The Wily Wealthy Man and His Marvelous Mackerel Marvin

I really didn’t expect she would. 

She did.

…

My pet fish, Marvin, isn’t someone I introduce people to until I think they’re ready. I wasn’t always this way. When I first got him and still had that naive glow in my eye, I was eager to show Marvin off to anyone who showed the slightest interest, or frankly, even those who showed no interest at all. I’ve since learned to wait. 

Marvin is different from most fish. I found him on a voyage many years ago to the Marsupial Islands. 

My crew and I were floating just beyond the shore. We had spent the day on the island and were now returning to our ship. Moonlight lit the beach turning the sand cold and blue. Food and water had become sparse. We had scoured much of the island, and still didn’t have enough supplies for our return journey. That’s when Marvin appeared. 

My wool trousers were soaked and full of wet sand, weighing several pounds more than they did before I pushed our wooden dinghy into the waves. As soon as I clamored and sloshed into the small boat, a large, blue and gray fin poked out of the surface directly behind me. The looming creature rocked our boat. The fin moved to the front of our boat and stopped us from moving forward. Slowly, the massive fish began to rise out of the water until we could see it in its entirety. Marvin was facing us directly, and bobbed on the surface like a coconut with only inches of its underbelly still submerged in the water. 

The sight seemed almost comical, and I likely would have laughed if my stomach didn’t feel as soaked and sandy as my trousers. 

The fish was about the size and weight of a single train car. It was astounding to see something this large float and balance on the surface of the choppy water. Marvin was swirls of blue and gray all over, and his large scales were thick as iron. He had whiskers protruding from his crown and face, resembling a catfish most closely. His lifeless gray eyes indicated no emotion or feeling. 

My heart dropped and I feared this would be the end of me and my crew. I had promised these men’s wives that this journey was a mere pleasure excursion and that they’d return wealthier, happier and more rejuvenated than I had found them. 

Marvin opened his large mouth and held unnaturally still. The cavity of his slimy mouth loomed like the grand entrance of my mansion. I gazed in the dark hole and felt bizarrely strange about my imminent death. I realized in that moment that I had very little I was living for. I had inherited a large estate from my late father who made a fortune digging oil wells in America. I was in my prime as a 25 year old wealthy and respected man of the upper class – any of the men on the ship likely envied my life. However, I knew at this moment they all had something I didn't – someone to live for. I was, and had been, frighteningly lonely for many years now. 

As these thoughts swallowed me, I began to discern certain things in Marvin’s mouth. While the men cowered behind me I leaned forward to examine the gaping mouth closer. 

The boat tipped subtly from the seven burly men’s weight, all of which now huddled in the back. I walked up towards the front and placed my hands on the risen bow. The boat now resembled a rock perapice protruding out of the water – a ramp to this enticing entrance before me. Peering into Marvin, I could see several ridges on the bottom half of his mouth that appeared in function and form like a set of stairs. Back even further on the roof of his mouth was a twine rope with an iron hoop attached to the bottom – a pull ring. I felt sure that pulling on the rope would open up to me something wonderful.

I felt pulled in. My heart longed to see what was in the depths of the fish. I had nothing – or rather no one to lose. What we needed – what I needed was in there.

I lifted my right foot out of the boat to place it on the first fleshy blue step inside Marvin’s mouth.

“Captain no!” Barnaby, my first mate, reached a meaty arm forward to stop me.

“I’ll be fine gents,” I replied without turning my head. I put my weight onto the first step. 

Now inside the mouth of the fish I tugged slowly down on the pull ring. The back of the fish's mouth folded up like a curtain. A gust of breath came through the entrance, I expected to vomit from some horrid stench, but was instead met with the smell of roses and fresh earth. 

I walked into the dark. As I walked, my men’s voices faded and muffled. One last desperate cry from Barnaby, rang out. He abandoned the formality of calling me captain and shouted loudly my name, “Adam!” 

 It had been quite some time since I’d been addressed so informally by anyone. It felt as if I was leaving my name behind. However, it also felt reminiscent of entering a charity ball: the master of ceremonies announcing me to a place where I was respected and belonged. My name echoed in my mind well past losing my men’s voices to the darkness. 

