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“You’re such a condescending prick! It’s no wonder Dad was about to cut you down to size,” he says, pulling out some documents that Dad had put together and sliding them across the desk toward me.
Dad had informed me that June 15th was the deadline for me to come to my senses and get on board with his plan. Part of me is shocked to see that he actually went through with it and had the official documents drawn up. Who does that to their own son?
“Wow, I was kind of hoping it was just another threat,” I gasp as I look through them.
“No, he was dead serious this time and somehow he ended up being shot down in cold blood just four days before your deadline.” He leans back and stares smugly at me.
“Are you insinuating that I had something to do with Dad’s death?” My head begins to spin at the thought of my own brother accusing me of something so heinous.
“I’m not insinuating anything,” he says flippantly. “I just think the timing was pretty favorable for you.”
“You really are fucked in the head if you think I would kill my own father. Maybe you should go take a few more pills you fucking loser!” I instantly feel my blood pressure going through the roof.
“You know I need those to deal with my pain,” he squints and puckers his face. “You have no fucking idea.”
“Believe me, I fucking understand pain!” I counter, slamming my fist on the desktop. “Unfortunately, no pain killer can deaden mine.”
“Hey, you made your own choices.” His eyes remain narrow and defensive. “Nobody forced you to do anything!”
“I did it for you god dammit!” I shout, slamming my fist on the desktop a second time. “You were broken, you were depressed, you were failing in school and I felt sorry for you. I left you with everything because I didn’t want to hurt you. It seemed like you were already in a death spiral. Now you accuse me of killing Dad? That’s totally unforgiveable!” I rise to my feet and step away from the desk, trying to cool my rage.
“You go ahead and convince yourself that you did me a huge favor by bailing,” he says in a childish tone. “You have such a fucking ego… you probably believe your own bullshit!”
I raise my hands to my forehead and bite my lip. I know if I stay another minute, I am going to beat the shit out of him. Backing away, I say one final thing. “You know the truth, even if you won’t admit it to yourself. You have until tomorrow night to apologize to me or you are dead to me!”
Tyler sits silently in Dad’s office chair with his arms crossed, the same way Dad used to after he had finished my weekly lecture. I give up and turn to leave when I see Vanessa standing just inside the door. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask.
“Just a few minutes, I didn’t want to interrupt,” she mutters softly.
I stop just long enough to put my arm around her and give her a kiss on the forehead. Part of me wants to tell her that she is the actual cause of this fight. I’m already emotional and the thought of her being engaged to my piece of shit brother drives me absolutely insane. That is exactly why I had to move away after high school. “Your fiancé is losing it,” I grumble, before brushing past her. “I need to get out of here.”
“You’re accusing him of having something to do with your dad’s death?” she practically screams at Tyler after my departure, causing me to pause for a moment just outside the door. “What’s wrong with you?”
“There are things you don’t understand,” he mumbles, trying to justify his accusation.
“Well, I’ve known Trey long enough to know damn well that he would never kill anyone,” she counters with complete exasperation in her voice. “And what did he mean by letting you win?”
Tyler lets out a groan and an audible sigh. “He thinks that somehow he was doing me a favor when he bailed and moved to California.”
“But what did you win?” she presses.
“The right to work with Dad I guess… as if that’s been a joy,” he replies flatly. “He’s just a self-centered asshole.”
If I were a self-centered asshole, I wouldn’t have swallowed my feelings, walked away and let him have Vanessa, was what I wanted to yell back at him. Instead, I hold my tongue and stand here in silence.
“Why do you act like you hate your only brother?” Vanessa asks in a softer tone, mirroring my own thoughts.
“Did you see how he walked in today? With a girl on each arm… schmoozing everyone. Who does that at a funeral?” he replies, with a distinct note of jealousy in his voice.
