Work Text:
"Mark,"
Ah'm staring at wee Davie, sat in his chair wi his big leather braces round his legs n middle. He's no got onto names yet, not properly, cos he's got things wrong wi him, but he's started pointing at ye and going "aaaaaah" in a different way than usual. Ma's even mamamama tae him, babbling away like a wee baby.
"Mark." Ah sais it again, cos he's never gonnae get it afore ah start big school if ah dinnae repeat it even mair. We've been daein this every day since Spring half-term.
Ah take his sticky wee hand and put it tae ma chest.
"Mark." Then tae his. "Davie."
Ah point at a picture ae Billy.
"Twat."
Davie jist looks back at us, his eyes aw huge n watery. He's no getting it. Probably too much for his scrambled wee brain tae comprehend.
"Hiya Davie, ma name is Mark," I sais, cos that's how Mrs Doherty down the learning centre speaks tae him.
"Mmmmmm," he goes, n ah cannae tell if it's on purpose or if he's straining tae curl one out in his nappy.
"Aye, that's right! Mark!"
Ahv goat a plan fir it n aw. Like wi the hair. It'd been easy wi the hair; some scruffy wee bastard (usually Spud) at school always hud nits, so I'd jist goat tae get close enough n leave it long enough, then Ma would shriek while combing it n Da would go after us wi the clippers again.
"Mmm," Davie goes, his mouth falling open at the end ae the sound, drooling down ontae his bib. "Mmmahhh…"
"Mark! Mark!" N ah'm haudin both his hands now, nearly jumping fir joy Ah'm so excited. "Ah'm Mark, yuv nearly goat it!"
Last year of primary, Si had started saying it, just as a joke like, cos of ma shaved heid. Ah made out ah hated it, n he'd called us that mair n mair.
"Maaaaaah," Davie gurgles, and ah huv to get up n run round the room wi ma hands ower ma mouth so's naebody in the parlour hears us giggling.
Ma n Da love wee Davie- his word is law in our hoose. So if he starts goin on aboot Mark, Mark, Mark…
Ah says it again, but this time, ah get his hand and make a pointing finger n point it at me. He's started pointing at things these past few weeks, food n toys n aw.
"Mark," I jab his finger intae ma shirt, thin let his hand go. "Where's Mark?"
Davie doesnae move like most, cos he's goat spa-sti-si-ee in his muscles. So ah've goat tae wait as his skinny wee hand snaps up intae place n points at me.
"Maaaaahk," he slurs, and Ah've never heard anything so wonderful in all ma puff. He's calling us it, calling us ma name!
"Davie," Ah've got tae be careful hugging him, cos he screams if ye haud him wrong, but ah cannae stop masel. "Davie, you fuckin genius."
He doesnae hug us back. Doesnae understand the miracle he's worked for us; couldnae if he hud a thousand years.
But he's done whit ah need ae him. N he proves it, in his wheezing wee voice.
"Maahhk."