Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “The children’s home has been waiting for you for ages! Get out of our family!” I screamed with a trembling voice. The target of my wild indignation was my cousin, Dima. God, how I loved him as a child! Blond hair, bright blue eyes, cheerful nature — that was Dima. …Relatives often gathered around the festive table. Of all my cousins, I singled out Dima. He could spin tales with his tongue like a lace maker and he drew brilliantly. Sometimes he would churn out five or six sketches an evening. I would stare, entranced by their beauty, quietly gathering his drawings and hiding them in my desk. I carefully treasured my cousin’s artwork. Dima was two years older than me. When he turned 14, his mother died—gone so suddenly, she just didn’t wake up… The question arose—what would happen to Dima? Naturally, they first turned to his father, but finding him was no easy feat. He and Dima’s mother were long divorced, and the new family “couldn’t be disturbed.” The rest of the relatives just shrugged: “We have our own families, our own problems.” Turns out, during the day, family is there, but come nightfall, not a soul to be found. So, with two kids of their own, my parents became Dima’s guardians—after all, Dima’s late mother was my dad’s younger sister. At first, I was happy that Dima would be living with us. But then… On his very first day in our home, Dima’s behavior set me on edge. To comfort her orphaned nephew, my mum asked, “Is there anything you’d like, Dima? Don’t be shy, just say.” And Dima immediately replied, “A model train set.” Now, this wasn’t a cheap toy. I was shocked—your mum just died, the most important person in your life, and all you want is a train set? How could you even think of that? But my parents immediately bought him his dream. Then it was, “Buy me a tape player, jeans, a designer jacket…” This was the eighties, mind you, and not only was this stuff pricey, but it was impossible to get. My parents made sacrifices for the orphan, even at our own expense. My brother and I understood and didn’t complain. …When Dima turned sixteen, he discovered girls. And he wasn’t afraid to show his affection. Worse yet, he started making advances toward me—his own cousin. But as a sporty girl, I skillfully dodged his unwelcome attention. We’d even come to blows. I would cry and cry. I never told my parents—they didn’t need the heartache. Kids don’t talk about such things. After I fended him off, Dima wasted no time turning to my friends, who actually competed for his attention. …But Dima was also a shameless thief. I remember my piggy bank: saving on school lunches to buy presents for my parents, only to find it empty one day! Dima denied everything—didn’t bat an eye, didn’t blush, just outright lied. It broke my heart. How could he steal while living under our roof? He was wrecking our family from within, but Dima really didn’t understand why I was upset. He truly believed everyone owed him. I began to hate him. That’s when I finally screamed at him: “Get out of our family!” I lashed him with my words—said things that can never be taken back… My mum barely managed to calm me. From that day on, Dima ceased to exist for me. I ignored him completely. Later, I learned the other relatives knew what a “character” Dima was—they lived nearby and seen it all. Our family lived across town. Even Dima’s former teachers warned my parents: “You’re making a big mistake. Dima will ruin your other children too.” …At a new school, he met Katy—she loved Dima all her life. She married him straight out of school. They had a daughter, and Katy put up with his lies and cheating without protest. As they say: single life is hardship, married life is double. Dima joined the Army, stationed in Scotland. There, he started another family—he somehow managed it during leave. When his service ended, he stayed in Scotland. He had a son there. Katy, not hesitating, went after him and, by hook or by crook, brought him back home. My parents never received a word of thanks from cousin Dima—not that they expected it. Now, fifty years on, Dmitri is an active member of the local Anglican church. He and Katy have five grandchildren. On the surface, all seems well, but the bitterness of life with Dima remains… No amount of sugar could ever sweeten it.

SORROW AT THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

Youve needed a childrens home for years! Get out of our family! I screamed, my voice cracking with anger.

The focus of my absolute frustration was my cousin, Oliver.

Honestly, I absolutely adored him as a child. Wheat-blond hair, bright blue eyes, a naturally cheerful manner that was Oliver through and through.

