“Don’t bring your kid. This trip is for real family only.”
My brother snapped about the holiday getaway. He took my $4,200 deposit and quietly removed my child’s name from the booking.
I said, “Got it.”
A week later, he called shaking. “The hotel says the rooms aren’t paid and our cards keep declining. Did you send the money?”
My name is Nathan.
I am 38 years old. And if there is one thing I have learned about family, it is this: the person who gives the most is often the person who gets forgotten the fastest. I work as a business consultant.
I travel for client meetings. I close contracts. I solve problems for companies that pay well.
My income is solid—not rich, but comfortable. Comfortable enough that seven years ago, when my younger brother Jason called me in a panic about his mortgage payment, I wired him the money without asking questions. That wire transfer was supposed to be temporary.
A one-time thing. But it never stopped. Jason is 34.
Four years younger than me, and for as long as I can remember, he has been the favorite. Our parents made that clear in a hundred small ways. When we were kids, Jason got the new bike while I got his hand-me-down.
Jason got the college fund while I worked two jobs to pay tuition. Jason got praised for average grades while my honors barely earned a nod. By the time we were adults, the pattern was set.
Jason was the golden child. I was the dependable backup. The one who would always show up when things got hard.
So when Jason bought a house he could not afford, I became his safety net. When his credit cards maxed out, I paid them down. When his car needed repairs, I covered it.
When his wife wanted a vacation, I funded it. All of it happened quietly. Jason never asked directly.
He would just call and mention how tight things were, how stressed he felt, how much pressure he was under—and I would send the money. I told myself it was what brothers do. That family helps family.
That someday maybe it would balance out. But it never did. Jason never thanked me.
Not really. He would send a quick text. Got it.
Thanks. Sometimes he would not say anything at all. He would just spend the money and move on.
Meanwhile, he posted photos on social media of his beautiful home, his new furniture, his weekend trips. He talked about how hard he worked, how smart his investments were, how well he was doing. Nobody knew the truth.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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