“Do you think they’ll get charged with breaking and entering?”
“I doubt it. But they are going to have some explaining to do. I’m going to let Mr. Jorgensen know what happened from the inside, and he can just deal with it however he feels is best. I don’t think those kids are going to be worrying about a random car in the parking lot when they have to explain to their parents what they were doing inside their offices in the middle of the night.”
The trip back to the warehouse is a mostly silent one. I’m lost in thought about what we’ve done tonight and about the work we have ahead of us. As we’re pulling into the industrial park near the port, Lucky speaks. “Are you available tomorrow to start working on this? Or are you going to need a day to go over what you found?”
“I think I’m going to need a day to do that.” And recover. I can just imagine trying to work on four hours of sleep. “Can we get started on Friday?”
I need to go retrieve my things from my old job along with my last paycheck. That severance had better be there, and it better be good, or heads are going to roll. I’ll be ready to start fresh with the Bourbon Street Boys on Friday. I get a little thrill knowing that I have a job waiting for me, and it’s the kind of place that allows me the flexibility to work my own schedule. I don’t have to be jealous of May anymore.
“Friday is great,” Lucky says. “I’m going to take Sunny to the vet tomorrow. He’s not looking so hot right now.”
I chew my lip, wondering if I should delve any deeper into this issue. But after what we went through together tonight, I decide it’s fine. “Can I ask you a question about your fish?” I’ve never met an adult with a goldfish, let alone an adult who’s attached enough to a goldfish to take it to a doctor. It’s just too cheesy not to ask about.
“Sure.”
“What is a grown man like you doing with a goldfish who he worries about so much that he takes it to the vet?”
Lucky pulls up to the warehouse door and puts the car in park. Turning off the ignition, he lets out a deep breath. Then he just stares at the steering wheel.
I’ve probably overstepped my bounds again, but in fairness, I did verify with him first that I could ask the question. He had to know this was coming. He must’ve been asked this question before. I mean, I can’t be the only person in the world who thinks being a dedicated goldfish owner is weird.
“Sunny originally belonged to my little sister.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, so of course I’m compelled to gather more information. At this point, it would be rude not to ask. “Did she not take care of it?” I can see him as the avenging older brother, there to teach her a lesson. If you can’t take care of your fish properly, I’ll do it!
Lucky shakes his head. I take that as a simple no, but then he elaborates. “It’s not that she didn’t want to; it’s that she couldn’t.”
There’s obviously a story here, and I’m pretty sure it’s not one I should ask about. But then I feel like it would be really insensitive to drop it. I struggle with how to continue.
“How old is your sister?” That’s the safest question I can come up with.
“My sister, when she had Sunny, was fifteen.”
The next obvious question dangles in the air between us. He used the past tense, but he used it in reference to the fish. What am I supposed to do with that? Keep going? Stall out? Why did I ask him the question in the first place? I should have just kept my damn mouth shut. When will I learn to stop prying?
Because honesty is always the best policy, I decide to stop the charade and come right out with it. “Lucky, is everything okay with your sister? I get the impression you’re really sad right now, and I’m sorry if I brought up a subject that makes you unhappy.”
He shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “It’s okay. People don’t ask me about her because they’re afraid they’re going to upset me, or they’re afraid to bring up bad history; but it’s almost worse when they do that, you know?” He turns to look at me, and the lights outside the warehouse show me that his eyes are bright with unshed tears.
I nod. “I get it. When somebody isn’t around anymore, sometimes the only thing you can do to feel better is to talk about them.” I had a friend in college who lost her sister. The only thing that made her smile was telling me stories about the things they did as kids.
He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek.
I reach out and put my hand on top of his. “Did your sister pass away?”
He nods.
“Was it recently?”
He shakes his head no. “She passed away eighteen months ago.”
“How old was she?”
“She was sixteen.”
My heart clenches up and starts to ache. I want to cry with him, but I think he needs somebody to be calm right now. And I can be that person when I have to be. “What happened? Was she sick?”