I always dreamed of being in my brothers place, but everything changed soon enough. My mum fell pregnant with me at eighteen. My dad left as soon as he found outhe didnt want a family, just endless parties and mates. My mums parents were livid. In a small town near Manchester, having a baby out of wedlock was a disgrace, and my grandad kicked her out, shouting, “I wont have such an irresponsible girl under my roof!” I cant even imagine what she went throughso young, alone, with a baby in her arms. But she pushed through: she signed up for an Open University course, got a job, and gave it her all. We got a council flat, and our life together began. I grew up faster than other kidsdoing the shopping, cleaning, reheating meals. Playing? Never had the time. Early on, I was her rock, her only man.
I never gripedI was proud of it. Then, Oliver came into our lives. I liked him: he brought chocolates, made Mum smile, took care of her. She glowed around him, and one day she said, “Oliver and I are getting married, and well move into a proper house.” I was chuffedI dreamed of a real dad and hoped Oliver would be one. At first, it was brilliant. I had my own space, could relax, listen to music, read. Oliver helped Mum, and her eyes sparkled.
Then she announced she was expecting. Soon after, Oliver told me, “Youll have to move into the box room. Thatll be the babys nursery.” I didnt get itthe house was big, why me? The next day, my stuff was already piled into a tiny space with barely room for a bed. It wasnt fair, but I kept quietused to putting up with things.
When my little brother Alfie was born, the nightmare started. His crying kept me up; I walked around like a zombie. My school marks dropped, teachers scolded me, and Mum shouted, “Youve got to set an example for your brother! Stop embarrassing us, lazy sod!” Alfie grew, and I got new chorestaking him to the park, pushing his pram. Other kids laughed; I burned with shame but stayed silent. Everything nicetoys, clotheswent to Alfie. If I asked for anything, Oliver would snap, “No cash.” I took Alfie to nursery, picked him up, cooked, cleanedjust waiting for him to grow up so I could be free.
Alfie started school, and Mum ordered me to help with his homework. Spoilt and stubborn, he mucked about, and when I tried to correct him, hed whine to Mum. She always took his side, telling me off: “Youre the eldest, be more patient!” He kept getting kicked out of schools but finally landed in a posh one where they ignored his bad grades for a fee. I trained as a mechanicnot because I wanted to, but to escape home.
Later, I did distance learning and worked non-stop, saving for my own place. I got married, found peace. And Alfie? Oliver bought him a flat, but he still lives with our parents, rents it out, and wastes the money. Wont work, just sprawls in front of the telly. One New Years, we all gathered at my parents. His latest girlfriend, Chloe, was there. I overheard them in the kitchen.
“Youre lucky with your brother,” she said to my wife, Emily. “Jacks a proper grafter, responsible. Why isnt Alfie like that? I ask him to move in, start a family, but hes tied to his mum. The rent moneys no use to us.”
“Yeah, Jacks amazing,” Emily smiled. “Forget Alfiehes not worth it. Hed make a rubbish husband.”
I froze. Alfie went through girlfriends like socks, but none stayedMum chased them off, saying they werent good enough for her “golden boy.” And he never fought it, just lazed about in his comfort. Right then, I realised: I dont envy him anymore. Everything Id dreamed ofbeing in his placewas empty. Life tested me, but it rewarded me too. Ive got a family, a loving wife, a daughter, a home I built myself. Im proud of me, and for the first time, Im glad Im not Alfie. My lifes my victoryhard-won and real.
