under pressure

the 17-year itch

"You couldn't feel the tension between Mom and Dad at breakfast?" Brenda asks her siblings as they walk to the car. The other two furrow their brows.

"No, there was nothing to feel." Brandon says, unlocking the car.

"When Mom doesn't slice Dad's grapefruit in the morning and when Dad grabs her gardening section, you know something's down and dirty." She says, getting in the car.

"Yeah, your imagination," Bree mutters, making Brenda send her a glare. "Come on Brenda, they're married. They're supposed to be crabby." She says, getting in the backseat.

"They never used to be that way."

—

That night, their mom had invited an old friend over for dinner. Everyone sat in the living room, listening to Glen's stories. He was a professional photographer.

"The other guys and I barely got the exposed film out on time." He says, making Bree look at him in amazement. She was interested in photography, being editor of the newspaper and all.

"Tiananmen Square sounds intense. Where else have you shot?" He smiles at her interest.

"Nah, I don't wanna bore you."

"We never hear stories like this." Cindy said, rubbing her husband's shoulder.

"Nothing compares to the riot your dad and I caused when we worked together." He says, making Brandon scoff, look at their dad.

"When was this?"

"Come on, you know when I wrote for that college literary rag." He said.

"That's how your parents met. I was with your mom," Brenda's eyes widened, asking him if he was dating their mom. "On our one-month anniversary, she came to see me. Stupid Cupid me, I introduced her to your dad. Worst mistake of my life." Bree raises a brow, looking at her dad, who looked uncomfortable, and her mom, who seemed to be in thought.

"They met through you? How romantic." Brenda says, a smile on her face.

"Dad, I didn't know you worked on a magazine." Brandon said, still on that topic.

"No, with me, it was just amateur hour." He says, trying to seem humble.

"Oh nonsense. Your old man had a lot of potential in that area. Who'd have thought you'd end up crunching numbers, Jim?" Bree sees her dad let out an awkward chuckle, getting up.

"Right. Well, I'd love to join you on your stroll down memory lane, but I'm on a killer deadline. Lemme tell you, Glen. Audited people really know how to riot. Good night." He says, shaking his hand. He then kisses his wife on the cheek, she tells him that she'll be up soon. He says goodnight to his kids, walking upstairs.

"Who knew that it'd be so late? Brandon and I turn into twin guinea pigs first thing in the morning." Brenda says, standing up with her siblings.

"Yeah, they're gonna shock Brenda into believing that she's as good as I am."

"But, we all know that she is though." Bree says, a smirk on her face.

"Sometimes the three of them fight like an old married couple." Their mom says, staring at them lovingly.

"Twins. Double the pleasure, a photographer's dream. Y'know, I wouldn't mind shooting you three. You're like the Three Musketeers," Brenda's smile widens. "Give me a call and we'll set something up." They say goodbye to them, going to sleep.

—

"Glen is truly a genius," Kelly says. Her, Bree, Brenda, Donna, and Brandon stood together in the hall where Glen was showing off his art and photo pieces. Bree did find it to be quite boring, but the pictures were beautiful. She had on a loose-fitted, short-sleeve, African print dress. A very colourful dress, given to her by Kelly's mom.