When Lucy was born, the midwife told her mother she would be a lucky girl, as if she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Up until the age of five, Lucy was indeed happy: her mother braided her hair, read her picture books, and only got cross when Lucy couldn’t remember the letters. Her father taught her to ride a bike and took her to the countryside, letting her steer down the country lanes.
When Lucy turned five, her parents sat her down to break the news that soon she’d have a little brother.
“It’ll be a birthday present just for you,” they said.
The gift arrived right on her birthday, stealing away all her holidays from then on. From the first year, Ben began to command special attention in the family, initially for being the youngest and later for being a child prodigy.
Ben picked up reading far sooner than Lucy, who, even at twenty, read slower than a first-grader—a condition now labeled as dyslexia, though back then she was just placed in a special class. Ben could solve math problems that enthralled his math teacher so much that she hurried to call her own professor, Alex Johnson, let alone the fact that he wrote distinctly peculiar but captivating poems.
And so, Lucy’s blissful days came to an end—not only did she share her birthday with Ben, but her entire world started revolving around him. She took Ben to school, to his English tutor, swimming lessons, and Professor Alex Johnson’s lessons, music school, and poetry club. When Lucy expressed her wish to join a home economics club, her mother rebuked her:
“Do you want me to quit and take Ben to his music lessons myself? You always think only of yourself!”
So, Lucy gave in. If she memorized Ben’s complicated schedule, prepared two separate dinners (Ben became a vegetarian at six, while her father couldn’t go a day without meat), and earned money by walking neighbors’ dogs in the evenings, her mom praised her and stroked her freshly cut head.
Lucy’s hair had been cut short because her mother no longer had the time to braid it. She needed to practice English with Ben in the mornings or jot down the poems he dreamt up at night. Meanwhile, Lucy made a messy ponytail that the teacher remarked on with red ink in her report book. Her mother disliked these notes and took Lucy to the hairdresser for a short, neat cut. Though quite cute, Lucy cried all night for her lost braids.
“When you finish school, you can do whatever you please,” her mother would say whenever Lucy weakly protested each new duty regarding her brother. “Why does it matter? All you do is read those recipes of yours.”
After school, not just Lucy’s but Ben’s too, she didn’t gain the freedom she yearned for. Her duties expanded, including cooking meals rich in nutrients for him, ironing and washing clothes, and fulfilling various household chores. Lucy also became more like his personal assistant. She managed his schedule, tracked competitions and contests, and sorted his letters. When she mentioned wanting to work at the local dog shelter, not only her mom but also Ben criticized her, lamenting they couldn’t manage without her.
Again, Lucy acquiesced.
Only once did she rebel against the ceaseless inequity— when she met George.
George wasn’t conventionally handsome—he was tall, stout, spent all his time coding on the computer. His relatives gave him a dog hoping he’d step outside more. Instead, he hired Lucy, and that’s how they met. It naturally transpired that she soon stayed the night after walking his dog.
Lucy’s mom would call, insisting she come home—she hated ironing shirts, and Ben only wore shirts. Ben would call too, complaining no one sharpened his pencils, their dad brought home pies, and there was nothing else because mom was on yet another diet.
“Leave me alone!” Lucy shouted. “I’m not your servant!”
George kissed her teary eyes, promising they’d marry one day. Then he jetted off to the States, having landed a great job offer.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
When Ben was announced as an award recipient, their parents swelled with pride, bragging to all the neighbors. Lucy’s mother rushed to book beauty treatments, and her father was particularly interested in the financial side. He fancied getting a new car, lacking the funds, hoping his son would share.
Lucy’s responsibilities increased—besides her usual chores, she corresponded extensively, booked flights, and sought accommodations with vegetarian menus. It wore her out so much that when they arrived, and everything was prepared – the tuxedo, the speech, the audience – Lucy kissed her brother’s cheek backstage and headed to the hall, hoping her parents saved her a seat.
A tall security guard blocked her way, stating, “Staff isn’t allowed in there.”
“What?” Lucy didn’t understand.
“Wait behind the stage for your master,” explained another younger individual, glancing at her disdainfully. “In that rag, you wouldn’t be welcome there anyway.”
Lucy glanced down at her worn dress—not that she lacked alternatives; she simply hadn’t had time to change. But the issue wasn’t the dress. They truly mistook her for staff. In reality, they weren’t far off—she was, after all, like a servant. Ben looked at her long and curiously, and for a moment, Lucy hoped he’d tell the guards, “Let her through, she’s my sister!” But Ben said nothing—the announcer already called his name, and Ben walked to the stage without looking back.
Lucy settled on a low stool by the wall, eyes closed, mentally reviewing her to-do list: retrieve the suit from the cleaners, book the hotel and restaurant, sort through emails—she hadn’t checked them in two days. So many congratulations would pour in—how would she ever keep up?
She didn’t listen to what Ben was saying—yesterday, he’d rehearsed the speech in front of her, perfect as always. The usual: thanks to the parents, to the mentors, I’m ready to contribute to the country and world harmony. Lucy had an excellent memory, her mind automatically tracked the sentences.
Then something went off-script. Instead of saying, “And it’s all thanks to my dear parents (mom in a green dress with a feathered hat, dad in a matching dark suit and light shirt), sitting in the front row, and my unforgettable mentor, Professor Alex Johnson,” Ben suddenly announced:
“I was supposed to say something different, but hear me out… There’s really only one person to whom I owe my presence here.”
Lucy imagined her parents exchanging triumphant glances—they’ll each feel they’ve contributed the most, and surely, Professor Alex Johnson would tumble off his cloud.
“She spent her entire life dedicated to me. For a long time, I didn’t see it—I took it for granted. You know, the time has come to repay her kindness, though honestly, her role in my life is priceless, and all the world’s treasures couldn’t fully compensate her.”
Her father likely had a vein bulging on his forehead—that always happened when he got angry, and her mother probably was teary-eyed with joy.
“This day is dedicated to you. Every penny I receive today, I want you to use it to open the dog shelter you’ve always dreamt about, or do whatever makes you happy.”
The words sounded different, as if approaching her, and as Ben grabbed her hand, pulling her on stage, it took Lucy a second to register what was happening.
“Meet my sister, Lucy. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have achieved anything.”
Applause rang out, blinding stage lights hit Lucy’s eyes. Only then did it start to dawn on her what was happening. She gazed at her brother, grateful, and he smiled back. That smile healed everything—George leaving, the missed club meetings, the longing dogs at the shelter. She stood amidst the spotlight, hunched and afraid, yet slowly, something inside her made Lucy stand taller.
He truly gave her all the money. And he hired a young guy, whom Lucy taught everything she’d done for her brother over the years.
“You won’t be my helper anymore,” said Ben. “I’m sorry, Lucy, I was blind and foolish.”
And Lucy forgave him. She did establish a dog shelter, pursued studies in patisserie, and opened her own business—small as it was, with her often manning the counter. But it was just as she had always dreamed. One cold October evening, as she was about to close the till, the bell rang, indicating a customer had entered. Lucy greeted the tall man in a black coat, began asking about his needs, then stopped short, falling silent.
It was George. Thinner, serious, weary. But so familiar.
“You’ve come back…”
Feeling her knees weaken, Lucy grabbed the counter for support.
“Lucy,” he smiled. “Forgive me, I was so foolish then…”
Well, the second most important man in her life had asked for forgiveness; what more did she need?
The only one who didn’t apologize was her father; he and her mother stopped speaking to Lucy, convinced she persuaded Ben to give her everything. But it mattered little—parents will be parents, for better or worse. As for George… He had returned, and now, Lucy felt everything would finally be alright.
