Tiger Ghost

Bridget is on her way to Mong Kok to buy a goldfish. She's been told that they bring good luck. They aren't allowed pets in her building, but she can't imagine this would apply to a fish. She's taking the metro to Kowloon, something she hasn't done alone before. In the subway there is a store selling fine combs, brushes, hair clips made of jade and tortoise shell. A sign in the window reads that the comb can provide a smooth journey in the fortune-seeking course. Also loving care and health. At a nearby temple, people pray to win money at the races. Money is god.

She moves down Nathan Road. Above a Crocs shop is a duty-free medicinal store, where you can buy dried sea cucumbers to cure the heart. At the goldfish market, customers kneel before plastic bags filled with fish and wonder which fish will bring the most luck. They spend hours examining the bags. Some have only one black or gold fish. Others have several. In one bag there are dozens of tiny pink frogs, perched one on top of the other. Their tiny pink feet press against the bag as they all peer out in the same direction.

At first Bridget thought she'd just go and photograph the fish for her blog; instead she has decided to buy one. She could use a little luck, and the kids might like having a fish to take care of. There's one that seems to be looking at her with its dark, beady eyes as if it wants something but isn't sure what. Its mouth is pressed against the plastic bag as if sucking at a mother's breast. She snaps some pictures of it. The little pink frogs, too. Then she takes the bag off the rack and tells the salesman that she'll buy this fish. She gives him a few Hong Kong dollars and then, not knowing what else to do, puts the fish inside her purse.

She decides to walk back along Nathan Road before catching the ferry back to Hong Kong Island. It's a hot, muggy evening, threatening rain, and when she reaches the Peninsula Hotel she decides to stop in for a drink. There's a bar on the top floor—the Felix. She and James went there once when she first arrived in Hong Kong. Condé Nast Traveler called it one of the sexiest bars in Hong Kong. It's a retro place. Small and narrow with pink leather seats and an art-deco bar that stretches along the window and offers a spectacular view of the harbor.

They haven't been back since that first time almost nine months ago. This was before the children arrived for the start of school and before James began his travels for the software distributor he works for. Hong Kong wasn't exactly a promotion. It was more of a lateral move, one they thought about long and hard. It was clear that the company had gone in a different direction than they'd anticipated in the five years since James signed on. Taking the job seemed like the only way to keep a foothold in the company. Of course, they joked about that British expression—Filth: Failed in London; Try Hong Kong. James hadn't exactly failed. As his boss put it, he just needed to be retooled.

He's in Singapore this week. Or is it Bangkok? At times Bridget has trouble keeping the weeks straight. Anyway, he's always home by Thursday night or, at the very latest, Friday morning. And they have their weekends together. Still, sometimes the days drag. Sometimes the weeks feel longer than they should.

She gets off the elevator, and there's only one seat at the bar, crammed between a large British couple and a man with graying hair who's hunched over a beer. As she squeezes in, the British couple doesn't move...