It’s been ten years since I got married. My husband and I live together in our second mortgaged flat in Sheffield, making steady payments to pay off the loan. We’re not quite ready for children yet; we both feel it’s important to be financially stable and settled first. I have a brother, Tom. He’s married too. They live in their one-bedroom flat in Manchester. Tom works two jobs, plus picks up shifts part-time wherever he can. His wife, Emily, doesn’t work; she seems to spend her days almost exclusively raising their ever-expanding brood. They’ve got three children already, she’s pregnant with her fourth, and apparently she’s planning a fifth.
Along with all those kids, they’ve managed to rack up loans for household gadgets and appliances. My husband and I often help them out, sometimes giving them money, other times dropping off groceries or essentials. Emily, Tom’s wife, can be quite bold, sometimes simply demanding things rather than kindly asking.
On those occasions, I have to bring her back down to earth and say no. Naturally, Tom and Emily take offence, but a couple of weeks later, theyre back with another request. Seeing as you and your husband dont have any children, and we’re about to have our fourth, you really ought to give us your flat, Emily said one day.
And where exactly are we supposed to go? Into your one-bedroom flat? I asked, incredulous at her audacity. Well let out yours to tenants, and you can rent elsewhere, she replied confidently. So youre saying well pay the mortgage and pay rent at the same time, for you? Yes, obviously. When will you vacate? When will you move out? You belong not in a home, but in a psychiatric hospital. Get out of my flat, I told her, barely containing my frustration. Then Ill go and get rid of the baby, and it will be your fault, she said, storming out.
And that’s exactly what she did. Secretly, on the third month of pregnancy. The doctors barely managed to save her. At two in the morning, Tom showed up at the hospital to rage at me, blaming me for everything. My husband instantly stepped in, restrained him, and asked me what had happened. I explained, and my husband dunked Toms head under cold water a few times to calm him down, then shoved him out of the flat.
Since then, I’ve no longer had a brother.
