Two Blokes Living Off My Back

Author Emily TaylorReading 10 minViews 2

Right, so picture this: Emilys standing bang in the middle of her bedroom, absolutely fuming, hand shaking with rage. Shes clinging onto the evidence she just founda pair of someone elses nylon tights. She only found them a minute ago, stuck right under the bed, and its dead obvious theyre not hers.

Instead of apologising, or even looking the slightest bit guilty, Tom just pulls a face like *shes* the one who brought a random bloke home. Hes sort of hopping from foot to foot, glancing towards the hallway as though hed rather be anywhere else.

Come on, Em, stop having a meltdown. Youre making a mountain out of a molehillagain, Tom complained, rolling his eyes. Its just a guest. My brother, and your brother-in-law, in case youve forgotten. He brought his girlfriend over, big deal. Whats it to you?

Emily wasnt bothered about sharing. It was something else, thougha cold, sticky feeling. Disgust, really. Like stepping in chewing gum in your best shoes.

She could see Toms eyes darting around, searching for a bit of backup from his brother Sam, who, by the looks of things, had been squatting in their flat for the past six months. Fat lot of good he was.

Its my flat, Tom. I dont want strangers here, she said, teeth gritted, barely holding back her anger. And your brothers not exactly welcome either. Buy your own place, let him stay there, hell, let a circus move in. But this one is mine, and I want it empty.

Now it was Toms turn to look stunned, though if you asked Emily, there was nothing surprising about it. It was a long time coming.

Oh, come off it, Tom, lets just go, Sam drawled from the lounge. We’ll find somewhere easier on the nerves. Less hassle, you know what they saygood riddance and all that.

If Sam was the starting pistol, Tom was the runner. He made a big show of pulling his duffel bag from the wardrobe and chucking his things inT-shirts, jeans, his phone charger, all in a heap.

Youll regret this, Emily, he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes. Who else is going to want you?

The door slammed behind them so hard, the glassware in Emilys old cabinet rattled.

And suddenly, Emily was left standing alone, quiet echoing round the flat. She slumped onto her bed, still gripping that stupid nylon tight. How had it come to this? When did her cosy two-bed that shed inherited from her gran begin to feel more like a doss house than a home?

It all started two years ago when she met Tom. They were utter opposites. She was shy, introverted, struggled to even order a coffee without rehearsing. Meanwhile, Tom was loud and lively, chatting everyone up, always doing a hundred things at once. Even though they were both students, he was already moonlighting as a minicab driver, would bring Emily chocolate, quote her poetry, even take her out for a meal now and then. To bookish and reserved Emily, it was all pretty magical.

Tom moved in with her ridiculously quicklyliterally two months after they started dating.

Cant bear to be apart from you, sweetheart, hed whisper, wrapping her in a hug. Want to wake up next to you every morning.

Emily just melted. Only, six months later, she found out the real reason: Tom had got kicked out of his bedsit for being too noisy. He just needed somewhere to crash. She brushed it off, telling herself, Everyone has tough times. Just a coincidence.

Their quiet little bubble ticked along. Emily did her lectures in the morning, tutored kids after work to pay the bills, filled the fridge. Tom did chip in here and there.

And thenenter Sam, Toms brother.

Didnt you say your brothers coming up to go to uni? Emily asked once. Maybe we should invite him to stay for a bit. Its family, after all

She had no idea what shed signed up for. Sam came over, then started coming round every other day, then every evening, and then never left. Emily, brought up to be the perfect hostess, kept cooking for them, cleaning, washing their clotheseverything, on her own. Sams plans for uni? Forgotten. He just sprawled on the sofa, binge-watching TV and going out with new mates each night.

Sam, what happened to your course? Dont you get a place in halls? Emily asked, about three months into this disaster.

Didnt get the grades, he replied casually. Ill try again next year.

Emilys stomach sank. Sam had no intention of moving out. Why would he? He had the entire living room, free food, someone to pick up after himhis life was a breeze.

Then, just to top things off, Tom quit his job at a local supermarket, claiming, The managers a complete muppet. Loads of pressure, rubbish pay. Dont worry, EmIll pick up some cab shifts and look for something better.

