And Then there were Three

3.

Five days later

The sound of my phone ringing jolts me out of my sleep. I roll over, irritated. Late afternoon naps are precious to me, considering how rare they are. But the phone keeps ringing insistently, and I scowl before picking up the call.

"What?" I snap, without looking at who was calling.

"Peter Stanton! Is this how you're supposed to talk to your mother?"

I curse and sit up, running my hands through my hair and blinking sleepily. "Mom. Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"That had better be the case. So. Did you eat properly yesterday?"

I remembered sitting around the house trying to force the baby from my memory. I had been too busy doing that to eat.

"Yes," I answered. "Went to Tiki's. Had food there, got takeout for dinner."

"If only you came home," Mom said, making me sigh, "you could have a nice Thanksgiving dinner, baby. We all missed you."

"I missed you too, mum."

"Then why won't you come home?"

"You know why, mom."

"It's not fair, Peter. This grudge you've been carrying since you were a kid...let it go. Your sisters are grown up. You've grown up. Things have changed."

"No, mom. They haven't. I don't want to see Olive's or Sophie's face again. They've humiliated me enough that I can't show my face in Juneau without people talking about it. I'm fine where I am."

"What about us though, Peter? What about your dad and me? Do you never want to see us either?"

I closed my eyes to keep the pain and longing at bay. "I want to see you both more than anything."

"Come home."

Mom's voice echoed in my head, and seemed to echo around the house too, amplifying my loneliness. I shook my head, frowning and trying to ignore the plea in mum's voice. "No," I said, even though it was obvious that my resolve was shaky.

"Please, Peter. I'm sure your sisters will behave. They're not kids anymore. None of you are. They're not going to tease you."

"Bully. The word's bully." I feel the cracks in my resolve begin to fill up. "They never wanted to be associated with me in school. They were ashamed that I was their brother. Fine, then, I'll make their life easier. If I'm not there, they don't have to pretend that I don't exist."

"Forgive them. Be the bigger man."

"Why must they always be excused, mom? Why have you never yelled at them for making my life miserable? Why must I be the one to swallow everything with a grain of salt?"

"You're being childish, Peter."

I laughed a bitter, mocking laugh. "You don't even know the full extent of what they did to me in high school, mum."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I scoffed. "Dad threatened to throw me out, remember?"

"He - he never meant it. He was just angry."

"Oh, really? Then why did I have to spend the night on a park bench for beating up a guy whom Olive had paid to hit me?"

Mom was in tears now. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry."

Her tears burnt my heart as if they were acid, but I was furious. So I went on and on. "They screwed up my band performance. They humiliated my then girlfriend. They slashed the tyres of my car when I told on them to the school counselor. They messed with my drums so bad I couldn't audition for marching band a second time. They tore up my scholarship application - the one you and dad grounded me for losing. Because of which I missed Prom, where my girlfriend cheated on me and it got broadcast to the whole school."