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The smile that overtakes my friend’s face hurts, but I’m happy for him. I truly am.
“Amity,” Ellie says, her voice still hoarse but regaining its strength after a few days’ rest. “Evander and I discussed something last night that we wanted to tell you together.”
Amity looks rather reluctant to put down her grimoire, but Piper and I must have done something right, because she bites the inside of her cheek and turns to Ellie politely, even if her finger still taps against the tree stump in impatience.
“As you know, we didn’t have a name picked out yet, so it’s taken us a few days to decide…” Ellie’s voice chokes up, and unable to continue, she flits a hand at Evander, signaling him to finish for her.
His sea-green eyes glisten as he looks at my daughter and says, “We’ve decided to name her Amity, after you.”
A lump swells in my throat, immense pride welling within me.
But then I glance at Amity and…Oh no.
She’s looking at Evander and Ellie blankly, like they’ve just informed her that the sky is blue.
“Her first name?” she asks.
Evander and Ellie glance at one another.
“Yes,” Ellie explains. “We’re just so grateful for all you did in helping with the delivery, we wanted to name her after you.”
“Don’t you think that will be kind of confusing?” my daughter, whose behavior now reflects on my parenting, asks. “I mean, if you say ‘Amity,’ how will anyone know which one you’re talking about?”
Mortification washes over my already aching bones.
This is something no one warns you about when it comes to parenthood: how unbearably rude children have a tendency to be, and how listening to them being rude feels just as embarrassing as if the words had escaped your own mouth.
I take a deep breath, one that rather hurts, and remind myself that Amity had over a decade to develop her lack of manners before Piper and I claimed her.
Granted, even if we’d had Amity since she was an infant, would I have ever thought to bring up how she should react if anyone named their child after her?
Likely not.
“Uh,” says Evander, looking rather sleep-deprived and flustered.
“Amity.” I grit my teeth and will my voice to remain calm. “Evander and Ellie have done something very kind to thank you for helping them. It’s a big deal to have a child named after you. Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you,” Amity says, rushing through the rote phrase. “But I don’t even like my name. I’ve always wanted to be named Cecilia. It’s a much better name, especially for a princess.”
I can’t help it. It demonstrates a lapse in my parenting skills, but I let out a pained groan.
Evander remains still, a forced grin plastered on his face as he glances nervously at Ellie.
But then Ellie laughs, a rather neurotic cackle that sounds like something that would hurt considering the labor she just went through. Indeed, she grasps her stomach, squinting in pain, but she keeps laughing, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Oh. I can’t…I can’t catch…my breath,” she cries, her laughter contagious, and now Evander is laughing too, and so am I, which is unfortunate given my broken ribs.
The only one not laughing is Amity, who shrugs and goes back to reading her grimoire.
After a long while, Ellie leans her head back against the bags. “Evander, does Cecilia work for you?”
“I actually kind of like it,” he says.
“Alright. It’s settled then,” she laughs.
“Hello, Cecilia Thornwall,” says Evander, grinning down at his daughter, who appears rather apathetic regarding her naming.
Just then, Amity jumps.
