Any Other Name

Any Other Name Evelyn Shakir Igot me the only rose on the family tree," Mitch liked to say. When they were first married, Dolores took it as a compliment, and she'd color a bit, looking rosier than ever. But after a while, she caught on that Mitch was boasting about himself, not her. And, more than anything, was being mean about her sisters. "The thorns," he called them to her face, as ifthey weren't just as good as he was. When the children came along, Mitch found a new twist on the joke. "Get ready, kids. UncleAl andThorn Selma are coming over—whatever you do, don't let her hug you!" Or—with a shake of the head—"Your Thorny Margaret, ain't she the sharp one!" Now that he'd got hold ofit, he couldn't let it go. So if one of his daughters answered back or made a face, he'd say, "Uh oh, looks like we got a little sticker pushing out here!" And if the girl began to cry and carry on—"I'm not, I'm not!"—Mitch would laugh and say, "Where's my scissors?" "Papa's just teasing," Dolores told them, angry at him for getting them worked up, and angry at them for taking it to heart. When it came to hurt feelings, her oldest was the worst, Miss Sensitive ofAmerica. "Barbara the barbarian," Mitch would mock her, his way to make her mind. "How could you stick me with that ugly moniker?" she whined, blaming her mother. Other mothers thought about what theywere doing, and named their girls something pretty, like Rita or Marilyn or Amy. Which just happened to be the names of the sisters in the yellow bungalow who wore matching Polly Flinders smocks to school, and Danskin tights, and black bands holding back their hair. Were they ever the lucky ones. Finally, Barbara made everyone she could (not her father or her teachers) call her Babs. "Oh, great," Mitch said, "the only Babs I ever heard ofwas a stripper." Next in line was Theresa. "Saint Theresa, holy-moly, cut that out!" Mitch would yell though really she was the most obedient ofthe lot. "We could call you Terry," was Babs' suggestion. But Theresa said no, that could be a boy's name, like Terry Donlan, the dumb kid who sat in the back row and picked his nose when Miss Yeagerwasn't looking. She guessed she was just stuck like a cat up a tree. 35 36EVELYN SHAKIR Babs shrugged. "Suit yourself, Saint Theresa," she said. And then there was die youngest, Ellen. Mitch couldn't do much with her name. Except just for fun, to say it rapid-fire: "Ellen, -Hen, -Hen," like the yammering ofan idiot. Mitch had other things he said. Bewildering threats. "When your brother arrives on the scene, kiddo, he'll give you what for!" At first, they thought they really had a brother, off in the old country, where sittoo came from, or maybe in reform school. When they got old enough, they understood there was no brother, only the hope of one. But by then, Mitch had quit making those particular threats. One time, on his day off, he came home hot and bothered from the ahwe, the coffee house where he hung out with other Lebanese. "Sons ofbitches!" he exploded. "Think diey're so big. Hey, one ofmy girls is worth a dozen of their retard sons." You'd think hearing that might give them a lift, but it didn 't. How could it when he was so angry? Anyway, what did he mean "one" ofhis girls? Did he mean any one of them, or did he have a certain one in mind? With him, it was smart not to feel too good, too soon. Dolores felt for her daughters. But they'd get over it. The first time some boy made cow eyes at them, they'd be all right about themselves. It was herself made her feel sad. "You should take a baking class," advised her sister Selma, drying dishes after Babs' sweet sixteen. "Learn to frost a wedding cake, stretch those muscles in your...