It's Still Life

Quarters, Mum says, are fourths. It’s apples again. Mum takes two pieces and starts eating one … and asks, So how many pieces of our apple do you have. I say, Two pieces. She nods, What do you call that, in fraction language. And I’m thinking that she thinks I should know this, so I pretend that I know this, and I say, A two piece fraction is called a Twoth. Mum’s smile fades, Eat your apple, she says, at which point my wobbly front tooth lodges fast and deep in my Twoth of our apple. I recall that sniffy tone of hers after I lost my tooth. It centred around the word third, which I pronounced as turd with a sharp whistle at the end. Mum insisted that I make a better effort with the th-sound, and not speak like I had an Irish accent because, she said, a…