“He even named a computer after me,”

...

“He even named a computer after me,” I said to them.

“What computer?” a girl asked.

“The Lisa,” I said.

“A computer called the /Lisa?/” she said. “I never heard of it.”

“It was ahead of its time.” I used my mother’s phrase, although I wasn’t
sure why it was ahead. I brought it up when I felt I needed to, waited as long as I could and then let it burst forth. I don’t remember feeling at a disadvantage with my friends who had fathers, only that there was at my fingertips another magical identity, an extra thing that started to itch and tingle when I felt small, and it was like pressure building inside me, and then I had to find a way to say it.

....

*“Hey, you know* that computer, the Lisa? Was it named after me?” I asked many years later, when I was in high school and splitting my time between my parents’ houses. I tried to sound like I was curious, nothing more.

If he would just give me this one thing.

“Nope.” His voice was clipped, dismissive. Like I was fishing for a
compliment. “Sorry, kid.”

...

Then Bono asked, “So, was the Lisa computer named after her?”

There was a pause. I braced myself—prepared for his answer.

My father hesitated, looked down at his plate for a long moment, and then back at Bono. “Yeah, it was,” he said.

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