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to fetch her one. She of
course thought she was
being ever so something
or another. Sexy, like.
‘Damien just suits him,
doesn’t it Aggie?’ And
Aggie being Aggie would
agree with her. Maybe I
would change my name
anyway, when I moved
out, I thought. I’d do it
in a casual kind of a way.
I didn’t intend to do any
serious deliberating on
the subject. I didn’t see
that what I was called was
of so much importance
to me. I could change my
name if I liked and then
change it again, and have
any number of different
names too if I wanted
that. Nobody would know
where they were with me
then. But I’d know and
that was the thing that
mattered.
And that was one of the
things that I disliked most
about the two of them.
The assumption they had
me pinned to my name.
‘Damien Dell’. That’s what
I was to them. It was one
of the ways they owned
me. And though secretly
I was free of them it
left a nasty taste in my
mouth when I saw them
saying ‘Damien’ with such
utter confidence. Smug
bastards. I didn’t like their
easy assumptions and the
shape their mouths went
when they said my name.
Or
this
name, rather. For
the name was not me.
And if Glea and Aggie
wanted to be mean about
me, muttering behind
their hands and making
a show of being discreet,
they called me
Baby Dell
,
or even
Poor Baby Dell
.
It amused them; kind
of turned them on and
made them feel superior.