Goldfish Jerky

I met Carter online when I was 12 years old. I was the girl who always knew the answer to your question on Reddit, which, looking back on, is probably something I shouldn’t have been allowed on at that age.  He was the boy who seemed to be so full of questions, ones without easy answers that delighted me and my insatiable brain. Soon, we fell into this habit where he would post a question that seemed tailored to my expertise and I would answer it like it had been meant for me and me only. Which, in a way, it usually was, since he never seemed to respond to anyone else.

    When he asked what you’re supposed to if you’ve fallen in love with someone from a distance, the answer seemed easy to me. You close the distance however you can, I replied, feeling satisfied that I had, again, given a very good answer to a very good question. Of course, I didn’t think he would knock on my door 30 seconds later, introducing himself as both TheRiddlerLivesOn and the boy next door. As it turns out, we were actually in the same english class and, through the powers of deduction and social media, he had found out that the girl in his class that he was too scared to talk to and his favorite person on the internet, xX_GoddessAthena_Xx, were one in the same. He had been watching me respond to his questions in real time through our second-floor bedroom windows for the past couple weeks, but he finally worked up the courage to talk to me, thanks to my own advice.

    Naturally, we became best friends. We rigged a pulley system between our bedrooms and, when we got bored of it a couple years later, built a platform that connected them, like a treehouse without the tree. It had railings on the sides and was large enough for the both of us to sit there comfortably, no matter how much we grew. After school everyday, we would sit with our feet dangling off the edge, sometimes doing homework, but usually asking and answering questions over instant ramen, which was the extent of our cooking knowledge. In the summer, we would spend all our time up there, taking baked treats and snacks up to eat while we heckled the neighbor kids and told each other stories. At night, we would lie side by side and make up new constellations, occasionally pulling all-nighters with the help of midnight pantry raids at his house.

    One evening, when I climbed up with some freshly baked brownies and instructions from my mother to share, I found Carter sitting there quietly, his chin resting on his knees and a dull expression on his face. I nudged him with my elbow and set the pan of brownies down, sitting next to him and leaning my head on his shoulder. When he didn’t move, I tried to cheer him up by tickling him (He swatted me away), telling him jokes (He already knew all of them), and making ridiculous faces (This didn’t even elicit a response). Finally I gave up and laid down behind him, my long, dark hair fanning across the wood. I sighed and stared at the stars, calling up my favorite memory in our three years together.

    “Hey, Carter, do you remember when we got goldfish? We named them Thing 1 and Thing 2 and they were twins, according to the story we made for them. Your cat ate mine after three days, which we should’ve seen coming, and we made a grave for it. Remember? We had a memorial service and everything, both of our families dressed all nice and my uncle read a prayer. The next day, yours died, but my mom wouldn't let us bury it, because she said it would smell.” I started laughing, but when Carter didn’t say anything and with his back to me so I couldn’t see a reaction, I schooled my features and continued with the story. 

    “We were so determined to bury it that we googled how to preserve fish. I remember you, with your apron and tiny little knife, cutting off the head of the goldfish and filleting it. We preserved it in salt and then buried it. My mom couldn’t even say anything, because it was essentially two tiny strips of goldfish jerky in a miniature coffin,” I trail off, hoping Carter will react. When he didn’t, I frowned, wondering what I had done wrong. Then, his quiet, husky laugh broke the silence and he finally turned to face me.

    Smirking, he nodded. “Yeah, of course I remember! I was devastated, but I had to play it cool so that you wouldn’t think I was some sort of dork.” He nudged me with his elbow, then stopped and smelled the air. “Is that… brownies?” I laughed and nodded and we descended upon them with such ravenous energy, our mothers would’ve disowned us.

    Later that night, when we were sitting there, making up the history of the stars, he grew serious. “I think I’m going to move,” he said quietly, while I looked at him in disbelief. “My parents, all they do is fight. And the other day, I saw my mom getting coffee with some handsome, younger guy, and he kissed her goodbye. This won’t last Mia, we’re going to have to leave soon,” he explained, staring distantly at the sky.

