Bitterness at the Bottom of My Soul “You belong in a care home, and you know it! Get out of our family!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice breaking with emotion. The target of my outrage was my cousin, Dima. Lord, I loved him so much as a child—his golden hair, cornflower-blue eyes, cheerful nature. That was Dima all over. Family gatherings would often bring us all together around the table, but out of all my cousins, it was always Dima who stood out. With his silver tongue, he could weave tales like intricate lace, and he was a gifted artist. By the end of any evening, he’d have sketched five or six pencil drawings with ease. I would marvel at his work, unable to tear myself away from its beauty, and quietly stash his drawings in my desk for safekeeping, cherishing his creativity. Dima was two years older than me. When he was fourteen, his mother died suddenly and unexpectedly—she simply never woke up. Everyone wondered what would become of Dima. They looked first to his biological father, but finding him was not easy—his parents had long been divorced, and his father had another family and wasn’t about to disrupt his “peaceful life.” Then the rest of the relatives collectively shrugged—each had their own families and worries. Suddenly, our extended family was nowhere to be found when needed most. So, with two children of their own, my parents agreed to take Dima in—the late woman was my father’s younger sister, after all. At first, I was happy that Dima would be living with us. But… On his very first day in our home, I noticed something odd about my favourite cousin’s behaviour. Trying to bring him some comfort, my mum asked, “Is there anything you’d like, Dima? Don’t be shy, just tell us.” Immediately, Dima answered, “A model railway set.” This toy was quite expensive, and his wish surprised me. I thought—your mum just died, the most important person in your world, and all you can think about is a train set? How could he? Still, my parents bought it for him immediately. But soon Dima’s requests snowballed. “Buy me a tape recorder, jeans, a branded jacket…” This was the 1980s. Not only were these things pricey, but difficult to find. Yet my parents, depriving their own children, tried to fulfil every wish of the orphan. My brother and I endured this in silence, understanding it was for Dima. When Dima turned sixteen, he started chasing after girls. He became infatuated with me—his own cousin. But I, being sporty and quick, dodged his advances, even fighting him off physically at times and ending up in tears. My parents never knew—I didn’t want to upset them. Most kids keep such things to themselves. After I made it clear I wasn’t interested, Dima quickly moved on to my friends, who actually competed for his attention. Dima also stole from us, brazenly and without shame. I remember saving my school lunch money in a piggy bank for a present for my parents—one day, it was empty. Dima swore blind he hadn’t touched it, didn’t so much as blush. My soul was torn to pieces—how could he steal in the very house we shared? Dima shattered our family’s trust, as if nothing mattered to him. I began to hate him. That’s when I screamed, with all my might: “Get out of our family!” I let rip at Dima, said more than fit in a hat—words I can’t take back. My mother barely managed to calm me down. Since then, Dima ceased to exist for me. I avoided him in every way. Later, it turned out the other relatives all knew what “sort” Dima was—they lived nearby and had seen plenty. Only our family, living farther away, had been in the dark. Dima’s former teachers even warned my parents: “You shouldn’t have taken him in. Dima will only ruin your own children.” At a new school, he met Kate, who would fall head-over-heels for Dima and marry him right after graduation. They had a daughter. Kate patiently endured his wild whims, endless lies, and countless betrayals. As the old saying goes: “single and you suffer, married and it’s double.” Dima was later conscripted for military service in Kazakhstan. There, he formed a “second family”—apparently during breaks from service. He fathered a son. After his discharge, Dima stayed in Kazakhstan, but Kate went after him and, by hook or by crook, brought him back to his family. My parents never heard a word of thanks from Dima—not that they expected it. Now, Dmitry Eugene is sixty. He’s a devout parishioner at the local English church, with Kate and five grandchildren. Everything seems fine, but the bitterness from my relationship with Dima still lingers… A taste too bitter, even for honey.

BITTERNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SOUL

You should have been in a childrens home ages ago! Get out of our family! I was shouting at the top of my lungs, barely holding myself together.

All that rage was aimed at my cousin, Daniel.

God, I absolutely adored him when we were little! Blonde hair, blue eyes like a summer sky, always the life and soul of the party. That was Daniel through and through.

