Sarah Van Name - The Goodbye Summer

Here at the aquarium gift shop, we sell posters, puzzles, and stuffed animals of everything under the sea. Weve got dolphins, sea turtles, penguins, fish, sharks, whales, whale sharks, and more!

Thats the pitchwhat the tour guides say before they lead their groups into the store. Its technically true, although the stuffing falls out of the dolphins through their mouths, the puzzles are sometimes missing pieces, and the posters are just stock photos with the watermarks removed. We also sell seashells, though we are nowhere near the seashore. As a landlocked girl, I have never been to the ocean.

We dont sell the animals themselves. Some people ask.

We also dont have the live versions of most of these animals at the aquarium. But the gift shop is here to make people feel like theyve visited a truly impressive place. It has glass walls and lighting that makes everyones skin look gold.

I began working here yesterday, the first Monday after my junior year ended. It wouldve been nice to have a bit of a break, but I wanted to start making money, and my parents wouldnt let me have a job while I was in school; academics, they said, were too important, though I have never been a straight-A student. Theyd even told me I didnt need to work this summer.

Its fine to be at home all day, sleep in, my dad said.

I can teach you how to sew, my mom said.

You dont get many chances in life to relax, they said. Both of them had worked full-time jobs during every break from the age of sixteen, and I think they mourned the loss of their teenage summers. They must have felt they were giving me an immeasurable gift in the option of leisure, a gift theyd never had.

But I told my parents I wanted to do something with these three months. They said it was good that I had a work ethic, but Mom looked sad.

I got the job through Toby, Jakes cousin, who has worked at the aquarium since he graduated high school two years ago. Jenny, the manager, chewed gum all during my interview a few weeks ago. Her office in the back of the store had a window looking out on the parking lot and a giant, faded poster of a shark on the wall. She looked young, in her twenties or thirties, but for the entire half hour of our conversation she bore an expression of ageless exhaustion.

so I really think being a part of that science fair team gave me some stellar organizational skills, I finished. She stared out the window. In the parking lot, a minivan was failing to complete a three-point turn.

Can you work a cash register? she said without looking at me.

I can learn, definitely

Could you yell at a kid if they were trying to steal something?

Umyes.

Do you have a passion for ocean life?

I

Nah, Im just messin with you. She opened a desk drawer. Toby recommended you. So youre probably okay.

Tobys great, right? I said. I hear he leads great tours.

Hes okay, Jenny said. When did you want to start?

Its early afternoon my second day on the job, and theres a burst of sound and a flood of hassled parents and children surge into the lobby, finished with their tour and heading my way. A second later, the doors from the outside open too. They admit a steady stream of kids, all chattering and holding matching plastic backpacks. Two guys wearing blue shirts herd them toward the front desk. The door falls shut behind the last child and then opens again, too quickly, as if its about to be yanked off its hinges.

And thats when I see her.

I notice her first because she is a girl my age, and the aquarium mostly employs guys. She is wearing a Junior Aquarium Camp T-shirt that says COUNSELOR in big letters on the back. The N and the S are obscured by a wet band of dark, frizzy hair. In Junior Aquarium Camp the counselors take the kids to the pool and tell them to pretend to be fish. If they learn about a certain type of fish on Monday, they practice being like it in the pool on Tuesday. I know this because I went when I was little.

The girl is shouting at the kids in front of her and shooing them toward the front desk where the other counselors wait with stickers. One child dawdles behind, and she picks him up and balances him on a wide hip. As she carries him to the desk, her eyes flick around the small atrium and toward the gift shop. They meet mine and roll upward as she smiles, like shes saying: Can you believe this shit?

As our eyes connect, I have a peculiar sense of dj vu, as if I know this girl already and have seen this eye roll and this smile many times beforein front of parents, teachers, other and lesser friends. It feels like a familiar and thrilling inside joke, like we are halfway to friendship already, though we have never met.

Then one of the guys yells, Georgia! and she looks away, sets down the kid, and starts passing out stickers. They walk through the door into the aquarium itself, and she is gone. I look at the lobby where she was, now empty and silent, floor littered with waxy sticker backings.

After that, its a quiet day. Most days, Jenny tells me, are quiet, with occasional bursts of post- or pre-tour activity. Its true that the aquarium gets the most traffic in the summertime, but even then, she says the gift shop doesnt make much revenue. Last week I spent most of my time straightening displays and texting Jake, and it looks like this week will be the same.