No More: Cutting Ties With My Golden-Boy Brother

01

Word around the village was that my brother's wedding would be something special, a proper feast thrown at the state-run restaurant.

The day of the wedding, everyone did head to the state-run restaurant, and halfway through the banquet, I, the older sister, got called outside by one of the staff.

"Excuse me, you're Ms. Darlene Summers, aren't you?"

I nodded. The man produced a receipt. "This is the receipt for the wedding banquet you booked with us a week ago. If you could settle the balance now, please."

"Twelve tables in all, two hundred dollars per table, plus the cigarettes and liquor and other services. The banquet comes to eight thousand dollars total."

I heard the man out patiently. So this was the banquet my brother Cary Summers had booked under my name, and now that the bill was due, they'd come to me for the money.

I held the receipt in my hand, pointed to the spot where my name was signed, and said with a smile, "The thing is, this signature isn't my handwriting."

......

The smile dropped off the man's face the second he heard that. He looked at the receipt, then at me. "This signature was made by a gentleman. He said at the time that he was acting on your behalf..."

"On my behalf? Is there a formal letter of authorization?"

His face went redder and redder. He shook his head, then shot a look at the people beside him, and three or four of them closed in around me.

Very much the posture of: you're not leaving until this bill is paid.

I didn't panic. I just gave a small smile. "So this is the strong-arm approach. Let me be clear with you, I didn't sign that name, and I'm not owning it. And whoever booked this banquet, that's who you should be going to. If any of you try to hold me here against my will, I'll call the police."

My voice wasn't loud, but it carried far enough for everyone still eating to hear.

The staff member who'd first come for me pulled one of the others over and said quietly, "Go get Manager James."

Before long a middle-aged man in a suit and tie came hurrying over, and I recognized him at once. Wasn't this my mother's cousin? A minute ago he'd been one of the guests.

Manager James came straight at me. "Darlene, your brother's getting married today, it's a happy occasion. As his older sister, you should just cover the money first and not upset the other guests."

This Manager James clearly understood everything, and his words were oh so considerate of his cousin's daughter.

I answered right back, all smiles. "Uncle, you're the manager of this Grand Regency. Surely you can pay for one meal for your own nephew."

Manager James hadn't expected me to be this difficult. His expression changed in an instant.

He drew me gently off to one side and lowered his voice. "Darlene, your brother's wedding is a matter of the whole Summers family's face..."

"The reason Cary was able to book this place under my name, would that be thanks to you, Uncle?"

I cut him off softly, keeping my eyes fixed on his face until it slowly flushed and then paled.

"That's not the point. The point is your brother's banquet is already halfway through..."

"So what? If you think this makes my parents lose face, Uncle, you're welcome to cover the eight thousand yourself."

Manager James had nothing to say to that. He stood there looking harried and cornered.

Out of options, he had someone fetch my parents.

My father, Walter Summers, came over with his face flushed and greasy from drinking, and my mother, Sheila Whitney, wore the same high-spirited look, but the moment they reached me, the smiles froze on their faces.

Manager James leaned in and murmured what must have been a recap of everything, and Walter Summers turned a pair of furious eyes on me.

"Darlene, do you really have to cause a scene at your brother's wedding? It's not like you've got any use for the money in your hands. Cover it for your brother first, and we'll pay you back later..."

"I don't have money. When you two were getting everything ready for my brother's wedding, didn't you set aside plenty of funds? Plus all the gift money you've collected. Don't tell me you can't even come up with eight thousand now?"

I didn't soften just because my parents had shown up. If anything, I hit back harder.

Walter Summers's eyes were going red as he looked at me. "Darlene, today is your brother's important day. If you dare not pay this, you just wait..."

"Then I'll wait. I didn't even want to come today."

I finished and turned to leave, but Sheila Whitney grabbed hold of me. "Darlene, you're not going anywhere. If you leave, who's going to pay for this banquet?"

