Years later, they meet again. He stands before her in uniform, ramrod straight.
She stares at the insignia on his shoulder, her lips moving before she manages to stammer, “Hello, may I ask...”
He cuts her off. “Don’t try that with me.”
He takes a step closer and looks down at her, his voice low.
“Call me by my name. My full name.”
Her eyes redden in an instant.
Because back in the courtyard, she never called him by his full name. She called him “Hey” and “You there.” She’d even given him the nastiest nicknames, but never once addressed him properly by his full name.
Only after he left did she begin silently repeating it, again and again, until she knew that name, from surname to given name, better than anyone.
Only later did I learn that the first thing he did when he came back wasn’t visit his family or report for duty. He turned to the last page of every one of my books.
