martinsmithstories

Image by Yamu_Jay from Pixabay

Mr and Mrs Lannock were somewhat surprised when their elder son, Melville, announced that he was bringing a special someone home to meet them.

‘What, a girlfriend?’ Mr Lannock said.

‘I think so,’ Mrs Lannock said. ‘Who knows, these days? They’re coming for dinner tonight.’

Nostalgia tugged at Mr Lannock’s heart. It seemed it had been only yesterday that he had taught his son to ride a bike, bought him his first computer, spent an awkward half-hour explaining the birds and bees, gifted him a gold watch on his eighteenth birthday and conveyed his meagre possessions to a share house when he started university. Now he was bringing a “special someone” home to “meet the parents”. This sounded serious.

‘What’re you going to cook them?’ Mr Lannock said.

‘My specialty. Fish pie.’

‘Perfect. Do you need me to do anything?’

‘Set the table. And for goodness’ sake, change out of that tank top.’

***

At six o’clock, the front doorbell rang. Mr Lannock ran his fingers around the stiff collar of his second-best shirt, combed his thinning fringe with his hand, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and opened the front door.

‘Hi, Dad,’ a young man said, standing alone on the porch with a glass jar in his hands and a beaming smile on his face.

‘H … Hi, Melville,’ Mr Lannock said. He looked over his son’s shoulder, then took a step outside the door and looked down the driveway and out to the street beyond. ‘Where … where’s your friend?’

‘Here.’ Melville held the glass jar out in front of him. ‘Dad, I’d like you to meet Goldie. Goldie, this is my dad.’

Mr Lannock looked into the jar, and a small goldfish swimming within waved a pectoral fin at him.

‘A goldfish?’ Mr Lannock said, followed by a chuckle. ‘Your mother thought you were bringing a girl home. She’s already in a frenzy, planning the wedding.’

‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ Melville said, followed by a laugh. ‘Goldie’s not my girlfriend.’ Mr Lannock sighed in relief. ‘No, Dad, Goldie’s my fiancée.’

‘Your what?’ Mr Lannock’s eyes bulged and his mouth gaped as his brain scrambled for comprehension.

‘My fiancée.’ Melville looked down at the fish with glowing tenderness, and Goldie posed and pouted, and her protruding eyes glistening with unblinking love as she swayed her fins with a demure coyness. ‘I proposed last night and Goldie said “yes”.’

Tears welled in Mr Lannock’s eyes as he looked beyond his first-born. Engaged? To a goldfish? They’d never mentioned that in those parenting manuals. Where had he gone wrong? Was it because he had dropped Melville while changing his first nappy? Because he had not bought that puppy for Melville’s eighth birthday? Because he had only focused on birds and bees—and not fish—when giving his elder son “the sex talk”?

‘Dad?’

‘What?’ Mr Lannock’s eyes refocused on his son and the jar.

‘Can we come in?’

‘Sorry, yes. Where are my manners?’ Mr Lannock shot a nervous look at the jar and then over his shoulder and down the hallway. ‘You’d better come inside.’

Melville stepped inside the house.

‘And, son,’ Mr Lannock said as he closed the front door, ‘I’d break this to your mother gently.’

***

Feigning politeness, Mrs Lannock said, ‘Melville, would your friend—’

‘You can call her Goldie, Mum,’ Melville said.

‘Would Goldie like something to eat?’

Mrs Lannock picked up a plate and placed on it a scoop of the spaghetti bolognese she’d hastily defrosted in the microwave.

‘She’s not a big eater, Mum.’

‘Oh God! She’s not one of those anorexics, is she?’

Mrs Lannock passed the plate to her twelve-year-old daughter, Ellie.

‘No, Mum.’

‘A fussy eater?’

Mrs Lannock plated another serving.

‘No, Mum.’

‘Gluten intolerant?’

Mrs Lannock passed the plate to Melville’s nine-year-old brother, Lennie.

‘No, Mum. But she’d love you to crumb the crust of a slice of that sourdough loaf.’

‘And to drink?’

‘I think she’s got that covered, Mum.’

‘Oh, yes, so she has. Sorry.’

The Lannock family ate in silence. Melville tucked into his spaghetti bolognese in between tender glances at Goldie as she swam frolicking laps around her jar. Lennie stared agape at the goldfish. With a beaming smile, Ellie glanced back and forth between her older brother and the glass jar. Mr Lannock toyed with his dinner with his fork. And Mrs Lannock poured and guzzled a glass of wine, and having given the jar a disapproving glare, she poured and downed a second glass.

Mr Lannock cleared his throat and said, ‘So, Mel—’

‘Leonard!’ Mrs Lannock said. ‘It’s rude to gape. Eat your dinner.’

‘But, Mum—’

‘Leonard!’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Lennie closed his mouth but kept his stare.

Mr Lannock cleared his throat again. ‘So, Melville, where’d you two meet?’