Weeks went by. Tom maybe worked a shift every week if that. Now there were two of them loafing on Emilys sofa all day. Both eating her out of house and home.

The money situation was getting tight. Groceries vanished in hours. A pan of shepherds pie meant to last two days was gone in one sitting. The bills were only going up. Sam and Tom did absolutely nothing to help.

Emilyd come home knackered, only to be met with piles of unwashed dishes. Clothes dumped in the bathroom, dust bunnies rolling into corners.

The first time she tried to bring this up, Tom stared at her like she was mad.

Whats your problem, Em? Its only dinner for my brother, hes having a rough time, adjusting to London life. Be a bit softer, youre a womanits your job to help.

Every time she spoke up, she was made out to be some sort of stingy shrew, begrudging them a meal. So she bit her tongue and got on with it, desperate not to rock the boat. She kept telling herself, Itll blow over. Everyone goes through rough patches.

But when she came home one day and saw an open bottle of cheap wine on the table, three glasses, she knew something was up. And when she found those tights? That was it. Shed had enough.

That first night in the empty flat felt weird. The silence weighed on her a bit, strangely oppressive. She half missed Sams snoring, the TV muttering away in the lounge, Toms slippers squeaking around in the kitchen.

But by morning, that fear of being alone shifted into relief. The cheese shed bought the day before was still in the fridge. The juice cartonfull. The milk, untouched. No one had left grubby plates and a dirty knife on the kitchen table. For the first time in over a year, she truly felt like the queen of her own castle.

Loneliness kicked in hard that first evening though, so she headed over to her mate Sophies place to let it all out.

Honestly, Em youre such a soft touch, Sophie said with a wry grin. Those two are probably chatting up some other sucker right nowmaybe that same lass who was round yours. And lets be real, who brought her? Could easily have been Tom, not Sam. Either way, youre better off. At least now youre not stuck housing a pair of freeloaders.

Back home, Emily gave the flat a proper top-to-bottom clean. Binned all their old junkcrumpled socks, sweet wrappers, empty fag packets anything that reminded her of the squatters. She even got rid of their silly presents. Changed the bedsheets and scrubbed the floors until she could finally breathe again.

At the end of the month, she did her accounts and was shocked to find she could actually save a bit for emergencies. Whod have thought?

A year and a half later

Emily wasnt the same girl anymore. Shed landed a job at a private school, mastered saying no, and stopped bending over backwards for everyone. Shed even met someoneSimon, an engineer, five years older, with his own flat (mortgaged, but still). She didnt rush into moving in, though. She waited six months, took her time. When they finally decided to live together, it was at her placecloser to town. Simon started renting his flat out to pay the mortgage down a bit quicker.

All was well until one evening, Simon set his phone aside and said:

Em, just talked to Mum She needs to come up for some hospital appointments. You know what GPs are like in the countryside. Shell need to stay for a week or maybe two. Is that all right with you?

Emilys stomach turned cold. She had a flashback of Sam sprawled out on her sofa, snoring, feeling like a stranger in her own home again. Nerves kicked in.

She locked eyes with Simon. He was waiting for an answer. And here it was, a sort of crossroadsshould she just go along with whatever, play nice, put her own needs last?

She took a slow, steadying breath.

Simon, she started, as calmly as she could manage, I really like your mum, I do, but Ive got one big rule. No overnight guests. Not from my family, not yours. This is our homeour little safe haven. No exceptions. Sorry if that sounds weird but thats how it is.

Silence. Inside, Emily braced herselfready for a fight, tears, slammed doors. Ready to defend her space, if needed.

But Simon just raised his eyebrows in surprise, then nodded slowly.

Yeah, thats absolutely fine, he said, picking his phone back up. Makes sense, really. She can always stay at my flat or I can find her a place closer to the hospital. No drama, no one stepping on each others toes.

Emily blinked, hardly believing her luck.

Youre not upset?

He set his phone down, crossed the room, and wrapped her in a hug.

Not at all. Everyone has their boundariesthats normal! Theres always another solution.

