Marino sat very still in the chair, breathing heavily, his eyes staring vapidly forward, reflecting his defeat. The other club patrons, used to such occasional disruptions, went back to their drinks and conversation. Van, who had backed herself against the wall, readjusted her chair, sitting next to Marino without looking at him. She smiled uncertainly to Father Mike, who had not even moved his elbows from the table during the entire altercation.

Father Mike winked to Van. “Relax, my dear. This is normal. And it is a delight to meet you.” And now he stood, taking Condley’s hand in both of his. “Brandon, Brandon. I’ve prayed for you every day.” He glanced mischievously down at Van. “And perhaps God has been listening after all.”

“She’s just a friend, Father.” Condley caught Simolzak giving Van another look. “A very good friend, by the way.”

“Brandon is famous for the quality of his very good friends,” beamed Simolzak, reaching out and touching Van on a knee. “I’m Ted.”

“You can call him con trau,” said Condley, causing Van to laugh.

“What does that mean?” asked Simolzak.

“You forgot your Vietnamese,” said Condley. “It means water buffalo.”

“Okay, con trau!” Van leaned across the table and took his hand. “I think Cong Ly is saying you are strong and kind, like the waterbull!”

“I meant ugly,” said Condley.

“No, he’s not ugly!” teased Van. “He’s very handsome!”

“I’ll go with strong and kind,” said Simolzak. He then turned to Marino. “Okay, Sal, this is very simple. Brandon wanted a little reunion.”

“Jesus,” said Marino, turning his head toward the door like a dog ready to bolt. “Sorry my daughter isn’t here.”

Condley shrugged as if protesting his innocence. “That was a long time ago, Sal.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t seen her since.”

“So,” said Father Mike, his small hands around another beer and his face wrinkled in a teasing smile. “Sal has approached the obligations of fatherhood in the same upstanding manner as he has the duties of citizenship.”

“Father, get over it.” Marino again glanced at the door. “Don’t tell me about being a bad citizen. I served my country in a time of war.”

“What’ve you done lately, Sal?” Father Mike turned to Van with mock seriousness. “He’s not always this bad, dear. Once I actually saw him help a little lady out of the traffic. Of course, he then stole her purse.”

“I never did that,” answered Marino. “And why don’t you give Condley one of your little lectures, huh? Tells my own daughter that I slept with other men. My own daughter, who I hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years.”

“Well, you didn’t have any problem with it before she came,” shrugged Condley. “Some of them for money.”

“So I needed money!” Marino turned to Father Mike, as if for support. “And then he sleeps with my daughter!”