Forty Days and Nights: Love Stories. 24. Poison

If we get a dog it shouldn't have so much long hair, she said disapprovingly as she watched the dogs and people walk down the street. He watched them, too. No, he agreed, I don't think your mom would like that much. She looked up at him. I wouldn't like it, she said. Okay, he said, you either. Me either, he added, surprised. Not a cat, she said. No, he agreed, they're creepy. But they don't bark, she observed thoughtfully, which is nice, and they eat predators. He thought a moment. Do you mean rodents? he asked, they eat rodents? What are mice? she asked, aren't mice predators? He smiled, turning the words over in his mind. Tricky question, he said, but either way, no cat. No cat, she agreed. It's got to be a frog, she said, we've talked it through before. A frog and a pretty fish. Yes, he said, we just have to be careful. I think some fish and frogs poison each other, but I can't remember for sure, I can't remember which ones. The store workers help you with that, she said, wisely. They are not supposed to let you put animals together that would die. We can trust them. Yes, he smiled down at her, yes. We're lucky.

At the fish and frog store they bought a glass container and food and plants and a little net and water conditioning drops and a tiny frog and three fish. She asked lots of questions until she got all the care and feeding straight in her head. He watched her from a respectful distance, pretending to read a small handbook on the raising of lizards for profit. They loaded up the purchases. He looked her over; she was quite burdened. We should have maybe driven, he said. No, she said. I like the walk. I like to walk with you. You can carry the heavy things, she told him kindly. I'll take the animals, I'm careful. Thank you, he said gravely.

They walked back past different dogs and other people. She was very quiet; he watched her watching the fish and frog dart about in their tiny life support containers. You were right, she said. You were right about the frogs and the fishes. I was right? he asked, how was I right? Poison, she said. I asked. Oh! he said, I forgot. Did you ask the store workers? Yes, she said. The fish make poison that doesn't hurt them but can hurt the frogs. Sometimes. She held up the bags, held them close together. Why can they do that? she asked him, looking up into his eyes, why can they make poison just by living? He felt helpless, lost. Well, he said. Do they do it on purpose? she asked, do they mean to? No, baby, he said, of course they don't mean to. So it's not like snakes, then? she asked. It's not...like...what? he asked. Snakes bite because they're poison, she said, they try to hurt you. He stopped and looked down at her. Her eyes were big, she held tightly to the cool bags. Here, he said, come over here. They walked over to a bench, he carefully set down the glass container and the bags of marine life accessories. Here, he said, sit here for a minute. She sat, bags on her lap. He sighed.

Snakes don't bite because they want to hurt you, he said, they just bite. It's how they are, how they take care of themselves. And they are just poisonous when they are born. The fish are the same way. They make poison for the frogs just because of the way they are. Not because they mean to. But, she said, but what about if it's an accident? What if it occurs in the wild? And the fish wake up one morning and everyone else is dead? He bit his lip inside his mouth. He loved her words, he wasn't used to this yet from her. I don't think it occurs in the wild, he said carefully, to protect her feelings and because his lip hurt. I think that's the point. In the wild the fish and frogs wouldn't live in the same place, so everyone would be fine. Frogs and fish have learned not to be too close if one would hurt the other one. They don't cohabitate, he said, handing her a new word with deliberate care. He watched her taste that one, turn it over on her tongue. What about people? she asked.

He sighed again, looking across the street. People, he said, that's a tricky question. Yes, people and poison. Well, he said, and she looked at him for a long time. People, he said, well, what do you think? Yes, she said, I think so. He was startled, as he often was, by the sadness and wisdom that passed quickly across her face. He tipped her chin up. Hey, he said, let's get these critters to their new digs. Your mom will be wondering what on earth happened to us. It's okay, she reminded him, she knows we walked. She thinks we're slow. We are slow, he said, balancing the glass container and the bags so he could reach his arms around her to pull her close and kiss the top of her head. Hey, she said, you're squishing the fish bag.