“How could Wilma not expect this child to look for her mother’s humming, to be drawn like a moth to a flame to anyone who wished not only to retrieve this name, but to dust it off, shake it out, try it on with her? From the moment they met, Adan had called her no other name but Lala, had sung her name in every tone he could think of to see if she would recognize it, would remember exactly the notes her mother intended her to. It was one of the reasons she had loved him.”
