Fishbowl

by Somer, Bradley

  The fall passes with ever increasing speed and confusion. As it matures, it happens with less control where it seems there should be more. Ian watches the end approach, the hard concrete below growing bigger and quickly dominating the entirety of his field of vision. Ian watches it approach, not with a fatalist’s resignation but with a pragmatist’s acceptance.

  Ian sees the Roxy’s door opening, Faye stepping out of the building, taking a swig of water from her wide-neck sport bottle. Faye is on her phone and doesn’t notice Ian slip into the water bottle with a plop. He hits his head on the bottom of the container, causing stars to float in his vision and a headache that will last the day, but luckily there isn’t much brain to damage.

  Ian takes several deep breaths. The water passes by his gills.

  Faye screws the lid onto her bottle, unaware of her stowaway.

  With the lid secure, Ian is plunged into an absolute darkness.

  Now, he thinks, what was I doing?

  55

  In Which We Conclude Our Journey and Say Farewell to the Fine Residents of the Seville on Roxy

  This has been a glimpse into the box. And time marches on and lives are shoved along in tiny, second-long increments. The box fills up with infinitely thin layers of experience. With each halting movement of the clock’s hand, one falls atop the previous. These layers are so fine and the experiences so fleeting that it will never become full. The layers just lie one atop the other, compiling over time, becoming something bigger but never becoming something that will be complete or finished. The remnants of experience float and twist like sheaves of cellophane in the breezes caused by the custodians walking past and in the breaths of their living and dying.

  Less than thirty minutes have passed since Katie stepped out of the pharmacy two blocks up the road from the Seville on Roxy. In that time, Danny and Garth ogled her and then, shortly after, parted ways. Danny went for a beer, and Petunia Delilah’s baby decided it wanted in on the world and went through a rather difficult passage to get here. Herman woke up and passed out a few times, which is in keeping with Herman’s life on the more stressful days. In that fifteenth-floor apartment, a life ended peacefully. Grandpa had a full and happy time there, but the organics of him grew tired and stopped moving. Everything else about Grandpa just carried on without his body, transforming into a different kind of life, one lived in memory.

  It’s been less than thirty minutes since Jimenez left his little yellow office near the boiler room in the basement of the Seville. He faced malfunctioning equipment, darkness, immolation, and leaky plumbing and survived all these with grace. He’ll do it again tomorrow because someone has to keep the building running smoothly.

  Garth returned to the Seville on Roxy from the Baineston on Roxy, stared down the heart of loneliness in the stairwell, found comfort in his new outfit, and then found a burgeoning happiness of acceptance as the sun set. Jimenez too found someone to fill the void in his life and now his one-bedroom, rent-subsidized apartment above the Dumpster seems a little less empty, knowing Garth is in the building.

  It took Ian the goldfish just under four seconds to complete his fall from fishbowl to water bottle. In that time, we witnessed the magic of love at first sight, and we felt the pain of a love dying. In just under four seconds we experienced the heady thrill of lust and the sadness of life leaving a family. There was self-realization and self-doubt and a new life entering the world and the gratification of an elevator being fixed. There was the threat of a fire and a secret quiche recipe shared from generations ago. There was so much more. It may take a lifetime for an individual to live, but it takes just under four seconds for the occupants of the Seville to live a collective life. We’ve seen a few moments here, and there are many more, in the building, in the city. And they’ll do it again and again, as long as time exists.

  There has been a cross-dresser and an agoraphobic and a telltale pink nightshirt. There has been a plummeting goldfish, a mother fighting for her baby’s life, and a poor little fellow who is entirely ill equipped for life yet soldiers bravely on. The bonds of loyalty have been tested and passed, and the same bonds have been tested and failed.

  In that time, the goldfish cast into seemingly hopeless peril found salvation in the unlikeliest of places. A miracle or a coincidence? Most likely both one and the same because they aren’t exclusive; they can exist side by side, a miraculous coincidence.

  In that time, life took its course, all the players doing what they could but none in control. Not really. It’s said that everything happens for a reason, but it’s never said that reason is always a good one. That reason is choice, chance, fate, or not.

  Right now, at the Seville on Roxy, the story is starting all over again. Not the exact same story but entirely new adventures.

  Perhaps Claire the shut-in has opened her window as a first step in reintroducing herself to the outside world. She has to prepare for her date with Pig after all. Then she’ll have to see about leaving her apartment for her job interview, but … one step at a time.

  Perhaps Jimenez and Garth share a cigarette on the balcony, wearing matching housecoats cinched at the waist with a belt, the tops of their round and furry bellies exposed to the evening. Maybe they’re talking about whether to move in together, but more likely, they’re not at that point yet and just want to see where their experiment takes them.

  Perhaps Petunia Delilah and Danny are planning to have another child. Perhaps it’s too soon to consider that. However, it is likely that Herman will wind up living with them, being that he has nowhere else to go. All he has to do is ask Petunia Delilah, and he will in time. She’ll say yes. Of course, Petunia Delilah and the paramedics have to get out of that troublesome elevator first.

  Perhaps the villain Connor Radley, having realized his harmful ways, will treat the next girl right and love her like she deserves. Perhaps not. Even so, it’s too late to mend the ills he wrought on Katie.

