The next time they were alone in the house together, Davey was sitting at the table and she sat down across from him and said, “Hi, Davey. I need to...talk to you. You got a minute?” “Yah.” “Davy, first of all, I’ve got a name, and it’s not c’mere. You know what it is, but you’ve never used it. I want to hear you say it, okay?” “Melissa.” “Thank you. Secondly, I want you to say my name when you want something, or when you talk to me. I like hearing you say my name. I like you. But I want to. "Not ... not really," I mumbled. I was just guessing, but if the other two names I had heard both referred to me, well, the odds were pretty good that the last one was an attempt at identifying me as well."I heard someone calling for Frances." Trish explained, "and then I saw ... well, I thought it was a face at the window." She seemed embarrassed to be talking about it."It's ok. I don't think you're crazy." I assured her."I'm not CRAZY!" Trish sharply replied, before checking back on her flash. More

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