Two Blokes on Her Shoulders
Right! Choose: its either me, or your brother and his parade of lasses! Youve got a nerve, you really have. First you palm off your family onto me, and now you bring in all sorts of strange women? Youve got it all sussed out, havent you?
Helen stood in the middle of the bedroom, and her hands were shaking. Disgusted, she clutched the offending clue shed just discovereda stocking that was certainly not hers, pinched from under the bed only moments before.
William, instead of apologising or even acting remotely sorry, twisted his face as if Helen were the one whod brought another man home. He fidgeted restlessly, glancing sideways through the doorway as if keen to be anywhere else.
Helen, honestly, stop making a mountain out of a molehill, William grumbled. Its my brother, for goodness sake. He brought a girl over just once. Whats the harm?
Helen wasnt bothered about being generous; what she felt was something elsecold, sticky revulsion. Like shed stepped in something nasty in her best shoes.
She watched Williams eyes dart around, seeking silent support from the brother whod effectively moved in and made their flat his own these past six months. Tom, it seemed, couldnt have cared less.
This is my flat, and I dont want strangers in it, Helen said, her voice barely controlled. Your brother included. Buy your own place and let anyone you please live there, even an elephant, but Id like my home back, thanks.
Now it was Williams turn to look shocked, though Helen thought he had no reason to be. It was the obvious consequence, thats all.
Oh, Will, lets just go, Tom drawled from the living room. Well find somewhere easier, without all the hassle. You know what they saygood riddance to bad rubbish.
William, as if on cue, yanked his sports bag out of the wardrobe loudly and started flinging his things into itT-shirts, jeans, charger, underwear.
Youll regret this, Helen, he muttered, not meeting her eye. Who else is going to want you, except me…?
When they left, the door slammed so hard the crystal in the sideboard seemed to rattle.
Helen was left alone, the sudden silence ringing in her ears. She sat on the bed, still clutching that wretched nylon stocking. How had it come to this? At what moment had her cosy two-bed, inherited from her gran, turned into a cheap boarding house?
…Helen had met William two years earlier. They couldnt have been more different. She was quiet and shy, always feeling awkward in company; he was loud, charismatic, and constantly in motion. Though they were both students, he was already working odd taxi shifts and genuinely doted on Helen: brought her chocolates, read her poetry, even treated her to the odd meal out. For Helen, whod always played by the rules, it was heady, swooning romance.
Williams suggestion they move in together came suspiciously quicklya matter of months.
I just cant be without you, sweetheart, he whispered, holding her tight. Cant fall asleep or wake up without you.
Helen melted. Only six months later did she accidentally learn the real reason: hed been chucked out of his rented room for being too rowdy. Hed only needed somewhere else to go. But Helen told herself, Everyone goes through rough patches. Just bad timing, thats all.
They lived quietly in their little world, not lavishly, but content enough. In the mornings, Helen rushed to lectures, then in the evenings tutored to keep food in the fridge. William chipped in towards the bills too.
But after two years, their twos company became threes a crowd.
William, didnt you say your brother was coming to start university? Why not invite him for tea? He is your brother, after all… Helen suggested, still eager to be hospitable.
She couldnt have guessed how much Tom would take to their place. At first hed visit every few days, then every evening, then he simply never left. Helen, used to being a good host, cooked for them all, cleaned up after two grown men, washed their things all by herself, of course. To her, thats what a good home was about.
She didnt know Tom had forgotten all about university.
Tom, arent you meant to be at uni? she asked three months in. Didnt they offer you halls or anything?
I didnt get in, Tom replied flatly. Didnt make the grades. Ill try again next year.
Helen stared at him, horrified. She guessed then that Tom had no plans of ever moving out. Why would he? He had the run of the living room, meals cooked, everything done for him. All he had to do was sleep till noon, scroll through his phone and meet up with mates in the evening.
Then things got worse. William suddenly quit his job at the shop where hed worked for the last year.
Managers a muppet, he sniffed. Expecting the world and paying peanuts. Dont worry, Ill drive my cab for a bit and see what comes up.
His job search, predictably, went nowhere. Hed barely take a shift a week. Now, Helen had two fully grown men lazing on her sofa all day, both sponging off her.
