Darling, weve decided to sell your car; your brothers in trouble and youll have to walk, the parents never imagined how the daughter would answer.
Emily stood by the window of her flat, watching the rain turn an October evening into a watercolor blur. Thirty was an age when miracles no longer seemed likely, yet she still remembered how they ought to feel. She worked for a consultancy, earned a respectable salary, and rented a spacious flat in a decent neighbourhood. Life was predictable and calm.
A vibration behind her startled her; it was her mothers number. Emily sighed, lowered the television volume, and picked up.
Em, love, her mothers voice trembled, are you home?
Yes, Mum. Whats wrong?
Your father and I are on our way to you. We need to talk.
Emily felt her stomach tighten. When they said talk, it always meant fresh problems with Tom. Her younger brother, twentyfive, seemed to collect misfortunes as a hobby.
Half an hour later they were seated at her kitchen table. Her father stared at his hands, her mother fidgeted with the strap of her handbag.
Do you know about Tom? her mother began.
What about him? Emily tried not to fill in the blanks for them.
He hes gotten himself into a mess. Remember the money we gave him from selling the cottage? He bought a motorbike
Mum, weve already discussed that. I warned you that the cash should have gone into a savings account, not straight to Tom.
He promised! a childlike note crept into her mothers voice. He said hed rent a flat, marry Lucy
Instead he blew the cash in pubs, Lucy left him, and he bought the bike to heal his wounded soul, Emily continued. Got it?
Her father finally lifted his gaze.
He crashed into a car in the car park. An expensive car. A Jaguar.
No insurance?
No, her mother replied softly. You know he always thinks nothing will ever catch up with him.
Emily poured herself a cup of tea, trying not to show irritation. Tom always believed he was untouchable because his parents always bailed him out.
How much?
Three hundred thousand pounds, her mother exhaled. The owner of the car is willing to let them pay in instalments, but they must hand over half immediately or hell involve bailiffs.
Emily nodded. Everything made sense. Now the real drama would begin.
Emily, love, her mother grasped her hand, weve decided to sell your car.
My car?
Technically its in Dads name, her mother added hastily. We gave it to you when we sold the cottage. But now Toms in trouble and youll be on foot. Youre still young, still healthy.
Emily gently withdrew her hand.
I dont agree.
Darling, its family, her mother raised her voice. Tom is your brother! Hes tormented, sleepless, has lost weight!
Mum, has he even tried to work? Or at least gone to the job centre?
Em, what job could he find in a week? her mother looked at her, bewildered. He cant earn that much instantly!
But I could lose the car in a week?
Her father finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm.
Emily, weve already decided. Your opinion doesnt matter now. The car is in my name; I can sell it whenever I wish. I dont want to argue, but theres no other choice.
Emily stared at her father. He had taught her to ride a bike, read bedtime stories, and boasted about her university success. Now he calmly declared that her view was irrelevant.
Dad, she said slowly, choosing her words, what will happen next time Tom lands in trouble again?
There wont be a next time, her mother answered briskly. He promised hed stop betting on sport, hed
Mum, hes made that promise five times already.
Emily, stop! her mother began to sob. Hes your brother! How can you be so cruel?
Emily rose and moved to the window. The rain intensified. She thought of the time six months earlier when Tom begged her for essential money and she handed him twenty thousand pounds. He later spent it on new trainers and a night out with mates.
You know what, she turned to her parents, I have news. I transferred the car into my name a month ago.
Silence fell. Her mother stopped crying, her father lifted his eyes.
How?
Simple. I had a power of attorney from Dad when we sold the cottage. I forged a deed of gift and reregistered the car in my name. I knew sooner or later it would have to be sold for Toms sake.
You you forged documents? her father stared, astonished.
I did. And you know what? I dont regret it. Im tired of rescuing my brother from the fallout of his actions.
Her mother clutched her chest.
Emily, how could you! Were family!
Thats exactly why I did it, Emily sat back down. Mum, Dad, you dont help Tom. Youre turning him into a cripple. At twentyfive he cant solve a single problem on his own because he knows youll always find a way.
But hell disappear! her mother shouted. Hell be arrested!
He wont be jailed for debt. At most theyll ban him from travelling abroad, and he never goes anywhere anyway. At least hell finally see that actions have consequences.
Her father remained silent, staring at the table. Emily saw the battle raging inside him.
Emily, he finally whispered, please, sell the car. Well buy you a new one later.
When later? When Tom gets into trouble again?
He wont.
He will, Dad. He doesnt know how to live any other way. And you cant say no to him.
Darling, her mother took her hands, what are you doing? Hes your brother!
Thats why I wont give him money. Look at him: twentyfive, living at home, unemployed, gambling away the last of his cash. You dont see it.
He just he just hasnt found himself yet, her mother said, uncertain.
At twentyfive he should be looking. Or at least starting to look.
The parents left, achieving nothing. Emily stayed alone, sipping lukewarm tea. The phone was silent they must have gone to Tom to deliver the bad news.
An hour later Tom called.
Emily, are you out of your mind? his voice trembled with anger. Do you know what youre doing?
