bustling hospital, and in that name I relished in my ability to make money so easily. For a moment, I found bliss in coming to Iwakura. It wasn’t just about Kinoko for once; it was about making papa proud when I handed him my earnings for the day.

Then as sudden as the day would end and all the tired nurses and tight lipped doctors would disappear home, Kinoko’s condition got worse. Not just worse. Unbearable. I had never seen such sickness in a person. All the fat from the steroids seemingly vanished. Kinoko was reduced to bones and bruises, her lips chapped, and her eyes turned to reddish-grey bags. I had been horrified to even look at her. When the Iwakura hospital could do nothing more than discharge her, I felt for the first time that it didn’t matter how much money the stupid fish made us. After everything, it seemed like such a waste. Kinoko couldn’t just die. I wouldn’t accept that.

When school started again, I was no longer able to go with Kinoko and papa to Iwakura and my work was limited to weekends. Besides, Kinoko was hardly a frequent visitor to Iwakura anymore. There was nothing they could do unless Kinoko’s body did something first.

Aphrodite seemed the only thing unchanged by life. She was slack as usual, swimming gently to the top of her tank and back down. When her tentacles stretched, it was as if she were reaching out to touch me only to retreat back into herself once more. I realize now she was the only reason we were holding on.

Eventually, Kinoko’s birthday came and marked a momentous day in her life. She had made it to the age the doctors were not sure she would ever see and was even smiling. For the first time in a while, she seemed better, at least as best as she could be.

Everything was calm. It was so calm that it didn't seem like that same night papa would disappear with Kinoko in a rush to Iwakura. Nothing that day seemed like it would have led to papa having to decide if Kinoko would have surgery and that her last option to survive would almost certainly kill us financially. For the first time, I felt scared that my sister might actually have to die.

While I knew it was in vain, I returned to Iwakura with Aphrodite and the last of the Betta fish I had for sale. At least I didn’t have to be in the same room as Kinoko. I watched Aphrodite as she bobbed a bit and then settled down to the corner of her tank in a sort of surrender to the unusually cool weather. I imagined myself floating beside her, blissfully ignorant to the world. It was then that a man with a thundering smile appeared in front of me.

“Do you speak English?” the man asked. I did know it, but was insecure of my pronunciations. I simply nodded.

“Well I couldn’t help but notice your jellyfish here.”

I looked at Aphrodite who moped about the bottom of her tank. A lump formed in my throat.

“Her name is Aphrodite.”

“Aphrodite? Like the Greek goddess? I studied in Greece during college. My daughter loves mythology. How much did you say she was?”

“She’s very expensive.”

The man nodded. “What makes her so special?”

“She’s a rare jellyfish, only home to Japan.”

“How much?”

I looked at Aphrodite, then back to the man. “Do you live in Iwakura?”

“Temporarily. My family and I were here for vacation and my daughter got very sick.”

“She’s at this hospital?”

The man nodded.

“My sister is too.”

“How old is she?”

“Four. She wasn’t supposed to get this old. She has a disease in her bones and now she has to have surgery but it’s–”

A quiet silence lingered between us as I cut myself off. I could feel a tear fall down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly hoping the man didn’t see. I couldn’t believe I said so much. I couldn’t believe I cried. I hadn’t cried this whole time. Not because of Kinoko, not because of mama. I never cried, and here I was, crying for some stranger like I was soliciting my tears for some money.

“How much?” the man asked. I shrunk into myself.

“20,000 yen.”

The man laughed. Such an idiot, I thought to myself. Of course this man knew better. Rich people could be careless, but they were no fools.

“For the surgery.”

I froze.

“Over two million yen.”

“That’s what, twenty thousand dollars?”

He said it so simply. It was so absurdly casual.

I said nothing.

“Why don’t we go inside and ask someone? I’d like to pay for your sister’s surgery. In exchange, I’d like your jellyfish.”

I felt that feeling I did when I learned my mama had died. It was a shock, not like the electric kind, but the kind that held me in place so not to move or breathe. I looked at the man harder as if to see if I had been hallucinating him the whole time.

I decided to say nothing. I wanted my mama. I wanted to ask her what to do. I wanted to hit Kinoko awake and scream at her and demand her to tell me why she did this to us. I wanted to cry and soon I was.

The man knelt down and took my hand.

“My daughter’s name is Sara and she’s my only child. She gets to go home soon and I want that for your sister too. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go inside and find someone to talk to. Then, maybe you can come with me to give Aphrodite to Sara.”

I said nothing. I looked at the man’s hands. I never realized how small my own hands were. I looked at Aphrodite.

I said, my sister’s name is Hideko.

It was her name when she was born and it was hers when she died two weeks after the man paid for her surgery. I decided not to speak at her funeral. I decided not to cry. Instead, papa and I went back to Ogaki and to Tei-Unika’s pet store where I bought another jellyfish. Kinoko, I decided, was what her name would be. She was nothing like Aphrodite. She was no gift or an afterthought. She was mine and I was hers. She could not hold me or talk, but she could swim and bob. She could stretch her tentacles and wrap them around her foliage. She was not infinite or magical or anything other than ordinary.

She was as I had always been. I was here just as my sister and mama were once too. I was nameless and steadied in the vast sea of dancing, spectacular jellyfish, and sometimes I could sting. But mostly, like Kinoko, I just was.