“I have two names,” she said, and cleared her throat. “The first might seem kind of like it doesn’t fit him right now, but I think it will later.” I felt shame for my disgust. The shame felt like love. “Okay.” “I’ll just say it,” she said, hesitating. “Just say it.” “Little Fatty.” I waited with no expression, to see if this was really the name. “Because”—her eyes suddenly filled with tears, her voice cracked—“he will be fat one day.” I put my arm around her. “It’s a really nice name. Little Fatty.” “Little Fatty,” she whispered tearfully.
