Title: Name

[swirlsofpurple]

She sits, not really swinging, just pushing herself a few inches back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Hi Viji!”

She stills the swing and says, “My name is Vijikala.”

“I know, silly. It’s a nickname.”

“I don’t like it.”

“No one likes nicknames, that’s the point of them.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, fingers clenching around the chains holding up her seat, the metal digs sharp into her palms. And Vijikala struggles to understand why she’s so upset. Loads of people have their names shortened, it’s not a big deal. She feels small. She is small though. But she feels more small.


*

 

“This is Vij.”

“It’s Vijikala,” she corrects. She’s in High School now and she’s determined to get everyone calling her by her name.

“Forget it Vij, this is your name now, no one’s going to call you that.”

She pushes down the unpleasant smallness, just as she had years ago that day on the swing and just as she has every time since. It’s okay, she’s just a kid, a nobody. When she’s older she’ll be someone big and important and will make everyone call her by her name.

* 

“Is there something easier we can call you by, it’s kind of difficult to remember,” the interviewer says.

She shrinks in on herself, forces herself to sit back up straight, she’s too old to be angry, she’s too old to be a troublemaker, she’s too old to rock the boat. There are bills to be paid.

“You can call me Vij.”

*

 

And she works hard, and does what everyone wants, and climbs the ladder- slowly, so slowly. Sometimes the thought pops into her head: one day I’ll be worthy of four whole syllables, not this small cowering thing, someone worth the effort, someone worth the respect, a whole name, for a whole person.

But the years go on, and she only gets smaller and smaller. Some days she can’t even remember the sound of her name.

Until one day it feels as though she’s going to be squeezed into non-existence, the pressure builds, her size demanding its space, and she towers high above, screaming,

“That’s NOT my FUCKING NAME!”

* 

There are approaching footsteps and a too loud whisper, “Isn’t she the crazy lady who will only help if you address her by her full title?”

“Yes.”

“What is it then?”

She grins manically as they come into view.

“I am Vijikala, First of her name, The Angry One, The Troublemaker, The Rocker of Boats.”

 

Comments

[swirlsofpurple]

Thank you, so glad you liked that description, that was exactly what I was going for :)