    I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held my hand out expectantly for his. Popping the Batman case off his, I opened the slip of paper inside and quickly scanned the number. Doing the same with my Nike one, I popped my phone into his case and his phone into mine, leaving the papers inside. When he looked at me funny, I handed him his phone back.

    “We’ve never given each other our numbers, since we live next door and have nosy parents. But inside my case is my number and inside your case is yours. Now, you can remember me by my case and we can text and call each other every day.” He hugged me tight and we stayed intertwined until we fell asleep.

    Carter had been right, his parents divorced two weeks later and they moved a month after that. His mom stayed, but he moved with his dad to New Jersey, which was hard, but not terrible. True to our promise, we called every day for the next three years. I could never bring myself to FaceTime him, because I knew he would look different and so would I, which would be really hard to see. 

The day after my graduation, he asked me out on a date. At this point, I’d been in love with him for the past five years, so I obviously said yes. We already knew that we were going to the same college, both because it was our first choice and because we knew the other person would be there, so he would be in town in a couple days, to get his dorm and supplies. I had to get some dorm decor that day as well, so we decided to meet in the middle, at the coffee shop where his mom had kissed her boyfriend all those years ago. 

Now, as I walk down the street towards the cafe, I can feel butterflies alight in my stomach and, for the first time in a long time, I feel scared of rejection. We’re both different now, but what if it’s too much? It doesn’t matter now, I’m already walking through the door. I order a lavender latte and wait at the counter, nervously drumming my nails across it’s lacquer surface. Accepting my drink from the barista, I look for a seat and see him. He’s unmistakable, with that messy blonde hair and twinkling green eyes I remember from years ago. He looks the same, but older, with light stubble and the air of someone who is comfortable in their own skin. Taking a breath to brace myself, I sit down in the chair across from him and set my shopping bag next to me, clutching my cup like it’s the only thing keeping me from drifting away.

His eyes brush me up and down and I try to see myself through his eyes, biting my lip under his gaze. My hair is no longer the long curtain it used to be and is now short, with bangs that brush my eyebrows, and far darker than it ever was. I still don’t wear much makeup, but I was a late bloomer and now my face is softer, but more defined. My curves actually exist and I no longer look like I got dressed in the dark goth clothing store I used to shop at. But this new me isn’t the person Carter used to know, or like, and I can see it in his eyes that I was not what he was expecting.

“Mia… you, you look great.” His earnest, husky voice snaps me out of it and I instinctively blush a little. “Thanks, so do you.” I return the compliment with ease, since it’s so true. He blushes too, and my heart jolts a little as I recall that he was always terrible at receiving compliments. I feel like a stranger, sitting across from my best friend, who hasn’t changed at all in our three-year absence while I look like someone completely different. My hands start to shake from nerves and Carter reaches across the table to steady them, bridging the gap between our worlds.

“I don’t care what you look like, this is who I fell in love with,” he says quietly, poking me in the chest. “You’re still the girl who helped me make goldfish jerky, who held my hand and helped me get over my fear of flying, and who called me every day while I was struggling through my parent’s divorce. That girl, she is my whole world.” I dramatically sigh with relief and wipe imaginary sweat off my forehead. “Oh, good. I was starting to think you had forgotten me with your cool new city life.”

“Never,” he replied seriously before smirking. “None of the city girls know how to fillet a goldfish, so that’s a deal breaker for me.” I laugh and roll my eyes as he leans across the table and kisses me, slow and sweet, like all first kisses should be. When we break apart, I realize that everyone in the coffee shop is staring at us. I smile sheepishly and they all start to clap, cheering us on. Stunned, I look over at Carter, who looks as shocked as I am. 

“That’s true love, right there,” I hear a woman tell her younger sons and look over at the boy I’ve been waiting for all these years. He gives me a cocky smile and I grin, before kissing him again, to another raucous round of applause.