***
Kian began making a habit of visiting Bo. He would discuss his schoolwork and his friends with Bo as if he were his father. Bo would listen patiently and offer suggestions when he could as to how to fix problems, and then the two would go out and train.
One day, as Kian was talking about his school years being over, Bo asked, “What about your mother?” He threw another log into the fire.
“Huh?” Kian asked, looking over his shoulder at him.
“You’ve come to me with this sort of thing quite a bit. What about your mother?”
“Oh,” Kian said, glancing away again. “Well, Ma’s been sort of…off, since Da died. She goes to work and cooks dinner and all, but she doesn’t really ever feel like talking anymore. I don’t…I don’t really know what to do,” he admitted.
“I see,” Bo said, throwing a final piece of wood to the hungry fire before sitting in Ryan’s old chair across from Kian, making sure not to knock the hat off. “Well, I wish I could help somehow, but I can’t. Grief is something that she’ll have to overcome on her own.”
Kian nodded. “That’s all right. It’s not like it’s your fault, anyway,” Kian said.
Bo nodded and the two were silent for a while.
“Kian, what year is it, exactly?” Bo ventured.
“You don’t know?” Kian asked, bemused.
“I haven’t asked anyone in a while.”
Kian looked at him. “It’s nineteen ninety-five. June, if you want to know that, too.”
“I think I could have figured that much out.”
Kian grinned. “Well, either way, it’s getting to be about sunset,” he said, looking out at the golden light that filtered through the forest. “Will we train today?”
“There’s nothing preventing it,” Bo replied, standing from his seat. Kian followed him out of the door, and they went to the normal spot.