A few years ago, my younger brother, William, asked me to borrow a car indefinitely until he could save up for his own. There are three of us boys in our family. The eldest lives with his sister far away from us, in another city. He has a good job there, two children and a beautiful wife. I am the youngest, and at that time I did not have any personal life. I worked and that was it. My younger brother has a different path in life. He differs from us in his spontaneity and complete lack of responsibility.
When he asked me for my car, I wasn’t entirely happy about the fact that someone else would be driving it, but my parents insisted that I help my brother, and I had no choice but to obey. For a year and a half, William used my car without a pang of conscience. When I sometimes asked him to help me and drive me from point A to point B, William would wave me off with made-up business. One day he called and said that we needed to meet and discuss a few issues regarding my car. He started his speech by saying that the car was already old, it was impossible to save it, it could only be sold.
That was the whole point of our conversation. William said that he didn’t look good in an old car. I was naive enough to think that he would give me back the keys and my girlfriend and I would finally be able to drive my old car. However, William asked me for written permission to sell my car. That way he could invest his money and buy himself a new model. I took the keys, made up some excuse to refuse, and haven’t spoken to my brother since. My parents understand me, but they didn’t say anything to William either… because a few lessons in gratitude would have been nice
