What could ever be worth more than money?
Eleanor and Edward had been married for almost ten years, and they were raising two restless children. Eleanor worked at a local nursery, while Edward spent his days on the production line at the steel plant. Their household was perpetually short of cash; barely a pound of their combined wages survived the mortgage, the car loan, and the endless stream of utility bills.
Eleanor, what about your birthday? Shall we do something? Its a milestone, after all, Edward said, his voice soft but earnest. He wanted her to remember turning thirty. The problem was, there was not a single penny left for a celebration.
What are we supposed to serve the guests? Stale crackers and tap water? she replied, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Dont be so quick to give up, Edward urged. We dont need a lavish banquet. Lets buy a simple cake, some sweets, and have tea. We can invite mum, dad, and a few close relatives. Your brother is coming down from London soon, isnt he?
Yes, Andrew mentioned hed be in town at the end of the month, just for a few days. Im not sure I want to invite him, Eleanor admitted, the thought of his haughty air weighing on her.
Why not? Hes a successful businessman; maybe hell bring a bit of cash. Even if not, having the whole family together would be nice.
She hesitated. The constant grind with the children and the relentless lack of money had drained her spirit.
After a moments thought, Eleanor decided to call the relatives. She set a date for the end of the month and even rang her brother. Andrew had built a construction empire in London and, for years, had lived a solitary life, his days filled with contracts and boardrooms, leaving no room for family ties.
When Andrew first settled in the capital, his fortunes swelled almost overnight. The windfall inflated his ego; he grew proud, even arrogant, sneering at those he deemed poor, unsuccessful. His contempt for his sister and the rest of the family grew, and Eleanor, hurt by his disdain, gradually limited their contact.
Will you come to my birthday? Eleanor asked, halfhopeful, halfdefensive. She knew her mother would never approve of a brother who treated them like charity cases.
Of course Ill be there! Andrew replied, his voice bright over the phone. Where are you planning to celebrate? At a restaurant?
No, well stay home. Just tea and conversation, she said.
Ah, I see, he chuckled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I hadnt considered your financial situation. Ill think about it.
On the appointed day, nearly everyone Eleanor had invited turned up with mugs of tea and modest gifts. But Andrew never appeared. Though he had flown back from London, he never crossed the threshold of his sisters front door.
Your brother expected a restaurant, not a kitchen table. Still, he sent a present through mum, said Margaret, Eleanors mother, handing her a small, neatly wrapped box.
Whats this? Eleanor asked, puzzled.
I have no idea, Margaret replied, disappointed. She had hoped Andrew would have brought something more useful, but the modest parcel only deepened her frustration. Call him and thank him, at least.
When Eleanor opened the box, she found an old, tarnished figurinea strange little statuette that seemed out of place on a modern shelf.
What am I supposed to do with this trinket? she asked, her voice edged with disappointment.
I honestly dont know, Margaret said, her hopes deflating. Just thank him anyway.
Later that evening, as Eleanor tried to ignore the cold stare of the figurine, the phone rang. It was Andrew.
I didnt come because I had more important matters than a tea party, he said briskly.
So the gift was unnecessary then. I would have kept the trinket for myself, she replied, sarcasm barely masking her hurt.
A trinket?! Andrew scoffed. Clearly you dont appreciate value. Its an antique, worth a decent sum. A friend gave it to me, but it didnt fit the décor of my flat, so I passed it on.
And what do you expect me to do with it? Eleanor asked, the sting of his words sharp as a knife.
Put it on a sideboard and admire it. Let it remind you of the money youll never earn, he laughed, then added with a sneer, Dont even think about selling my gift! Photograph it every month and send me a report. I wont let you profit off my generosity!
Eleanors heart pounded. She could not imagine a brother so controlling, but she refused to become his pawn. The next day, Margaret, unwilling to see the siblings clash openly, began quietly taking photos of the statuette and sending them to Andrew, hoping to keep peace.
Months later, the familys situation deteriorated further. Edward lost his job at the plant, and the loan repayments loomed like a storm. Their savings were spent, and the bills were piling up.
Dont worry, Edward tried to reassure her, his voice cracking. Ill find work soon.
Eleanor stared at the figurine, its chipped surface reflecting her desperation. Weve got nothing left to eat. Maybe we should sell it. Its worth a fair amount and could keep us afloat for a while.
But Andrew forbade it
What difference does it make? Do we want to end up on the street? If we dont sell it, we have nowhere to put the money, she snapped.
Edward, though reluctant, agreed. It was, after all, her decision. The antique dealer offered a respectable sum, and with the cash, they cleared the arrears. A weight lifted from their shoulders, and Edward soon secured a new job at a logistics firm.
The relief was shortlived. Margaret stopped sending Andrew the monthly photos. She refused to tell him that the figurine had been sold, inventing excuses for her silence. Andrew, not a fool, sensed something was amiss. On a business trip back to the hometown, he decided to investigate, intending to retrieve what he believed was still his.
He appeared unannounced at Eleanors door.
Hows my little gift? Still sitting on the dresser, bringing you joy? he inquired, a thin smile playing on his lips.
Eleanor swallowed, the sudden presence of her brother throwing her off balance. Its… its with other art lovers now, she confessed, the truth spilling out.
What do you mean? Andrew pressed, confusion flickering in his eyes.
I sold the statuette, she said, each word a hammer. We were buried in debt and had no other choice.
You sold it? After I told you not to! his face flushed a harsh red. Who gave you the right?
You gave me the right when you handed it over through mum, she retorted, anger rising.
No! I said it should stay here! he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.
Stop this nonsense! Eleanors patience snapped. Why would I keep a useless bauble? It sat idly on a shelf while we were starving. If we hadnt sold it, wed be out on the pavement now. Do you understand that?
Its none of my business! he snapped. Sort out your own problems.
So thats it, then? Eleanor snapped back. You never asked for this gift. You wanted to belittle me with a useless trinket, but it did the opposite. I decide what to do with my property. One more word about the sale and Ill kick you out.
Kick me out? Andrew snarled. Ill leave on my own. I knew you were hopeless and would never keep your word! My feet wont be on this floor any longer!
Those were the final words he uttered before storming out, his pride wounded, his plans thwarted. The brother who had once thought himself superior now fled, leaving Eleanor feeling an unexpected lightness. No longer would she dread his condescension or the sight of an expensive relic.
Selling the antique resolved most of their financial woes, and the relief outweighed any lingering family grudges. Margaret was deeply saddened by the rift between her children, yet she loved them both equally and tried to stay out of the conflict. In the end, each sibling went their separate way, carrying their own burdens and hopes.
