“A fish called Gilbert. But I just call him Gil to save some breath, so I can spend more time underwater petting him like I used to do to grandpa before he drowned.”

“I knew I should have call Jack, should have told him...but I didn't. Not yet. I was afraid of him thinking that I was crazy, too. I wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw me drowning. I wasn't sure he'd save me unless he was saving himself. what he'd say.”

“Some people, I saw, had drowned right away, and some people were drowning in slow motion, drowning a little bit at a time, and would be drowning for years. And some people, like Mick, had always been drowning, they just didn’t know what to call it until now.”

“Did you feed the fish?”Nick closed his eyes. “Alexa, I’m working.” She made a rude snort. “So am I. But atleast I worry about poor Otto. Did you feed him?”“Otto?”“You kept calling him Fish. That hurt his feelings.”“Fish don’t have feelings. And yes, I fed him.”“Fish certainly do have feelings. And while we’re discussing Otto, I wanted to tell you I’m worried about him. He’s placed in the study and no one ever goes in there. Why don’t we move him into the living room where he can see us more often?”

“Hell’s bells. I don’t call him the Fist of God as a pet name, folks.”

“Some phone calls he doesn't say much and I know he called just to hear my voice. That's all he wants- to hear me tell him about my day, what the surf's like, what work's like. And that's humbling, knowing that your voice can mean so much to another person.”