Adam, Jacob, John, Paul
(story supplement)

by Jennifer Pieroni

The quadruplets were on the phone, talking the way we would not at church, them passing the phone amongst themselves.

“What are you eating for dinner?” I asked.

“Sushi.” I’d never had it. Our mothers were in the choir, but not together as friends. Their mother flew back and forth from Mexico on missions. My mother and I just ate a meat, a green, and a starch.

The quadruplets were singing a song into the phone. “Get out of my dreams and into my car.” I drew tiny hearts on the knees of my jeans, graffitying most of my wardrobe during the long hours over many months. The more I talked with the quadruplets the lonelier I became.

“Do you all play soccer?” I asked.

“Used to, but the coach kicked us out. In our school, we’re like the mafia.”

My mother picked up, hung up, picked up, hung up. The quadruplets were from a different area code. My mother had recently been laid off. She’d told me I had no concept of money.

“Call me late,” I said then hung up, heated up the lava lamp, pulled the hood over my head and zoned out. My mother said goodnight through the closed door. The late night news was almost over. Saturday Night Live was next. I covered the cordless phone with a pillow until I heard the next muffled ring.