Emily grinned into his shoulder. Shed learned not just to say noshed finally found someone who didnt make her feel guilty for standing her ground. From now on, her doorsboth to her home and her heartwould only be open to people who knew how to wipe their feet before coming in.

Natalie, You’ve Been Gone Five Years—You Never Cared How I Was or What Became of Me Natalie and Ben had lived together for over five years. Ben never earned a fortune; his wages were modest, as he worked a regular labourer’s job. Natalie always dreamed of a life of luxury—preferably wealth—so she was thrilled whenever she met men more prosperous than her husband. One day, Natalie’s luck seemed to change: she caught the eye of a wealthy businessman who promised her the world. Swayed by his offers, she left her poor husband behind, eager to begin a glamorous new chapter. Ben was shattered by his wife’s betrayal. He pleaded with her desperately, promising to change—he’d earn more money, quit his job, work day and night, do anything to make her happy. But Natalie was unmoved. She dreamed of sailing on white yachts and shopping in London’s most exclusive boutiques—things her poor husband could never provide. No promises or declarations of eternal love could change her mind. Five years later, as Natalie turned thirty-two, her rich suitor lost interest—there were always younger, more enticing women at his side. He told her she was too demanding and argumentative and finally abandoned her. Penniless in the capital, unaccustomed to working or fending for herself, Natalie decided to go back to her ex-husband. She believed that, since he’d sworn eternal love, he must still be waiting for her. Approaching their old flat, Natalie saw the door open to a stranger—a woman holding a small girl. “Sweetheart, we’ve talked about not answering the door alone,” the woman said to the child. “Who are you looking for?” she asked Natalie. Stunned, Natalie hesitated. “I’m looking for Ben. Is he in?” she managed. “Ben, there’s a woman here asking for you! What’s your name?” the stranger called out, then looked at the guest. “Natalie!” Ben exclaimed, surprised, before turning to his wife. “Love, go inside, I need to talk.” “Who was that?” Natalie asked, watching the woman and child go. “That’s my wife, Olivia, and the little one is my daughter, Maisie,” Ben replied. “You remarried? And have a daughter? You promised me everlasting love, said you’d never love anyone like you loved me!” “It’s been years! I was heartbroken at first, but I realised life didn’t end when you left. Then I met Olivia and fell for her completely. She made me happy. She gave me a daughter.” “And what about me?” “Natalie, you’ve been gone for five years and never cared how I was or what became of me. You left for a wealthier man and a lavish life. Maybe we were never rich, but that doesn’t excuse what you did. Now you’re back—did you expect me to just wait here for you all this time? “I was foolish! I love you!” “Natalie, stop this charade. Please go—I don’t want you here. Your rich boyfriend ditched you so now you’re running back to me? It makes me sick. Please just go.” Natalie broke down in tears, hurt that no one wanted her, while Ben felt satisfied that he had finally moved on and found his own happiness at last.

