When Jeremy and his wife, Nina, get home from a vacation, they are horrified to find Ted, Jeremy’s slob of a brother, in their home.
After a confrontation which leads to angry parents and Nina moving out, Jeremy forces Ted’s hand, making him move out…
When I came home from vacation, I was expecting to relax, maybe pop open a bottle of wine with my wife, and enjoy the peace of our home.
Instead, we walked into a living room that looked like a complete frat house after a party from Hell.
There were beer cans everywhere, dirty clothes tossed in random piles, and the smell, my goodness, the smell.
And there, sprawled out on my couch like he owned the place, was my older brother, Theodore, or Ted, as everyone called him.
“Ted, what the hell? What is this? Why are you in my house?” I asked, trying to stay calm, though my blood pressure was rising by the second.
Nina, my wife, looked around our living room and rolled her eyes.
In that moment, I knew that I had to fix it or I’d have to deal with a very upset wife.
My brother looked up, casually, like I hadn’t just caught him red-handed.
“Oh, hey, Jeremy,” he said. “Mom and Dad figured that it would be easier if I just moved in while you were gone. You’ve got all this space, and it’s not like you’re using it, you know?
You and Nina are either working or on vacation.”
I blinked, trying to process the audacity of his words.
“You moved in? You moved into my house? Without asking?
Ted, are you insane?”
He rolled his eyes, lifting his feet onto the couch and crossing them like he was about to watch a movie.
“Yeah, so what?” he said. “I needed a place to stay, and it’s not like you’d say yes. So, we decided to skip that part.
Quit being so uptight, Jeremy. Just help a brother out.”
It was like a switch flipped inside me, the years of watching him leech off my parents, his life one big excuse after another, and somehow, he was the victim here.
Now, he’d taken over my house. Really?
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, my phone rang.
Mom. Of course.
I answered, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
“Mom, did you and Dad seriously let Theodore move into my house while I was away?”
“Why are you using my full name?” Ted chimed in from the background.
I ignored him.
“Jeremy, don’t be so dramatic,” my mother said, not even a hint of apology in her voice. “Ted needed a place to stay, and you’ve got all that room.
You don’t even have kids yet. So what’s the harm in helping out your brother?”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Mom, he is 42 years old. He isn’t a kid.
You’ve let him mooch off you for years, and you want to dump him on me? Are you being serious? Why do you want to treat him like he’s a kid just out of college?”
My mother’s tone shifted, and she immediately went on the defense.
“Oh, mooching, huh?” she said.
“I’m disappointed in you, Jeremy. He’s been through a lot. You don’t understand what it’s like to be him.
You’ve always had everything together. Ted needs a little more help. And as family, you owe it to him.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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