All my life, I envied my brother’s position, but everything changed unexpectedly.
My mother became pregnant with me at eighteen. My father left us as soon as he heard the news—he didn’t want a family, just endless parties and friends. My mother’s parents, my grandparents, were furious. In the small town near Manchester, having a child without being married was considered disgraceful, and my grandfather kicked her out, yelling, “I don’t want to see such a reckless daughter!” I can’t even imagine what she went through—young, alone, with an infant to care for. But she persevered: enrolled in a distance learning program, found a job, and worked tirelessly. We were given a room in a hostel, and we began our life together. I had to grow up faster than other kids—running errands, cleaning, warming up meals. Playtime? There was none. From an early age, I was her support, the only man in her life.
I never complained—I took pride in it. Soon, however, Victor entered our lives. I liked him: he brought sweets, treated us to nice food, and took care of my mom. She blossomed around him, and one day she announced, “Victor and I are getting married, and we’ll be moving to a big house.” I was thrilled—I dreamed of having a real father and hoped Victor would become one. At first, it felt like a fairy tale. I had my own space, could relax, listen to music, and read books. Victor helped my mom, and her eyes sparkled with joy.
Then she announced she was expecting. Soon after, Victor said, “Stan, you’ll need to move into the storeroom. That’s going to be the nursery.” I didn’t understand: the house had plenty of rooms, why me? The next day my belongings were already in the cramped little room that barely fit a bed. It was unfair, but I stayed silent—I was used to enduring.
When my little brother, Michael, was born, it was a nightmare. His cries kept me awake, leaving me like a zombie. My school grades suffered, teachers scolded me, and my mom yelled, “You should be setting an example for your brother! Stop embarrassing us, you lazybones!” As Michael grew, new responsibilities hit me—taking him for walks, pushing the pram around the neighborhood. The kids laughed at me, and I blushed with shame but kept quiet. Everything good—toys, clothes—was bought for Michael. When I asked for something, Victor curtly replied, “No money.” I took Michael to daycare, picked him up, fed him, cleaned the house—living in the hope that once he grew up, I’d be free.
When Michael started school, Mom told me to help him with his homework. He was spoiled, whiny, and a terrible student, and my attempts to guide him ended with him complaining to Mom. She always sided with him, and I faced reprimands: “You’re the older one, be more patient!” He was moved from school to school but failed everywhere. They ended up enrolling him in a private school where they turned a blind eye to his poor grades for the right fee. I, however, went to technical college to become a mechanic—not because I wanted to, but to escape home.
Later, I took correspondence courses and found work—I toiled day and night, saving up for my own place. I got married and found peace. As for Michael? Victor gave him an apartment, but he still lives with our parents, rents out the flat, and spends the money on useless things. He doesn’t want to work and lounges in front of the TV all day. One New Year’s Eve, we gathered at my parents’ home. His latest girlfriend, Helen, joined us. I happened to overhear their conversation in the kitchen.
“You’re lucky with your brother,” she said to my wife, Tanya. “Stan is such a hard worker, so responsible. Why isn’t Michael the same? I ask him to move in together, start a family, but he just clings to his mom. He’s got rent money coming in, but what’s the use?”
“Yes, Stan’s amazing,” Tanya smiled. “Dump Michael, he’s not worth it. He’ll make a poor husband.”
I was startled. Michael switched girlfriends like socks, but none stayed long—Mom drove them all away, deeming them unworthy of her ‘golden boy.’ And he never resisted, living in his laziness like a cocoon. That’s when it hit me—I no longer envied him. Everything I dreamed of—being in his position—turned out to be meaningless. Life gave me challenges, but it also rewarded me. I have a family, a loving wife, a daughter, a house I built with my own hands. I take pride in myself, and for the first time, I’m glad I’m not Michael. My life—hard-earned and real—is my victory.
