"So you're covering it."
"I'm handling it."
"That's not the same thing. Your contract covers it?"
"If everything holds."
He picked up his container and ate two bites of curry. "Your dad. What's he like?"
I exhaled as he shifted away from the logistics.
"Quiet. Observant. He worked in aquarium supply. Filtration, water chemistry, heavy lifting."
Kieran's expression showed genuine surprise.
"Aquarium supply?"
"Mail-order company out of Rhinelander. One of the biggest in the country. Tank setups, maintenance, and inventory." I paused. "Yeah. I know."
"Your father worked with aquarium systems. And you're—"
"Sitting on the floor with a guy who tests pH levels for fun. Coincidence. My mom would say it's Charles Dickens at his best."
The corner of Kieran's mouth pulled. "I was thinking your father and I might have things to talk about."
"He'd like you. You'd have to survive Mom's questions first, though."
Kieran heard it. The unsubtle assumption of a future for us.
"He sounds like someone who pays attention," Kieran said.
"That's exactly what he is."
"Then he raised the right kid."
***
The Northbound on a weeknight in late January had a small crowd, a dozen winter-hardy souls at best. Kieran suggested we meet there.
I pushed through the door. Started toward my usual stool.
Then I stopped.
He'd arrived before me. The wood panels beneath the Oscar's tank were open. Test kit arranged on the floor. Kieran was crouched in front of the tank, sleeves rolled past his elbows, measuring something from a brown bottle into a vial.
He didn't see me walk in.
He leaned close to the glass. Inside the tank, the fish drifted toward him.
Kieran spoke. Low enough that I couldn't make out the words.
I stood in the doorway, silent for a few more seconds. Then I unzipped my jacket, letting the sound carry across the bar.
He turned.
"Owner called," he said. "Melvin was being picky about his food, so I came early."
"Melvin."