Go Away and Never Come Back — Go, Do You Hear Me? Go and Never Return! Never. With trembling hands, Michael unclipped the heavy metal chain, dragged Berta to the garden gate and, flinging it wide open, tried to push her out onto the road. But she didn’t understand what was happening. Was she really being thrown out? But why? She hadn’t done anything wrong… “Go, please, I’m begging you,” Michael repeated as he hugged the dog tight. “You can’t stay here. He’ll be back any minute and…” Just then, the front door slammed open, and a drunken Victor staggered out onto the porch with an axe in his hand. ***** If people could imagine, even for a moment, how harsh life is for the dogs abandoned to the streets through no fault of their own, perhaps they would look at them with sympathy and compassion, not resentment or disdain, as so often happens. But how can we know what our four-legged friends go through, what trials they must face? How can we possibly understand? Dogs cannot tell us their stories. They cannot complain about their fate. All their pain, they carry in silence. But I will tell you one story—one of love, betrayal and loyalty… And my story begins with Berta, who was unwanted from her very first days. No one really knows what it was about her that displeased her first owner. Maybe just for being born. And he could think of nothing better than to take the then two-month-old puppy to the nearest village and… just leave her by the roadside. Yes, just abandon her—not even in the village where someone might have taken her in, but right on the edge of the road. He drove away with a clear conscience, leaving her in harm’s way, where cars, buses, lorries sped past at terrifying speeds—a single misstep and that was it. Perhaps that’s what he hoped would happen. If not, what chance did she have to survive alone, hungry and thirsty? She was only a baby. But that day luck was on her side. That day, the nameless little pup met Michael. And thanks to him, she lived. It happened on the very day Michael was given a brand new bike for his fourteenth birthday. He couldn’t wait to take it for a spin. “Don’t ride out of the village!” called out his mother, Annie, as Michael cycled off, excitement in his legs. “Alright, Mum! Everything will be fine!” chirped Michael as he whisked away. But of course, he left the village. The roads in the village were full of potholes—awful to ride on, and hard to walk, especially at night. Just a month ago, the city road had been freshly paved, and Michael wanted to feel the wind in his hair. There weren’t many cars out on a weekend morning. So, as he neared the road and prepared to turn back, he noticed a tiny pup running frantically at the roadside—darting toward passing cars, then jumping back just in time. Horrified, Michael pulled over, gently placed his bike in the grass, and approached the trembling puppy. ***** “Mum, Dad, look who I found!” beamed Michael as he entered the house. “Someone dumped her by the road. Can we keep her? Please?” “Michael, did you leave the village? I told you not to!” Annie exclaimed. “Sorry, Mum… I just wanted to ride to the road and back. And look—I didn’t go for nothing. If I hadn’t picked up this pup, she might have died!” “What about you?” sighed Annie. “You could’ve been hit, too. Roads are no place for children.” “I won’t do it again, I promise. But what about the puppy? Can we keep her? Please? It’s my birthday, after all.” “It is your birthday, isn’t it?” Annie shook her head. Michael clutched the puppy tightly, afraid she’d be taken back out to the roadside. “Annie, stop scolding the boy,” Michael’s dad, Victor, interrupted, his mood bright from a few celebratory drinks. “He’s fourteen now. And look, he picked up a fine pup—not a scraggy mutt but a proper one. She’ll look after the yard. Let him keep her. I’ve no problem.” “Well, if Dad says yes, then I do, too,” Annie smiled at her son. “Thank you! You’re the best parents in the world!” Michael was overjoyed. That very day he named the puppy—Berta. At first, he thought she was a boy, but he quickly realised she was a girl—a good girl: kind, gentle, and instantly attached to Michael. The bike was forgotten. From then on, Michael spent every hour with his fluffy four-legged friend. Life at last seemed perfect—Berta safe from death, Michael finally with the dog he’d always dreamed of. His parents were happy to see their son so happy, too. Fairy tale ending? If only. Trouble came—six months later. It started when Victor lost his job and began drinking heavily, spending all the family savings. No pleas or tears from Annie could sway him; they only made him angrier, more cruel, especially with vodka in his blood. He even began hitting Annie, for any or no reason at all. And Annie strictly forbade Michael from interfering. “You could get hurt too,” she would say. “Better not try your luck.” During arguments, Michael escaped to Berta, stroking her, watching the house as his parents fought. Berta would gently lick Michael’s salty cheeks. Once Victor caught Michael playing with Berta and, without provocation, gave him a series of rough cuffs round the head. Michael tried to hold back the tears, tried to break free, but Victor’s grip was fierce. Suddenly, mild, gentle