Emily stands at the kitchen window, watching the rain turn the October evening into a blur of watercolor. At thirty she no longer expects miracles, yet she still remembers how they should feel. She works for a consulting firm, earns a decent salary, and rents a spacious flat in a respectable part of London. Her life is predictable and calm.
Her phone buzzes on the backhand side of the sofa. Its her mothers number. Emily sighs, lowers the TV volume and answers.
Emily, love, her mothers voice sounds worried are you home?
Yes, Mum. Whats wrong?
Your father and I are on our way over. We need to talk.
A knot tightens in Emilys stomach. Whenever her parents say theyve come to talk, it always means a new problem with Tom, her younger brother, who is twentyfive and seems to collect trouble for sport.
A half hour later they sit around her kitchen table. Her father stares at his hands, her mother fidgets with the strap of her handbag.
Do you know what Toms gotten himself into? her mother asks.
What exactly? Emily tries not to fill in the blanks for them.
He hes in a mess. Remember when we gave him the money from selling the cottage? He bought a motorbike
Mum, weve already discussed that. I warned you the money should have stayed in a savings account, not been handed to Tom straight away.
He promised! her mothers tone slips into something almost childlike. He was going to rent a flat, marry Lucy
Instead he started blowing cash in pubs, Lucy left him, and he bought that bike to heal a broken heart, Emily continues. Got it?
Her father finally lifts his eyes.
He smashed a car in the car park. An expensive Porsche.
No insurance?
No, her mother whispers. You know he always thinks nothing will ever happen to him.
Emily pours herself a cup of tea, keeping irritation hidden. Tom always believes hes untouchable because his parents always bail him out.
How much?
Three thousand pounds, her mother exhales. The owner agreed to a payment plan, but they need half now or hell send bailiffs.
Emily nods. Everything makes sense. Now the real drama begins.
Emily, love, her mother grabs her hand weve decided to sell your car.
My car?
Technically its in Dads name, she adds hurriedly. We gave it to you when we sold the cottage. But Toms in trouble and youre walking everywhere. Youre still young, healthy.
Emily gently removes her mothers hand.
I dont agree.
Dear, this is family, her mother raises her voice. Tom is your brother! Hes miserable, cant sleep, has lost weight!
Mum, has he even tried to work? Or at least gone to the job centre?
Emily, what job could he find in a week? her mother looks at her, baffled. He cant earn that much instantly!
And I could lose my car in a week?
Her father finally speaks, his voice soft but firm.
Emily, weve already decided. Your opinion doesnt matter right now. The car is in my name; Ill sell it whenever I please. I dont want to fight with you, but theres no choice.
Emily looks at her father. He taught her to ride a bike, read bedtime stories, and be proud of her university achievements. Now he calmly says her view means nothing.
Dad, she says slowly, choosing words what will happen next time Tom lands in trouble?
There wont be a next time, her mother snaps back quickly. He promised he wont gamble anymore, wont
Hes promised that five times already.
Emily, stop! her mother begins to cry. Hes your brother! How can you be so harsh?
Emily walks over to the window. The rain intensifies. She remembers six months ago Tom begged her for essential money, and she gave him twenty pounds. He spent it on new trainers and a night out with friends.
You know what, she turns to her parents, I have news. I transferred the car into my name a month ago.
Silence falls. Her mother stops crying, her father lifts his eyes.
How?
Simple. I had a power of attorney from Dad when we sold the cottage. I forged a deed of gift and reregistered the car to myself. I knew it would eventually be needed for Tom.
You you forged documents? her father looks astonished.
I did. And you know what? I dont regret it. Im tired of rescuing my brother from the fallout of his choices.
Her mother clutches her chest.
Emily, how could you! Were family!
Thats exactly why I did it, Emily sits back down. Mum, Dad, you never really help Tom. You turn him into a dependent. At twentyfive he cant solve a single problem because he knows youll always sort it for him.
But hell disappear! her mother shouts. Hell go to prison!
He wont be jailed for debt. At most theyll bar him from traveling abroad, and he isnt going anywhere anyway. Hell finally realise actions have consequences.
Her father remains quiet, staring at the table. Emily sees his internal struggle.
Emily, he finally says quietly, please, sell the car. Well buy you a new one later.
When later? When Tom gets into another mess?
He wont.
He will, Dad. He cant live any other way. And you cant keep refusing him.
Sweetheart, her mother grabs both of Emilys hands, what are you doing? Hes your brother!
Thats why I wont give him money. Look at him: twentyfive, living at home, unemployed, gambling the last of his cash. You both dont see it.
He just hasnt found himself yet, her mother stammers.
At twentyfive he should be looking. At least start.
Her parents leave, achieving nothing. Emily stays alone at the kitchen table, sipping cold tea. The phone is silentobviously theyve driven to Toms flat to deliver the bad news.
An hour later Tom calls.
Emily, are you serious? his voice trembles with anger. Do you know what youre doing?
