By Townsend Walker
Maggie met Sam, a four-pound golden carp, at The Lake in Central Park near Strawberry Fields. The day had been blistering. She sat under the willow tree where the reeds grew, took off her sandals, slipped her feet into the cool water.
Sam saw painted toes dangling in the reeds, toes painted red and yellow and blue, toes like he had never seen. The closer he got to them the more fascinating he found them and the closer he got to them Sam figured, “Why not nibble?” He nibbled and Maggie was tickled. Sam heard her laugh. He did it again. She looked down, saw Sam, golden Sam, grabbed him and sat him in her lap.
They spent most of the afternoon fooling around under the tree and in the pond until it was time for Maggie to go home. She couldn’t bear to leave Sam. She said, “Sam, my golden man, you stay near, I’ll be right back with a tub for you.”
Sam, an obliging type, nodded his head, said, I sure will, sweet Maggie.”
Maggie ran down 72nd Street, found a tub at Gartner’s Hardware, filled it up with water, found Sam just where she’d left him, flipped him in, hailed a cab, fixed the tub in a cab, fixed it so it wouldn’t spill, and took Sam back to her apartment on 24th Street. Her bathtub was his room for the night until they could devise something so the two of them could be closer.
Maggie built Sam a tank next to her bed and one in the living room, and one in the kitchen. Sam had music piped in, turned out he fancied opera, Verdi, something to do with the color of the waters he grew up in. Sam also fancied the British groups of the sixties. Something for him to do while Maggie was out at work. Unlike life pre-Sam, no after work social life for Maggie now. It was, “Sorry, my cousin is visiting from the Coast.” After a while her co-workers became a bit suspicious “When we going to meet this cousin of yours?”
“Oh, I don’t know, he’s very shy,” Maggie said.
Sam and Maggie ate together, she bought bugs for Sam, burgers for herself, never fish, though she fancied it a lot before Sam swam her way.
Just before they went to sleep Maggie would bring Sam into her bed, lay him between her breasts and let him wiggle down her body. But try as she might, Maggie could not get Sam to understand the basics of what she wanted him to do. Never quickly enough. Just before Maggie’s magic moment, Sam would start gasping. Out of the water too long. Clearly this is not what Maggie had in mind.
They had a talk. Sam had the answer. “Why don’t we do it in the tub?”
* * *
Townsend Walker draws inspiration from cemeteries, foreign places, violence and strong women. “No One Sleeps,” a short story collection, Atmosphere Press, forthcoming 2026.
“3 Women, 4 Towns, 5 Bodies & other stories,” Deeds Publishing, 2018. Winner of a Book Excellence Award, a Silver Feathered Quill Award and a Pinnacle Award.
“La Ronde,” aka “Get Madge a Gun,” a novella of linked stories, Truth Serum Press, 2015
Over one hundred short stories and poems published in literary journals and anthologies.
Two nominations for the PEN/O.Henry Award.
Teaches creative writing at Mount Tamalpais College on the San Quentin State Prison campus.
Website: https://www.townsendwalker.com