Whereunto Aoife explains her Name

Aoife hated her name. She could always tell when a new teacher had reached her name in the roll: there was a pause, a frantic working of lips, mouth silently working over undetermined letters, the hesitant uttering of vowels before Aoife would give in “EVA!” she would yell. “It’s pronounced Eva!” She never had worked out why she had it; she wasn’t named after any relatives that she could think of. She’d asked her parents about it one time. Her father, Richard, had stared at her blankly, like he couldn’t even remember who she was, let alone what or why her name was. Her mother, Marigold, had smiled mystically, running her hands through her hair, and telling her that her name was given with love, and that it had come with her. Aoife never could quite work out what that had meant.