All my life, I dreamed of being in my brother’s shoes, but everything soon changed.
My mum got pregnant with me at eighteen. My father left us as soon as he heard the news; he wanted nothing to do with a family—just endless partying and friends. My mum’s parents, my grandparents, were furious. In a small town near Newcastle, having a baby without being married was seen as a disgrace, and my grandfather threw her out of the house, shouting, “I don’t want to see such a reckless daughter!” I can’t even imagine what it was like for her—young, alone, with a baby in her arms. But she persevered: she enrolled in distance learning, found a job, and worked her fingers to the bone. We were given a small room in a shared accommodation, and we started our life together. I had to grow up faster than other kids—running errands, cleaning, reheating food. Games? There was no time. From my early years, I was her rock, her only man.
I never complained—I was proud of it. But then Victor came into our lives. I liked him: he brought sweets, treated us to nice things, and took care of Mum. She blossomed with him, and one day she said, “Victor and I are getting married, and we’ll move to a big house.” I was thrilled—I dreamt of having a real dad and hoped Victor would be the one. At first, it was like a fairytale. I had my own space, could relax, listen to music, and read books. Victor helped Mum, and her eyes sparkled with happiness.
But then she announced she was expecting a baby. Soon after, Victor said, “Stan, you’ll have to move into the storage room. That will be the nursery.” I didn’t understand: the house was full of rooms, so why did it have to be me? The next day, my things were already in the cramped little space, barely enough for a bed. It was unfair, but I kept quiet—I’d become accustomed to it.
When my brother Mike was born, it became a nightmare. His cries kept me up at night, and I walked around like a zombie. My grades slipped at school, teachers scolded me, and Mum yelled, “You have to set an example for your brother! Stop embarrassing us, you lazy boy!” As Mike grew older, more responsibilities fell on me—walking him, wheeling the pram around the garden. The other kids laughed at me, and I blushed with shame, but I stayed silent. All the best toys and clothes were bought for Mike. When I asked for something for myself, Victor dryly replied, “There’s no money.” I took Mike to nursery, picked him up, fed him, and cleaned the house—living in hope that he’d grow up soon and release me.
When Mike started school, Mum ordered me to help him with his homework. He was spoiled, fussy—did poorly in his studies, and my attempts to reason with him always ended in his complaints to Mum. She always took his side, while I got reprimanded: “You’re the older one, be more patient!” He was moved from school to school, failing everywhere until finally, he was placed in a private school where they overlooked his failings for money. I, on the other hand, went off to a technical college to study mechanics—not because I wanted to, but to escape home.
Afterwards, there were correspondence courses and jobs—I worked day and night, saving up for my own place. I got married and found peace. And Mike? Victor gave him a flat, but he still lives with our parents, rents out the flat, and spends the money frivolously. He doesn’t want to work, lies around watching TV. One New Year’s, we gathered at our parents’ place. His latest girlfriend, Emma, came. I accidentally overheard their conversation in the kitchen.
“You’re lucky with your brother,” she was telling my wife, Tanya. “Stan is such a hard worker, responsible. Why isn’t Mike like that? I ask him to move in together, start a family, but he just clings to his mum. He has rental income, but what’s the point?”
“Yes, Stan is great,” Tanya smiled. “Dump Mike; he’s not worth it. He won’t make a good husband.”
I froze. Mike switched girlfriends like gloves, but none ever stayed—Mum drove them all away, considering them unworthy of her ‘golden boy.’ And he never resisted, living in his lazy cocoon. And then it hit me: I no longer envied him. Everything I dreamt of—being in his place—turned out to be hollow. Fate tested me, but it also rewarded me. I have a family, a loving wife, a daughter, a home that I built with my own hands. I’m proud of myself, and for the first time in my life, I don’t regret that I’m not Mike. My life is my victory, hard-earned and genuine.
