Ficlets

I started to call myself Jack because my mother would always murmur that name when she saw me. Not in an endearing, affectionate sort of way, but in desperation and hope. I of course knew that it was my brother’s name, but when someone says a name long enough in your direction you begin to take it on as your own. So on my first day of school when the teacher asked if I had a nickname I preferred, I said Jack. It was nice to hear someone say that name without making me want to cry. And so it stuck ever since.

To be honest, that was the only piece of my brother that I knew for sure. That his name was Jack. I know his name, date of birth and death. These are facts engraved on stone, things that are certain. I don’t think people like to lie to God.

David Jack Andrews
December 10, 1980 – February 14, 1981
Our Baby Boy, Our Sweetheart

Somehow, I know that I’m not included in that plural first person “our.”