Derek stopped beside our table.
He had a fresh beer in one hand and the empty can from his previous drink in the other.
He looked pleased with himself.
That was usually a warning.
"Claire," he said, "I've got to ask you something."
I looked up.
"What?"
"How do you put up with Ryan?"
Ryan let out a tired breath.
"Here we go."
Derek ignored him.
"Seriously. He's gotten so sensitive lately. You say one thing, and he acts like somebody insulted his whole family."
I put my napkin beside my plate.
"Maybe he's just tired of hearing the same joke."
Derek blinked at me.
It was a mild answer.
I hadn't raised my voice or tried to embarrass him.
Still, he seemed offended that I had answered at all.
Then he laughed.
"Listen to that. She's got opinions."
Ryan leaned forward.
"Leave her out of it, Derek."
Derek turned toward him.
"Why? Is she not allowed to speak for herself?"
"That's not what I said."
"Then stop acting like her bodyguard."
I looked down at my plate.
The food was getting cold.
I had no desire to spend the rest of the afternoon trading insults with a man who seemed to need an audience for every thought he had.
But Derek wasn't finished.
He took another drink and began talking about how people changed after marriage.
He said men became soft.
He said wives expected too much.
He said some women were good at making their husbands believe they were in charge when everyone could see who really ran the house.
He delivered each statement with a glance in my direction.
I could have answered every one of them.
I could have told him that strength had very little to do with how loudly a person spoke.
I could have explained that the people most desperate to appear powerful were often the ones most afraid of being ignored.
Instead, I stayed quiet.
At the time, I thought I was being patient.
Now I wonder whether I was simply giving him too many chances.
Diane called from her chair.
"Derek, stop picking on them."
Her tone was light.
She didn't sound particularly upset.
Derek smiled at her.
"I'm talking to my brother."
"Then talk nicely."
He gave a theatrical sigh.
"Everybody's so sensitive today."
Diane shook her head and returned to her conversation with a woman sitting beside her.
That was the end of her intervention.
Or what passed for one.
Ryan pushed his chair back slightly.
"Come on, Claire. We can go sit inside if you want."
I shook my head.
"We're fine."
I wanted him to enjoy the afternoon.
I knew he had been looking forward to seeing his family, even if Derek had a way of spoiling those occasions.
Ryan squeezed my fingers beneath the table.
There was an apology in the gesture.
I squeezed back.
Neither of us said anything.
Derek watched us.
I saw his eyes drop toward our joined hands, and his mouth tightened for just a moment.
Then he smiled again.
"That's sweet," he said. "You two always have to have your little private conversation?"
Ryan released my hand.
"Enough."
The word came out harder than he intended.
Several people turned toward us.
Derek seemed to enjoy that.
"What was that?"
"I said enough."
"Or what?"
Ryan stood.
He wasn't as tall as Derek, and he didn't have the same build.
He had never tried to compete with his brother physically.
But he was angry now, and he no longer cared who saw it.
"You've spent the entire afternoon insulting me and making comments about my wife. We're here because Mom invited us, not because we came to entertain you."
Derek's smile faded.
For the first time all day, someone had challenged him without turning it into a joke.
Then his expression hardened.
"Don't lecture me in Mom's backyard."
"I'm not lecturing you."
"You're acting like you own the place."
Ryan shook his head.
"I'm asking you to show a little respect."
Derek gave a short laugh.
He glanced at the people watching us, as if he wanted them to confirm that Ryan was being ridiculous.
Nobody answered.
The grill continued to hiss behind him.
A child near the fence stopped running and looked toward the table.
I wished someone would change the subject.
Not because I thought Ryan was wrong.
Because I could feel the situation tightening around us.
I had seen people get hurt in the space between one angry word and the next.
I knew how quickly pride could take control of a person's body.
And Derek had a great deal of pride.
He stepped closer to Ryan.
"You're really going to make a scene over this?"
Ryan didn't move.
"You're the one making a scene."
Derek's jaw shifted.
Then he shoved Ryan in the chest.
It happened so quickly that I heard the impact before I fully understood what I had seen.
Ryan stumbled backward.
His legs struck the cooler near the edge of the deck, and he fell against it hard enough to knock the lid open.
Ice scattered across the boards.
A bottle rolled beneath a chair.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Diane jumped up.
"Derek!"
Ryan caught himself on the edge of the cooler.
He looked shocked more than hurt.
Derek stood in front of him, breathing hard, as though he had just proved something important.
I rose halfway from my chair.
"Ryan?"
"I'm okay," he said.
He wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at his brother.
I knew that expression on Ryan's face.
He was trying to decide whether to walk away or defend himself.
He had been shoved by Derek before, though never in front of so many people.
Usually, Ryan swallowed his anger and let the moment pass.
This time, he stepped forward.
"Don't put your hands on me."
Derek spread his arms.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Apologize."
"To you?"
Ryan pointed toward the spilled ice.
"To me, and to Claire. You've been treating both of us like garbage all day."
Derek laughed again.
That laugh made my stomach tighten.
It was not the laugh of someone who found a situation funny.
It was the laugh of someone who refused to let anyone see that he had lost control.
He looked at me.
"Is this what you wanted? Your husband fighting your battles?"
I said nothing.
Ryan turned toward him immediately.
"Don't talk to her like that."
Derek took another step.
"Or what, Ryan?"
The space between them had become too small.
I could see the muscles in Ryan's neck tightening.
I could see Derek's hands opening and closing at his sides.
The people around the barbecue had gone quiet.
Even Diane had stopped trying to make the situation sound harmless.
I moved around the table.
I didn't want Ryan standing there alone while his brother tried to provoke him into doing something he would regret.
But I also didn't want to become another reason for Derek to escalate.
I reached Ryan's side and touched his arm.
"Let's go," I said quietly.
He glanced at me.
For a moment, I thought he would agree.
Then Derek spoke again.
"Of course. Run along. That's what you two do whenever somebody calls you out."
Ryan's face changed.
I felt him tense beneath my hand.
Derek had found the one thing that might keep him from walking away.
His pride.
I hated that Derek knew exactly where to press.
I hated even more that Ryan had spent so many years letting his brother decide what counted as weakness.
"Say what you want about me," Ryan said. "But you owe my wife an apology."
Derek stared at him.
Then he smiled in a way that made the hairs on my arms rise.
I had a feeling the argument was no longer about the words either of them had spoken.
Derek wanted Ryan to back down.
Ryan wanted his brother to understand that I was not someone he could humiliate without consequence.
And I stood between those two desires, hoping one of them would remember that nobody needed to win this afternoon.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Empty Beer Can Was Still on the Table When Derek Decided That Embarrassing Me Would Make Him Look Strong
I Had Spent Years Keeping My Past Quiet, Until One Backyard Gathering Made Everyone See Me Differently
Part 2 of 8