Berta barked fiercely at Victor—so fiercely he froze. Michael seized his chance and pulled away. But Victor stormed into the house, slurring threats of violence. Michael knew he would be back—with something heavy. What could he do? “Go, do you hear me?” Michael whispered, tears flowing. “Go, and don’t come back! Never.” His hands trembled as he undid Berta’s chain, tugged her to the gate, and tried to push her out. She didn’t understand—was this really goodbye? “Please, you must go,” Michael repeated, hugging her close. “It’s not safe here. Dad will be back and…” At that moment, the door crashed open and Victor, axe in hand, staggered onto the porch. “Michael!” came his father’s enraged roar. “Why did you let the dog go?” “Dad, please, don’t—” Michael stammered, backing away. He wanted to run, but couldn’t leave his mother inside with the madman. “Don’t touch the dog, Dad. Just go sleep it off. You’re not yourself—” “Oh, I’ll show you, you insolent whelp! I’ll deal with that mangy mutt and then teach you some respect!” Victor lurched forward, losing his footing but clinging to the rail, lumbering down the steps. “Hurry!” Michael turned to Berta, looked her in the eyes, kissed her black nose, and with a desperate shove, sent her out into the road. “Run! Run and forgive us… forgive us, Berta. I never wanted this.” Fury twisted Victor’s face as he realised Michael was letting the dog go. Berta looked at Michael one last time before bolting towards the woods—her only chance of survival. “Don’t come back, Berta, or he’ll kill you!” Michael yelled after her. What happened next, Berta never saw. She could only hope her beloved friend and his mother would be safe. ***** Seven years passed—a lifetime for a dog. Seven years Berta waited for a miracle, hoping to see Michael again, but each year hope faded as she never found Michael or Annie. Returning to her old home after six months, she found only a charred ruin of a house. No Michael, no Annie, certainly no Victor. She came back a few times, but always alone. Eventually, Berta wandered from village to village, until an old man found her, outside the very forest she once ran into. “Lost, are you?” the grey-haired, bearded man chuckled. “Want to live with me?” And Berta did. She had no other choice. The old man, though partial to drink, was kind. He fed her well and took her to work with him—as a night caretaker at a cemetery. At first, Berta hated the graves, but in time, she grew used to them—and to Nicholas, her lonely companion. When he drank, he didn’t turn cruel, but wept and confided his heartbreak—about the wife who left, the daughter who wanted nothing to do with him. Berta would snuggle by his feet and listen in silence. And when Nicholas fell silent, Berta remembered the happy days with Michael and Annie—and tried to forget Victor for good. One day, Berta came across Victor’s grave. She sniffed it, not believing it—yet the hateful, bitter scent was unmistakable. “You’re stuck there, are you?” Nicholas said, noticing her halted by the grave. “Victor, it says… Must be the one who drank himself to death in his own house after the family left for the city.” Five years Berta stayed at the cemetery, until Nicholas, too, died, leaving her alone once more. She stayed on. Where else could she go? No one would take in an old dog now. She decided she’d wait for the end among the stones. But then, when the first snow fell, the impossible happened. While searching for food, Berta heard voices—by Victor’s grave. A man and a woman. She crept closer—curious who would visit him. “Told you, Ox,” the man said, “it’s pointless coming here. Why should I care about the grave of a father who made life hell for my mum and me? Forgive him? For what?” “You have to, Michael,” said the woman. “Forgive and let go. Otherwise, you’ll never have peace. Your nightmares will go on forever.” “Maybe you’re right…” Michael sighed, looked at the grave and said, “I forgive you, Dad— for Mum, for myself, for Berta… I just wish I hadn’t had to send my best friend away. I hope she’s alright.” All the while, Berta stood behind Michael, scarcely believing it was him—her beloved person. He was grown, a man now, but she knew him instantly. Would Michael know her? He turned, feeling eyes on his back. “Mike, what is it?” Oksana asked. “It’s a dog,” Michael replied. “Silly—there are lots of dogs at the cemetery.” But Michael stared, stepped closer, hesitated—then stepped closer again. Berta wagged her tail and crept forward. Then they both ran—flinging themselves into each other’s embrace. Oksana barely had time to react before Michael was kneeling, hugging the dog he hadn’t seen in seven years, while Berta licked his cheeks, nose and chin in a joyful frenzy. Her greatest dream had come true at last. ***** Of course, Michael brought Berta home. She and Oksana became fast friends, and soon their little family grew. First three of them, then four—when Berta found a tiny kitten and no one could resist taking him in. Then five, when a baby boy named Nick arrived. Later, Michael rebuilt the house in the village, and every year they spent summers there together. Despite all the pain and trials that life brought, both Michael and Berta found happiness.