Triplets Make Five

“Nope. It was a mutual thing, Daddy. Can we drop the act now, though? You guys are freaking me out,” I said.

“She’s right,” my mother said. “I’m already getting tired of the exchange.”

“What exchange?” Preston asked.

“Are you done trying to intimidate him like you feel you need to, Dad? Because I’m ready to hear about the latest book you’re reading,” I said.

“Oh, come on Phillip. Tell her about it. I got it for you a couple of weeks ago,” my mother said.

My father sighed and relented, pulling his gaze from Preston and landing onto my stomach.

“Do you need anything, honey?” he asked.

“I’m just fine. If I need something, I’ll let you know,” I said. “Now what is this book Mom got you?”

“It’s an incredible memoir. Ever heard of Lili Elbe?” my father asked.

“Can’t say I have,” Preston said.

“You’re reading Lili Elbe’s memoir. You have to give that to me once you’re done reading it,” I said.

“You know who Lili Elbe is?” Preston asked.

“Lili Elbe was the one of the first documented men to ever go through gender reassignment surgery. She eventually tried to have a uterus implanted into her body so she could have children, and that’s what killed her,” I said.

“Seriously?” Preston asked.

“Yep. It’s because of her that we have so much knowledge on the topic now. Lili Elbe is a cultural icon in that community today,” I said.

“Her memoir is gut wrenching. And very eye opening. If you two are staying for the weekend, I should have it finished and I can send it with you,” my father said.

“I’d love that, Daddy. Thanks,” I said.

“Mrs. Kent, are you a reader?” Preston asked.

“Oh, no. Well, not in the way Delilah and Phillip are. I’m more of a random facts woman. Crossword puzzles are my thing,” she said.

“It’s hard to make me feel like I’m in a room full of people smarter than me. But the three of you are slowly making it happen,” Preston said.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you cope with that reality later,” I said.

I patted his knee as my parents settled into the couch. Finally, they were relaxing a little bit. The protective parent stance wasn’t natural for them. I was fiercely independent because they were so wrapped up in themselves during my formative years. Them getting protective now felt a tad bit hypocritical. It was nice they were willing to try, but right now I wanted to talk with them. To catch up on their lives and see how things were going with them.

“Do you still do them in that red pen?” I asked. “The last time you did a crossword, I think it was in just a plain black pen.”

“Oh, that thing finally ran out of ink. And it was the last in the pack. I keep meaning to buy another package of them, but I always forget whenever I go to the store,” my mother said.

“That red pen gives me the creeps,” my father said. “My English teacher in college used a red pen and slaughtered my essays. That woman was no joke.”

“Where did you attend school?” Preston asked.

“Just the community college up the road,” my father said. “Marcia and I grew up in the area.”

“I didn’t go to school, but Phillip got a two-year degree in electrical engineering,” my mother said.

“I have no idea where Delilah got her love of math from,” my father said. “I hated the stuff.”

“Me, too,” my mother said.