Neal wondered what Paula would say when she found out her daughter was hospitalized, laying in intensive care, battered and unconscious.
Trash, absolute trash. Of course, Neal knew it was a two-way street—Paula didn’t care too much for him, either. Still, that was no excuse for her attitude towards her daughter, and her granddaughter. If Paula had ever come down to Atlanta, Neal would have been more than happy to live somewhere else for the duration of her visit—they wouldn’t have even had to see each other. But, no, she was too damn busy running around with her boyfriends to help out. She hadn’t even seen Natasha since the day she was born!
The only thing Paula Crawford had done for her new granddaughter was make that ridiculous orange jumper Natasha was wearing now. Big black letters that were embroidered across the front boldly announced:
BABY
NATASHA
It arrived in the mail two weeks after the baby was born, after she finally had a name. Giving the child a name had been such a source of contention between Neal and Annie that “Jane Crawford-Becker” had simply been entered on the birth certificate. They both agreed to officially change it later. Because Annie was so sure her child would be “special,” she insisted on a unique name. Boy, had the names ever been unique! Her first choice was Amethyst, followed by Raziel and Zealanda.
Neal couldn’t stand any of them. Having suffered his way through grade school with the quintessentially nerdish “Rupert” as his middle name, he was against choosing anything that might cause his baby daughter any distress. He was in favor of a simple name, like Susan or Diane or, yes—even Jane.
But Annie wouldn’t hear of it, not for her baby.
Finally, one evening Neal had a brilliant idea.
“Let’s let our little daughter choose her own name,” he’d suggested. They were sitting in the living room on the plastic covered couch. Annie was holding the baby in her arms.
Neal’s young wife frowned at him. “You want to run that by me again?”
“I’m serious.” He jumped up and retrieved the tome of baby names that Annie had nearly worn out during the past six months, ever since she’d found out the baby was a girl.
“Give her to me—you take the book.”
Annie looked at him like he was nuts, but carefully handed Neal the infant.
“Now start flipping back and forth through the girls’ names. The first time she makes any type of sound, stop on that page.”
Annie immediately understood and began steadily flipping through the book. The baby kicked its feet and turned its little head, almost as if she understood what they were doing, too. But a long time passed—she was completely silent.
“Ga!” she said suddenly.
Annie stopped flipping. “She’s in the N’s.”
Neal leaned forward, looking. “Now start running your finger up and down the names, very smoothly, back and forth, back and forth. Yeah. Next sound she makes, that’s her name. Agreed?”
Annie looked skeptical. “Well...maybe...” She kept running her finger up and down the two open pages, looking at her little girl. “What’s your name, tweety? Can you pick your name for Mommy and Daddy?”
Neal leaned forward, looking at the names. “God, I hope she doesn’t choose Nefertitti.” The book listed every name known to mankind, and a lot that sounded completely made up.
“Geeh!” the baby finally said.
Neal leaned forward to see where Annie’s finger had stopped.
“Natasha!” they both said together.
“Hey, I kind of like that,” Neal said.