Melville laughed and looked at Goldie. ‘Shall I tell the story, my love? Yes? OK. Well, it was down at McManus’s Pet Store. I work there on weekends, and as I walked along the tank aisle, well, our eyes met and locked. It was love at first sight.’

‘Ooooohhh, how romantic,’ Ellie said, gushing.

‘Eleanor!’ Mrs Lannock said. ‘Finish your meal.’

‘But, Mum—’

‘Eleanor!’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Ellie lowered her head but kept her grin.

‘Anyway,’ Melville continued, ‘we got talking—I’ll admit I did most of the talking—and we discovered we had so much in common. We went on a couple of dates, and then last night I dimmed the fluorescent light above Goldie’s tank, got down on one knee—’

‘Ooooohhh, how—’

‘Eleanor!’

‘… and proposed to her. And Goldie accepted. I was over the moon. It was the happiest day of our lives. Our engagement party is next week at the pet store.’

Mrs Lannock guzzled a third glass of wine.

‘Of course, I did the proper thing and asked Goldie’s father for his permission to marry his daughter. He was over the moon.’

‘H … H … Her father?’ Mr Lannock said.

‘That’s right. He’s a carp living in the tank next to Goldie’s.’

‘Is … is there a mother?’

‘Was, Dad. Mr McManus sold her late last year. Broke Goldie’s heart, it did.’

Mrs Lannock groaned and picked up the empty wine bottle. ‘I’m just going to get another bottle.’ She exited the room, and a howl, long and harrowed, came from the kitchen, followed by a sob and then, ‘Oh God! Where did we go wrong?’

She returned with mascara smudged around her eyes, lipstick smeared across her cheeks and her bobbed wig askew. She sat looking at her son and the jar. Choking back a sob, she stood and said, ‘I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten the bottle.’

‘I’ll help you with dessert,’ Mr Lannock said.

He rose, quickly collected some plates and followed Mrs Lannock into the kitchen. Crockery clinking, hushed murmurings and cupboard door slamming followed.

Ellie smiled at Melville and whispered, ‘Oh My God! She’s so cute! I just know we’re going to be besties.’

Mrs Lannock’s raised whispers came from the kitchen. ‘… your side of the family … breastfeed him too much … needs a shrink … Oh God! Our son’s insane … never trust those quiet ones … imagine what our grandchildren …’

Mr Lannock re-entered the dining room with a pie, a jug of cream and a forced smile. ‘So, who’s ready for dessert? Mum won’t be rejoining us. She’s gone for a little walk.’

Lenny raised his hand.

‘Yes, Leonard?’ Mr Lannock said.

‘May I?’

‘Yes, Leonard, you’re excused.’

‘No. May I ask a question?’

‘A question?’

‘Yes. To Melville.’

‘Sure, Bro,’ Melville said. ‘Ask away.’

Lenny leant forward, and with eyes as big as saucers, he said, ‘How do you two have sex?’

***

The Lannocks’ car pulled up outside McManus’s Pet Store at 6.55 pm. The curbside back door opened, and Ellie and Lennie climbed out. Ellie, resplendent in her new party dress, reached back into the car and pulled out a large wrapped parcel.

Mr Lannock straightened his tie, looked at his wife and said, ‘Ready?’

‘You take the children inside,’ Mrs Lannock said. ‘I just need a minute.’

‘You will need to talk to Melville, eventually. You can’t avoid him forever.’

‘I’ve not been avoiding him. I’ve just been busy.’

‘Melville’s not a boy anymore. He’s a man. A young man who’s found someone to love and share the rest of his life with. You, yourself, said all you want for your children is for them to be happy and healthy.’

‘But that’s the point, isn’t it? Is our Melville healthy? He’s engaged to a goldfish, for God’s sake! This is not someone of another race or socio-economic background or faith. This is a goldfish. A whole different species. I tell you, it’s just not normal. It’s all just so … so … so … fishy.’

‘I think you’re being a tad judgemental. Besides, what’s normal these days?’

‘Don’t you “tad judgemental” me, Bernard Lannock. You’re not the one who screamed through 26 hours of labour to bring Melville into the world.’

‘All I am saying is it’s not for us to shun Melville’s choice of partner. Rather, we should embrace her as a daughter.’

‘And how do you propose I do that? Don a wetsuit and flippers and drop in for a visit with a plate of breadcrumbs?’

‘There’s no need to get narky. Come on, the kids are getting impatient. And for goodness’ sake, please behave tonight.’

‘Oh, all right. I’ll behave.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘And to not do anything to upset Melville and, in particular, our future daughter-in-law and her family?’

‘Yes, yes, I promise.’

‘Come on. Or we’ll be late for our boy’s special night.’

‘You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Mr Lannock eased himself out of the car with a grunt.

As Mrs Lannock watched her family approach the pet shop entrance, she reached for a hip flask in her handbag. Once they disappeared inside, she flipped the cap and guzzled from the flask. She shuddered, and as the liquor warmed her body, she looked up and saw a large painted goldfish, chirpy and inviting, adorning the shop’s sliding doors. Suppressing a sob, she lifted the flask and drained the rest of its contents in two gulps. She checked her face in the rear-view mirror, patted her bobbed hair into place, and with a whispered ‘You can do this, Lea’, she exited the car and walked over to the entrance.

