The baby drops 5 packets of sugar substitute into the pond before, fed up, I gesture to her mother, who smiles apologetically and fishes out the packets. One opens and its contents dissolve before she can do anything about it.

The woman and I swim around each others’ glances. I can’t be sure, but I think we’re both wondering whether sugar substitute is poisonous to fish. She gestures for the server. The server comes quickly. The mother begins to explain and the server puts one finger into the air to interrupt. ‘No good English,’ she says. Then, ‘Wait.’

We are all waiting, now and then eyeing the fish, who swim oblivious—we can only hope—in their pond. I see now that the rocks lining the pond’s sides are not real. I find myself hoping the fish, too, are just approximations of fish. The pond is small, with pennies and a disintegrating baseball card resting on the bottom.

A man comes to the small family’s table. ‘I help you,’ he says, and my stomach sloshes. At this moment my food arrives. A Usually Vegetarian, I’ve broken the rules and gotten shrimp. But overcome by concern for the fish, I now can’t eat something that used to live.

I gesture to the server. She skips on short, thin legs back to my table. I tell her as best I can. She nods. ‘No good?’ This sounds like, ‘No God?’ It occurs to me to pray for the fish. ‘What you like?’ I’ll pray in a moment. I request Number 34, vegetable fried rice with tofu, adding, ‘spicy.’ I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat the new dish either.

The situation at the other table has escalated. ‘I help you’ has become, ‘Wait.’ After the woman receives her iced tea, she stirs sugar substitute into it, then tilts her head in my direction as I avoid her gaze. The woman and I don’t look at the fish anymore but the baby, squalling now, reaches toward the pond with all her might.