Making her pay packet last became a juggling act. Shopping vanished in a blink. The pan of meatballs meant for two days was gone in one evening. Utility bills soared. Tom and William acted as if it had nothing to do with them.
Helen would stagger home exhausted, only to find a mountain of crusty dishes and dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, balls of dust in the corners.
The first time she tried to complain, William looked at her, genuinely baffled.
Helen, whats got into you? Cant spare a bowl of soup for him? Hes had a rough time, learning to cope in London. Try to be a bit softer, youre a woman after all.
Every time, Helen was cast as the stingy nag, moaning about food. So she gritted her teeth, cooked for them again, cleaned the toilet after them, and stayed silent, desperately clinging to the brittle peace. She felt sure this was what everyone dideveryone went through hard times.
But then she came home one day to a half-finished bottle of cheap plonk and three glasses. And when she found the strange stocking, her patience snapped.
That first night alone in the flat was uneasyoddly, the silence was oppressive. She missed Toms snoring in the lounge, the tellys endless drone, William clattering around the kitchen.
But in the morning, her loneliness gave way to relief. Helen opened the fridge. The cheese was where shed left it. The juice carton was still full. No one had drunk milk from the bottle. Nobody left crumbs and a grubby knife out on the table. Finally, she was mistress of her own home again.
By evening, though, the sadness descended in force. She went to see her friend Sophie, desperate to talk.
You silly thing, Helen, Sophie said kindly. Those two are probably pulling the same trick on some other girl already. Might even be the same girl who visited. And lets face it, you dont know it wasnt William who brought her home.
You think William was cheating?
Does it matter now? They both took full advantage of you. Be grateful some daft girl left that stockingit showed you the truth. Otherwise, youd still be bankrolling two layabouts.
When Helen got home, she didnt just cleanshe purged her life. Out went their left-behind socks, chocolate wrappers, empty fag packetsanything that stank of the circus was thrown out. Even their presents. Helen changed the sheets, scrubbed everything with bleach, and only then began to feel at peace.
At the end of the month, reviewing her finances, Helen found she could actually start saving for a rainy day.
A year and a half passed…
Helen had changed. She took a job at a private school, learned to say no, and stopped trying to please everyone. She even met someone newPeter, an engineer five years older, with his own (albeit mortgaged) flat.
She didnt rush things. It took her six months to agree they could live together. They chose Helens place, since it was nearer the city centre, and Peter rented out his own to speed up paying off the mortgage.
Everything ticked along nicely, until one evening Peter put down his phone.
Helen, Mums called… She needs some medical tests. No chance of that out in the village. Shell need to stay here for a week, maybe two. What do you think about that?
Helens stomach turned cold. Memories flashedTom lounging around, snoring, feeling a stranger in her own home. Her heart thudded anxiously.
She looked at Peter. He waited for her answer, as if this would decide their future. Should she stay quiet? Suffer in silence for love? Go back to being the people-pleaser?
Helen took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Peter, she said as evenly as she could, I really respect your mum, but… I have one firm rule. No overnight guests in my homeeither side. Our place is our fortress. Thats just how I am. No hard feelings, I hope?
Silence fell. Helen braced herself for accusations of selfishness, an argument, or a slammed door. She readied herself to defend her boundaries.
But Peter merely raised his eyebrows, then nodded.
Thats absolutely fine, he said, returning to his phone. Makes sense. No need to crowd in, when the other flats free. If needs be, Ill get Mum a place near the hospital so shes comfortable and weve all got space.
Helen froze, astonished. She let out a noisy sigh of relief.
Youre really not upset?
Peter looked at her, put his phone aside, came over, and hugged her.
Why would I be? Everyone has their own preferences. Theres always a way to make things work for both people.
Helen smiled and buried her face in Peters shoulder. She hadnt just learnt to say noshed found someone for whom her no was not grounds for war. From now on, the doors to her home and heart would only open for those who knew how to wipe their feet before coming in.
Life sometimes teaches us the hardest lesson: you cant be everyones yes person and not wind up trampled. The stronger your boundaries, the more room you have for genuine love and respect.
