"Mircea, they're coming back again. They don't understand." I whisper, squatting down next to the aquarium. Mircea looks back at me with his curious black eyes.
"I'm so sorry. I can't stop them." I say. He just tilts his head.
I place my fingers gently on the glass pane and Mircea brings up his flipper to meet my hand. I smile slowly.
Mircea is a Mediterranean Monk Seal. The only one in our aquarium. I wonder if he feels lonely sometimes. I do, even though I have Mama, Papa and Emilio.
I hear footsteps echoing in the hallway and rush to stand up.
"Tony!" yells their leader. I force a smile, "Hey Vixen."
"What-?" he starts asking but is interrupted. "Look! It's the monkey fish!" someone squeals, pointing towards Mircea. "He's a Mediterranean Monk Seal." I mutter quietly. Nobody hears.
"Look at the weasel, it's spinning in circles!" a boy yells, Stefano I think.
The boys laugh and run up to the glass pane and bang on it. Mircea swims closer and Stefano hits the glass again, frightening him.
"He wants to play!" exclaims Vixen, jumping up and down. He runs up a staircase to the top of the tank. Everyone follows. Including me.
We can see Mircea from up. He's gone back to swimming in circles, as if he were chasing his tail. He reminds me of Petro, my dog. But Petro died of food poisoning a year ago. Mama says it was Vixen and his gang. I try not to think about it too much.
Vixen bends down low and begins splashing water everywhere. Suddenly he jumps up.
"That thing touched me!" he yells.
"I think he just wanted you to pet him..." I reply.
"It tried to bite me!" Vixen shrieks.
He grabs Stefano's plastic bag and plunges his bottle it into the water. It creates huge splashes everywhere.
"Come here little monkey fish..." he waits for Mircea to swim up to the surface.
Mircea does and that's when it happens. Vixen shoves the plastic bag over Mircea's face and pushes Mircea's head down using the bottle. I stand and watch in horror as Mircea flails. All of Vixens friends are laughing.
"He deserved it." Vixen says. My eyes haze over as I stare and stare at the motionless water. I crouch down. A single teardrop falls into the water, creating a ripple effect.
I wait for everyone to leave before I start crying. Softly at first, but soon I start wailing like a three year old.
Did you know the name Mircea means 'peace'? He never did anything to deserve that kind of treatment.
It's been thirty years now. And every time I look back at my ignorant, helpless 4th grade self, I want to cry. Maybe Mircea did forgive me up in heaven, but I never forgave myself. Never will.
But I've changed. I work for National Geographic now. I'm a Marine Biologist.
And I am brave enough to be the ocean's voice.
YOU ARE READING
Being Sorry #PlanetOrPlastic
General FictionWe say we're sorry. You don't have to forgive us. ~ Plastic pollution is a global issue. And while we do feel bad about it, we aren't doing anything to stop it. And that's wrong. This is my entry for the #PlanetOrPlastic writing contest by National...
