Page 49 of Kill Your Darlings

“But when we started to talk...”

His mother smiled. “Yes, that’s when he lost interest.”

Thom looked at his son, had a brief panic that he’d stopped breathing, then saw slight movement that caused a flush of relief tospread throughout his body. God, he loved that boy, whatever his name was.

As though she were reading his mind, his mother said, “So it’s officially Jason? Or is that still up for debate?”

“Ninety/ten,” Thom said.

“What’s the ten?”

“Wendy just mentioned the name Edgar when I was with her in her room. First I’d heard of it.”

“Edgar. Good God. Sounds like an old man’s name.”

“We’ll stick with Jason,” Thom said.

“You should go outside and get some air. It’s beautiful this morning. See if you can find your father.”

After looking into the hospital room and seeing that Wendy was still asleep, Thom did go outside. It was morning rush hour and the sidewalks were filled with people moving with purpose, their faces grim and determined. Why weren’t they happy to be alive? he thought. After all, it was a new millennium and the predictions that the world would end had turned out to be greatly exaggerated. The world still ticked along. Films were being made and books were being written. Babies were being born. The air was cold but the sky was cloudless, its radiant blue full of promise. Thom ducked into a convenience store and bought a pack of Camel Lights, despite having promised Wendy that he was done with smoking. He crossed the street to a small square park with three empty benches and chose the sunniest one. He lit the cigarette, taking too deep of a first drag, then exhaling the blue smoke into the sunlight. It had been a few weeks since his last secret cigarette, and the nicotine raced to his head, making him feel buoyant in the sunlight. But after he’d smoked the cigarette down to its filter, he put the rest of the pack on the arm of the bench, the matches on top of them, and walked back to the hospital.

His father was back with his mother’s juice and Wendy was awakeagain. He wondered if she could smell the smoke on his clothes, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she asked, “How’s little Jason?”

“Wrapped up like a burrito.”

“Oh, good.”

One of the nurses popped her head in and said, “Mom’s awake, I see. Want to see your baby?”

“I do,” Wendy said, shifting herself farther back so that she was sitting up.

The nurse—her name was Shannon, and Thom had secretly decided she was the prettiest of the several pretty maternity-ward nurses they had dealt with—left to get Jason.

“Any new names for our baby?” Thom said.

“What do you mean? For Jason?”

“Don’t you mean Edgar?”

Wendy looked confused, so Thom said, “About an hour ago you woke up and said that you thought his name should be Edgar.”

“Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Maybe. A little bit. But I thought it was some kind of dream.”

“You also said that we’ve been parents for a long time.”

Something crossed her eyes. Amusement, maybe, with a little bit of fear. “It feels like it, doesn’t it?” she said.

“I suppose so. So you haven’t changed our baby’s name?”

“No, he’s Jason. Jason Edgar Graves.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Jason Bergeron Graves.” Bergeron was Thom’s maternal grandmother’s maiden name.

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