Emily stood by the rainsplattered window of her flat, watching October turn the night into a watercolor blur. At thirty you stop expecting miracles, yet you can still picture how they ought to look. She worked for a consulting firm, earned a respectable salary, and rented a spacious room in a decent part of Manchester. Life was predictable, calm.
Her phone buzzeda call from Mum. Emily lowered the TV volume, exhaled, and answered.
Sweetheart, love, are you home? her mothers voice trembled.
Yes, Mum, whats the matter?
Were coming over. We need to talk.
A knot tightened in Emilys stomach. When Mum and Dad said they needed a talk, it usually meant fresh trouble with Thomas, the younger brother, twentyfive, who seemed to collect mishaps by design.
Half an hour later they were seated at her kitchen table. Dad stared at his hands, Mum fiddled with the strap of her handbag.
Do you know whats happened with Thomas? Mum began.
What exactly? Emily asked, remembering it was best not to guess.
Hes tangled himself 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 cash should have stayed in a savings account, not gone straight to Thomas.
He promised! Mums voice cracked, almost childlike. He was going to rent a flat, marry Emma
But instead he blew the cash in pubs, Emma left him, and he bought the bike to heal his wounded soul, Emily continued, dryly. Got it?
Dad finally lifted his eyes.
He crashed into a parked Porsche.
Did he have insurance?
No, Mum whispered. He always thinks nothing will ever happen to him.
Emily poured herself a cup of tea, trying not to show irritation. Thomas always believed he was untouchable because his parents always bailed him out.
How much? Mum asked.
Three hundred thousand pounds, she sighed. The owner will let them pay in instalments, but they need half now or the bailiffs will be sent.
Emily nodded. Everything made sense. Now the real drama would begin.
Emily, love, Mum took her hand, weve decided to sell your car.
My car?
Formally its in Dads name, she added hurriedly. We gave it to you when we sold the cottage. But Thomas is in trouble and youre walking everywhere. Youre still young, healthy.
Emily gently withdrew her hand.
I dont agree.
Darling, this is family, Mum raised her voice. Thomas is your brother! He cant sleep, hes lost weight!
Mum, has he even tried work? Or gone to the job centre?
What job can he find in a week? Mum looked at her, bewildered. He cant earn that much straight away!
But could I lose the car in a week?
Dad finally spoke, his tone quiet but firm.
Emily, weve already decided. Your opinion doesnt matter now. The cars in my name; Ill sell it whenever. I dont want to argue, but theres no choice.
Emily stared at the man who had taught her to ride a bike, read fairytales at night, and bragged about her university achievements. Now he calmly declared her voice irrelevant.
Dad, she said slowly, choosing her words, what happens next time Thomas lands in another mess?
There wont be a next time, Mum blurted. He promised he wont gamble again, wont
Hes promised that five times already.
Emily, stop it! Mum began to weep. Hes your brother! How can you be so harsh?
Emily moved to the window. The rain grew louder. She recalled how, six months earlier, Thomas had asked for money for the essentials, and shed given him twenty thousand pounds. Hed spent it on new trainers and a night out.
You know what, she turned to her parents, I transferred the car to my name a month ago.
Silence fell. Mum stopped crying, Dad finally looked up.
How?
It was simple. I had a power of attorney from Dad when we sold the cottage. I forged a deed of gift and reregistered the car in my name. I knew it would have to be sold for Thomas eventually.
You you forged documents? Dad stared, astonished.
Yes. And I dont regret it. Im tired of rescuing my brother from his own choices.
Mum clutched her chest.
Emily, how could you! Were family!
Thats why I did it, Emily replied, sitting back down. Mum, Dad, youre not helping Thomas. Youre turning him into a cripple. At twentyfive he cant solve a single problem because he knows youll always step in.
But hell disappear! Mum shouted. Theyll lock him up!
He wont be jailed for debts. At most theyll bar him from leaving the country, and he never travels anyway. Hell finally see that actions have consequences.
Dad remained quiet, staring at the table. Emily saw his internal struggle.
Emily, he finally whispered, please, sell the car. Well buy you a new one later.
When later? When Thomas gets into another mess?
He wont.
He will, Dad. He doesnt know how to live otherwise. And you never say no to him.
Sweetheart, Mum grasped her hands, what are you doing? Hes your brother!
Thats why I wont give him money. Look at himtwentyfive, living at home, unemployed, gambling his last pounds. You dont see it.
He just hasnt found himself yet, Mum murmured, uncertain.
At twentyfive he should be looking, or at least start.
The parents left, achieving nothing. Emily stayed alone, sipping cold tea. The phone was silentapparently theyd driven to Thomass flat to deliver bad news.
An hour later Thomas called.
Emily, are you out of your mind? his voice trembled with anger. Do you realise what youre doing?
