Frank withdrew the white scrub brush from the tank. It dropped too much water onto his boot and he felt the cool dampness slide into a crack dampening his sock. He cursed his carelessness knowing that he’d have to endure cold toes for the rest of the shift. But the sloppy white brush was his favorite, and he couldn’t afford new boots so close to retirement.
Frank shuffled to the last tank on his rounds. It was his favorite. “Save the best for last,” his old dad used to say. Inside was a magnificent Angelfish. Frank called him, “Gerald,” although, strictly speaking, only guests that paid money for a plaque received naming rights.
Gerald was likely the oldest fish in the entire aquarium. He had only one eye. The other eye was deadened and grey. The bottom part of Gerald’s tail fin was torn and he was missing some scales on the right side. Gerald had outlived several generations of tank mates, seven octopuses, and the only two sharks the novelty Pier aquarium ever had. (Frank discounted the sharks because they were brought in by local fisherman and were already pretty well gone upon arrival.)
As Frank approached the tank, Gerald pointed his good eye skyward and moseyed upward for a scratch. Frank could only describe it as “moseying” because, where the young, nubile fish in the other tanks skittered and fluttered in a frenzy at Frank’s approach, Gerald, well, sauntered. Gerald moved slowly to the surface as if he simply didn’t fear death anymore. Even when food was dropped in the tank, the other fish would dart to the surface and back, stealthily nabbing at the floating morsels, but not Gerald. Gerald would drift up to the surface upon Frank’s approach for a snack or a scratch with Frank’s white cleaning brush.
Frank obliged and dropped the bristly little brush just below of the surface of the water. Like a puppy getting his ears scratched, Gerald leaned into the brush. “Ready for some breakfast, old man?” Frank cooed at him, as he poured more flakes into his tank than he had into the others with considerably more fish. Sometimes Frank felt a little sad for Gerald. Everyone Gerald had known was gone, several times over.
“Big day, today, eh Gerald?” said Frank. Gerald, who was lazily gobbling the multicolored flakes as the settled to the bottom, seemed to flick a dorsal fin. The new-hires were starting today. With Frank’s impending retirement, the Pier’s management, of course, had to find a replacement. In this case, they’d found two, fresh-from-college Biology majors. Frank didn’t have a degree, but he’d been the sole operator of the Pier’s aquarium for 31 years.
Should Frank wish to take a vacation, or when he had his knee surgery a few years back, the Pier’s bookkeeper would feed the fish for him. Frank dreaded this because it would take him many extra hours to clean the algae from the crevices when he returned. He didn’t take many vacations in any case. He enjoyed the calm, bubbling, bluish hue of his jobsite.
Frank’s wife had died 11 years earlier and his two grown boys lived far way. Frank suspected that his sons didn’t visit often because he hadn’t been a very involved father. He knew he spent too much time at the aquarium, even back then. Fish were always contained in nice, neat little boxes, whereas little boys were not. It’s not that Frank didn’t love his sons. He did, very much. He just never knew what to say to them. But fish? Fish were simple.
It was five minutes to eight. The new-hires would be arriving anytime. Frank dragged his cleaning cart over to the sole storage closet and finagled it inside. He hastily pulled out a mop and began removing excess water from the black, rubber floor surrounding the tanks. He suspected he moved the water around more than he sopped it up, but, as his old dad used to say, “a good first impression is worth a thousand firm handshakes.” He had just put the mop back on its wall hook and pulled the string to turn-off the closet’s sole lightbulb when he heard the staff door open.
“Hello?” said a young man’s voice. Frank shuffled forward toward the door. He could feel his left boot squish a little as he walked. “In here,” Frank said.
Frank’s first thought upon seeing the two people standing in the dimly lit entryway to the circular area that held all of the aquarium’s tanks was that he was being replaced by children. He mentally reminded himself that they had graduated college, so they must be at least in their 20s. The boy, Frank corrected himself, the man had sandy blond hair and protruding teeth. The woman was very short and heavyset with dark wavy hair. Frank thought maybe she was an Islander, but who could tell these days. They both wore grey collared shirts that appeared to have a small fish embroidered on left breast above some wording too small for Frank to read. The young man carried a small, black tablet computer.
“Welcome to Enchantment of the Seas,” he said. “Or the back the of the enchantment, anyways.”
Frank shook hands with the new-hires, Triston and Jendi. Truth be told, he didn’t think much of these modern names, but he tried not to let this fact prejudice him against them. “Let me give you the grand tour,” he said.
The Pier’s aquarium held 72 tanks that were visible from the public side, several more quarantine tanks that were not visible, and two large recovery tanks in the center of the back area for fish intended for re-release into the wild. The Pier itself was located on the intersect between the ocean and a brackish inland estuary. The aquarium contained both freshwater and saltwater tanks and was intended, through its original charter, to showcase local, native species. However, over time, it was intermixed with non-natives that were surrendered the aquarium due to a divorce or sudden move out of town or some other event that caused Frank to take pity on a poor, unsuspecting nautical creature.
