Josh sits in my desk chair. “You stop apologizing.”
I add the hot water and give him the stein. He grins. I take a seat beside Kurt and thrust half of my baguette at Josh, who protests with a waved hand. I insist. He accepts. We’re bordering on uncomfortable silence territory.
I’m relieved when Josh turns to Kurt. “You know, there’s something I’ve always been curious about. I once saw your name written down on a list in the head’s office. Your full name.”
Kurt sighs. Heavily. “I was born the week Kurt Cobain died. My parents were friends with him, so they named me in his honour.”
Josh freezes, Nutella-smeared knife mid-air. “They were friends with him?”
“My dad is Scott Bacon. He was the lead guitarist for Dreck.”
“The early nineties grunge band,” I say. “They had that one hit, ‘No One Saw Me’?”
“Yeah.” Josh shakes his head. “Yeah, I know who they are.”
“The song made him rich and famous, and that attracted my mother. She was a runway model here in Paris,” Kurt says matter-of-factly.
Josh freezes again.
I always forget how surprising it is for people to learn about Kurt’s parents. It seems like he should come from a family of neurosurgeons or astronautical engineers, but the giveaway is that – underneath the unkempt hair and messy wardrobe – Kurt is handsome. Strangers often mistake him for an athlete, because he’s tall and angular and muscular. But he’s only in shape because he hates mass transit and walks everywhere. I wonder if his appearance is another reason why Josh thought we were dating.
“But their relationship isn’t like that,” I explain. “Kurt’s mom had her own money. They married for love, they’re still together.”
Josh takes a huge bite of bread and talks before swallowing. “I can’t believe they knew Kurt Cobain. That’s so cool.”
I used to watch Josh in the cafeteria, and he’s always been a sloppy eater. I feel oddly pleased to see this bad habit up close. Maybe because it reminds me of the Josh that his friends knew – the relaxed, barriers-down, inner-circle Josh. Or maybe because it reminds me of Kurt, and Kurt is safe.
“No,” Kurt says. “It blows. I was named after a guy who committed suicide. Also, people assume I’m this huge Nirvana fan, which isn’t even logical, because it’s not like I named myself.”
“Do you like them at all?” Josh asks.
“No. We can switch names, if you want.”
“Kurt Cobain Wasserstein.” Josh says it slowly and laughs. “Nah. Doesn’t have the same ring.”
“Kurt Donald Cobain Wasserstein. You can’t forget his middle name. I can’t.”
“Which would make you…Joshua Elvis Aaron Presley Bacon.”
Kurt startles. “Are you serious? That’s your middle name?”
Josh’s stone countenance makes me snort with laughter.
“Isla, is he serious?” Kurt asks again, but then he reads my own expression correctly. “Oh.” He wilts. “Never mind. You were just…”
But then a perfect moment occurs as Kurt straightens back up. He grins.
Josh points a finger. “You are not going to say it.”
“…joshing me.”
Josh clutches his chest in agony as Kurt explodes into loud belly laughter. My heart might burst from happiness. Josh shakes his head. “I’m only letting you get away with that because I’m trying to make a good impression on your lady friend, okay? My real middle name is David.”
Kurt considers it for several seconds. “Deal. I’ll take it.”
Josh takes his first sip of coffee. “Oh, man. You weren’t kidding. This is terrible.”
“So what should we call Isla?” Kurt asks.