Wie Geht's?

5 - The Figure In The Armchair

(Above - Peter Bennett)

December

"I'm back, mom."
Peter Bennett slipped through the front door, place his bag on the table and shrugging off his coat.
"Hi darling. Did you see your father this morning?"
"No.. where did he go?" He pulled off his scarf, wrapping around the coat hook.
"He just said he went to talk to Tom in across the road about his apprenticeship again, but..." She stopped what she was doing and turned around to face her son, wiping her hands with a dishcloth. "He just looked so...secretive."
"Huh." He scoffed. "When is he not?"
"Peter." His mother scolded. "Your father is a very hard worker."
"He's a drunk."
"He's stressed. Please be more understanding." He lowered his head defiantly. "For me, at least. We both deal with him, right?"
"Right. I'm sorry." He smiled at his mother, talking a seat at the wooden dining table, as his mother busied herself at the counter once more. "I spoke to that new girl today."
"Oh really? What's she like?"
"Nice. Witty." He grinned to himself. "She has the most fantastic accent."
"She sounds wonderful." His mother smirked. "One more girl to chase you, hm?"
"I doubt that. She's got someone back home."
"Maybe it's the other way around then, I wonder? Have we finally got a match?"
"Mom!" He chuckled. "Stop it. I've got important stuff to focus on. I'm busy providing for you, not any other woman."
"You're too sweet, darling." She shook her head, smiling sadly. "You shouldn't have to."
"He won't. I have no choice."
Just at that moment, the door creaked open again, letting a breath of icey wind slip through the door. The tall, bulky figure stood in the doorway.
"Hi, father."
He grunted, shoving through to the living room. "I'm tired. Get me some tea."
"But it's not ti-"
"Bring me some tea." He collapsed in to the worn, fraying armchair, sighing. His wrinkled eyes shut as he reclined silently.
Peter took in the sight of his slob of a father with utter contempt. His stare was cold enough to freeze the whole town. More than it already had been.
"Here, sweetheart." He watched his mother as her timid voice coaxed the figure in the armchair.
He braced himself for whatever would happen next. The large man took a gulp of the warm beverage.
"Not way I like it. Make it again." He shoved the cup back at his wife, spilling the hot liquid on to her. She winced with a gasp.
"But...I haven't got anym-"
A harsh cracking sound echoed around the house as his hand met her face. She cried out, and Peter rose to his feet abruptly, shoving his chair back.
"Don't you dare." The young man moved around the table and stood with his mother protectively. "You're nothing but a cruel, heartless bully."
The man grabbed his sons shirt by the collar and pulled him in so that their faces were mere inches apart.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, son." He all but growled. "Otherwise you'd be in tears."
"Shut it." Peter barked. "Get out!"
And with that, his father stormed out of their small house, almost swinging the door off of its hinges.
"P..Peter.."
"Go sit down, mom." He helped her down and kissed her forehead lightly. "There's somewhere I need to go."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going after him this time."
"No! Pet-"
"I'll see you in a moment."
And with that, he disappeared along with his father.

"What are you doing out here, son?" Robert Bennett growled in his usual low and villainous tone. "I warned you. Don't push me."
"Don't tell me what to do old man." He glared at his father. "You're not entitled to that. You have to be a real dad first."
Robert stormed back down the path to grab his son.
"Do not test me, boy." He spat furiously. "Your mother is a prime example."
"You leave my mother out of this. You don't deserve her."
"But we deserve each other, don't we Peter? Like father like son. You'll be my mirror image some day."
"I'd rather die."
Robert smacked his son across the head.
"That can be arranged."
"You wanna bet?" Peter winced. "You don't scare me, pops."
"Go home, boy." He turned away. "I've got no business with you now. I'm carrying on my walk."
There was no need to tell the young man twice. The sound of his clumping boots echoed around the street as he sprinted back to his house.

Robert Bennett continued his carefree stroll down the wooded path just outside of their small town. He reached the entry to the bridge, but stopped. A little way away from him stood a girl, a young woman, with the lightest hair he had ever laid eyes upon. He put two and two together, and came to the conclusion that this was the eldest child of the König family, the newest addition to their lives. Honestly, he didn't know quite what it was that made him walk over, but he found himself talking to the girl nonetheless.

She recognised him, rather strangely as she had never seen him before. But the familiar dark mane and intense eyes just nagged at her mind. She guessed who he was, but had daren't say it aloud.
"You like the view here?" His voice was gruff and low. She shifted, stiffening.
"It's lovely. It reminds me of home."
"Home?" He turned to her. "And where might that be?"
"Munich." She sighed. "Germany."
"Ah. I see." He pulled out a flask from his coat pocket and took a long drink. He offered it to her but she declined politely. "Not the best place to be then, huh dearie?"
"We had no choice, unfortunately."
"Mm."
"..are you by any chance related to any young people in this town?"
He took in her inquisitive features, grinning. "I have a son. I'm sure you'll meet him. Peter?"
"Ah, yes, yes. Peter Bennett." She nodded. "We did meet."
"Good."

They stood in silence for an immeasurable amount of time, just feeling an oddly unstrained relaxation in each other's presence. Although the two were so different in every aspect, they had a certain likeness. An understanding. Whether unfortunate or not for either party.