I understand, Tom, she said, a rare softness breaking through. For the first time in ages I get it.
They might lock me up!
They wont. Debts dont land you in prison.
Emily, please! This man is serious! Its money! Where will I get it?
Where everyone gets moneywork.
What work? Who would want 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 instalment. Grownups usually bend if they see genuine effort.
Emily, his voice softened, why are you so angry? Anyone could have fallen into this.
Not anyone, Tom. Only someone who never learned to drive properly and never even bothered to insure a car.
He hung up.
The following months were hard. Parents called rarely. When Emily visited, the house was heavy with unspoken tension. They never spoke of Thomas directly, but his absence lingered in every word.
From fragmented conversations Emily learned Thomas was actually looking for work. He tried courier jobs, driving, loading. Eventually he landed a position at a garage, washing cars and handing tools. The pay was tiny, but it was work.
Strangely, the owner of the battered Lexus proved compassionate. When he learned Thomas was employed, he agreed to a payment plan. Thomas moved into a flat he shared with two other lads. Parents helped with the deposit but refused further cashEmily had insisted.
Mom, if you give him money hell drop the job, she told them during a rare visit. Let him learn to rely on himself.
But hes thin, barely eating a bowl of porridge, Mum complained.
Hell find better work. Or a side gig.
Months later Thomas found a side hustle: repairing old cars for parts in the evenings, weekends helping friends with minor fixes. He discovered a knack for mechanicshands that knew how to work, a mind that could troubleshoot.
Emily heard snippets from her parents, who gradually softened. Mum still called her harsh, but Dad sometimes spoke with a cautious pride about Thomas fixing a neighbours car or helping a friend with wiring.
About a year after that kitchen showdown, a knock sounded at Emilys door. She opened it to find Thomas, sunkissed, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums.
Hello, he said. May I come in?
Emily stepped aside. Thomas entered, set the flowers on the table, and sat in the same chair where Dad had sat a year before.
Beautiful flowers, Emily remarked. Chrysanthemums.
Thanks. He stared at his calloused hands, now the hands of a workerblisters, scars, dirt under the nails. I came to thank you.
For what?
For not giving you the money.
Emily settled opposite him.
Tell me.
I started my own garage, tiny, in my own shed, but its mine. I fix cars, sell parts, make a decent living. I even settled that debt to the bloke who owned the Porsche ages ago.
Congratulations.
You know, Thomas lifted his eyes, I used to hate you. I thought you were greedy and cruel. I didnt understand why you wouldnt help your own brother.
And now?
Now I see. If youd handed me cash, Id still be sitting at home, waiting for you or Mum to solve everything. Instead I had to grow up.
Emily nodded.
It was hard, Thomas admitted. The first months I thought of quitting, of living in a flat with strangers, scrimping on food. Then I got into the work, and I liked itfixing things, seeing how they fit together.
Your parents they still hover?
Mum now tells everyone my son is an entrepreneur. He smirked. Dad sometimes drops by the garage to help, says hes proud.
They sat in companionable silence, eyes meeting. Thomas looked older than his twentysix years, but in a good way. Confidence steadied his posture.
Emily, he finally said, I dont deserve forgiveness. Ive been a burden for years
No, Tom, Emily interrupted, you were a spoiled kid, not a burden. Those are different.
Maybe. But Im not a kid any more.
Not a kid.
Thomas rose and walked to the window, the same rainy October night, only a year later.
Do you know whats odd? he said without turning. Im happier now. I have more money, more responsibilities, but Im happier. When you earn your own cash, you spend it differently. When you solve your own problems, they stop feeling impossible.
I get it, Emily replied. When youre in control, the world feels less monstrous.
Yes. And I met someone. Katie. She works at a bank, very proper. Were thinking of moving in together.
Good for you.
Thanks. Emily, can I still drop by sometimes? Just to chat. I miss you.
Of course.
They embraced, a solid, childhoodlike hug, the kind you share before cars, debts, and grudges ever existed.
By the way, Ive got a car now, Thomas added, stepping back. A battered Toyota I fixed myself. Runs like new.
Well done, Emily smiled. All thanks to you not letting me keep him a child forever.
When Thomas left, Emily lingered at the kitchen table, gazing at the chrysanthemumsbright yellow, fluffy, exuding a sharp autumn scent.
She thought about how love for family can make us hurt those we care for, how hard it is to say no when asked for help, and how sometimes a no forces someone to say yes to themselves.
Outside, the rain continued, no longer bleak but cleansing, washing away old grievances, fears, childish fantasies, making room for something new, grown, real.
Emily placed the flowers in a vase, turned on the kettle. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight she was simply grateful to have a brotheran adult brother who now could fix problems and bring flowers.
