Union Fish Cabin

By Nubia Yasin

Every would-be lover in the world knows that your baby ain’t your baby ‘less you go see the Union Fish. Used to be you had to go alone at night, just you and the one, or two, or three, or however many someones you sought to spend your life with. Back then the Union fish was small and shy. Nowadays she’s big, well fed on fingers, and very used to guests.

The way it works is this. You go see the cabin owner. A strange woman. Sometimes nice. Sometimes curt. Always knowing something you don’t. She takes you to the water to meet the fish. You and the someone you love place your hands into the fish's mouth, call it feeding your hand to the Union Fish. Or Noodling. Anyhow, when you pull your hands out, there will either be a gold band on your ring fingers, or bloody nubs where your ring fingers used to be. Union Fish starts with the ring finger always, but you can keep trying. Long as you got fingers, you can try out a pairing.

If you want, the cabin owner will reattach your finger for a small fee. Some young distraught would-be lovers either can’t afford to reattach or choose to leave the nubs as a testament to something important lost. Others choose to sell their fingers to those who wish for a couple more chances to get it wrong. Although that practice waned in popularity after one would-be lover, knowing he was not right for his mate, but wanting his mate anyway, sourced a finger and sewed it to his hand, sporting six fingers at the time he fed his hand to the Union fish. All was well except the sourced finger had been without blood for too long. The union fish took a fresh finger, not quite liking the taste of the dead one.

There exist many unfortunate fools who can’t seem to avoid being tricked by a false twin. Year after year, they come to lose fingers. I did hear of one occasion where two throwaway lovers, each only having one finger left, fed their hands to the union fish. They pulled their hands out, and right along with the river slime was a new shine, two gold bands. Lookers on saw them share a bewildered kiss. They whispered to one another in barely-there voices, “All that time. All that time. We have so much loving to catch up on.”

Another thing I know. You can make a juju from the bones of ate fingers if you can find them at the rivers bank. This is a popular tool for mothers and fathers of naive and stubborn children in love with what will not love them well. The parents make the bones a fine powder and sprinkle over the sleeping child. If their suspicions about the no-good-would-be lover are correct, the child will be shown their prospective partners true colors, and the spell of limerence will be broken. One can also use this to shake awake their adulterous life partners from the dreamy sleep of a new bright shiny thing. I’ve known many a woman who saved her marriage that way. One need only sprinkle and whisper over the cheating spouse’s food, “Come back. Come back. I know where you been at. Union Fish grants us golden rings. I’ll be the only one to whom your bones sing. Come back. Come back. Come back.”