All my life, I dreamed of being in my brothers shoes, but soon enough, everything changed.
My mum fell pregnant with me when she was nineteen. My dad did a runner straight awayhe wasnt about to trade his lads nights out for nappies. My grandparents were livid, calling her a disgrace for having a child out of wedlock. My grandad kicked her out, saying he wouldnt tolerate an irresponsible daughter under his roof.
Mum had it rough, but she soldiered on. She signed up for evening classes and landed a job, scraping by in a tiny student dorm room. I grew up fastdoing the shopping, cleaning, and reheating meals like a pint-sized butler. There was no time for games; from as far back as I remember, I was too busy playing man of the house.
Not that I complained. Someone had to step up, even if I was barely tall enough to reach the sink.
Then along came Oliver. Bloke seemed alrightalways slipping me sweets and bringing home takeaway. Mum was over the moon. One day, she told me they were getting hitched and wed move into a proper house. I was chuffedfinally, a dad! Or so I thought.
At first, it was grand. No more chores, just music and books in my own room. Oliver even helped Mum with bills. Life was looking up.
Then Mum dropped the news: a sibling was on the way. Oliver promptly announced Id be moving into the box roomformerly the broom cupboardbecause the baby needed *my* room. Never mind the spare bedroom collecting dust. Next day, my stuff was shoved in there. Unfair? Absolutely. Did I say a word? Nah.
When little Henry arrived, so did the sleepless nights. His wailing turned me into a zombie at school. Teachers scolded me; Mum snapped, Youre supposed to set an example! Instead, youre just a lazy embarrassment.
Henry grew, and I became his unpaid nannypushing his pram around the estate while the local lads took the mickey. Everything was for him: new clothes, toys, the works. If I asked for so much as a comic, Oliver would shrug, Skint this month, mate. I walked Henry to nursery, fed him, scrubbed floors. I just kept thinking, *Wait till hes older.*
When Henry started school, Mum decreed Id tutor him. Spoilt rotten, that one. No matter how I tried, he flunked everything. If I dared tell him off, hed whinge to Mum, and shed always take his side.
Henry got bounced from school to school before landing in some posh place where top marks came with a hefty price tag.
I enrolled in trade college for mechanicsnot my dream, but it got me out of the house. Later, I worked my way through uni, saving every quid for a flat. Years on, Ive got a wife, a cheeky daughter, and a mortgage I actually *chose*.
Henry? Oliver bought him a flat, but he still lives with Mum and Dad. Wont lift a finger, just lives off rent money.
At a New Years dinner, Henrys girlfriend moaned to my wife in the kitchen: Youre lucky with James. Hardworking, dependable. Why cant Henry step up? I beg him to start a family, but hes glued to his mums apron strings. Even with that flat, hes useless.
My wife laughed. James *is* brilliant. Ditch Henryhell never change.
And shes right. Girls keep trying to fix him, but Henrys perfectly happy vegetating on the sofa. Mum, of course, thinks no ones good enough for her golden boy.
Listening that night, it hit me: Im *glad* I wasnt Henry. Lifes handed me the lotfamily, home, prideall earned the hard way. No handouts, no favours. Just sweat, stubbornness, and the sweetest payoff of all: knowing I did it myself.
