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It was on the outer edge of the pond that Susan saw the fish. A single pretty one, white with shiny scales where the sunlight laid eyes on it.
She couldn’t remember having seen that one before, not when she and Ping-Cho had come around an evening ago to feed them. “Where have you been hiding?” she asked, and reached to pet it. The water was cool, and when she took her hand out it was slightly paler than before. The sleeve of the dress Ping-Cho had lent her was wet. The rest were familiar to her. A silky plump one, gliding smoothly across the bottom of the pond, fat shadow trailing behind. One with a solemn-looking face, the one dashing from end to end like a flighty bird. A mischievous goldfish, looking rather odd amidst this display. The one that swam in circles by itself, an independent spirit. The older one with drooping whiskers.
There was something magical about this fish. The pure whiteness was almost intoxicating; it was not covered in ink-splot patches nor speckled like the rest, no, it was as pure as a crystal. Its fins and tail were long and graceful. Translucent, ribbon-like. Susan thought the creature to be a princess walking amongst her loyal, awed subjects with their blotched exteriors and glassy eyes, with a wedding veil atop her head. Just like Ping-Cho.
She looked up from the pond and gazed at the surface of the water. It was clear and dotted with reeds and lilypads. Pink-tipped lotus flowers floated in place, nestled against the curved ends of the pond’s shaven stone form. Occasionally one of the fish would come up briefly, expecting food. A single gulp, then another, and it would disappear, sending rings of white cascading across the top.
Susan perched her elbows on the edge and placed her head in her hands. She sighed. The wedding-veil fish ran laps around a goldfish, light slacking off its amber scales. They jolted backwards and forwards in their game of tag. It’s funny, she thought, that such a beautiful thing should bother with something as ordinary as a goldfish. She unconsciously thought of Ping-Cho; she felt so happy that the girl had chosen her for a friend. So happy that she was the one Ping-Cho loved the most. She, this strange girl with a coltish gait and hair as short as a boy’s who got her clothes wet!
Susan couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told her that they loved her the most. Of course she meant the world to her grandfather, she knew that, but that was a different matter. Anyhow, he wasn’t the sort to say it, and she wanted to hear somebody say it. Ian and Barbara liked her at the very least, and Barbara had taken to her like a mother, or an older sister of sorts. But they hardly loved her the most. Besides, they probably love each other the most--! A giggle seeped from her lips. She saw the way they looked at one another when they thought nobody else was looking.
Do we look at each other that way? Do other people see the way we look at each other? She rubbed her elbows; her arms ached. Her sleeve was still damp. There is so much I don't know yet.
A shadow bisected the pond. The wedding-veil fish had stopped its chase and now floated aimlessly under a cluster of lily-pads, alone. Susan wondered if Ping-Cho was alone, wandering along these painted corridors in the service of diplomacy with only her ladies-in-waiting for company. She’s lonely, just as I am. The thought hurt and comforted her. Here they were, both strangers in strange, foreign lands. Then I mustn’t make her feel lonely anymore. Yes, she thought, once those dull men are finished speaking with her, I will tell her all about the fish.
The thought of it made her shiver with excitement. She will tell her all about the fish. She will tell her all about how cold the water was and rub the damp sleeve across her cheek to make her laugh. She will ask whether she’s ever noticed how Ian and Barbara look at each other and if they look at each other that way too. She will tell her that she loves her the most, again, though she already said it yesterday. She smiled a secret smile to herself. I will say it a thousand times if I need to. Beneath the water, the fish carried on with their underwater dance, iridescent and content in their own little world.