Because it was the memorial bench, not his headstone, and his was the only name on it, and wasn’t touched.
Because if you believe the ancient Egyptians, people have multi-part souls, composites of personality, life-force, and spirit, which were separable things, but also, holding it all together as an entity, a name.
Because that concept appealed to him, significance he impressed on us, and as our housemaster said: he was a young man of promise.
Because if you saw him chew his pencils and knew he tore his journal, you’d know he worried he was less than the sum of those parts, but given his father should be more.
Because he shrugged it off or changed the topic, but knew titles and relations were names too.
Because we were careful, scratching the plaque with a scissor blade, to make the change neat and discreet.
Because he was our friend, and we weren’t trying to disgrace the school, sir, nor his mother, who passed when he was young.
Because this year he received the same book for his birthday as last year, and spent it here.
Because he was an orphan boarder, really; his home was with us, he’d been sent to us, and you can scratch ‘son’ from ‘beloved son’ and it would still make sense and be true.
Because, given his father, it won’t look good if he pursues this.
Stephen J. Bush was born in Bath, England, and lives in Xi’an, China, where he works as a biologist. He also writes fiction on occasion.