“It is Felice, feh-LEE-cheh,” I said with more force than I had said anything in my life.
“Eh, what"s that you say, girl?” Mrs. Briggs grumbled, nearly growled.
I didn"t even turn my gaze to her.
“My father"s name is Felice,” I said with the correct pronunciation, my softer exclamation did not diminish my stern intent. “We been here almost two months. I think it polite you say it right. I believe he has, eh, earn it.”
Before she or anyone could say more, I thrust my chair back and stomped away.
In the quiet I left the room in, I heard her bellow, “Why you…come back here, girl!”
I neither went back nor turned back. I never heard my father"s name pronounced incorrectly ever again.
* * *
I didn"t go far. I sat in my father"s room waiting for him. He came in for his tools to fix the wr
