A Charitable Scandal

The Middle Child

"Wait? You took all these pictures," I said, stepping back and glancing over the gallery that was his apartment. "They're...they're beautiful."

"You really like them?"

"Absolutely. They're breathtaking."

"Well, thank you."

"Seriously, though, why are you pushing for some random VP spot at Quinto when you have a passion for this?"

"I wish I could say that I have every intention to leave Public Relations and to leave Quinto Technologies," he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head. "I wish I could say that I enter photo competitions in secret and that I live an artistic double life, but unfortunately, it is about as mundane as it gets. Quite simply, my older sister is a marine biologist out saving whales; my older brother is an investment banker who negotiates multi-million dollar deals; one twin is a budding investigative journalist who is climbing the ranks in television's prime time newsrooms; the other twin followed my parents' footsteps and is expecting to get her doctorate in civil engineering this coming summer; and finally my youngest brother and sister are both in college with full scholarships and a promising future ahead of them."

"Middle child syndrome," I said with a sigh.

"Sure, why not."

"But, you didn't think photography was academic enough for your parents?"

"I'm sure that had I been a successful photographer whose pictures made it onto covers of scientific magazines and dazzled patrons in the most elite galleries and museums, then I would have fit in. But, there's a lot of struggle before reaching that point and I'm not sure I have the strength to withstand my family's impatience."

"Why Public Relations then?"

"Being a middle child, I got a lot of experience mediating between my hotheaded older siblings and my tenacious younger ones. Not to mention handling all the drama that was my twin sisters. I knew how to take the bad and spin it on its head. To get everyone to walk away feeling happy even if nothing was accomplished. I, however, didn't have the passion needed to drive forward with a PhD in Psychology or Sociology or something, plus I knew the money was in the corporate world anyway. So I looked at where my skills could be used there."

Alec sighed and I saw him age in the short span of our conversation. He looked longingly towards the kitchen and he gestured for me to take a seat on the couch. I acquiesced, though my eyes continued to follow him as he disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the click of some appliance and then the sound of water beginning to steam and boil. Some time later he emerged with two mugs of tea. He handed me a cup and though I left room for him on the sofa, he kept his distance and took to an armchair instead. He sipped his tea with a thoughtful expression that made me wonder if he even knew I was still there. I decided to just give him his space and I blew on my steaming cup while I sifted through my own thoughts.

I realized Alec just told me a lot about himself. I understood the strain that comes with trying to achieve other's expectations and I knew it had to be hard for him to admit to it. And though, there was probably still a lot about Alec that I didn't know, he did decide to share that much with me. I wondered how many people had ever heard his candid confession of his secret insecurities. How many had walked through his apartment and known that the photos on the walls were all his? Better yet, how many have lounged on his sofa in his robe? A part of me wanted to smile and a part of me was distraught by his choice to put this burden of knowledge on me. So I sipped my tea and settled my mind, while I clutched the robe closed just above my knees.

As the hot liquid slipped down my throat and warmed my chest, I looked over at Alec and found him watching me from over his glasses, his smile, light on his lips, hovered over his tea. I felt a blush rising to my cheeks when the doorbell rang.