Knowing You.

The Name Exchange

BEN

“The way your country makes beans is different,” Ben comments the following morning quietly as he and the woman share the second to the last can of beans that the woman found in the abandoned dugout they’ve been staying in for a few days now. After changing the gauze on his wound, the woman made sure that they have something to eat even if it may not be enough to make them full.

Resources of any kind have been scarce because of the ongoing war. It’s a miracle that they still have something to feed themselves.

“I’ve noticed that your beans are mostly mushy,” Ben continues, “Was this made with old people in mind? I mean it’s considerate to an extent. But come on, even old people wouldn’t want to eat something that’s too mushy.”

The woman only hums in reply which shocks Ben.

He throws a quizzical look her way and asks, “What’s with that reply? You’re not that much of a talker now, are you?” The woman only looked at him with wide eyes and when he begins to chuckle softly, it seemed that her eyes have gotten bigger. Her facial expressions are like an open book to him.

“You’re the one who keeps on opening his mouth,” she suddenly teases him in a soft voice.

“Okay, first of all, it’s not ‘you’. It’s Ben, short for Benjamin. We know the names of each other’s family members already. It’s about time we know each other’s own names.”

She furrows her eyebrow at him and sharply tilts her head. “Ben?” She says carefully. The way she said his name sounded funny and unfamiliar in a sense. And yet it also sounded innocent – a tone Ben never heard before when it came to saying his name.

In all fairness, he likes how she says his name. "Yeah," he breathes out and the right corner of his mouth twitches up in amusement. "Is it your first time to hear such a name?"

The woman nods slowly. "I find it…a bit weird."

“Well,” Ben begins to explain, “mother wanted her children’s names to somewhat rhyme with each other. She had me first, Ben. Then the second is Camden, and the last is Diem. Ben’s actually a common name in my country.” He pauses for a moment and clears his throat a bit before finally asking, “Uh, what about yours? What’s your name? I can’t keep on calling you ‘woman’ if we’re going to be spending more time together, right?”

The woman lets out a small smile and says, “I’m…Mala. This name is a bit common also in my country.”

“Mala,” Ben whispers, trying out her name. “Mala,” he whispers again, this time with an effort to make sure that he can get her name across with no problem. “It’s fascinating. I’ve never heard such a name before.”

“I guess our names in some way are uncommon after all.” Mala sets the empty can of beans on the ground. She shifts a bit to hug her knees to her chest. Ben has noticed that she would frequently do that action. “Ben…how do you know my language?”

Ben couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. He had a feeling that she’s been wanting to ask that question the entire time they’d been together. “I was waiting for the day you would ask me.” Perhaps it won’t hurt to tell her the truth. “Would you believe me if I said that I was a librarian before I enlisted?”

He notices that Mala’s eyebrow raises slightly. “Librarian? Meaning…you worked at the library every day?”

No, I worked at the cemetery every day, he wanted to reply sarcastically. But…he thought it better not to. He can’t help it sometimes. Old habits die hard. Instead, he nods. “Every single day. I worked at the public library and was surrounded by books of all languages and all topics.”