Read The Fourteenth Goldfish for Free Online

you think I’ll ever win a Nobel?” I ask.
    “Of course you will,” he says without a second’s hesitation.
    And I believe him.

It’s Saturday night and my mom has a date with Ben. They’re going to drop off my grandfather and me at the movie theater, grab dinner, and pick us up on the way home.
    I watch her as she gets ready. Her hair is blue now. She changed it a few days ago, and when my grandfather saw it, he shook his head and asked if she was working for the circus.
    “How do I look?” my mom asks me.
    She models her outfit: a purple skirt, a silver-sequined top, a wide black vinyl belt, and tall pleather boots. Sometimes it’s a little hard having a mom who’s hipper than you are.
    “Great!”
    The doorbell rings and my mom says what she always says: “Tell Ben I’ll be down in a minute.”
    Ben is standing on the front porch with a bouquet of carnations. Even though he and my mom are way past the flowers stage, he brings her flowers every time they have a date. I think it’s sweet.
    “How’s it hanging?” he asks, which is what he always says.
    My mom says that the thing she loves most about Ben is that there’s no drama, which is a funny thing for a drama teacher to say. I like that he doesn’t try to be my dad. He’s just Ben.
    “She’s still getting ready. She’ll be down in a few minutes,” I say, although he and I both know she’ll probably be a while.
    Ben’s eyes crinkle and he says half-jokingly, “I’d wait for your mother forever.”
    He’s asked my mother to marry him twice, and both times she’s told him she wasn’t ready. I once overheard her tell Bernadette she was scared of making a mistake again.
    My grandfather walks into the hall and gives Ben an icy look. In addition to his usual polyester pants and button-up shirt, he’s put on a crimson tie. He told me he always dresses up when he goes to the movies.
    “You must be Ellie’s cousin,” Ben says. “Melvin, right? I’m Ben.”
    My grandfather doesn’t say anything; he just gives Ben a hostile look.
    Ben nods at my grandfather’s tie. “So you’re a tie guy, huh? That’s pretty classic.”
    “Classic” is definitely a good way to describe my grandfather.
    My mother walks in.
    “You look beautiful, Lissa,” he says.
    She points to her top. “Not too sparkly?”
    Ben smiles. “It’s perfect.”
    “You need a shawl,” my grandfather tells her.
    “What?” my mom asks.
    “All that skin,” my grandfather insists. “It’s like something a teenager would wear. You need a shawl.”
    My mom’s mouth opens and closes in fury.
    After the movie, my grandfather and I wait outside to get picked up. The nightly parade is going on: girls walk with arms linked by boys who pretend not to notice them, while other boys whiz by on skateboards.
    “Idiot,” my grandfather comments when a skateboarder executes a neat flip. “One good fall and he’ll need a knee replacement.”
    He shakes his box of Raisinets. He’s already worked his way through a bag of popcorn, a box of gummy bears, nachos, a root beer, and a milk shake.
    “They’re not as good as they used to be,” he complains.
    “They’re just chocolate-covered raisins,” I say. “How can they taste different?”
    “They were just better. Like a lot of things.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like movies. That one was a piece of garbage. Back in my day, they made quality movies.”
    It was an animated fairy tale and I didn’t like it much, either. I’d really wanted to see a Japanese horror movie, but it was sold out.
    I like scary films; I’m not a big fairy-tale fan. Mostly because I always wonder about the
after
part of happily-ever-after. Like in “The Three Little Pigs.” What happened after the third pig cooked the wolf in the pot? Did he hold a funeral and let the wolf’s friends know? Or with “Cinderella.” Sure, she got the prince, but what about the stepsisters? They were still her family. Did she have to see them at Thanksgiving dinner?