change
Eddie looked off into the distance. "I don't know." She sighed. "It's always been like that."
I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry about all that."
Several leaves danced in front of us in a colorful waltz. I shivered from the cold. I could feel the icy metal of the bench through my jeans.
"You know, my name wasn't always Eddie."
"Oh, yeah? When did you decide on Eddie?"
"No, like--"
A dog owner and his dog jogged past us. He looked pretty content about his life.
"It's just. My parents."
"Your parents? They made you call yourself Eddie?"
"No, well. I chose that name myself. Nickname, I mean." She paused. "I mean, my name is actually Edward."
"Oh," I said. "Edward."
Eddie laughed. "Yeah, I know. I don't know why they chose it either. When I was twelve, too."
"What?"
"Look," Eddie turned to me. "There's just things I can't explain. My parents weren't very... normal. I didn't know that then. I thought names weren't permanent things. I never lived in places long enough to realize that nobody changed their names every two years. I never... I never got to stay. I never got to build myself up."
I rubbed my nose because there was nothing to do, but immediately regretted it upon feeling the chilly wind bite my exposed fingers.
"I see," I said slowly.
She looked at me in a strange way. To this day I can never explain that look. It was a rare expression.
"You don't have to say that, you know." She sighed, then shrugged. We sat in silence for a bit.
"I feel--I feel like I'm saying too much--"
"No, no," I said. "It's good that you're talking. It's good. To um, build yourself up."
"Yeah." She bit her lips. "Yeah."
Silence.
"You know," she turned to me. "I think everything about who I am is... is because of my parents. Or everything about who I am not."
"They do seem like an interesting bunch," I said.
"Interesting, yeah." She smiled weakly, her eyes searching desperately around the park for something to distract herself with. It was excruciatingly calm.
"You know I had five names before Eddie? And I lived the first two years of my life without one. They refused to give one. I was named 'Baby' for two years. That was my name on my birth certificate.
"And they never let me in on the names, either. They always decided. They had all this money, from god knows where. Ellen--my mom--said she inherited a ton. And so did Phil."
"Phil's your dad?"
"Yeah. Never call them by their titles or whatever. They were never really a mom or dad to me, anyways. They were so lost and indecisive about themselves that when they had me, they couldn't bear to be decisive for the sake of this poor living soul. I inherited all of their insecurities."
"They changed your name because they were indecisive?"
"Well, I mean. They thought it was cool. That it would make me a more creative person or something. They had the connections and the money. Legal issues aren't too big of a deal if you have a lot of money and know a lot of people, you know. I grew up with everything like that.
"But I guess I also grew up with nothing."
She wiped her eyes. I didn't know what to say. So I didn't.
We stayed like that, sitting on the bench, looking out at the quiet lake. The water was calm. I felt calm, but unsettled.
"Let's go inside," I said eventually. "They might be waiting for us."