Raymond rose to his feet as she spoke. He was just about to move to the door, but one word stopped his motion.
Him.
“You already know it’s a boy?”
“Yes. Don’t go for just a minute. There’s something I want to say.”
Reluctantly, Raymond sank back into the white plastic chair beside her gurney. He had set his internal clock for getting back to Mrs. G and the trial, and it hurt to delay that aim. But Isabel had something to say to him. So he worked to breathe more deeply, and he listened.
“Okay,” he said. “Go.”
“Almost the whole time I’ve been pregnant, I thought I knew what I was going to name the baby. I was going to name him Luis Jr.”
“That works.”
“I thought so, too. But it turns out I was wrong. Night before last I had this dream. I dreamed I was talking to Luis. For a long time. It felt like an hour, but I don’t know how long I was really dreaming it. You know how dreams are weird that way. They play tricks on you.”
“Right,” Raymond said, even though he wasn’t sure he did know.
“We talked about all different kinds of things. Just the way we used to in real life. And then at the very end, right before he got up and walked away, he said, ‘Don’t name the baby Luis.’”
“Why not? Did you ask why not?”
“Sure I did. He said it wouldn’t be fair to the boy. He said it would be asking him to be something—or maybe he said ‘someone’—that he could never be. Like asking him to fill that hole left by Luis’s . . . passing. And he said the kid would grow up sad because he could never be what everybody wanted him to be.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Is that the kind of thing Luis would say in real life?”
“Just exactly. It was a very realistic dream.”
“So what are you going to name him?”
“Contraction,” Isabel said.
Raymond watched beads of sweat break out on her forehead. He wiped them away with a tissue from a box on a nearby tray table. A terrible sound burst out of her and chilled every inch of Raymond’s gut. Then she pushed panicky breaths in and out between gritted teeth for a painful length of time. Painful even to Raymond.
They were lasting longer now, the contractions.
How could anybody go through a thing like that for a day?
“Okay,” she said as the pain subsided. “Okay. No, I’m not going to name the baby Contraction, in case that’s what you’re wondering. I asked Luis. In the dream, I mean. The dream Luis. I said, ‘So what do I name him, then?’ He said, ‘Name him after that nice kid. Millie’s new friend.’”
“Me?” Raymond asked, his voice full of disbelief.
“That’s what he said.”
“Whoa. That’s really nice. But . . . Raymond is kind of a geeky name, though. Don’t you think? I always thought so.”
“Ray could be kind of cool, though.”
“Right,” Raymond said. “No wonder nobody ever calls me that.”
She laughed a little. As he had hoped she would.
Then a silence fell. Raymond braced himself against the announcement of another contraction. But it was probably too soon. He felt the pull of Mrs. G waiting for his return. He felt the burn and swell of the honor being bestowed on him.
“Just one thing, though,” he added. “Your other two kids have Spanish names.”
“This one can be different.”
“Kind of hard to be different from your own family. Take it from somebody who knows. Is there a Spanish version of the name Raymond?”
“Well. There’s Ramon.”
“That’s so much better. You should definitely name him Ramon.”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure of it. I’ll always know you named him after me. Which is incredibly nice, by the way. And he’ll feel like he fits in with the rest of the family. And that’s a big deal. Take my word for it.”
When Raymond arrived back at the courtroom, out of breath from running, he was startled to find the door to the room locked. He rattled the knob several times. Pushed against the door with increasing distress.
He looked back and forth in the hallway and saw no one but a uniformed officer strolling as if on patrol.
“Excuse me!” he called, surprised by the panic in his own voice. “Where is everybody?”
“Lunch break,” the man called back.
“But I left my friend in this room, and she was supposed to sit right there until I got back, so we couldn’t lose each other. Neither one of us has a phone. They wouldn’t have locked her in, would they?”