I know, Tom. I finally understand.
They could lock me up!
They wont. Debt doesnt land you in prison.
Emily, please! he starts crying. This guy is serious! Its money! Where will I get it?
Like everyone else, youll have to work.
What work? Who needs me?
Tom, you can drive, you can talk to people. You have hands, a head. Youll find something.
In a week?
Maybe. Or you could ask the car owner for a longer payment plan. Adults usually give a break if they see you trying.
Emily, his voice softens why are you so angry? Anyone could have been in my shoes!
Not anyone, Tom. Only someone reckless who never learned to actually drive or even think about insurance!
He hangs up.
The following months are hard. Her parents call rarely. Whenever Emily visits the family home, the atmosphere stays heavy. Her mother sighs loudly, her father remains mute. Toms absence is felt in every sentence.
Through fragmented conversations Emily realises Tom is genuinely hunting for work. He first looks for simple gigs: courier, driver, labourer. He eventually lands a job at a garage washing cars and handing tools. The pay is modest, but its a start.
Strangely, the owner of the wrecked Lexus proves understanding. When he learns Tom is actually employed, he agrees to keep the payment plan. Tom moves into a flat he shares with two other lads. The parents help with the deposit but refuse any more cashEmily insisted.
Mum, if you give him money hell drop the job, Emily says during a rare visit. Let him learn to rely on himself.
Hes surviving on a single serving of rice, her mother complains. Hes thin, pale.
Then hell find something better, or a side hustle.
And indeed, after a few months Tom picks up a side job. In the evenings he dismantles old cars for parts; weekends he helps friends with minor repairs. He discovers a knack for mechanicshis hands are steady, his mind quick.
Emily learns of this in bits from her parents, who gradually thaw. Her mother still calls her harsh, but her father sometimes, with a faint pride, mentions how Tom fixed a neighbours car or helped a friend with wiring.
About a year after that kitchen showdown, theres a knock at Emilys door. She opens it to Tom, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums, suntanned and smiling.
Hi, he says. May I come in?
Emily steps aside. Tom puts the flowers on the countertop and sits in the same chair where her father once sat.
Beautiful flowers, Emily remarks. Chrysanthemums.
Thanks. He looks at his hands, now calloused, dirtstained under the nails. Im here to thank you.
For what?
For not giving me the money.
Emily leans back.
Tell me then.
I started my own garage. Small, in a rented bay, but its mine. I repair cars, sell parts, make a decent living. I even cleared that debt to the guy who owned the Porsche.
Congratulations.
You know, Tom lifts his gaze, I used to hate you. I thought you were greedy, cruel. I didnt get why you wouldnt help your brother.
And now?
Now I get it. If youd handed me cash, Id still be sitting at home waiting for someone else to solve my problems. This forced me to grow up.
Emily nods.
Was it hard?
You have no idea, Tom admits. The first months I thought about quitting, living in a flat with strangers, scrimping on food. Then I got hooked. I love working with my hands, figuring out how things work.
Do your parents still hover?
Mum now tells everyone Im an entrepreneur, Tom chuckles. Dad sometimes drops by the garage to help. He says hes proud.
They sit in quiet, watching each other. Tom looks older than his twentysix years, in a good wayconfident, calm.
Emily, he says finally, I dont deserve forgiveness. Ive been a burden for years
Tom, Emily interrupts, you werent a burden; you were a spoiled kid. Those are different things.
Maybe. But Im not a kid any more.
No longer.
Tom stands, walks to the window, the same rainsoaked autumn day, only a year later.
You know whats strange? he says without turning. Im happier. I have a better life, more money, more responsibilities, yet I feel happier. When you earn your own cash, you spend it differently. When you solve your own problems, they stop looking impossible.
I understand. When youre in control, nothing feels insurmountable.
And Ive met someone. Katie. She works at a bank, serious, grownup. Were thinking of moving in together.
Thats wonderful.
Thanks. He faces her. Emily, can I still drop by sometimes? Just to talk. I miss you.
Of course.
They embrace, a solid, genuine hug like the ones from childhood before cars, debts, and grudges entered their lives.
By the way, I now have a car too, Tom adds, stepping back. I bought a battered Toyota, fixed it up, and it runs like new.
Well done.
All thanks to you not letting me stay a kid forever.
After Tom leaves, Emily sits at the kitchen table, looking at the chrysanthemumsbright yellow, fluffy, smelling of autumn. She thinks about how love for family can make us hurt the ones we love, how hard it is to say no when asked for help, and how sometimes no forces someone to say yes to themselves.
Outside the rain continues, but now it feels cleansing rather than gloomy, washing away old grudges, fears, childish fantasies, making room for something new, adult, real.
Emily places the flowers in a vase, turns on the kettle. Tomorrow will be another day, but today she simply feels grateful to have a brother a real, grown brother who finally knows how to solve his own problems and give back a bouquet.