I understand, Tom. For the first time in ages I really understand.
They might lock me up!
They wont. Debt isnt a prison sentence.
Emily, please! he began to sob. This man is serious! Its money! Where will I get it?
Where everyone gets money. From a job.
What job? Who needs me?
Tom, you can drive, you can talk to people. You have hands, a head. Youll find something.
In a week?
Maybe. Or maybe youll negotiate a longer instalment plan with the car owner. Grownups usually bend when they see someone trying.
Emily, his voice softened, why are you so angry? This could happen to anyone!
Not to anyone. Only to the irresponsible, who never learned to drive properly and cant even think of buying insurance!
He hung up.
The following months were hard. The parents barely called. When Emily visited, the house was pervaded by a heavy atmosphere. Her mother sighed dramatically, her father remained mute. Toms absence lingered in every conversation.
From fragments Emily gathered that Tom was indeed looking for work. He tried simple gigs first: courier, driver, labourer. Then he landed a job at an auto workshop washing cars and handing tools. The pay was modest, but it was work.
Strangely enough, the owner of the wrecked Lexus turned out to be a generous man. Upon learning Tom was actually employed, he agreed to a payment plan. Tom moved into a flat he shared with two other lads. The parents helped with the deposit but refused any more cash Emily had insisted on that.
Mum, if you give him money hell quit straight away, she said during one of the rare visits. He needs to learn to rely on himself.
But he only eats a single bowl of porridge, her mother complained. Hes gaunt, pale.
Then hell find a better job. Or a side gig.
And indeed, after a few months Tom picked up a side hustle. In the evenings he dismantled old cars for parts; on weekends he helped acquaintances with minor repairs. He discovered a knack for mechanics his hands grew strong, his mind quickened to understand new systems.
Emily learned of this in snippets from her parents, who gradually thawed. Her mother still called her harsh, but her father occasionally spoke with quiet pride about how Tom had fixed the neighbours car or helped a friend with wiring.
About a year after that kitchen confrontation, there was a knock at Emilys door. She opened it to find Tom, holding a bouquet of flowers, sunkissed and tanned.
Hello, he said. May I come in?
Emily stepped aside. Tom entered, set the flowers on the countertop, and sat in the same chair where her father had sat a year before.
Beautiful flowers, Emily remarked. Chrysanthemums.
Thanks, he murmured, examining his hands. They were now the hands of a worker calloused, scarred, dust under the nails. Im here to thank you.
For what?
For not giving me the money.
Emily settled opposite him.
Tell me.
I opened my own garage. Small, in a shed, but its mine. I repair cars, sell parts. I earn enough now. I even repaid that guy who held the Jaguar.
Congratulations.
You know, Tom lifted his eyes, I hated you then. I thought you were greedy and cruel. I didnt understand why you wouldnt help your brother.
And now?
Now I get it. If youd handed me cash, Id have stayed at home waiting for you to solve everything. Instead I had to grow up.
Emily nodded.
Was it hard?
You cant imagine how hard, Tom confessed. The first months I thought about quitting every day. Working for pennies, living with strangers, skimping on food Then I got hooked. I realised I liked working with my hands, fixing things, understanding how they work.
Did your parents stop looking after you?
Mum now tells everyone, My son is an entrepreneur. Tom smiled. Dad sometimes drops by the garage, helps out. He says hes proud.
They sat in silence, watching each other. Tom looked older than his twentysix years, in a good way. Confidence steadied his movements, calm lingered in his gaze.
Emily, he finally said, I know I dont deserve forgiveness. Ive been a burden for years
Tom, Emily interrupted, you werent a burden. You were a spoiled kid. Those are different things.
Maybe. But Im not a kid any more.
Not a kid.
Tom rose and moved to the window, the same rainsoaked autumn night, only a year later.
You know whats strangest? he said without turning. Im happier now. Sure, I have more money, more responsibilities, but Im happier. When you earn your own money, you spend it differently. When you solve your own problems, they no longer feel insurmountable.
I understand. When youre in charge of your own life, the obstacles shrink.
Yes. And Ive met someone. Kate. She works at a bank, very proper. Were thinking of moving in together.
Good for you.
Thanks. He faced her. Emily, can I still drop by sometimes? Just to talk. I miss you.
Of course.
They embraced, tight and genuine, like the childhood hugs before cars, debts, and grudges entered the picture.
By the way, Ive got a car now, Tom added, stepping back. A battered Toyota I repaired myself. Runs like new.
Well done.
All thanks to you, for not letting me stay a child forever.
After Tom left, Emily lingered at the kitchen table, staring at the chrysanthemums. They were truly beautiful golden, fluffy, scented with an autumn sharpness.
She thought about how love for family can make us hurt them, how hard it is to say no when asked for help, and how sometimes a firm no forces someone to say yes to themselves.
Outside the rain continued, but now it felt cleansing rather than bleak, washing away old grudges, old fears, childhood fantasies, making space for something new, grown, real.
Emily placed the flowers in a vase, switched on the kettle. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight she was simply grateful to have a brother a real, adult brother who now knew how to solve his own problems and give flowers.