Our relatives were always gathering for birthdays and holidays. Out of all my cousins, it was Oliver I always looked up to. He was clever, always had a witty word, and could draw beautifully. Sometimes in an evening, hed sketch five or six pictures in the blink of an eye. Id stare, totally enamoured by his talent, unable to look away. When no one was watching, Id quietly tuck his drawings away in my desk, keeping them safe like little treasures.

Oliver was two years older than me.

When Oliver was fourteen, his mum suddenly passed away. She just never woke up.

There was a huge question about what to do with Oliver. Naturally, everyone turned to his dad first, but finding him wasnt easy. Olivers parents had been divorced ages ago, and his dad was settled with a new family. No intention of disturbing my own familys peace, he said point blank.

One by one, the rest of the relatives shrugged: they all had their own lives, their own children to look after. Suddenly, all those relations around in broad daylight were nowhere to be found when things got tough.

So, even with two of their own kids to care for, my parents took on custody of Oliver. After all, his late mum was Dads youngest sister.

At first, I was over the moonOliver would be living with us! But

On his very first day in our house, my golden cousins attitude set my teeth on edge. Mum, doing her best to comfort this heartbroken boy, asked, Is there anything youd like, sweetheart? Dont be shy, just say.

And straight away, Oliver blurts out, A Hornby train set.

This was not a cheap toy. I was genuinely shockedyour mum just died, your whole worlds changed, and youre thinking about a train set? How could he?

But my parents, wanting to soften his loss, bought Oliver his wish. And after that? Buy me a tape recorder Some Levis A branded jacket next This was the eighties, after all. Not only were those things costly, they were nearly impossible to find. But my parents, denying us and stretching every penny further, made sure Oliver never went without. My brother and I did our best to understand, we didnt complain.

When Oliver turned sixteen, he discovered girls. Turns out, my cousin had quite the wandering eye. But then, out of nowhere, he started hitting on mehis own cousin. Luckily, my years on the hockey team gave me quick enough reflexes to dodge his lewd grabs. Wed even end up in scraps. I cried buckets over it, but I couldnt bear to worry my parents with stuff like that. You know how it is; you never want to upset your mum and dad with those sorts of stories.

Since I pushed him away, Oliver turned his charm on my friends. They, for some reason, fought tooth and nail for his attention.

And it didnt stop there. Oliver started stealingblatantly, without shame. I remember having a piggy bank. Id skipped school lunches for months to save up for parents gifts. Then one day, it was completely empty. Oliver denied everything, swore up and down it wasnt him. Didnt even blink! My heart just shattered. How could he? Living under the same roofstealing like that? Oliver trampled all over our familys values while I sulked, feeling wronged, and Oliver just acted like he couldnt possibly understand my problem. He truly believed the world owed him. Thats when my love for him turned to hatred, and I finally snapped:

Get out of our family! I let him have it, said things so harsh you couldnt pick them up and put them back in a hat.

Mum barely managed to calm me down. After that, I cut Oliver out completely, ignored him the best I could. Later on, we learned the other relatives always knew what Oliver was like. They all lived nearby and had seen much worse. We were a short drive away, hadnt a clue.

Olivers old teachers had even warned my parents: Youre making a mistake taking him in. Hell drag your kids down with him.

At his new school, he met Sophie. She fell for him completelyand married him as soon as they left sixth form. They had a daughter. Sophie, saintly patient, put up with his endless fibs and constant affairs. As we say here, single she struggled, married she doubled her load.

For the rest of his life, Oliver kept taking advantage of Sophies love. She worshipped him, never left his side.

Oliver was conscripted; did his National Service in Scotland. There, in typical Oliver fashion, he managed to build a whole second lifeanother family. How? No one knows. He mustve managed it during his leaves. When he finished his service, Oliver chose to stay up north, especially after a son was born.

But Sophie, as resolute as ever, followed him all the way to Scotland and, through sheer grit, brought him back home.

My parents never received so much as a thank you from Oliver. Not that they had ever expected it.

Now, Oliver Charlesworth is sixty years old. Hes a regular at the Church of England, and he and Sophie have a brood of five grandchildren.

Things seem all right from the outside. But the bitterness from everything with Oliver is still there, deep down.

Even if you gave me a spoonful of honey, I still wouldnt taste sweetness.