‘We’re calling her Crystal,’ Dee says, ‘or you’ll be a single father.’
He looks at his newborn daughter. Crystal – clear, transparent, cheap diamond replacement. He has a vision of a dazzling young woman in the distance. The closer she comes, the more ordinary she looks. On close inspection, she cannot hide her plainness. She cannot hide anything.
‘I don’t like the connotations,’ he mumbles. Her reply booms along the maternity ward.
‘You’re going to argue? I’m serious – it’s Crystal or…’
Nix nods. He has to think fast. Naming is destiny.
‘Calm down, Dynamite. How about we call her Crystal Sphinx?’