My mother became pregnant with me when she was eighteen years old. My father immediately turned away from us. He didn’t want a family at the time—his life was all about parties and friends. My grandparents were furious with my mother because having a child out of wedlock was a disgrace. My grandfather threw her out of the house; he didn’t want a “reckless” daughter.
It’s hard to even imagine what my mother went through, but she managed. She enrolled in evening studies and found a job. She was given a room in a dormitory. I had to grow up quickly and become independent. I did the shopping, cleaned the house, and heated up meals. I didn’t have time to play—ever since I can remember, I was always busy helping my mother.
However, I never complained because I was the only man in the family, even though I was just a child.
Soon, my mother started dating Andrew. I liked him—he gave me candy and brought food. My mother was happy. One day, she told me she was going to marry Andrew and that we would move into a big house. I was thrilled because I really wanted a father and hoped Andrew would become one for me.
At first, everything was going well. I was able to take a break from daily chores. I even had my own room. I could calmly listen to music and read books. My stepfather helped my mother, and she seemed happy with him.
After some time, I learned that I was going to have a little brother or sister. Then Andrew told me I would have to move to a different, much smaller room, which had previously been used as a storage space. He planned to turn my room into a nursery. I didn’t understand why I had to move when there were still several free rooms in the house.
The next day, my belongings were moved into the new room. I knew it was unfair, but I didn’t protest.
When Martin was born, I hardly slept at night. He cried all the time. I started having problems at school, and both my teachers and my mother scolded me.
“You should set an example for your brother! Instead, you’re just being lazy! Stop embarrassing us!” my mother yelled after I got another failing grade.
As Martin grew older, I had to take care of him. I had to take him for walks too. I remember pushing the stroller around the yard, my face red with shame. The other boys laughed at me. But there was nothing I could do about it.
Everything that was the best was bought for Martin. When I asked for something for myself, my stepfather would respond, “There’s no money for that right now.” I dropped Martin off at preschool and picked him up in the afternoon. Then I fed him and started cleaning the house. I was just waiting for my brother to grow up.
When he started school, my mother said I had to help him with his homework. Martin was spoiled and demanding. No matter how hard I tried, he wasn’t a good student. When I scolded him, he ran to our mother to complain. Of course, she always defended him, and I got in trouble.
Martin was transferred from one school to another, but he couldn’t fit in anywhere. Finally, he was enrolled in a private school where, thanks to money, no one “bothered” him about his grades.
I went to a technical school to become a mechanic. I wasn’t interested in the profession; I just wanted to get away from home.
Later, I started evening studies and found a job. I worked day and night to buy my own apartment. Then I got married.
Martin received an apartment from his father, but he still lives with our parents. He doesn’t want to work, and he rents out the apartment, living off the income.
One time, we all gathered at our parents’ house for New Year’s. Martin’s girlfriend was there too. As I passed by the kitchen, I accidentally overheard a conversation.
“You’re lucky with Damian. He’s hardworking and responsible. Why isn’t Martin like him? I’ve asked him so many times to move in together and start a family, but he just clings to his mother’s apron strings. He has money from renting out the apartment,” Martin’s girlfriend complained.
“Yes, Damian is wonderful,” my wife smiled. “Leave Martin. Don’t waste your time on him. He’ll never make a good husband.”
And indeed, many women had tried to change him, but he didn’t need anyone. He spent entire days lying in front of the TV. My mother couldn’t stand his girlfriends—none of them were good enough for her son.
At that moment, I realized I was proud of myself and happy. Life had been kind to me and rewarded me for all the hardships. Now I have a family, a beautiful wife, a beloved daughter, and my own house, which I earned through hard work.