Chapter 7

“Oh, right.”

He had this story he liked to tell people, this notion that he was a lecturer for some online university and that it was his duty to inform his students of the majesty of the ocean’s life, help them understand the fragile ecosystem beneath the waves. Maybe something like it was true, she thought, but she had a hard time accepting the notion that her father, with little to no education himself, had suddenly been placed in charge of the education of others.

“How is your cat?” he asked, saving her from having to discuss the merits of his possible career any further.

“She’s fine,” Madeline answered hastily, more defensively than maybe was necessary. “She’s getting a bit older, but she’s okay.”

“Charlie was eighteen before he passed away,” he said, and she remembered the old family cat fondly. Mycat, her brother said later, with indignity, was not eighteen when he died.