Shake, Rattle, and Roll

Elwood the Fish died a couple days ago, the day I got back from New York. Not to be melodramatic, but it was almost poetic.

Elwood was with us for almost two years, and like so many aspects of our lives, he was a token of something more than just a cute little blue fish. Laura and I got him right after winter break sophomore year since our other roommate gave us a fish tank and a gift card to PetSmart for Christmas, only it wasn't just Laura and I that got him.

It was Tommy*, too. I didn't have a car in Pittsburgh, and taking a bus to the Waterfront in the dead of winter wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world, and we were both busy during the week anyhow. Tommy visited almost every weekend, though, and since he always drove up he had a car to shuttle us there. Us two womenfolk overwhelmed him with our barrage of directions (especially since we were telling him to go two different ways) and when we finally got there he stood back while we tried to find a fish we both liked. I wasn't crazy about goldfish; she didn't care all that much.

We finally settled on a Beta, and I remember feeling slightly uneasy looking at the stack of small cups of fish swimming around in endless circles. I didn't even really want to touch the container that Elwood was in, so Tommy held onto it since Laura was holding some food and other things the lady told us we'd need. While we stood in the checkout line, I christened him Elwood, enjoying my own private mirth at the pun on his color. Laura had never heard of the Blues Brothers, and Tommy just gave me another one of those "I don't relate to you at all, but I'll pretend to go along with it for your sake" looks that were becoming increasingly common. (Incidentally, I don't fault him for those at all. In fact, I wish they had been more clear, and come much earlier.)

Nonetheless. We got the little guy home, and proceeded to set up the fish tank. Tommy tried to take charge, since I was still squeamish of the fish and since he thought Laura was too excitable to be entirely trusted. (I disagree, for the record.) I don't know why I've always had an aversion to aquatic critters. Elwood was certainly an amazing creature, and I've never had any sort of traumatic experience with any of them. Nonetheless.

I think I eventually made friends with Elwood, though perhaps not as much as Laura did. When Tommy and I broke up, along with the aches of loneliness, there was a deep relief that things like - changing the fish's water - weren't going to be big productions anymore. It is so tiring to be around people that need to pull personal meaning from every little thing they do (I'm not saying I've never been guilty of that myself, though.) Laura almost always had the job of feeding him, since it was too confusing to try and switch off and since I didn't seem to be around enough to do it regularly myself.

One thing I could never get comfortable with was catching him in his net. I didn't mind cleaning out the tank, or giving him some food when Laura was out of town, or keeping him company on the rare afternoon that I was alone in the apartment, but I couldn't ever get up the nerve to catch the poor thing more than the once or twice I absolutely had no choice. The sight (and feeling) of him writhing around in a blind panic would always scare the living daylights out of me. I knew that he'd calm down once he was out of the water and in the air, but catching him just gave me the creeps.

Elwood had real personality. He'd been sick most of this semester, but before that he had this awesome trick of swimming up to the top of the tank whenever someone was about to feed him. He'd go after food with real gusto - he'd see something floating on the surface, and it would be - chomp - chomp - chomp - like a little blue torpedo.

When Tommy and I broke up, I wondered if seeing Elwood would upset me.

Nope.

Elwood never really belonged to Tommy, regardless of how much he tried to take charge of things. Ironically enough, I think that if he hadn't tried so hard (as we all do when we trick ourselves into thinking that wanting to want something is the same thing as wanting it) then the fish would have reminded me much more of him. He always was, though, a bit of a reminder of That Time in my life, some sort of reminder that I was still Figuring It Out and that I'd come a long way right with the little guy. Somehow he managed to be more than a thing in the background, especially with the way Laura took care of him (and made that sign with his name on it at the beginning of last year).

Christina took him home to her parents' house the summer after our sophomore year, and I found a caretaker for him in Pittsburgh last summer. I was always a bit amazed that Elwood survived being passed around (and being hunted by Christina's cat!) and it seemed a bit like he was the most Indestructible Beta Fish Ever. This semester it started to feel like we were almost waiting for him to cash in his tickets, though. I didn't want him to die, but I didn't enjoy seeing him moving even less than before, and staying on the bottom of the tank instead of coming up for food.

When Winter Break rolled around, I loaded him up in my car and brought him home. He'd been keeping me company in my room (at my Mom's behest since the kitchen and living room were already crowded), and I worried that when I went to visit Colin I'd come home to find him dead.

Nope.

When I walked into my room and set my bags down and checked the tank, Elwood actually started swimming for a few minutes. After that, he assumed his usual upside-down-sideways braced-against-the-side position in the tank, and I left him alone. I came back a bit later to find him laying on the bottom of the tank. He didn't appear to want to move, but I decided to leave him for awhile and see if he moved. He didn't. I got the net and gently touched him, with no response. It was like he'd wanted me to see him alive one last time, like he wanted me to be aware of the fact that he was moving on - not to grieve, but so I wouldn't miss the point.

I had a dream last night where I was finding him dead all over again. It was the same scene, with me using the net to try and establish some sign of life. It didn't feel like a nightmare; I'm not sure the dream really had any sort of emotional color to it at all. I felt like I was just reviewing, grokking, and Making Sure. Life goes on, after all.

I will miss him, though.


*The ex-fiance, for those of you who just tuned in within the last 22 months.