Page 24 of Kill Your Darlings

“I don’t think they amputate ankles, do they? It would be hard to do without also amputating the foot.”

“What about head amputations?”

“They do do those, but generally not for medical reasons.”

Thom stood again, and Wendy thought he was going to bring Jason back up to bed. “One more of these,” he said. He was now holding

a lowball glass. Whiskey, she guessed. “Wendy, wine? Can I get you something, Jason?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

“One glass of warm milk coming up.”

After he left, Jason said, “How long do you think it takes to starve to death in the woods?”

ii

The following morning, Thom stared at his computer, attempting to work on his John Cheever article, but he was unable to concentrate.

Instead, he opened up an empty Word document, wrote “STORY” at the top, then put down one line: “Edgar Dixon, dodging imaginary arrows showering down from the castle ramparts, lost his footing and wound up pinned between a pair of boulders that had existed since before the invention of man.” He read it several times before exiting out of the document, opting not to save.

After going to stand at his office window and staring out at the cove, filled with one-man sailboats—a class was in session—Thom returned to his computer and looked at his emails.

There was a new one from Wendy, letting him know that she would be leaving soon with Jason to go to the quarry with Julia and her mom.

Thom wrote back: “I’m right upstairs, you know.

” Then he stared at his screen waiting for a reply.

When it finally came, she had written: “Sorry. Samsa in my lap. We are going in twenty. In or out?”

Thom wandered downstairs, said hello to Jason, who was reading on the living room couch, then popped into Wendy’s office.

Samsa really was in her lap, but jumped off as Wendy swiveled toward Thom. “I think I’ll pass on the quarry,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have work. You think Jason will be okay to swim?”

“No, but he can lay on a towel and read. He’ll be fine.”

“He will,” Thom said. Samsa rubbed up against his bare shin. Wendy had turned back to face her computer.

After Wendy and Jason left, Thom got the vodka bottle he kept in the freezer and poured himself two shots. He knew that if

he was going to break it off with Catalina he needed to do it that afternoon and he needed to do it face-to-face. He called

her landline, Cat picking up after two rings. “Hello,” she said, her accent always more pronounced before she knew whom she

was speaking with.

“Hi, Cat, it’s Thom.”

“Hi,” she said, and Thom heard a question mark in her tone.

They’d been secretly meeting for over a year now, the second and fourth Thursdays of the month at a dive bar in Peabody near her apartment.

Sometimes they just had a few drinks. Sometimes they wound up back at her place, a tiny two-bedroom she shared with a sister who worked at a daycare in the mornings and waitressed at night.

Catalina Soto was a nurse at a local hospital, a divorcée who was younger than he was, but with two grown children.

Thom had met her at a reading that his department had put on, four authors each reading a short story.

After the event there had been wine and cheese and Catalina had introduced herself to Thom, who had moderated.

She told him that she was a writer as well, and without hesitating Thom said that he’d love to read something she wrote.

The next day she emailed him a story that chronicled one night in the life of an emergency room nurse.

He was relieved that he liked it, and sent her back a couple of notes, eventually suggesting they meet up for coffee.

“You’re a married man?” she had said, five minutes into their first meeting at the Peabody Coffeehouse.

“I am,” he said. She nodded, slowly, and Thom added, “What?”

“I’m just trying to figure out if you liked my story or if you like me. There’s no wrong answer, I’m just curious.”

“I did like your story. And I do like you. But yes, I’m married, and I haven’t been a perfect husband, but I have no intention

of ever leaving my wife.”

“Oh, we’re already there,” she said, laughing. “Please don’t leave your wife on my account.”

“I’m just saying I’m happy with her, is all.”

“Is she happy with you?”

“That’s another story.”

“Okay,” she said. “Sorry to be so up-front about it, but people are so secretive about everything, don’t you think?”

“I do. Oh, and I have something for you.” Thom reached into his bike-messenger bag and pulled out his copy of Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson. “No pressure, but I thought you might like these stories. He was a nurse too.”

“Thank you,” she said, and took the book.

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 break ing 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.