Jelly

My fish ran away.

I'm sure Jelly had an excellent reason to do so. Probably made a list of pros and cons, to stay or not to stay? And like everyone else, Jelly finally figured it out. Something I can't do on my own, with my own life, figure it out. I was drenched, standing in a puddle I had created, holding a fishless fish bowl in front of a shark tank. Ten million gallons of water, two white sharks, six sting rays, four sea turtles, and a large school of different fish, and, for once in my life, I understood they weren't the only ones aimlessly swimming in circles. I thought, what are they looking for, and do they know they are in a bowl? When a muffled voice came over the intercom, "The aquarium will be closing in one hour. The aquarium will be closing in one hour."

So I did what any sane person would do when politely asked to leave. I sat down and began to cry. How did I arrive at this point in my life? Who allowed me to enter the building in this condition? And why was I always alone? I was never alone as a child, well, not forever, from what I recall. My parents brought me to the aquarium often, and It was perfect. I was in awe of the different types of sea creatures, all living together and somehow not hurting one another. I was particularly fond of the jellyfish tank. So much so that up until my fifth birthday, I requested a pet jellyfish. While blowing out the candles, my body went numb, and I woke up in the hospital. From the outside, I seemed fine, but we quickly realized seizures were not the only new addition to their concerns; I now couldn't hear their voices, the machines, or even the wind. Losing my hearing isolated me and seemed to separate my family.

The arguments were continuous and muffled, but I did see them. Eventually, my eighth birthday came around, and I received a goldfish from my parents. Before their separation, my dad named the goldfish Jelly; over the next few years, it was all I had left of him. Until three years ago, I believed he'd eventually come back, and when he did, we'd try to be a family. "Jellyfish do everything together and protect one another." My father would say, but It didn't feel that way anymore. I tried to put him out of my mind for years, thinking I had moved on and was better off without him, until I came home and caught my mom trying to get rid of Jelly. She came into my room and saw Jelly had sunk to the bottom. She planned to replace it with a new goldfish before I returned home, as she had done many times over the years. I was always skeptical, of course, I knew a goldfish could never live this long, but the dream of always having the original kept my image of him alive. I never bought a replacement goldfish but stared at the empty tank for weeks. My eighteenth birthday was rolling around, and I was able to locate my father. It took me forever to write, but what better excuse to visit me than my birthday? Weeks then months, I received nothing. One day when the air was warmer and the weather rainy, my mother received a call from a woman who claimed to be a daughter of his who found my letter. His funeral was in three days, and they wanted to meet me. I grabbed the tank and imagined going to the pet store, but instead, I drove for hours in the rain and ended up at the aquarium, staring at the shark tank, drenched in a puddle I created, holding an empty fish tank. I'm a fish out of the water. I'm uncomfortable and gasping for air. I feel like I've been swimming forever, only to realize I've been swimming in circles without direction, stuck in a bowl, and the world is gawking. I am Jelly, a fish out of water.