The Night Shift

Dear Mom,

This is my second week at the Texas State Aquarium night shift. The lights from the Harbor Bridge twinkle through the large windows and make a perfect backdrop to the dolphin stage. I can see the U.S.S. Lexington past the raptor exhibit. They are calm at the moment. The injured Cooper’s Hawk is healing well in her private space. My rounds tonight should be extra enjoyable. We have a new addition to our sea turtle family! Well, at least until she is ready to be released back in the wild. She was caught by a local fisherman and noticed something growing in her eye. At first, we all thought it may be Fibropapillomatosis, but it turns out it was just some abnormal skin growth. The veterinarian here said she would be just fine and should be back in the ocean real soon. Until then, she likes to swim around, and she seems pretty interested in the otter exhibit next door. I think if these Greens could talk, they would have a story to tell.

I really do love it here, although sometimes it can get a little scary being the only person here. Like tonight. But it’s not too bad. I sometimes hear noise coming from the other ends of the halls, but the fish tell me not to worry about it. The Goliath Grouper is usually the one who calms me down when I get too scared. I just remembered what you told me before I left. Do you remember? I do.

I started upstairs tonight. It’s a full moon, so the glass ceiling allowed much of the moon’s light to shine beautifully upon the top of the Caribbean Sea exhibit. If you ignore the cement, the glass, the railing, you can almost imagine perfectly that you are sailing in the ocean’s emptiness. The small waves on top of the water dances with the natural moon’s glow. It reminds me of that trip. Do you remember mother? I do. The flamingos and parrots have all been put away. I don’t get to see them at night. Not yet, anyway.

The bottom floor is my favorite. Tonight was an exceptional night. The Green Moray Eel finally spoke to me tonight. Can you believe that? The Sandbar Shark was unusually quiet, though. He likes to tell me about the people he sees through his perspective. He says that people look weird. To him, we are all odd creatures that stare intently on a light box. He says that the sunken ship inside the tank reminds him of home. He is homesick but enjoys being pampered and spoiled. The Green Moray Eel doesn’t like being stared at. She says some pretty horrible things. Although she isn’t as lovely as the others, like the Gray Angelfish or Hogfish, she still has plenty to say about us people. I couldn’t disagree with much she had to say, but our conversation ran short when I heard a noise coming from The Islands of Steel exhibit.

I felt a little vertigo walking through the main lobby. It quickly went away after I shook my head and regained my balance. I wish you could see the main lobby. Your eyes want to fixate on the large glass windows on the end of the hallway. It leads to the dolphin underwater viewing. I don’t like to go there. All the dolphins want to do is play tricks on me. They like to joke and never take anything seriously. They are the ones that warned me about the skinny man in black. They keep saying that he follows me around and that he likes to hide from me and that it is he who is making all of this noise at night. I tell them to hush and let me be.

They tried to convince me to swim with them one night. One of them would slowly swim past me as I walked around their tank. Their movements are ever so graceful underwater. It would swim a few feet ahead of me and effortlessly summersault and swim back upside-down. It looked like it cut through the water, leaving no ripples in its path. Like when I used to pretend I was a dolphin when I was a kid. Do you remember? I do.

I kept hearing the noise coming from the other end of the main lobby. I saw in through one of the entrances to The Gulf of Mexico wing, and I swear I saw something. A mouth, perhaps? It looked like something was smiling at me, in the darkness behind the purple lights from the jellyfish tank. I don’t quite know if it was a mouth or not. It seemed too large or a normal-sized face. The grin appeared to extend well past the barriers of a normal face. I didn’t see anything else. I called out to see if anyone was there. Only the animals responded. Isn’t that funny? When I told them to stop talking, the mouth was gone. It was probably just all in my imagination. I do sometimes come up with some outrageous stories.

The jellyfish are the nicest here. I like to stand and stare at their tank. They don’t mind very much. They have a blacklight in their habitat that makes them really stand out. Their long tentacles wrap around in a ballet and almost never seem to touch one another as they bob their mushroom-shaped cones in and out to stay afloat. They tell me that they wished the ocean was as lit as their tank. They keep telling me that I should let them swim with the others, but I have to remind them that I can’t do that. They get sad and weep for a minute or two, but they return to a lovely state of tranquility once they see each other under the blacklight.

Something strange occurred at the Coral Reef exhibit.

I heard that noise again, but it was slightly different. It did sound like high pitched hum, but this time it seemed to be at a variant of frequencies. High then low, then extremely high, then extremely low. It wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it reminded me to something we used to hear in the attic. Do you remember? I do.

It wasn’t until I reached the Coral Reef exhibit when I finally found the source of the humming. A skinny man in a black suit. It’s mouth was agape and stuck in a permanent smile. It didn’t look like he was breathing. His eyes were wide open. He tilted his head sharply from side to side as I walked closer to him. He didn’t blink. He simply eyed me. A Queen Angelfish swam to his eyes and grazed his pupils. He stood there underwater. I needed to see if he was okay. I asked him if he was. And wouldn’t you know, he spoke in such eloquence and with manners that I might have found a new friend. You always told me to find the good in everyone I meet. We talked for a minute, but I had to leave. I had to continue my rounds. He told me a secret though. He said I cannot tell anyone. I had to inquire if I could at least tell my friends in the Caribbean Sea exhibit. He just smiled and laughed. It was humorous to watch him follow me with his eyes as I continued to walk around the Gulf of Mexico wing.

I love you mom. I truly do enjoy it here. My night is almost over. I have to write a small report every night on what happens during my shift. I’m going to leave out meeting the skinny man in black. I have to finish this letter quickly, though. The skinny man in black is going to show me some new things in the Caribbean Sea exhibit. He also challenged me to see who could hold their breath longer in the tank. I know we are not supposed to go in there, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge. Remember that time I won a foot race against the neighbor’s dog? I do. Wish me luck. Bye mom.