A'roll's son was born on 3/17/82. That means he was conceived a month after the Commune attacked.
Angmaus told me I was the Godfather.
The boy has the eyebrows of his father, the same nose, and the same eye color.
Angmaus and I talk in the kitchen. The floors are cold marble; there's a whole bunch of posters, toys, and statues everywhere. It's like two children got chosen to decorate a room. There's a rainbow across the wall.
"What's with all of this stuff?" I asked.
"Well, we figured since we remember things when we were babies, we might as well make him remember a safe environment."
I look around, then point to A'roll tossing the boy in the air.
"So," Angmaus says, pointing to A'roll, who is holding the kid in his arms. "I was thinking of naming him A-rael." "His name would be A-rael E'leon, wouldn't it?" I ask her.
"Yup."
"How are you going to tell people to pronounce his name?"
"Like 'A Real Alien.' She pauses, then opens her mouth again. " A'roll and I aren't raising him here. We think that name would be perfect for him."
"You do know he's going to live the rest of his life with this name, right?" I say to her.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course, but his name is memorable, and A-rael's already the most common first name in the Galaxy; we pronounce it differently than anyone else."
"Your name is Co'ol Epicman." She laughs.
"It's pronounced Epocmon, not epicman." I laugh.
Angmaus smiles, then leans in and whispers something in my ear.
"I wish I chose someone more responsible than A'roll…" She taps the countertop, then looks at me.
"Why did you never get into a relationship with anyone?"
"I have someone in mind." I look at the ceiling.
"Please tell me."
"I just lied to you." I snicker.
She doesn't laugh.