All my life, I dreamed of being in my brothers shoesuntil everything flipped on its head.
My mum fell pregnant with me when she was nineteen. My dad scarpered straight awaycouldnt be bothered with the whole “responsibility” thing. Too busy with pub crawls and mates. My grandparents were livid. In their eyes, an unmarried daughter with a baby was downright scandalous. My grandad kicked her out, calling her “reckless” without so much as a second thought.
Mum had it rough, but she soldiered on. She signed up for night classes, landed a job, and squeezed into a tiny student digs. I grew up fastdoing the shopping, scrubbing floors, reheating meals. There was no time for toys or kicking a ball about. From the moment I could tie my own shoelaces, I was pitching in.
Never complained, though. Felt like I was the man of the house, even if I was barely tall enough to reach the sink.
Then along came Oliver. Mum started dating him, and I took to him straight offhed bring sweets round and even stocked the fridge. Mum glowed. One day, she told me they were getting hitched and wed move to a proper house. I was chuffedfinally, a dad! Or so I thought.
At first, it was grand. No more chores, just time for books and music. My own room, too. Oliver helped out, and Mum seemed happier than ever.
Then came the bombshellMum was expecting. Soon after, Oliver announced Id be moving into the box roomformerly the junk cupboardbecause the baby needed my bedroom. Never mind the other empty rooms. Next day, all my stuff was dumped in there. I knew it was rotten, but I kept my trap shut.
When Alfie arrived, my nights turned into a nightmare. His wailing kept me up, and at school, I started slipping. Teachers had a go, and Mum tore strips off me.
“Sort yourself out! Youre meant to be setting an example, not slacking!” shed snap whenever my marks dipped.
As Alfie grew, I became his unpaid minderpushing his pram round the estate, face burning while the lads ribbed me. Couldnt do a thing about it.
Everything went to Alfie. If I asked for so much as a new jumper, Oliver would shrug, “Skint this month.” Id drop Alfie at nursery, pick him up, feed him, tidy up. Just counting the days till he grew up.
Once Alfie started school, Mum handed me his homework duty. Spoilt and stubborn, hed flunk everything, then sprint to tattle if I told him off. Mum always took his side.
He bounced between schools, never settling, till they stuck him in some posh private place where good grades came with a hefty price tag.
I went to a technical college, picked mechanicsnot my dream, but it got me out of the house. Later, I scraped into uni, landed a job, worked like a dog. Saved every penny for a flat. Years later, I got married.
Alfie? Oliver handed him a flat, but he still lives with Mum and Dad. Wont lift a fingerjust lives off the rent.
At a New Years dinner, the whole clan gathered at my parents. Alfies girlfriend was there, too. Passing the kitchen, I overheard her moaning:
“Youre lucky with Benhardworking, dependable. Why cant Alfie step up? I beg him to commit, but hes still glued to your mums apron strings. Raking in rent but doing sod all.”
“Bens a keeper,” my wife chimed in. “Ditch Alfie. Hes hopeless. Never change.”
And she wasnt wrong. Plenty of girls tried fixing Alfie, but he couldnt be bothered. Just sofa-surfed, telly on, life passing him by. Mum loathed every girlfriendnever good enough for her golden boy.
Thats when it hit me: I was proud. Proper chuffed, actually. Life paid me back for every rubbish hand Id been dealt. Now? Lovely wife, a cheeky daughter, a home of my ownall earned the hard way. And honestly? Wouldnt trade places with Alfie for all the tea in China.
