I always dreamed of being in my brothers place, but everything changed soon enough.
Mum fell pregnant with me at eighteen. My father left as soon as he heardhe never wanted a family, just endless parties and mates. Her parents, my grandparents, were furious. In a small town near Manchester, having a child out of wedlock was a disgrace, and my grandad threw her out, shouting, “I wont have such an irresponsible girl under my roof!” I cant even imagine what she went throughso young, alone, with a baby in her arms. But she held firm. She enrolled in an open university, found work, and gave it her all. We got a council flat, and our life together began. I grew up faster than other kidsdoing the shopping, cleaning, reheating meals. Playing? No time for that. Early on, I became her rock, her only man.
I never complainedI was proud. Then Victor came into our lives. I liked himhe brought chocolates, made Mum smile, looked after her. She glowed around him, and one day she told me, “Victor and I are getting married. Well move into a proper house.” I was over the moonI longed for a real father, and I hoped Victor would be one. At first, it was wonderful. I had my own space, could relax, listen to music, read. Victor helped Mum, and her eyes sparkled again.
Then she announced she was expecting. Soon after, Victor said, “Youll have to move into the box room. Thatll be the babys nursery.” I didnt understandthe house was big, so why me? The next day, my things were piled into a cramped space barely fitting a bed. It wasnt fair, but I swallowed itused to keeping quiet.
When my little brother Oliver was born, the nightmare began. His crying kept me up, leaving me dragging through school like a zombie. My grades dropped, teachers scolded me, and Mum snapped, “Youre his role model! Stop being so lazy!” As Oliver grew, more chores fell to metaking him to the park, pushing his pram. Other kids laughed, my face burned with shame, but I said nothing. The best clothes, toys, everything went to Oliver. If I asked for something, Victor would cut me off: “No money.” I fetched him from nursery, cooked, cleanedjust waiting for him to grow up so I could be free.
Oliver started school, and Mum ordered me to help with his homework. Spoilt and stubborn, he barely tried, and when I corrected him, hed whine to her. She always took his side: “Youre olderbe patient!” He bounced between schools, failing everywhere, until they paid for a posh one that turned a blind eye. Meanwhile, I became a mechanicnot by choice, but to escape.
Then came night classes and workslogging day and night, saving for my own place. I married, found peace. And Oliver? Victor bought him a flat, but he still lives at home, rents it out, and blows the cash. Wont work, just sprawls in front of the telly. Last New Years, we gathered at Mums. His latest girlfriend, Lily, was there. I overheard her in the kitchen.
“Youre lucky with your brother,” she told my wife, Emily. “Jacks a proper hard worker, dependable. Why isnt Oliver like that? I keep asking him to move in, start a family, but he wont leave his mum. The rent moneys no good to us.”
“Yeah, Jacks brilliant,” Emily smiled. “Forget Oliverhe doesnt deserve you. Hed make a rubbish husband.”
I froze. Oliver cycled through girlfriends, but none stayedMum chased them off, deeming them unworthy of her “golden boy.” And he let her, lazy as ever, wrapped in his cocoon. Thats when I realisedI dont envy him anymore. Everything Id dreamed of, wanting his life, was empty. Life tested me, but it rewarded me too. Ive got a family, a loving wife, a daughter, a home I built myself. Im proud. And for the first time, Im glad Im not Oliver. My life is my victoryhard-won, and real.
