Chapter 2 - The Flashpoint at the Picnic Table
The picnic table was heavy oak, weathered by years of family gatherings, but today it felt like an arena. The air smelled of burnt hickory, lighter fluid, and Mom’s vinegar coleslaw. Around fifteen extended relatives filled the wooden benches, passing bowls of potato salad and laughing at Uncle Gene’s recycled fishing stories. For a short while, the illusion of normal domestic warmth held together, but Kyle could never allow a conversation to exist unless he was the centerpiece. He leaned back on the bench, deliberately resting his forearm on the table to show off his oversized, gold-trimmed watch. Britney chimed in right on cue, talking loudly about the custom tile backsplash she was ordering from Europe, her voice carrying an intentional edge designed to make everyone else feel inadequate. Kyle swept his gaze across the gathering, eventually locking his eyes onto me. His grin was dripping with condescension. ""So, Dave, how’s that little project management gig treating you? Still working the nine-to-five grind?"" The table slowly quieted down. The casual cruelty was so familiar, yet it always managed to sting. ""It’s going well,"" I answered quietly, taking a slow sip of water. Kyle laughed, shaking his head with exaggerated pity. ""Honest work, bro. Good for you. I was just telling Dad, it’s crazy how our paths diverged. I took the family company to the top, got the luxury ride, the executive lifestyle... and you’re still counting pennies. But hey, you’ll catch up eventually. Maybe."" Dad chuckled softly into his beer bottle, and Mom offered that tight, enabling smile she wore whenever Kyle crossed the line. Uncle Gene suddenly found his corn cob deeply fascinating. That was the exact second something inside me snapped—not in anger, but in pure, crystalline clarity. I laid my burger down deliberately on the paper plate, wiped my fingers with a napkin, and leveled my gaze directly at my brother. ""Kyle, what’s your actual net worth right now?"" The question hung in the humid air like a lead weight. His cocky smirk instantly faltered.
