“Mom got even less than me, but she did have access to his pension which was enough to keep her going,” he said.
I thought about what Peter just told me, and how it had obviously affected me for quite a number of years. Peter had no idea why Dad became an alcoholic, and he had no idea why he had become abusive either, apart from because of work related stress. I also thought about how much Peter had risked his health and his life by placing himself in front of Dad, so he would leave me alone.
“So, why
did I always go to the office with Dad if he got abusive? I mean surely, I would have noticed,” I asked Peter.
“You saw the good in him, it’s as simple as that, when he didn’t drink, he was a good dad, it just started to take over him and over his life, but you still tried so hard to please him,” Peter explained.
“Talking about Mom, why do we have a grudge with each other, do you know?” I asked with a confused look on my face.
“Like I said before, you need to speak to her about it. She would never tell me what went on.”
We continued to chat through lunch, and Peter told me about all the times he could remember when Dad was really abusive and he also used to lock us up in the shed, as well as beating us with his belt, which was more frequent.
“Dad had a severe grudge with Mom too, and I wasn’t sure if this had anything to do with the grudge between you two,” Peter said.
“That is what has puzzled me more ever since you mentioned Mom, I can understand Dad being abusive, but for Mom just not communicating or anything is totally beyond me. I just hope there is something that can be done to put the relationship right unless it’s totally broken beyond repair,” I said.
“Only time will tell, only time will tell,” Peter said as he ordered coffee.
“Well, at the end of it, there is only one thing I can say,” I said.
“What’s that?” Peter asked.
“Apart from you and me, we have one hell of a fucked-up family, and that I do know,” I said trying to make us both feel better.
I thought some more about what had gone on and how Peter tried to protect me, he had been disowned by Dad and had got the shitty end of the stick, both when we were younger and once Dad had died. But he always stood by me way more than he should have.
I was extremely proud at that moment that Peter was my brother, and the way I treated him before was totally unfair. I felt like there had been a major injustice in the way things had panned out. I made a mental pact with myself to put things right.
I raised my coffee to Peter. “A toast,” I said.
“What’s the toast for?” Peter asked.
“To brothers. The best of brothers. Men like you.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Peter said as he raised his cup.
“To brothers,” we said together.
We finished lunch without much talk of my flashbacks and talked about my relationship with Kendall. Peter said he was happy she was helping and that he thought she was doing me a lot of good. I could do anything but agree with his comments.
The lunch extended longer than we expected, so I headed straight home. I sat and thought for a while in the silence. God, what had caused Dad to become an alcoholic? And why would Mom stop communicating with me?
Fuck, were these related or was it more of a coincidence?
It was difficult for me to get my head around it, and I thought I needed someone who I could chat with about it that had no part in the history of it. Peter had played a major part, and from the sound of it, he had played a bigger part in it than any brother or person should have done. He risked his health for me, his little brother.
I came to the conclusion that Kendall was the only option, she made me feel good and had a clear conscience and a good point of view against the whole thing. There was also the fact I had left for the day without letting her know. So, she may have become worried, even though she knew I was out with Peter.
I realized I missed her. I thought it was only right to keep her in the loop and update her on the conversation that I had with Peter at our extended lunch. The second thing was, she could stay the night, and I could hold her body next to mine again, and make a full night of it.
I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Kendall’s number, “Hi, Kendall, guess who this is?” I blurted down the phone.
“Creepy caller?” she replied with a laugh, “I knew who it was, your name came up on the screen, you dope,” she commented in sarcasm.
“Ah, yes, modern technology, how clever it is,” I replied.