Our family used to get together for every celebrationChristmas, birthdays, you name it. Out of all my cousins, Daniel was the one I felt closest to. He had the gift of the gab, could tell a tale that would keep everyone hanging on his every word. And, honestly, he could draw brilliantly. Hed dash off five or six sketches in an evening, just quick pencil drawings, and Id sit there in awe, completely enchanted by his talent. I even used to sneak off with his drawings and tuck them safely away in my desk, treasuring every one.

Daniel was two years older than me.

When Daniel was fourteen, his mum died unexpectedly. Just went to bed one night and never woke up

The big question suddenly waswhat would happen to Daniel? Everyone first looked to his dad, obviously. But tracking him down wasnt easy, as he and Daniels mum had divorced years ago. And the man had a new family now; he made it very clear that he didnt want to mess up their lives.

The rest of the family just shrugged and muttered about having their own lives and responsibilities. Turns out familys always aroundbut when the chips are down, they just melt away.

So, in the end, my parentsalready with two kids of their ownstepped up to look after Daniel. His mum was my dads little sister, after all.

At first, I was actually happy that Daniel was coming to live with us. But things quickly changed

On the very first day, Daniels behaviour took me by surprise. Mum, trying to comfort him somehow, asked, Is there anything you want, love? Dont be shy, just say.

Without missing a beat, Daniel replied, A model railway.

Now, that wasnt a cheap toy, mind you, and Im not just talking about moneyyou couldnt find those anywhere in the 80s. I remember being kind of shocked. I thought, youve just lost your mum, the person closest to you in the whole world, and youre thinking about a train set? How?

But my parents went out and bought him his model railway. And from thereit never really stopped. Can I have a tape recorder? Some Levis? A nice jacket? These were the 80s, rememberthose things were expensive, and more than a little hard to get hold of. But time and again, my parents would scrimp and save, putting us to one side, to make sure Daniel got what he wanted. My brother and I understood, though. We never complained.

By the time Daniel turned sixteen, he was chasing after girls left, right and centrea proper charmer. Whats worse, he started making moves on me, his own cousin. But I was pretty tough, into sports, and managed to fend him off every time, sometimes even resorting to actual scuffles. Id end up in tears, hiding away, not wanting to upset my parents or make a big deal out of it, like kids often do when it comes to things like this.

After I put my foot down, Daniel switched his attention to my friendswho, surprisingly, almost fought over him.

And then there was Daniels thieving. Absolutely shameless! I remember I had a little money box where Id save up my lunch money, hoping to buy presents for Mum and Dad. One day, I opened it upand it was completely empty. Daniel, of course, denied everythingswore blind he hadnt touched it. Didnt even blink! My heart just broke. I couldnt understand how someone living under the same roof could steal from family. He tore our family apart, bit by bit, like some sort of marauder. Id sulk and stew, while Daniel honestly couldnt see what all the fuss was about. He acted as though the world owed him something.

I started hating him. And thats when I finally screamed, Get out of our family!

I lashed into him with words I can barely even remember. Said more than I can ever take back.

It took Mum ages to calm me down. After that, Daniel didnt exist for me. I just pretended he wasnt there.

Later, it turned out the rest of the family knew full well what sort of trouble Daniel could be. They all lived nearby, had seen and heard plenty. We were the ones living further out, none the wiser. Some of Daniels old teachers had warned my parentstold them they were making a mistake, that Daniel would ruin us kids, too.

At his new school, Daniel met a girlChloe. She fell head over heels for him and married him just after sixth form. They had a daughter together. Chloe, bless her, put up with everything: the constant lies, the endless affairsshe just soldiered on. Its true what they say: Troubles just waiting for those whove already known sorrow.

All his life, Daniel took full advantage of Chloes endless love and loyalty.

Eventually, Daniel got drafted and ended up doing National Service up northsomewhere like Yorkshire. While he was up there, he managed to start a spare-family, if you can believe itmust have met someone on leave, because he had a son there, too.

Chloe didnt waste any time before tracking Daniel down and bringing him back home, one way or another.

My parents, for their part, never got so much as a thank you from Daniel in all the years he lived with usnot that that was the reason they took him in.

These days, Danielwell, Mr. Daniel Evans, as he likes to be calledis sixty, a devoted churchgoer at the local parish church. He and Chloe have five grandchildren now.

From the outside, it all looks fine, but that bitterness I feel towards Daniel has never really faded

I still couldnt touch honey if it was offered to me.