Quadruplets Make Six

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think it would take this long to convince you to take a date to the wedding,” she said.

“I don’t need a date, Mom.”

“You need to put yourself out there, Libby. You're twenty-seven years old. I’d already had you by this point,” she said.

“You also weren’t working and were married by the time you were twenty-two,” I said.

“Because I put myself out there. You’re cooped up in your small little apartment in the middle of Chicago with no one to make sure you’re okay and some orange-colored cat that hisses at everything that moves.”

“No, he just hisses at you, Mom,” I said.

“I like that cat,” my dad said.

“See? Mozart likes Dad,” I said.

“But I have to agree with your mother on this one,” he said.

“Seriously, Daddy? We’re doing that shtick now? The two of you couldn’t agree on curtain colors, but you can agree on the fact that I need a date to a wedding for people I can’t even remember from my childhood?” I asked.

“You don’t remember Logan? He’s your father’s brother’s first child,” Mom said.

“We never visited his side of the family much,” I said. That was kind of a lie, I had always liked Logan, I just didn’t want to go.

“You can blame your mother for that,” he said. “See? I told you we didn’t get to see my family enough.”

“Oh, can it, Michael. We were much closer to your family in Wisconsin than we were to my family in North Carolina. Get over yourself,” she said.

“And here we go again,” I said. “Let’s agree to never do conference calls again.”

“Sweetie, the guy’s really nice. Soft spoken, nice brown eyes, head full of hair and a kind smile,” she said.

“So he’s a pansy,” my father said.

“Won’t you shut up, Michael?” she asked.

“You asked me to join this call. I didn’t realize you were setting our daughter up with a pansy. Our daughter deserves a man. Someone who can take care of her and protect her in that rundown apartment she’s living out of,” he said.

“Thanks. I think,” I said.

“She needs a date for this wedding,” my mother said. “I’m tired of people asking me why she isn’t dating. I’m tired of all my friends marrying off their children but me. I’m tired of looking at other women becoming grandmothers but not me!”

“So… me having a date for the wedding is somehow about you not having grandc

hildren?” I asked.

“And your mother’s gone off the deep end,” Dad said.

“I have not. My reasons for her having a date are valid. I’m worried about you, sweetie. You never get out, your friends say you’re pulling away…”

“You mean the assholes from high school I never kept up with because they pushed me into lockers and stole my clothes from gym class so I couldn't get changed?” I asked.

“Language, princess. No one likes a potty mouth.”

“Says the man who yells ‘fuck’ at the TV like it keeps the Brown’s playing. Look, I don’t need a date to the we-”

“Yes, you do,” my mother said.

“Holy crap, I don’t need a date because I have one!”