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The fish looks at the bracelet and again at the woman. “If you take me to the sea, you can wear your jewels again. I have the power to grant those worthy a wish, and I would have no qualms giving it to you.”

The woman laughs. “Once, they adorned me. The made my skin sparkle and shine the way the rest of me shined with hope. Then one day, I was hooked with promises of devotion and threats of time. I cast off my jewels to join the others and have only this small piece left.”

“This is yours, my lady?” The fish asks, head cocked to one side, somewhat like how a dog might do so. “Are these your scales? Did you shed them to live upon land?”

The wife reaches out a touches the fish’s mouth. Gently, she unhooks the fish and removes the bracelet. “My bracelet…” she whispers, as tears clear as diamonds flow down her face and fall into the tub with a splash.

“I saw a beautiful shimmering strand,” the fish says slowly. “I saw it and thought that it might have a similar origin as myself and sought to know it further. That was my downfall I suppose. It lies in my mouth yet.”

“I am both, I am afraid.” The woman responds. “I am that man’s partner, willing before, begrudgingly now, and perhaps unwillingly in the future. I take it that he did not propose marriage to you, so at what price have you come to be here?”

The fish remains quiet and still for only a moment before again crying out: “Oh lady, has that horrible man kidnapped you as well? Or are you one just like him and come to torture me?”

At this point, the sun has set over the hills and the bathroom lies in shadow. At least it should, that is. In the tub, that most precious fish glows with a beautiful light refracted by a tub full of gems and tears.

Of course, when one so disagreeable tells you you ought not do something, the first natural impulse is to partake in whichever activity they find vile. And so, the wife no sooner than sees her husband leave than sprints to the bath and shoves open the door.

A handful of gems lies heavily in his pocket. “You be good and stay here!” he tells his wife as he prepares for a night on the town. “And remember to stay out of the bath! A hag like you doesn’t need to wash anyway!”

Meanwhile, the man eats almost the full chicken that the wife had gone out and bought and gutted and cleaned and cooked. He ate of it with the gusto of a poor man made rich.

The husband sits in the bathroom until the an hour before twilight, at which time the lady of the house calls him for supper. The fish lays in the tub, spirits fallen and tears still falling.

She thinks of herself and of her husband and their rotten, empty life.

The wife, long forgotten, hears these words. She thinks of her parents, whom they see seldom even near the holidays. She thinks of her dowry, spent on nothing. She thinks of her life and her empty love.

“Hah! You will never see your family again! You will stay here and suffer!” The man shouts in order to scare out more precious tears.

“You cruel man! You could have slaughtered me and been done with it! You could have let me free! Why would you catch me and keep me here?” The fish, despite its dire circumstances, finds itself at no loss for words. Perhaps that is the magic of a magic fish.

He tosses the fish into the small tub and splashes it with a bucket of water reserved for face washing. He leaves the fish hooked upon the rod and holds the rod between his hands which have turned white with the strength of his clutching.

“Oh, you nag, you curious black cat of bad luck! No, I haven’t got supper. Cook up some stew with old jerky or go buy a chicken to slaughter. Leave me be.” The man rushes to the bath with his prize, jealously still hidden in his bag.

“Have you brought home supper?” she asks. “It usually takes much longer, the sun hasn’t even reached peak. I know you haven’t rushed here for love of me.”

His wife welcomes him home at the door. Her worn apron is patched over with scraps of old sun-faded curtains. She wears a bitter smile, not at all hidden as her hair is tied up with a piece of yarn leftover from when she made the fisherman’s sweater.