We both slept in a little. I kept thinking about Jase and Lani, and probably the subject kept David up too. It was after 10 when we hit the kitchen, and David started making the usual pancakes and twisted bacon (he bakes it on a broiler pan, but first he spins each strip around itself, so the grease lands in the drip pan and the process is spatterless). Meanwhile I headed out back to consider the pond.

It was a beautiful morning as usual. Sure it costs more to be in the bayarea, but we can enjoy outside just about every day. I’ll take it over the desolation of Jamul any time.

The morning looked good but Brutus didn’t. One portion of the pond bank was smushed as if some critter had been using the water or trying for the fish, but I couldn’t see any marks on him. He was barely swimming though, and his movements weren’t the circles we were accustomed to see. Brutus was wobbling in the water, side to side and even a little bit nose and tail, and he was hardly shifting his pond position at all. He looked sick.

I called David, and he was as mystified as me. We figured it was best to leave Brutus alone for a bit. As David said, the situation was probably going to change, and we just had to wait to see if it would get better or worse. We didn’t think there was a vet around who would make a house call about a carp.

So we ate, read the news, showered, took a look at the shelving idea David had for the garage. Then we figured we’d check up on “the kids.” We knew the procedure would be completed in a couple of hours.

Jase didn’t answer. David has Lani’s cell number so he tried her and she picked up.

Jase didn’t answer because he’d forgotten to bring his phone (typical Jase – he never left a place with all of his stuff). Lani said their drive went all right and the motel room was okay. But she wasn’t comfortable. She hadn’t realized the procedure would take two days, and whatever they’d done yesterday, to get things started, resulted in a surprising amount of pain last night. She said she hadn’t known how emotional the whole deal would be. Like her husband, she revealed absolutely no sign of regret or enlightenment. As far as Jase and Lani were concerned, shitty things just happened to them, either because of the actions of their enemies or due to plain old bad luck.

David was shaking his head in classic avuncular fashion (I’d looked up that word just days ago – uncle-like!) as he hung up the phone and before he reported Lani’s words. “They’re hopeless,” he murmured. “They’ll never change.”

“No strategy?”

“Ach. It’s beyond that. I can’t believe how consistently they’re wrong. So many bad habits. And changing bad habits takes more than strategy and tactics even. It’s a grief issue.”

I looked my question at David and he continued. “A habit is like a best friend. You go to it for comfort, relief, support. Losing it is like the death of a dear one. You have to make room to grieve for what you no longer have. You have to make time too. They say grief takes a year.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve been trying to stop overeating forever. David’s words almost excited me: they were so promising. Immediately I felt some fresh determination.

What with the garage shelves and our trip to the farmer’s market for salad ingredients (David decided to join my new healthy eating campaign), we didn’t check on Brutus for a few hours. He looked worse. Barely moving, starting to list so his starboard side was rising. Brutus was clearly moribund. He looked like he needed euthanasia.

He was too big to flush. Too small to shoot. Not built right to throttle. Neither of us could bear the idea of whacking him on the head. Then I had a brainstorm. Or a lightbulb. An idea.

“Let’s release him.”

David literally goggled at me.

“Let’s get him out of this pit we call a pond, and set him free in the creek.”

“He won’t live.”

“We don’t know that. I mean, it’s certain death if we kill him now, but if we put him in the creek at least he has a chance. At least we don’t have to watch. At least he dies free if he doesn’t make it.”

“It’s a good idea,” David said.

So we fetched the bucket and scooped up Brutus and pond water. We edged onto the creek bank so we could pour him in close to the water. The creek wasn’t flowing hard but there was enough in it so a fish could avoid the rocks.

It felt ceremonial as Brutus flowed into the creek. He moved with the water and our last words to him were “Turn back when you taste salt!”

We both knew as we returned to the kitchen that we wouldn’t renew the pond. That was a fail as designed, and neither of us had the desire to try again.

What we didn’t know was the decision I was about to make. Before dinner I told David that I’ve decided to return to school. I can support myself writing code, even while I study. I know now that I want to learn classical Greek. I need to know more about linguistics, about words. And I may not have an exact plan for my life’s work, but I see a glimmer of strategy and tactics.

I’m certain that I want to swim in a big pond.