Page 36 of Unhinged Cain

“I’m just not that hungry this morning, is all,” Peter said to his mother and winced as he leaned forward to grab his mimosa.

My coughing became worse as I tried not to laugh and covered my mouth. I could feel my face turning red as everyone stared at me.

“Is she going to be alright,” his mother asked Peter, ignoring me like I was not a few seats away and not supposed to be part of the family. Not that it mattered.

I was ending things. The more I thought about it, the better I felt.

And if I had any second thoughts, they’d been wiped away after the strange dream I had last night. I crossed my legs under the table as the searing memory of the best sex I’d ever experienced flashed through my mind. The sad part was that the sex came from a dream or fantasy or something, but it certainly wasn’t Peter. The dried come all over my back was his, but nothing else was. He’d never made me feel a fraction of what the dream had. Not even when putting forth his best effort. Adding insult to injury, after Peter screamed at me to take the cucumber out of his ass, he said I was a bitch for putting it there. His accusation most certainly had sealed the deal.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said, but I couldn’t quite remove the sarcastic tone from my words and earned another glare from Peter.

“I warned you about drinking too much of that champagne,” his mother said, pointing her fork at Peter. “You always did like to indulge a little too much at the company party, but at least this year, you didn’t do anything embarrassing.”

She always reminded me of a bird. She had sharp features and then accentuated the look with her makeup. She had the same blue eye color as her son, but Peter received his handsome looks from his father. Mr. Cunningham had always been the nicer of the two, and he treated me like I was a person, but he couldn’t make it to brunch, leaving me alone with the wolves of the family.

“I’m not sure it was the champagne,” I said before I could stop myself.

Maybe I didn’t want to, and just maybe, it was great to see his smug face humiliated for a change, even if I was the only one that knew why.

Peter stood in a rush, his chair scraping along the tiled floor. He was trying hard to mask the pain he was in, but it genuinely looked like he had a pickle shoved up his ass, which wasn’t far off the mark.

“Kirby, can I speak to you in the hall, please?”

I dabbed at my mouth and stood from the overly extravagant table. The food, drinks, and place settings had been lined up like it was a king’s welcome-home meal. I followed Peter out of the arched dining room door and into the foyer. I had the urge not to walk under the hanging chandelier that was so large it looked like it could crush me and most certainly cost more than everything I owned.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Peter asked as he turned to face me. His voice was a harsh whisper, but it still echoed in the cathedral-styled entrance.

“None of them knew what I was talking about. You could’ve easily made anything up.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“This isn’t funny. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you sodomized me with a fucking vegetable, then you have to try and humiliate me in front of my family?”

I was losing my cool quickly. We’d already been over this. I told him I didn’t do it, but he didn’t believe me. I had no explanation for what happened, but I knew I didn’t get up in the middle of the night to go to the fridge.

“For the last time, I didn’t do it,” I said.

“Come off it, Kirby, stop lying. If you didn’t, then who did? Of course, it was you.” Peter’s eyes narrowed in anger. He was so enraged his body was practically shaking, and when he clenched his fist like he was going to hit me, I lost my cool.

“I don’t know! Probably you did it yourself, but I didn’t fucking stick the cucumber up your ass,” I screamed, and his eyes went wide as he took a step back. Peter hated to be embarrassed. His entire life rotated around his image including in front of his family. I wasn’t letting him away with him making me out to be the asshole this time, and I took a step toward him. Lifting my hand, I gave him a hard poke in the chest.

“It’s physically impossible for me to stick a foot and-a-half-long vegetable up your asshole while you come all over my back. You need to own up to the fact that you did it to yourself, and then you fucking came on me while I was asleep when you did it. Even worse, you let me sleep like that! I was the one that woke up with the dried crust of your orgasm all over my naked ass, not the other way around. Who’s the one with the kink fetish in this scenario. Because it certainly isn’t me.” I again poked him hard in the chest. “But let me tell you, I really fucking wish I had been the one to do it because I would have made sure it didn’t feel so good for you.”

I glanced down the hall, and every member of his family was standing there with their mouth hanging open. Peter looked like he was going to faint as he followed my lead and looked down the hall. I rolled out my shoulders and straightened my spine as I marched passed the shocked group of people. Peter could try and spin that story any way he wanted to, but in the end, there was no other explanation, and I was done with him bitching at me. I mean, technically, it could’ve been someone else entirely, but it was ridiculous to think someone broke in only to mess with Peter and me like that. Then not steal anything, and not leave a trace or sign of a forced entry.

Grabbing my purse, I pushed past the group Peter was trying to explain the strange night to in as few words as possible.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Cunningham said.

Her face was as angry as Peter’s had been a moment ago. I had no idea why everyone was mad at me. Did his mother really think I’d do something like this? If so, it certainly explained why I never connected with her.

“I’m going home. I have work tonight, school tomorrow, and frankly, I’m tired and annoyed with….” I waved my hand in Peter’s direction. “All of this. I’m done. We’re through.”

His mother stuttered, but I didn’t stick around to see what she was going to say and made my way out the door. Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I opened the app to hire an Uber. The last thing I wanted to do today was deal with my mother.

Once the car was ordered, I tapped my finger on the cell number to call my dad. I was getting out of here, and I needed to stop fearing he was going to say no.

“Kirbs,” my dad answered cheerfully, and as always, I relaxed at the sound of his voice.

“Hey, Dad, we need to talk, and please don’t respond until I’m done,” I said as the Uber pulled up. This conversation was another one that had been a long time coming.