Triston and Jendi gushed over the colorful tanks of reef species. They pressed their noses up to the glass worlds that contained clownfish darting in and out of the light pink anemones, the parrotfish with their bulbous lips and lightly fluorescent scales, and the darters dancing agilely between colorful corals. Next, they moved on to the large estuary tanks that housed the river giants. These grey monsters slid smoothly though the waving river grasses surrounding by turtles diving for scraps at the sandy bottom.
Frank toured the new-hires through every tank. At each one he highlighted tips and tricks to each habitat. “The filter at this one sometimes sticks,” he said. “Just giggle it under here to loosen it.” At the freshwater turtle tank, he noted, “Don’t forget to lift this rock here in the back because turtle crap, pardon my French, often gets caught under here and will eventually cloud the entire tank.”
Halfway through the tour, Frank began to notice the little smiles that Triston and Jendi were passing between each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. Frank has just pointed out a tube that took a particular orange brush to fully clean the gunk out of before a soft, snort from Triston finally made him speak out. “You gotta a comment, young man?” Frank asked.
“Oh, sorry,” said Triston, who didn’t seem all that sorry. “It’s just that we don’t use these brushes anymore.”
“You don’t use brushes?” asked Frank incredulously.
“No, these old brushes carry a lot of bacteria,” said Triston “And besides, we have automated robot tank cleaners now that are much more efficient.”
Frank didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine not cleaning each of these tanks himself, letting alone having a machine do it. How would a robot know that the butterflyfish was being ostracized from her school again or that the salt collecting along the waterline meant that the pump hose was clogged? Frank shook his head.
Next the tour moved on to the quarantine tanks. There were fewer aquarium furniture items present in these tanks to accommodate the needs of the sick fish. Even from a distance you could clearly make out the bloated outline of an upside-down fish floating at the top of one of the tanks. Frank reprimanded himself internally. Even though he’d cleaned this tank in the early morning of today, it had been a couple hours since he’d last checked it.
“This happens a lot, unfortunately,” he told them. “In the quarantine area, I mean.” Triston raised an eyebrow in a way that Frank didn’t much appreciate.
Finally, the little group moved on to Gerald’s tank at the very end. “Best for last, again today,” Frank thought. But before Frank could speak, Jendi gasped, “Good God, what is that?” Triston peered over the surface of clear tank and said, “I think it’s a deranged Angelfish.” Jendi crinkled her nose. Frank noted that Gerald didn’t rise to the surface, but stayed midway back near some artificial grass.
“That’s Enchantment’s oldest resident,” Frank said to the new-hires with an attempt at enthusiasm.
“Jesus,” said Triston. “Someone should put it out of its misery.”
Frank looked at his old friend partially hidden in the shadows and mentally apologized. “Just hang on, old man,” he thought to himself, “when these two leave, I’ve got some special freeze-dried worms with your name on them!”
Frank quickly ushered the new-hires to the small front office near the staff door. The office held a small table that doubled as a desk, two filing cabinets, several old milk crates filled with papers and aquarium supplies stacked atop one another, and, of course, a small goldfish bowl complete with small goldfish. Truth be told, the office was smaller than the storage closet.
“Maybe it’s not too late to delay my retirement,” Frank thought to himself. “I have a few good years left. I don’t need to sit on that old pier and fish.” He could just make out the blue light to Gerald’s tank and Gerald floating in the grass. Now that he thought about it, he had just seen a pair of Carhart water boots on sale in the local feed supply store.
“So, are these the keys then?” said Triston grabbing the set off the hook on the wall where Frank had hung them at 5:00am that morning.
“Yes, but I don’t think you’ll be needing those just yet, young man,” said Frank.
“Now Frank. Mr. Perkin’s said this might come with some difficultly,” said Triston. “But we have some forms for you to fill-out right here on my tablet and you’ll be getting whole month’s extra severance pay.”
“What?” said Frank blankly.
“It’s just that the Enchantment of the Sea’s management doesn’t need you for the rest of your contract, Frank,” said Jendi with an attempt at kindness. “You can leave early. Sleep in tomorrow, if you want.”
“You’ll still get paid,” added Triston. “More than if you were fulfilling the rest of your contact, actually.”
“But I don’t want to!” said Frank. “I have nearly a month left!” Frank’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He’d planned to have a little going away party with the fish. Silly he knew, but he had saved-up for the expensive freeze-dried worms.
“Frank, be reasonable,” said Triston. “The paperwork is all here. We’ve even already got employee shirts. We are both taking over for you as of now.”
“You get the rest of the day off,” said Jendi with a meek smile.
Triston was holding out the tablet. Frank looked down at it. He could see some words backlight in the harsh glare of the tiny computer, “last day,” and “severance” and “replacements.” He didn’t know what to do. It all seemed so final. He looked up at the grey shirts. He was so close now that he could now see the words under the small embroidered fish, “Enhancement of Seas – Staff.” His hand shook as his signed the form on the little grey screen.
Before he knew it, he was shaking hands with the new-hires. They were walking him to the staff door. He was standing outside the staff door. They shook his hand again. The door was closing. Frank could see the circular fish room becoming smaller and smaller. As the door swung shut, he saw, dimly lit in blue light, in the tank in the very back, the outline of an upside-down fish floating at the top of its tank.
And then the staff door closed.
“Like a fallen angel,” his old dad used to say.