My footsteps’ squish began to echo throughout the large space – much larger than made sense for even the massive size of the fish. It sounded as if I was walking into an empty cathedral or large cave. Thick darkness surrounded me, I looked down and with each step – a ring of turquoise light shimmered from the touch of my foot like ripples in a shallow puddle. 

The ripples of light eventually ‘woke up’ all the other lights in the space. 

I was in an entirely new world. Suddenly this world filled with light. It appeared as if a dark dense cloud had parted to reveal the beaming light of the sun, shining its light down on everything. Trees as tall as buildings began to light their trunks and leaves. Flowers’ delicate petals illuminated and speckles of dew glimmered with golden light. However, wherever I searched above me I couldn’t see anything resembling the sun. 

The entire space was hundreds of feet tall and wide. I was in a cave of sorts. The rounded walls rippled occasionally like waves on the sea. With each ripple, turquoise light shimmered across the surface – like the technicolor secrets revealed on a crow’s black coat of feathers at the right angle. The shimmers in such great size resembled images I’d seen of the northern lights. Though the shimmers cast enchanting blue and green light on the plants and rocks inside, the golden light that mainly illuminated everything was coming from somewhere else. I concluded with no other options that made sense to me, that the ‘sun light’ was coming from the trees and plants themselves.

I named the place “sanctuary.” 

Inside were watermelons, potatoes, carrots, asparagus, oranges, peaches, and cucumbers. Plenty of food and water for our return home. 

Leaving the fish dwelling, I returned to my men with armfuls of fruit and vegetables. They avoided the food for as long as their hunger would permit, but eventually ate. 

Sailing back to London, Marvin followed me the entire way. I stood at the back of my ship watching him churn his large fins through the tons of turquoise water. Holding the wooden beams on the ship my fingers found slivered gouges just below the railing. I ducked to look below and found the name ‘Marvin’ etched crudely into the hull. It made me laugh. 

My father had purchased the ship from the Harland and Wolff Ship Making Company in Belfast, it had been retired by the British Navy after 30 years of service. Iron Steam Ships were all they called for now and many of the ship making companies discontinued their construction of Tall Ships. After a few repairs it was as good as new — except for this little art project apparently. I imagined some young Deck Cadet apprenticing with the Navy, named Marvin, making his mark with a pen knife. 

It felt appropriate to name the fish, Marvin. It seemed Marvin had decided I was his now – either as his master or his pet, it has never since become clear which was more appropriate. We cared for each other I suppose.

…

Over the next few years I enjoyed sharing Marvin, and the wonders of the garden cavern inside. I bought a small bay close to my home where he could still live in the sea. Every time I stood by the shore he would surface for me, and I could step inside. Some people believed me, and some people didn’t. Some were even brave enough to travel inside with me. They would sketch pictures, write poems and enjoy the beauty. However, they never stayed long, and felt they were perhaps intruding. I enjoyed the company. I felt special having caught some attention, the late 1800’s were a riveting time. Singing ghosts hung actors from French opera houses, magicians teleported and dueled one another night after night, a man in London had summoned a demon in his own body with a life saving medicine, two gentlemen in America were creating and capturing lighting.

Eventually after hearing of Marvin’s wonders, many wealthy men offered to buy him from me. I of course denied their offers, I didn’t need the money, and I would never want to part with him. I feared others were growing jealous and fearful. I wished to share it with them, but the thought of them harming Marvin and capitalizing on my sanctuary made my skin and bones ache. 

One night poachers broke into my home, intent on taking Marvin from me by force. They took me hostage and beat me severely. 

“We’ll kill you if you don’t call Marvin from the sea.” A burly bearded man said after breaking the skin on my brow with the butt of his gun. 

I explained as blood trickled down my face and onto my lips, “I don’t call him, he just shows up when I’m there.” 

They drug me to the bay and Marvin rose to the surface to greet me. His glassy eyes were as emotionless as ever. The poachers insisted I let them in. Yet when they stepped into his mouth, without hesitation – Marvin clamped it shut. I could hear the men yelling on the inside. He swallowed them and they were seen no more. I learned that day that Marvin was picky about who could come in. I think he could sense what their intentions were. 

