Contents Under Pressure

                                       CHAPTER 1


RENEE

                   I was in the restroom on the 50th floor when I got the call. Washing off the remnants of a granted business trip to Melbourne. I don't even know why I wanted so badly to go. Old competitions and jealousies have riled me again. Anyway, that's where I was. Mom sounded ok, I guess. She told it she wanted me home. Of course it would be the week of the trip to Melbourne. So really, it was all for nothing.
                   “Sorry Mr. Spane. I can't go on the trip after all.”
                   His quizzical look only furthered my shame. It's too soon to be considered anymore office “anythings”. Slut doesn't go well with looney.


MICHAEL
                   Gabriella wants sole custody. Like that's supposed to be some freaking prize for her and punishment for me. Take the damn kids! It's enough with Candace and now I got to deal with Emily. What's the point of taking a pill if it's not 100% effective? Candace had left so many messages on my cell that I almost overlooked Renee's.
                   “Mom wants us to come home for a week. Dad might be sick. I'll call Coura. She should already be in town anyway. Call me back when you get this. Bye.”
                   A week at home doesn't sound like much but I know it will be a minefield. Especially between Coura and Mom. The last time we had all been together was three years ago, for Thanksgiving. Coura had left after unceremoniously giving thanks that she had neither gonorrhea nor chlamydia but a simple infection. That itself was pretty mild for Coura but it was made worse by the fact that Mom had decided to invite a benefactor who was all alone for the holidays.
                   “We DO NOT air our business in front of others. And no it's not fair. But life never is and it is especially cruel to those perceived as different.” That's what she always taught us. We had to be better because of what we were. Black people living in a mostly white atmosphere. Coura has always been the best at getting under Mom's skin. It's her talent. One that she's perfected over 24 years of careful study.
                   Renee picks up on the first ring as she always does  as if she spends her whole day staring at her cell waiting for it to ring.
                   “Hey, Mike.”
                   “Yeah. Where are you now?”
                   “Mmm... somewhere over the Ozarks, I guess. Where are you?
                   “Driving out of Philly. I had to take some stuff to Candy. You already on the plane?”
                   “Yeah, I left straight from my job. Got the first plane.”
                   “You left without packing first? “
                   “I, um, already had a bag packed. I was supposed to be going somewhere else.”
                   It's best to just leave things alone when Renee starts getting cagey like this, not offering any information. Switch gears.
                   “Did you call Coura yet?”
                   Renee let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, a few hours ago. She hasn't gotten back to me yet. You know how it is with her. It could be anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of weeks until she gets back to me.”
                   “Yeah, well, at least she's already in the same city. All she has to do is go to the house when she gets the message.”
                   “Mike, what do you think this means? That Dad is super sick, like dying or he could be sick?”
                   “I dunno. Probably just has something like bronchitis and Mom's using this to get us to come visit. It has been a while since any of us has been there.”
                   “Mmhmm. All right. I gotta get off now. I'll see you there. Bye”
                   “Bye.”
                   I don't know why but talking to Renee one-on-one is always a challenge. She reminds me so much of Mom.


COURA
                   “Who's Renee?” Simon asked. I was lounging in bed, too too lazy to get up and get dressed or even get out from under the blankets, so I didn't realize that Simon was scrolling through my phone completely invading my privacy.
                   “None of your f***ing business!” I replied, snatching my phone from his hands. Rule #1: Do NOT touch my phone. Ever. You can share my weed, we can roll around the floor all day, you can eat me out of house and home ( FOOD, ok. Don't be nasty). But never touch my phone. That's not a hard rule, is it? And yet, you would not believe how many guys have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves.
                   “You may escort yourself out. Thanks ever so.”
                   I wrapped up in my blankets and read through the texts my lovely sister had sent.
"Mom needs us home. You'll get there first. See what's going on and call me."
"Are you there yet? Did you get this message yet? Call me."
"Look, something's going on. Dad might be sick. Go over and check in. Call me."
"If you're not going to call me, call Mike. Or Dad. I'll see you soon. I'm at the airport."
"I'm home. Mike's on his way. When you get here I'm going to kick your a**. Get over here NOW."
                   That last one had been sent an hour ago. The rest had been sent last night. Oops.
                   “Hey, it's me. Don't yell, all right. I just got your message. I was busy. Yeah, I'm on my way now. Well, not right this minute. Ok, would you have me come over buck naked? Thought so. I'll be there in an hour. God! Yes! An hour, Jesus.”
                   So freaking annoying. As I got dressed I tried to ignore the gnawing sensation in my stomach. The one that had started at Dad might be sick.


RENEE
                   I’d tried so hard not to be the first one here. Despite Mike being an hour from home and Coura living half a mile away, here I sit alone on the sofa. I’d forgotten the smell of pumpkin spice, both comforting and nauseating. In the few years I’ve missed Mom’s hair has gone completely gray. She gave me a penetrating stare, daring me to mention it.
                   “Nothing’s changed here,” I say, meekly.
                   Mom rolls her eyes over her mint tea. She swallows harshly. “Why would things change? Have I been getting it wrong all these years?”
                   She makes it so hard to have civil conversation. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s nice to come home and have things exactly as you left it.”
                   “So things are outdated?”
                   “Mom, seriously? I’m not trying to say anything bad. Are you being difficult on purpose? I really need to know.”
                   Dad the diffuser moves in. “How's everything? Are you enjoying the new promotion?”
                   He's thinner than he should be but his commanding, resonant voice is still there, though a bit raspy if you really stopped to listen. Which just makes me feel worse about the “promotion” I'd boasted about when I called last month. But when he'd asked me how the job was going it felt stupid to say 'Hey, they moved me to a cubicle across the office.'
                   “It's going well.” I cleared my throat. “Actually, I was on my way to Melbourne but when I got Mom's call I came here right away.”
                   I glance at Mom to see if any of that registered. I wanted to make her feel the tiniest bit guilty for causing me to miss a huge business opportunity.
She sipped tea and stared at me, a thoughtful and curious expression on her face.
                   After a minute she finally said, “I'm very disappointed in you.”
                   “What?”
                   “In the three years since you got this job your father and I have not seen you once. You only call once a month. It takes a medical crisis for you to grace us with your presence and you, Renee Alexandra, have the audacity to try and make me feel guilty about you missing some silly business trip? Are you being serious right now?”
                   She was standing now, towering over me still clutching her cup of mint tea, leaving me wondering if she would cast the remnant in my face. Not that it would be the first time.
                   Instead, she set the tea down on the coffee table and turned to my father. “I'm going to lie down before the others get here. You talk to this child because I am done for the day.”
                   Dad waited for the bedroom door to close before speaking.
                   “It's been a difficult time for your mother.”
                   “For her? What about you? You're the one who's sick. Is she really tense about it?”
                   He sighed. “Of course. We've been married for 35 years. But I suspect it has more to do with the way you kids dropped everything to come here when you found out I was sick. I suspect she's very hurt.”
                   “Why would she be hurt by that?”
                   “Remember last year when she called you and asked you to visit? You all said you were too busy and that you'd try again soon. She had a scare. They found the cancer in time and got it cleared out. But it really would have helped to have her children around.”
                   “Well why didn't she just tell us that?” I replied angrily. “Why does she just expect us to pause our lives to visit?”
                   “Because we're your parents.”
                   “Well, yeah. I mean...”
                   There was nothing I could say. How do you explain to your father that you don't visit because they made your life so hard?
                   Another voice decided that being blunt was the best option.
                   “Maybe we don't visit because our mother made the better part of our lives a living hell.”
                   Coura had finally arrived.