Page 43 of Kill Your Darlings

They met three more times for coffee, then two times for afternoon drinks, before going back to Cat’s apartment. Her sister was sleeping in her own bedroom—she was between shifts—and Cat told Thom that she used a white-noise machine and nothing would wake her. They stayed in bed together for over three hours that afternoon, eventually talking about Cat’s failed marriage and then moving on to Thom’s relationship with Wendy. He suddenly found himself fabricating a story, telling her that when he met his wife she was married and they started an affair. He told her they were living in Connecticut at the time and the husband found out, got drunk, and drove his car into a tree.

“Oh no,” Cat said.

“I keep thinking I’ll get over it, but I haven’t yet.”

“You don’t need to get over it, you just need to live with it. He made his own choice, you made yours.”

“I guess so.”

And now, a year later, face-to-face at the same coffee shop where they’d first met, he told her that he needed to end the relationship.

“Okay,” she said, and didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“There’s a reason, though,” Thom said.

“Well, there’s always a reason.”

Thom told her about Jason going missing the previous night and how sure he was that Jason was dead. And he told her how, when he’d been alone in the woods, shouting out his son’s name, he had dropped to his knees, and prayed. “I made a bargain,” he said.

“You told God that if Jason was alive, you’d stop seeing me.”

“I did.”

“And now you’re keeping your end of the bargain.”

“Yes.”

She took a sip of the green tea that she always drank and said, “I think it’s time, anyway, don’t you?”

“I suppose so. But I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Oh, and I have a question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Did you get what you were looking for from me?”

He hesitated, and she continued. “Sorry, that sounds accusatory or something. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that when I met you, I knew that you needed something from me. I’m wondering if you found it.”

“I loved getting to know you, but I’m the same person now as I was when we first met. Unfortunately. What about you? Did you get what you wanted from me?”

“Well, I liked getting to know you as well. And I loved talking to you about writing, and your book suggestions. I do have some news for you, actually.”

She dug into her giant purse and pulled out an envelope, its seal torn, and handed it to Thom. He pulled the single sheet of paper out and unfolded it. She’d had a story accepted at a pretty big university journal. “That’s huge,” he said, and looked across at Cat, who was beaming in a way he’d never seen before.

“I mean, it’s one story,” she said.

“It’s the start of something, Cat, it really is.”

Back at home, Wendy and Jason, both still in their bathing suits, were eating peanut butter and crackers in the kitchen. Thom got himself a beer and told them that he was going to listen to the Red Sox game out on the hammock. He walked across the hot gravel of the driveway to the small yellow lawn and climbed into the hammock, realizing once he was there that he’d forgotten his radio. But he didn’t have the energy to get it so he just stared at the leaves above him and listened to some nearby crows having what sounded like a contentious committee meeting. He’d done the right thing by breaking up with Catalina. He didn’t really believe in God, and he certainly didn’t believe that God cut deals for returned kids, but less than twenty-four hours ago he’d been in a state of grief, convinced somehow he’d lost his son forever. And now Jason was back. Something needed to be sacrificed.

He drank half his beer, spilling some of it down his chin, and remembered the other part of his prayer. He’d promised God to give up Cat, but he’d also promised to give up drinking. At the time he’d meant it. But at the time he’d also have been willing to give up anything to have Jason returned to him. Breaking it off with Cat was enough. It was a good thing. Good for him, good for Wendy and Jason. Most likely good for Cat as well. And he’d quit drinking soon enough. Maybe in January, at the start of a new year.

2005

i

“High tide,” Thom said, more to himself than to Wendy, although she was in the room, unpacking yet another box.

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