After my recovery, I met a lovely young lady named Abigail. I was excitedly attending the opera after having been in bed for so long. She and I were serendipitously seated in a box together. She wore a large red dress, and for all her beauty, she was shockingly approachable and warm. I think she could tell I was in need of some enjoyment, and rather than let the opera do all the work, she took it upon herself to make me smile and laugh. We snickered throughout the entirety of La Bohème. I didn’t mind, I had seen it several times already and the actress who played Mimì seemed to be struggling – and if you don’t have a good Mimì the whole thing just tends to fall apart. 

Abigail and I continued to see one another, and began going on walks, drinking tea, and visiting friends – playing games, singing with the piano and reading poetry aloud to each other. 

She had heard of my fish Marvin before she had even met me, and was beyond interested. When I invited her to go inside she nearly leapt with excitement – that was until she actually saw Marvin for the first time. 

Staring at Marvin floating atop the water, the color in her face drained. 

“I can’t do it.” Abigail sat down on the dock bench. 

“Why?” I moved to touch her hand. She pulled away. 

She had become certain if she stepped into his mouth, he would eat her. As much as I tried to assure her it was safe – even traveling in-and-out of Marvin to show her – she was overwhelmed by fear. 

It eventually got to the point where if I spoke about the sanctuary, she doubted me. She wouldn’t believe it was as wonderful or enchanting as I’d said. She couldn’t imagine anything inside but horror, darkness, slime and muck. She became convinced I was crazy, and everytime I brought up Marvin or talked of going inside again, she recoiled as if rotten vegetables had just been thrust in her face and she had to pretend to like them. She blamed anything but her fear, but I eventually realized that nothing I could do or say would help, and I had to accept that she simply was afraid – even if she wouldn’t or couldn’t. 

I realized this was dividing us. It made me feel quite bad and I stopped going to my sanctuary. I bought Abigail a ring and decided she would be my life. I didn’t need Marvin if I had her. After everything I had given up, I was content with having just her. 

Shortly after my proposal, Abigail left me for an opera singer. She insisted to everyone who would listen that I was “a crazy fool who spends all his time dreaming of fish.” 

I have always been a reclusive man in many ways, and she was very sociable and loved – naturally, many people began to believe her. Eventually, I learned that many people now believed I had planned on feeding her to the fish so it would get bigger. Rumor had it the reason Marvin was so large was because he fed on beggars and children. 

I was stunned, and sometimes couldn’t help but wonder if I was crazy. The longer I stayed out of my sanctuary, the more I wondered if I had dreamt or imagined it all. 

With a broken and heavy heart, once again with no one to live for, I walked back into the mouth of Marvin. 

It was all still there, beautiful and luminous as ever. 

…

I sold my mansion and liquidated most of my assets. I stored my wealth in a small cave nestled in my sanctuary. I moved my entire library into the aspen grove. I rebuilt my piano under a willow. My favorite armchair now resided by a burbling stream, and my entire wardrobe hung from oak trees like Christmas ornaments. I lived in Marvin like this for at least a year. I lost track of time. I spent my days and nights sleeping under trees on soft grass, washing and swimming in fountains; reading, writing, painting, and singing. I lived off fruits, vegetables, roots and beans. 

It was lovely. All this time alone, immersed in stories and art, allowed for great amounts of reflection. 

I had taken to sleeping at the top of a waterfall. There were three in total and this one was the highest. After having just finished reading King Lear again, I named the place, Gloster Falls. I remember sitting peacefully at the top of the cliff, looking at my sanctuary in its entirety, wearing my father’s kilt, thinking of Edgar and his blind father.

Both times I had entered Marvin, I had nothing to live for. Both times, Marvin gave it back to me. My life belonged to “the gods” now. My life belonged to Marvin now, he had saved me.

“You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; 

Let not my worser spirit tempt me again 

To die before you please!”

I read the Bible, and thought of Adam in the garden of Eden, waiting for Eve. I yearned for companionship, but no longer wished to be apart from Marvin either. And while Adam still had God, I still had Marvin – I was surrounded by him. He was such splendid company. Though his friendship was simple, distant and speechless – I began to prefer it over Abigail’s. 

