"I can't hear YOU now. And I want to hear your voice say my name. Oh, my boy, do say it, so that I can remember it when you're away."
"I can't say it, child. Why didn't you tell me your name?"
"What is yours?"
"I'm trying to tell you."
"Please—please!"
"I'm trying with all my might. Listen with all yours."
"I am listening. I can't hear anything. Yet I'm listening so hard that it hurts. I want to say your name over and over and over to myself when you're away. CAN'T you say it louder?"
"No, it's no good."
"Oh, why didn't you tell me, boy?"
"Oh, child, why didn't you tell me?"