  Katie will fall in love again, there’s no doubt. She just does that. It’s her superpower. Next time, however, she will do so more cautiously. It’s a loss to the world that Katie will temper her feelings with reason because what is love but a thoughtless and reckless abandon of reason in favor of emotion. Her next love will treat her well. He’ll talk with her at romantic dinners, hold her purse while she tries on a new coat, and smile often in her presence. Her next love will last, but not forever.

  Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes that reason is a choice that was made, sometimes that reason is serendipity, and sometimes it is divine. It doesn’t matter; life cascades on in response. Everything happens for a reason, but most often, that reason is blurry without the benefit of hindsight.

  Most times, these things just happen. There’s no control, not really. A person can choose his blend of coffee or her breakfast cereal, but they can’t choose not to eat or drink. They can choose their partner or religion, the make of their car, but they can’t choose to love, to believe in something, or to live forever.

  Sometimes you have to just let it happen.

  Perhaps Ian will have other adventures. That’s if Faye realizes she has a stowaway in her water bottle before she drinks him. It’s really out of Ian’s hands now though. Ian took his plunge and wound up in a water bottle, and that’s where he has to stay for the moment.

  There’s something nice about knowing Ian is out there in the world, at this moment, trapped in Faye’s water bottle but without a worry in his aching mind. Ian’s not worried for two reasons. Firstly, fish don’t have the capacity to worry. Secondly, Ian knows that a goldfish can only do so much, and in the end, the rest is up to life and life takes care of him in one way or another. If that way is well or poorly, no bother; he’ll only revel in its glow or suffer its neglect for a short time.

  Only the Seville on Roxy can ever know all that has taken place and all that will take place between its four walls, beneath its roof and above its parking garage. The building stands, shackled at its heel to its shadow in th
e fading light, the only witness to the fact that no single person lives their own life; we all live each other’s together. It’s a mute sentinel that observes this fact and everything else. It gets a fresh coat of paint and a sprucing up every few decades. It leaks occasionally, here and there, but then is repaired. It crumbles a bit on the corner and has its boiler replaced and its plumbing upgraded.

  At one point the neighborhood will become bad, but then it will become good again. There will be futuristic insulation and a futuristic security system installed in the Seville on Roxy. There will even be a time when the building is abandoned and then reoccupied years later.

  But for now, it sits there, two blocks from the Baineston on Roxy, a building that is scheduled for completion next spring. One hundred and eighty luxury suites are now selling. According to the sticker with the curled edges, forty percent of them have already sold.

  Acknowledgments

  Fishbowl would have missed the water bottle without the love and help of a group of great people.

  First and always, my husband, Nenad Maksimovic, for his unwavering support of my rambling dreams of writing books. Sometimes I think you have more faith in me than I do, and I’m wholly grateful for that.

  Thanks to my agent, Jill Marr, with the Sandra Dijkstra Agency. You’re an amazing soul. I knew that from the moment we first met. Thank you for your hard work, support, input, and direction. Thanks to Silissa Kenney and the crew at St. Martin’s Press. Your insight, energy, and enthusiasm for this project have been second to none. You have exceeded the reputation of your press, which is not an easy feat.

  Once again, I thank the ever-growing, ever-changing, and ever-wonderful people in the critique group I attend. Elena Aitken (for the inspiration of your commitment to the writing life), Nancy Hayes (for your pursuit of exactly the right words in exactly the right order), Leanne Shirtliffe (for your unrelenting support, kind heart, and kind words), Sam Burke (for being the English teacher I wanted to have teach me), and Trish Lloye (for your demands for storied movement and meaningful action) have all offered wonderful input and keen eyes for style, structure, content, and editing. Also, a tip of the hat to Amanda Dow (for reading every word).

  The adventures of Ian the goldfish were originally documented in a short story entitled “Sunburnt Cosmonaut,” which was published by the fantastic folks at the Potomac Review (issue 52, winter 2013). I’ve had the pleasure of working with them on a couple of occasions, and it truly is a wonderful journal that promotes some amazing writers.

  And, as always, thanks to you, the reader, for allowing me to hijack your imagination. Without that, this book would be a lowly and inert artifact. Writing a story is only half the work.… Thank you for carrying the weight of making it come to life, proving that no single person lives his or her own life; we live each other’s together.

  About the Author

  Bradley Somer was born in Sydney, Australia, and grew up in Canada. He holds degrees in anthropology and archaeology. His short fiction has appeared in literary journals, reviews, and anthologies. His debut novel, Imperfections, published in Canada, won the 2013 CBC Bookie Award for debut of the year. Bradley lives in a little old house in the city of Calgary, Canada, where he works on his writing projects and tries to ignore the wild growth that his backyard has become. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Begin Reading

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  FISHBOWL. Copyright © 2015 by Bradley Somer. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Illustrations by David Curtis Studio

  Cover design by James Iacobelli

  Cover photographs: building © Wendy Connett/Alamy; water splash © Zing Images/Getty Images; couple, woman looking through window, and cross-dresser © Shutterstock

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-05780-8 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-4668-6170-1 (e-book)

  e-ISBN 9781466861701

  Originally published in Germany under the title Der Tag, an dem der Goldfish aus dem 27 Stock fiel by Dumont in 2015.

  First U.S. Edition: August 2015