“Oh, good,” my mom said. “I’ve clearly raised an intelligent man.”
“Was that ever in question?”
“Well,” my dad said, drawing out the word and making my mom laugh.
“We can go whenever you’re ready, Mom,” I said, my voice a little quieter as I watched her wind down from excitement to nervousness. This was the Mom I knew, the worrier. Not the woman who ranted about her sons’ sex lives and insinuated that someone with bad parents was somehow less.
“I was ready months ago,” she said, giving me a sad smile. “I was ready the minute I knew about her.”
“I don’t know about that,” my dad said. “Pretty sure you weren’t ready for anything but a fainting couch at that point.”
“I’ve never fainted,” my mom argued, rolling her eyes.
“First time for everything,” my dad muttered.
“How about Friday?” my mom asked, glancing at me. “Is that too soon?”
“Nah, Friday’s good. I’ll let Morgan know.”
“You seem like you’re pretty good friends with her now,” Mom said, her voice curious in a way that was almost insinuating. The calm that had been settling back over me was gone again in an instant.
“We get along pretty well,” I replied cautiously, not knowing where the conversation was headed. “She’s a cool girl.”
“Woman,” my dad corrected.
“Woman,” I clarified.
My phone started ringing and I answered it quickly before my mom could continue her questioning.
“Bless you,” Ani said before I could even say hello. “Bless you, bless you, bless you.”
“I didn’t sneeze,” I joked.
“I owe you huge,” she replied. “Thank you so much.”
“Excited to finally get some sleep?” I asked, then whispered Ani’s name to my mom, who was staring questioningly at me.
“Dude, you have no idea. None. I was actually wondering if you could pick Arie up tonight because I’m too nervous to drive this tired.”
“Sure,” I said immediately. I didn’t want her driving tired and it was easy enough to buckle Arie’s car seat into my truck. “What time?”
“Seven. No, five. No, six. Does six work?”
“Yeah, six is fine,” I replied. “I’ll bring dinner.”
I laughed and hung up as she started scratchily singing “Wind Beneath My Wings.”
“I’m keeping Arielle for the night,” I told my parents as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “They need to get some sleep.”
“That’s sweet of you,” my mom said.
“You’re going to regret that,” my dad said at the same time, laughing.
“Probably,” I said ruefully. “But it’s one night, and I’m pretty sure Bram couldn’t make it one more day with no sleep.”
“Ani, either,” my mom said. “I stopped by there yesterday so she could take a little break, and the poor girl had so many energy drinks in her system she was shaking like an addict and couldn’t even nap.”
“Now, why can she call Ani a girl, and you say nothing?” I asked my dad, just to rile him.
“Your mother can call her a girl,” he responded, leaning back in his chair. “Because she’s twice as old as Anita and watched her grow up.” He raised one eyebrow. “When you’re our age, you can do the same. But when you’re speaking about a woman who’s the same age as you, you show her the respect she deserves by calling her the correct title.”
“You’re a feminist,” I replied, still egging him on.
“If you call respecting women feminism, then I suppose I am,” he said, refusing to take the bait. Usually he went on a long diatribe about how he disliked labels and always had, finally winding around to admitting that he did consider himself a feminist, “whatever that meant.”
“Why do you poke at him?” my mom asked in amusement, shaking her head. “You know he sees right through it.”
“Yeah, but usually he gets riled up anyway,” I replied.
“I’m still sitting right here,” my dad said, leaning down to pick a pinecone off the ground to throw at my head with unsurprising accuracy.
I barely ducked in time to dodge it.
“I’m out of here,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I’ll tell Morgan to plan on seeing us Saturday?”
“Yes,” my mom said, glancing at my dad for confirmation.
“Are we driving or flying?” I asked, wondering what my bank account looked like. I usually didn’t worry about it, knowing I had plenty. Although I should probably check it after my trip to California earlier in the month.
“Driving,” my dad said. He hated to fly. “We’ll take our rig.”
I hesitated for a minute, wondering if I’d need my truck while we were there. I hoped so.
“Sounds good,” I replied, unable to think of a reason to take two vehicles. “I can help drive.”
“Good,” my mom said. “That way I can read the whole way down.”
“Over forty years of marriage and I still have no idea how you can do that,” my dad said as I kissed my mom good-bye.
“It’s easy,” Mom replied to him as she gave me a quick squeeze around my waist. “You look at the letters. They form words.”