“G: Now, good sir, what are you?

E: A most poor man, made tame by fortune’s blows; 

Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 

Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, 

I’ll lead you to some biding. 

G: Hearty thanks: 

The bounty and the benison of heaven 

To boot, and boot!”

I spent this time in my sanctuary becoming good company for myself. I wanted to make myself as good as this garden. I began to believe I was someone worth protecting, believing, trusting, investing and taking an interest in – even if others didn't think so. I had talents, gifts, character and goodness that were due for some much needed growth. 

“Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?”

For all the places I’d traveled to, the landscapes of my own heart and soul remained mostly uncharted. I reached for heaven, and put my life into the hands of the gods. Companionship or not – I would make my garden beautiful. I was now friends with Dickens, Shakespeare, Kipling, Twain, Browning, Austen, Shelly, Marvin, Peter, James and John – and they had more than books in store for me. 

…

Over these many months, one of my favorite activities became tending to the sanctuary garden. I needed more tools to attain my vision, and began to travel to the outside world again for supplies. 

Marvin and I emerged in a new town several miles from my old mansion. I enjoyed going to a nearby store called “Botanical Beauties.” The store was both a rickety shop face, with wooden tables and stools that would’ve looked more at home on a ship, and a greenhouse, whose size far exceeded the little store. It looked like it had been added to over several years. Each translucent wall changed slightly in shade, indicating the years of growth – like the rings on a tree stump. The supplies weren’t the best in town, but the owners were. Eventually, I began buying exotic plants there and planting them in my sanctuary. I would request orders and the owner Martin, a widower of advanced years, enjoyed waking up his old fishing vessel to go attain them for me. 

When Martin passed he left behind a single daughter. I paid for the funeral anonymously, but I think she knew it was me. She was a young woman of about my age and the store fell solely on her shoulders. Her name was Anastasia. She was tall with long slender legs and arms. Curly jet-black hair parted perfectly to reveal a smile so bright and big that the plants surely could live off it alone during the darkest of days. 

“What can I help you with today?” Anastasia shuffled her papers slightly. She rested her elbow comfortably on the smooth dark wooden counter and placed a fist beneath her sharp chin and jaw. 

“I need a sunflower.” I replied with a coy yet confident smile. 

It was true. The grove by the Oak trees needed more color. 

Gathering sunflowers in the greenhouse, Anastasia stopped for a moment, ran her hand softly along the petals of the flowers, and asked without meeting my eyes, “Can I see where they’ll be going?” She looked up at me. “I can’t even imagine how beautiful your garden is. Your purchases alone have kept this place running, so much so that I just was able to enroll in a woman’s college.” She laughed softly.

 I felt my heart drop. My stomach twisted and I searched desperately for something to say. We had flourished in the ambiguity for many months now, she didn’t even know my name. I knew this day would come, but hoped I had longer. If she only knew who I was and where my garden resided, she wouldn’t be saying such things. I was sure the rumors had spread even this far – my disappearance likely had only added to the mystery and fear my name now invoked.

Feeling my reaction, Anastasia met my eyes, “Only if you’d like.” 

Her eyes were dark like the rich soil of my sanctuary, teeming with life and lambency. 

“I would very much enjoy that, but I really am very busy.” I lifted the potted sunflowers from the floor and stood tall. 

“Maybe some other time then.” Anastasia took the pot from me and walked towards the front till. 

As I paid, I was astonished that her elegant yellow summer dress and white hat were still spotless after digging around all that dirt. 

She stashed my money into her small black purse. I knew the purse well at this point, but over the last few weeks it had been altered. On the front of the purse – a white whale had been embossed into the leather. Figuring this was likely the last time I’d visit, I couldn’t help but ask.

“Why a whale?” I pointed awkwardly at the emblem. 

Anastasia chuckled and looked down at the whale. “Well as you know, my father was a fisherman. This purse belonged to my mother and he gave it to me before he passed. I had the whale embossed because he used to tell me stories of Moby Dick, the great sea monst …”

Anastasia looked up at the sound of the door shop bell swinging from my departure. 

