David Vann - Aquarium

My mother still tucked against her fists, and I thought she would explode out of there, tear my grandfather into pieces for what he’d done, but she wasn’t moving.

I think he’s right, Sheri, Steve said. And I’ll help you too.

My mother’s mouth twisted like she was going to cry, and I felt so sorry for her but also a new coldness, something I never would have imagined possible.

My grandfather came to her, knelt on the floor and put his arms around and held her close. She put her arms around him and they just stayed like that, rocking a bit. I knew both would have their eyes closed, and knew that finally they had met again. Maybe this is as near as we can come to forgiveness. Not the past wiped away, nothing undone, but some willingness in the present, some recognition and embrace and slowing down.

Shalini’s skin felt cold, and I was shivering, so I sat up, my head pulsing, and we went back to the bathtub, slipped into the warmth and submerged. I closed my eyes and went all the way under and just hung there in a void because too much had happened. I heard the faucet and felt water cold then hot, and the temperature rose and I was lost in the sound of all that water, reaching like a goldfish to the surface with my lips for a quick gulp of air and then back down, returning to nothing. Shalini’s hands on my legs, some caress from another world, from darkness, gentle and reassuring. The end of terrible days, the end of being afraid, the end of being alone, and I knew it, even as it happened. The end also, though, of loving my mother in the same simple, full way. The limits of my own forgiveness.

I stayed under as long as I could, not wanting to return to air or words, but the heat drove me to the surface, and then Shalini’s lips, and it was the most perfect love I’ve ever known. No one will believe that, because we were too young, but we were absolutely there, not partially gone as adults always are. I had all of Shalini. Nothing was withheld. And she was far above me, in class and family, intelligence and sophistication and knowledge and beauty, and we didn’t yet consider those things, and I couldn’t yet feel inadequate in the adult way, really, even in the terrible shame of that day. And so nothing in me was withheld either. And there was the freedom of permission for the first time. On the other side of the door they knew what we were doing, and it was okay.

The house was silent when we emerged, only one light on, over the kitchen table, all the rest darkness. Three pizzas, mostly eaten, left out for us, so we sat wrapped in our towels, the air cold but our bodies still shielded by warmth from the bath. My family hidden away, no dinner together, contact too much. The Christmas tree lying on its side along a wall. We were starving, and we finished every piece.

The comforter cold when we first slipped under, so we clung together for warmth. My own room become our room, and my family let us sleep together without shame. Sometimes the worst moments can lead to the best.

That night was perfect and the beginning. Shalini sleeping on top of me, the warmth and weight of her, the fan of her hair making a cave around my face, rise and fall of her breath and small twitches as she slept. She abandoned herself to sleep, and I was held finally to the bottom of the ocean, as I had always wanted, thousands of feet down and the two of us gliding on great wings.

My mother in the morning shy and awkward, and this was something new, something that would go on for years and never quite end, the loss of her confidence as she tried to come to terms with her anger. Rage was what had held her together for so long.

But she put out bowls for our cereal, brought spoons and milk, and tried even from that first morning, though she couldn’t look us in the eye and we wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. Her hair unbrushed and not pulled back, and she hid within it.

I don’t know why I couldn’t just forgive her completely and immediately. Or later, when I would find out no one knew about her mother’s death for two years. Completely alone for that time. But something had hardened in me, some animal and instant response when I saw her disgust, how she looked at me when she first knew who I was, and some response also to being hit. A change in those moments, some switch turned off forever, the end of trust or safety or love, and how do we ever find the switch again?

So I admire that she could love her father, because I think that is what happened, and they lived here together even after I left for college. They lived in peace, and Steve remained, also, the three of them sharing a roof, and when my grandfather died, he was loved and forgiven. I’m grateful to her for that, and I hope eventually to be able to offer the same to her.

That morning, he took us to school, and he had become more like a parent. Your mother’s going to be okay, I remember he said. I see now that he had learned not to run and was even discovering he was stronger than he had thought. I’ll take you both to the aquarium today, he said. I’ll call your mother, Shalini, and let her know.

Thank you, Mr. Thompson, she said, and she squeezed my hand.

You won’t believe the fish, I said.

The whole world is in those tanks, my grandfather said. Everything.

We weren’t driving on East Marginal Way. We were on residential streets, going slowly. And so much later in the morning, only a few minutes before class, the sky already white-gray, as bright as it would become.

All the cars out front, and it was my first time not entering alone, and we had only a half week before vacation. Mr. Gustafson had given up completely. The classroom was mayhem. As he gazed at his book of old cars, slouched over his desk in his Santa hat, with his tongue just protruding, the Chinese New Year dragon was winding around the chairs, weaving in and out and pulling the sleigh. Shalini and I trotted our reindeer behind with the others, and somehow there were always strips and balls of newspaper in the air and other things thrown, balloons and glue. I was hopping as we trotted Lakshmi Rudolph, and Shalini was laughing, and I wanted to kiss her, so I tried, but she ducked away. Not with people looking, she yelled, still smiling.

What would have happened if I had just kissed her anyway, right then, and kept doing that every day and never stopped until it was normal for everyone to see, even her family? But you can’t go back, and I don’t regret anything with Shalini. There’s no point to regret.

By the time my grandfather picked us up after school, our faces were painted and there was glue on our clothes and our hair wild and we were flushed and exhausted.

Wow, my grandfather said. School is nothing like I remember it.

It’s not like India, Shalini said.

Mr. Gustafson is a bad teacher, I said.

You get some like that, my grandfather said. But don’t let them slow you down. Make sure you get good grades so you can go to college.

I wanted to ask my grandfather whether they had found help for my mother today, but I was afraid to ask. My cheek was bruised and sore but hidden by face paint which I would leave on for the next two days until vacation. I was afraid Evelyn would see and come around to destroy everything just as it was getting better.

We drove the route I had always walked, toward the low dark water of the sound, and we arrived so quickly.

I was holding Shalini’s hand as we entered. You have to see the splendid mandarins, I said. They look like your mother’s scarves.

My grandfather bought tickets for himself and Shalini, and then we ran to the first saltwater aquariums, where the most common fish lived, the ones you see in dentists’ offices. Coral and anemones and these fish that looked made of silk.