Katie TonellatoBABY, SWEETHEART, HONEY When I was young, they called me baby, sweetpea, honey, cherry pie, chubs. So often they called me these things, that when they called me my name, my real name, I curdled into myself, unfamiliar, anticipating something unknown the way animals cower in their homes, teeth bared. They called me those things until I grew teeth, grew wings, snarled at them. My mom used to read the paper on Sunday mornings, curled up in bed, without makeup on her face, reading glasses resting on the rim of her nose. This was when I was small, in the way we were all small once, nestled at our mom’s feet under the covers of her bed, hand wrapped around her ankle. Little Bear Cub, she would call me, taking stock of my tiny-ness: the bean pod–shaped ears, the jagged tic tac teeth, the slim transparent fingernails, sharp … chop! chop! read more!