I felt dreadful at having rejected her. She was so lovely and I wanted so much to share my sanctuary with her. I was still unsure if I’d ever return to see her again. I couldn’t risk losing this blossoming friendship. I’d rather she thought me cold, than for her to disappear from my life forever. 

Little did I know she would follow me home that evening regardless. She had a curiosity that defied her inhibitions. The nature of our interaction told her I would likely not return in spite of my wanting to. She had never met a man like me before, and she dreamt of the garden I had made with her plants. And like she had said, my patronage really had saved her from economic ruin. She needed to see the garden that had saved her life. She felt indebted. She needed to know me, and she knew my garden was the key. 

She trailed behind me in the dark cobbled streets, lit faintly enough from the candle street lamps for her to be able to discern my navy blue ankle length coat and tall black tophat.

I walked into the modest home I had purchased. It was positioned just in front of the bay. She walked to the side of the house and climbed up thick vines. She was able to peer over the stonewall in hopes of seeing my garden. Instead she saw a barren and boring hill that led straight to the sea. 

I walked from my back door with my sunflowers, down to the simple wooden dock I had installed. There Marvin rose to the surface and I stepped inside. Marvin closed his mouth and we descended into the water. 

Anastasia fell off the side of the wall in astonishment. Her dress was clean no longer. Now stained with dirt she didn’t even attempt to keep herself tidy as she scaled the wall a second time. She dropped into my yard and walked to the dock. 

Anastasia had heard of ‘The Wily Wealthy Man and His Marvelous Mackerel Marvin’ – and waited for me to return up again from the sea and out the belly of the fish. For some reason, she knew I was him.

She stood there for a long time. The water had become still and she stared at her reflection. She was bothered by the stains on her yellow dress. She turned to look at the back entrance of my home and decided she would search for more suitable clothing inside. 

Rummaging through my things, she found a simple white dress that had once belonged to my mother. 

Anastasia jumped as I walked in through the back door. I had forgotten my favorite trowel.

“What are you doing here?” I stared at my mother’s dress. 

Anastasia stood there frozen with a dumb look on her face. 

“I wanted to see your garden?” She offered up like a question – hoping it would excuse her trespass, theft, and clear invasion of my privacy. 

“If you don’t leave this instant I will call for the police” I looked at the rotary phone attached to my wall.

“I … don’t think you will.” Anastasia slowly folded her arms. The whale purse swung from her arm was right. I was afraid of calling the police. Surely they would be more interested in my reappearance than petty theft. 

I slumped down onto a cheap wooden stool I had placed by the back door to prop it open when carrying pots and plants out the back door. 

I cast my head to the floor. “Please just leave.”

Anastasia walked towards me, “Please show me Marvin. Show me your sanctuary. I want to see it, Adam. ”

She called me by my name. It had been so long. 

I looked up at her with pleading eyes. I couldn’t take another rejection. 

Her eyes met mine with such compassion. 

She really did. 

Thunder shook the home, and we sat in silence for a moment as rain began pattering on the earth just outside the door. 

We walked down the slope of my backyard. Marvin rose out of the sea and presented himself at the edge of the dock. 

Anastasia gasped, “If only my dad could’ve seen this.” 

Marvin opened his mouth and I swear for the first time, I saw joy in the fish’s large pale eyes. 

I stepped inside and ascended the first few steps. I placed my hand on the pull ring and presented the other to Anastasia. 

In spite of her mouth and brow teeming with wonder and excitement, I could still see fear lurking just behind her eyes. What if she got bit, swallowed and eaten? 

Anastasia rolled up her sleeves and put both feet into the fish’s mouth on the first blue fleshy step. She took my hand and walked slowly towards me. 

I really didn’t expect she would. 

She did. 

I pulled down on the ring. As the curtain lifted, Marvin’s breath washed over us – permeated with the smells of my sanctuary. The fragrance of Anastasia’s flowers and plants wafted over her. 

“That smells familiar.” Anastasia’s eyes met mine. 

Without uttering a word, her cheeky soft smile and the calm look whispered to my heart  – ‘I’m comfortable here’.