***

Mr Lannock, guided by a faint, distant fluorescent light, ushered Ellie and Lennie down the kennel lane, then past the birdcages, before arriving in a wide aisle walled with illuminated glass tanks. A man, dressed in a gold sequinned suit and with a golden mohawk spiked atop his head, stood beside a table with champagne flutes and an ice bucket on it. His suit glittered as he raised an arm and waved.

‘Melville?’ Mr Lannock said, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

‘Hi, Dad,’ Melville said. ‘Hi, guys. So glad you could come. Where’s Mum?’

‘Just parking the car. Are we early?’

‘No. Actually, you’re the last to arrive. I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.’

Ellie stepped forward and kissed her brother on his cheek. ‘For you and Goldie,’ she said as she handed the parcel to her brother.

‘Thanks, Sis. Thank you all.’ Melville placed the parcel next to another present on the table.

Mr Lannock looked about, but all he saw were tanks.

‘Where are all the other guests, son? All your friends?’

‘Here.’

‘Where?’

‘Here. All my friends are here tonight.’

Dozens of goldfish in each tank pressed their gaping mouths against the tank glass and waved their pectoral fins in greeting. Ellie waved back and mouthed a ‘hello’.

Mr Lannock cast a pitiful eye upon his son’s beaming face. His eyes followed Melville’s mohawk up as it spired towards the overhanging fluorescent light.

‘What’s with the mohawk, son?’

‘What mohawk?’

‘Your hair.’

Melville laughed. ‘It’s not a mohawk. It’s a dorsal fin.’

Mrs Lannock arrived with a belch and a stumble and said, ‘Somebody get me a drink.’

‘Golly gosh,’ Melville said. ‘Where are my manners? Mum. Dad. Can I get you a glass of champagne?’

Melville poured two flutes of champagne and handed them to his parents. Mr Lannock thanked his son and took a sip, but Mrs Lannock guzzled hers, waved her glass and said, ‘Another. And keep them coming.’

As Melville refilled his mother’s glass, he said, ‘Mum. Dad. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’ He guided his parents to the nearest tank and said, ‘Mum. Dad. This is Fez. Goldie’s cousin, once removed. He’s the rarest and most expensive fish in the shop.’

With a flash of black and red, Fez sped to the side of the tank and gawped. Mr Lannock returned a polite wave, but a tipsy Mrs Lannock teetered forward until her forehead rested on the glass and whispered, ‘Greetings, Bruce.’ Fez disappeared behind the condensation of Mrs Lannock’s salutation against the glass.

‘I’ll leave you to mingle with the other guests,’ Melville said. ‘Help yourself to the hors d’oeuvres.’ He turned to his brother. ‘Hey, Lennie. I’d appreciate it if you could wander amongst the tanks and offer nibblies to Goldie’s family.’

Ten minutes later, Melville tapped his flute, cleared his throat and said, ‘A bit of shush, please.’ Only the hum and buzz of tank filters and the burble of running water ignored his request. ‘Right, has everyone got a full glass?’

Ellie picked up a champagne bottle and went to top up her glass of lemonade.

‘Eleanor!’ Mrs Lannock said with a hiss.

‘But, Mum, it’s a special—’

‘Eleanor!’

Melville stood beside a small tank, and Goldie appeared next to him. Side-by-side, glittering in their matching outfits and dorsal fins, the engaged couple glowed with prenuptial exuberance.

Mrs Lannock placed her full champagne flute on the glass panel atop the tank next to her, opened her handbag, pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

‘Right,’ Melville said. ‘Thanks, everyone, for being here to celebrate our engagement. Goldie’s dad is a bit shy, so he asked me to do the honours.’ All heads turned towards the largest tank as an enormous, translucent, black-spotted carp swept the length of the tank with a languid insouciance. ‘I’ll keep it short. We just want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your support and love.’

A splash came from the tank next to Mrs Lannock.

‘It means the world to us to have our families together tonight, and we hope it will be the first of many celebrations we can share together as an extended family. So, I ask you to raise your glasses and toast us, the happy couple. To Goldie and me.’

‘Goldie and Melville,’ Mr Lannock said, raising his glass.

‘Goldie and Melville,’ Ellie said, bursting into applause. She rushed over and hugged her brother and blew a kiss to her future sister-in-law.

Lennie turned towards his mother when he heard a watery plop. ‘Mum!’ he said with wide eyes and his index finger pointing at her.

‘Leonard! It’s rude to point,’ Mrs Lannock said. She downed her glass of champagne in a gulp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smudged her right cheek with lipstick.

‘Oh My God!’ Lennie said.

‘Leonard! How many times must I tell you not to take the Lord’s name in vain?’

‘But, Mum—’

‘Leonard!’

‘But, Mum, you just swallowed Cousin Fez!’