“So, what did you want to talk to me about,” she asked as I eyed her perfect dress. It sat perfectly on her.
“Peter is coming into the office today,” I explained.
“Ah, so you are going to talk about your flashback?” Kendall asked.
“Yes, I think we need to, there is not much more that I can take without losing my mind, it’s a weird feeling,” I explained.
“It should do you good, and maybe you can both benefit from a good conversation about it,” Kendall said.
“I hope so, I’ve had enough, I’m lucky you are with me to guide me through it,” I said as I smiled at her perfectness.
Someone knocked at the door, and Peter poked his head inside the room.
“I’m back,” he said with a smile.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Kendall said.
“Same here,” I said, glad to see him.
“Well, it’s nice to see you two getting a bit closer,” Peter said. “Have you been up to anything exciting while I was away the last few days?”
“Apart from the fair, not much,” I said as I glanced at Kendall and smiled.
“No, it was really quiet while you have been away,” Kendall said as she blushed slightly.
“Okay, I’ll believe you,” Peter said as he grinned knowingly at us both.
“So, Bro, you up for some lunch?” Peter said.
“Yep, sure, but I think you we should talk about my episode before concentrating on food, don’t you?” I asked.
“There is that, but you know what the food is like on the plane. Besides, I’m starved.” He patted his stomach.
We reached the restaurant and ordered our food, Peter looked exhausted, but he said that this was important for the both of us.
“So, Kendall tells me you had a bad flashback, yes?” Peter asked.
“Bad isn’t the fucking word. Dad was battering you from pillar to post,” I explained. “I just don’t know why or where it was, I just saw him kicking the shit out of you. It was beyond disturbing, something I don’t know if I can ever shake.”
“Well, it all started when Dad became an alcoholic and became highly abusive to all of us, no matter who was at fault or not at fault he used his fists to get his side of the story over to us, a little too often if you ask me,” Peter explained. “On quite a few occasions, Dad used to pick on you because you were the smallest,” he continued to add, “and the only way I could protect you was by provoking him so that he would divert his attention toward me rather than you. While this was going on, you always saw the good side of Dad that everyone else had thought he had lost. So, you always sought his acceptance, which led you to be within arm’s reach when he got into beating mode.” Peter looked at me in seriousness.
“So, we had done nothing wrong then? Fuck, it was all him and his drinking?” I asked.
“It was, apart from the odd occasion when we did do something wrong, but this never seemed as bad as his drunken beatings,” he said as he munched on his burger.
“I never knew that you took the beatings for me, I should be in your debt,” I said feeling horrible about it.
“It's what brothers are supposed to do, they are supposed to watch out for each other in bad times, and especially in situations like this. What sort of brother would I be if I had just stood back and watched?” Peter said as he sipped on soda.
“So, what happened then? Damn, there must have been some outcome from all of this?”
“Yes, the end result was that when Dad kicked the bucket, I was so far off his radar, for obvious reasons, and Mom was well you know, out of the picture, already. So, he had just one option of where to leave his fortune, and this was always you,” Peter explained.
“So, what did you and Mom get out of his death? How much did he leave you in his will?” I asked.
“Hardly anything compared to what you received. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent went to you, and I didn’t even get a simple job at the company.” Peter gazed out the window.
“That’s bullshit. He should never have done that. It should have been a 50-50 split if you ask me,” I said.