You know, George, shes your sister, but Im your wife. And I cant bear it anymorehow you take from our own children and give everything to Ellen.
George knew his wife was right, but he couldnt help it. Whenever his sister needed him, he was the first to lend a hand. It had always been that way, ever since they were kids.
“Georgie, pass me that nail,” seven-year-old Ellen called, standing on a stool by the old shed.
“What do you need a nail for?” nine-year-old George asked, wary.
“To build a cat house.”
“Again? Last time I helped you make one, the cat wouldnt even go near it, and you sulked for a week.”
“This time itll workIm lining it with fabric.”
That was how they grew uplike two saplings from the same root. Their mum worked at the factory, and their dad passed young. George, though just a boy, took on the mans role in the house. He learned to fix bikes, change taps, and heat up dinner.
“Georgie, do you think Ill grow up to be an actress?”
“You already are one. Yesterday when you fell, started wailing, then ate jam with a grinthat was proper theatre.”
Time passed. George trained as an electrician, settled in the city, and married Janet.
Ellen went to teachers college, lived in halls, and visited her brother whenever she could.
Janet would only sigh.
“George, your sisters grown. Shouldnt she manage on her own now?”
“Shes not a suitcase I can hand off and forget,” George would say quietly. “Shes my sister.”
After college, Ellen was posted to a village school. She had a single room in a drafty dormitory, an old stove, and a meagre wage. George visited every holiday.
“I told youbuy a heater.”
“Cant afford it. Need books for the kids.”
“I brought one. And a coat.”
“Wont Janet mind?”
“Oh, shell mind. But you wont freeze.”
Once, Ellen called in tears.
“George Im expecting.”
“Well, congratulations Then why the tears?”
“He left. Said he wasnt ready.”
“His loss. Hold on. Im coming.”
“You dont have to”
“Ellen, its not up for debate.”
He arrived the next day with groceries, money, a blanket, and baby clothes.
“Janets furious,” he admitted at the kitchen table.
“I dont want to cause trouble”
“Listen. My wifes a good woman, but she didnt raise me.”
“You realise this isnt just replacing a lost phone. This is serious.”
“Exactly why Im here.”
George stayed for the birth, cradling his nephew like treasure.
“Whatll you name him?”
“Matthew.”
“Good name. Hell grow up protecting you, like I did.”
After that, help came oftenmoney for formula, fixing up her room, a pram. All the while, Janet grew distant.
One evening, she said, “George, I dont mind you helping Ellen. But when it keeps coming from our family budgetthats not support. Thats loss for us.”
“I get that. But I cant stop.”
“And I cant live feeling like your sister always comes first, and we come second.”
George stayed silent. He loved them both equally.
In time, Ellen found her footing. She started a childrens club, earned respect in the village. Matthew grew into a quiet, well-mannered boy.
George visited less, but always brought something.
“Matt, look what Uncles got youa building set!”
“Mum says you and Aunt Janet are older now, that its hard for you, so we shouldnt take too much.”
“Well, Im not as old as your mum thinks.”
At fifty, George fell seriously ill. Ellen came to the city with jam jars, homemade pies, and her son.
“Janet, shall I tidy up? Georges desk is always a mess,” Ellen smiled.
“Go ahead. And heat the pies. He wont eat anything without you here.”
“Thats not true!” George grumbled from the sofa.
“Course its not. Youve just lost half a stone this week”
They laughed like kids again. And for the first time, Janet looked at Ellen not with jealousy, but understanding.
“You know,” she said softly as Ellen went to the kitchen, “you were right. Shes good. I just thought you were choosing between us.”
“I never had to choose. Theres room in my heart for you both.”
A year later, Janet and George welcomed a granddaughter.
Matthew went to uni. Ellen stayed a village teacher, calling her brother every Sunday.
“How are you?”
“Not bad. Janets knitting, Im watching telly. You?”
“Matts home for break. Weve been mushroom picking.”
“Glad he turned out honest and kind.”
“Because he had you to look up to.”
In their old age, sitting together on the porch, Ellen said, “You know, George, I think God gave me you as a brother for a reason. Id never have managed without you.”
“And Id be a different man without you. Youve always been theresince we were kids till now. Thats not just helping. Thats family.”
