Feeding the Fish (#boxes)

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My neighbor, Al, pushed two boxes to the back of the fish tank and picked up the third.

"This one is the fish food," he said. "They get two scoops, one for each fish, per day." He pointed at the other two boxes. Those are for neutralizing the chlorine and balancing the pH when the tank is cleaned but we won't be gone on vacation long enough for you to need to do that.

I looked at the fish in the tank. Inside swam two medium-sized goldfish, one orange, one white with speckles. 

"How long have you had these fish?" I asked. They looked like they were outgrowing the tank.

"Seven years," replied Al. "But I think Henry killed the first white one we got when he was house sitting and replaced it." 

"Really?" I asked. "Henry doesn't seem like the type not to own up to something like that."

Al shrugged. "I dunno." He squinted at the fish closely. "I'm sure this isn't the same fish we started with. Our first one had a tail just like the orange one."

Sure enough the orange one had a short tail and the white one had one of those long wavy ones. We stood there in silence for a few seconds watching the two goldfish swim around and around the little sunken ship at the bottom of the tank and periodically checking the surface for food. I still couldn't believe that Henry would do such a thing.

"He probably didn't want to upset Will who was only five at the time," said Al as if reading my mind. Henry was just such a stand up guy and I guess I could see his dilemma. 

"Did you ever point blank ask him?" I asked. 

"Nah," said Al. "I know it isn't the same fish."

I thought it odd, honestly. Will was a teenager now for goodness sake. He wouldn't care anymore if his childhood fish had died and been replaced. But I elected not to push the matter and we stared at the fish some more.

"Well, I'll take in your mail too and make sure everything looks ok while you're gone," breaking our aquatic trance.

"Thanks," said Al. "I appreciate it."

I got on my coat and left calling out over my shoulder that I hoped he enjoyed his vacation. 

As I passed Henry's house next door on the way to my own further down the street, I noticed Henry was outside washing his car.

"Hi, Henry," I called. 

"Hi there Frank," he replied. I paused to say hello and we made idle chit-chat about the weather and football. I bid him goodbye and turned to continue my walk home.

"You feeding the fish while Al and his family are gone?" asked Henry. I paused and turned slowly feeling awkward.

"Uh, yeah," I replied. Henry didn't look up from his soapy car to make eye contact as he continued. 

"Just make sure you don't mix up the chlorine neutralizer and the fish food 'cause that would be bad," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "It sure would be."

Without further discussion, I left.



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