QUACK

The Goldfish Apology

“Beautiful, beautiful… Jesus is Beautiful.

        And Jesus makes beautiful things in my life.

Carefully, touching me, causing my eyes to see.

        And Jesus makes beautiful things in my life.”

THIS CHAPTER IS FROM SASHA'S POINT OF VIEW 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I would love to look back on this day and be able to tell myself that it was a good call. But I know I would be lying.

I know everything that would set you off. Things like being touched by a stranger. Things like bright lights and loud noises. Things like clowns and calliope music, and eating popcorn and cotton candy. Things like you losing your belongings. Things like changing your daily routine.

This day, I had broken all the rules. This day, I think I told myself I could handle it if you threw a fit. Or maybe, I did not tell myself anything, because this day, I chose to pretend that you were a normal person.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I knock on the Mallards’ door, because I know Ethan doesn’t like the sound of their doorbell. I am hoping Sal would be the one to answer, because this is something I wanted to run by her first. I am thinking, naively, that Ethan would like a surprise trip, even if it’s a bad idea.

This is, of course, exactly what she tells me.

“Ethan doesn’t like surprises, Sasha,” Sal tells me. She is looking better, after that incident several days ago. She has really cleaned up.

“I know, Miss Mallard,” I say. “But maybe Ethan would agree to this.”

I am sorely tempted to call her Sal, because bringing a complete stranger to the ER because of overdose, well, that pretty much entitles you to anything. But I am my father’s daughter, and being on a first name basis with any adult would not be something he would approve of.

Sal sighs. “Go ahead and ask him,” she says tiredly, “but I am telling you, this is a bad idea.”

I catch Ethan in their kitchen. He is sitting on the counter, a Bible open in front of him. His feet are soaking in the sink, where the faucet is running, and water has begun to spill over.

“I’m going to shut this off now, okay?” I tell him, and I do not wait for an answer. He looks up at me and he drops the Bible, the water seeping through the pages. He is beginning to throw a fit, and I sense it coming like a train headed towards me.

He is sliding off the counter, his clothes getting wet. He is rocking his body back and forth, repeatedly hitting the sides of his head with his palms. There is a low growl coming from his lips, and there is something just so… animal… about how he looked to me at that moment.

I sit down in front of him and I begin to sing. “’Beautiful, beautiful, Jesus is beautiful. And Jesus makes beautiful things in my life. Carefully touching me, causing my eyes to see. And Jesus makes beautiful things in my life.’” I sing this once, twice, three then four times.

Ethan stops and he looks at me. He is, for the first time, making eye contact with me. He is no longer rocking himself, or hitting his head. He is looking only at me, like everything else had fallen away.

Or maybe, the falling away happens each time he gets upset, and the coming back happens when he snaps out of it. Yes. Ethan is coming back.

I had not figured that my days in my dad’s church as a choirgirl would ever help, or that it would even work in this situation now. But Ethan is calm, and Sal is surprised that my method works with her son.