FICTION / Sea Monkeys / Kevin Joseph Reigle
Johnny picked up the cardboard box from the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen. Through the small window by the sink, he could see Samantha standing beside the car talking on the cordless phone. He couldn’t hear her words, but he could tell from the exaggerated arm movements that something had her riled up.
Johnny opened the box and carefully removed the plastic aquarium. He read over the directions while filling the tank. After opening the packet and emptying it into the water, he picked up the tank and carried it to the coffee table. The trailer door opened as he set it down.
Samantha muttered something into the phone, ignoring Johnny as she passed by. She let the door swing closed and started for the refrigerator. One look inside disgusted her, and she quickly shut it.
Johnny went into the bedroom. He looked at the wooden rocking horse beside the dresser. Baby Georgie whimpered from his crib.
“Hey little guy. How are you?” Johnny waited a few beats, “I thought so. Wish I could say the same. What do you think I should do, Georgie? Think she can take the news about the phone bill? Yeah, maybe that should be our little secret.”
Johnny kissed Georgie’s forehead. He turned to the dresser and accidently kicked a rubber ball discarded on the floor. Johnny followed the path of the ball to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer.
Placed on an array of socks and underwear rested a pocket-sized edition of the New Testament. Johnny raised the Bible and dropped it on top of the dresser. He pushed aside the socks and revealed a stack of racing forms.
When Johnny heard the bedroom door creak open, he quickly slammed the drawer. He looked at Samantha who held the phone by her side. He tried to read her expression.
“I’m so glad he’s calmed down,” Samantha said as she went to the crib.
“Yeah, it looks like he’s ready to take a nap.”
Samantha raised a hand and pointed out into the living room. “What’s that thing on the table?”
“I’ll show you.” Johnny led the way to the aquarium and continued, “It’s for Georgie. They’re called sea monkeys, but some people call them sea horses. You put them in water, and they grow. It says so on the box.”
“On the box, huh?”
Johnny ignored her tone and knelt down, eye level with the water. “They’re microscopic. You have to use a magnifying glass to see them. At least that’s what it says.” Johnny stood from his crouched position. He pointed at the magnifying glass he left on the kitchen counter. “It’s over there. You can look if you want.”
“He’s not old enough for this,” Samantha said.
“Well, maybe not yet. I thought we could put it in his room. When he gets older, he can take care of them. It wouldn’t be too hard. They live forever unless you take them out of the water.”
“You had your parents buy him that rocking horse which you insist on putting him on even though he’s a baby. Then you had my parents buy that swing set. There’s no reason to have one of those yet. Maybe you should start worrying as much about the bills as you do his toys.”
“I just thought it would be nice,” Johnny stammered.
“Do you know what would be nice? Nice would be you helping me put together the photo album.”
“You know I don’t do well with those kinds of things. I don’t really like pictures.”
“Well, I do. I like them. I like them a lot. I want to make sure and keep them nice. That’s why people buy photo albums.”
Johnny looked at the card table. On it, Samantha had placed stacks of photographs and a white album. “I don’t understand the fuss.”
“Oh, the fuss. What about today, did you go see Anderson about getting some overtime?”
“Yeah, I went in. I got my check today, too. I still have to go cash it..”
“What about the overtime?”
“There’s a lot of guys…”
“Give me the check,” Samantha snapped as she cut him off.
Johnny pulled out his wallet. He produced the check and handed it over. She glared at the amount and put the check in her pocket.
“Have you put anymore thought in to maybe getting a job?” Johnny asked carefully.
“You know I can’t do that. Who’ll take care of my baby? It would end up costing as much for daycare as I’d make in a day.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Where are you going to get the rest of the money for the trailer payment? This paycheck isn’t going to cover it.”
“I’ll get some overtime next week. Don’t worry,” Johnny muttered, his eyes struggling to meet hers.
“I don’t want that thing in here,” Samantha said, looking at the aquarium.
“I don’t see what the big deal is?”
“It’s a tank of water. There’s nothing in it. It’s stupid.”
“You can’t see them yet. You have to wait. They’re microscopic now, but they’ll get bigger.”
“You’ll believe anything. It’s just a tank of water.”
Johnny picked it up. “I’ll take it over to Jordan’s. Then, you don’t have to worry about it.”
“You better get some overtime next week, or else we’ll be out on the street.”
Johnny spun toward the door and stumbled. The aquarium fell and crashed onto the floor. The plastic cracked and water sprayed onto the carpet.
Samantha stepped over the puddle and reached for the doorknob. “I guess that takes care of that, doesn’t it? Get the vacuum out of the closet and clean this up. I’m going to April’s.”
Johnny sat on the wet floor and knew the sea monkeys were dead.
Kevin Joseph Reigle’s short stories have appeared in Beyond Words, The Dillydoun Review, Bridge Eight, Pensworth, Prometheus Dreaming, Bright Flash, The Yard, and Drunk Monkeys. He teaches at the University of the Cumberlands.