I shook her hand off. "Whoever booked it pays."

Sheila Whitney glanced back at the guests still eating. "Your brother doesn't have the money."

"No money, then let the police take him away." They pressed in on me step by step, and I didn't give an inch.

02

"What was Cary Summers thinking, booking his engagement banquet under my name? Does he even understand that's against the law?"

"Out of respect for the fact that he's my brother, I'll let it go. All he has to do is pay for the banquet himself. If he doesn't, I'll call the police and have him arrested."

Right then I was like an angry stray cat, past caring about my parents saving face.

The guests heard the commotion and started turning their heads. Cary was the groom today, throwing this engagement banquet at the Grand Regency, and it made him feel important.

He caught the noise on our side too, and came swaying over toward us.

"Darlene, what's your problem? Your little brother's getting married and you can't stand it? You're just sore that I'm getting married before you. So what if you're my older sister? Whose fault is it that you're this old and nobody wants you?"

Cary had always spoken to me with that kind of venom. In our house, honestly, everyone got to talk to me that way.

The way my brother treated me was really just an echo of my parents. That was how they'd always been with me too.

Emboldened by the drink in him, Cary got bolder with his mouth, and then he actually reached out to grab my purse.

I didn't let it slide either. I shook his hand right off, and my grip was harder than I meant it to be, hard enough that Cary nearly lost his footing.

The second Sheila saw me do that to Cary, her heart broke for him. She rushed over and yanked at me, and then she even slapped me across the face.

"Darlene, letting you pay for your brother's banquet is us giving you a chance to prove yourself. Stop making a scene. Do you want to drag this whole family's name through the mud?"

The same few lines, over and over out of their mouths. It was all about their face, all about giving me a chance to prove myself. I'd had enough.

We'd made enough of a racket that some of the relatives had gathered around, and they were already chiming in from every direction.

"Darlene, honey, chipping in a little for your brother's banquet, that's nothing for an older sister to do. You're on your own, you don't have that many expenses, and besides, this takes some of the load off your parents."

That was my Aunt Wallis Summers. The words rolled right out of her mouth. Easy to say, when you're not the one who has to do it.

Then others stepped up to add their two cents. The gist of it all was the same: I was supposed to foot the bill for Cary's banquet.

Watching the crowd swell, I knew slipping away wouldn't be simple. I couldn't take them head-on. I had to be smart about it.

So I came up with a plan. I pretended to give in. "Fine. I'll pay. But I don't have that much cash on me. I'll have to go home and get it."

Before Cary's wedding, my mother had told me a hundred times to give a generous gift. I'd come with two thousand dollars, and I'd planned to give a thousand as my gift. My mother snatched it all out of my hands and shoved it straight at Cary's fiance, Sylvia McClain.

My mother went along with what I said, because she knew I had no money left on me. Sheila waved a hand. "Go on, go on. Hurry back. There's still cleaning up to help with."

I'd caved, and the whole thing finally came to a pause.

I let out a long breath as I walked out of the Grand Regency. I glanced back over my shoulder and gave a cold little laugh. Now that I was out, there was no chance I was ever coming back.

I didn't go for any money. I went straight to the police station to file a report.

I laid out the whole story from start to finish, and the officer took it all down carefully. What Cary had done amounted to fraudulent use of someone else's identity, and it was grounds for detention.

After I left the station, I went straight back to work and left every last one of them sitting in that restaurant.

03

I don't know how my parents treated me before I was old enough to remember. But by the time my memories start, I already had a little brother, and in every one of those memories, my mother and father had eyes only for him. I was nothing more than an appendage to Cary.

There was never a share for me when new clothes were bought. I was older than Cary, yet I wore his castoffs, so nothing I owned ever fit. Most of it was too small. Not one pair of my shoes fit either. When I outgrew Cary's, I took whatever my cousins had left behind.

Simply put, no money was ever spent on clothes or shoes for me.

Cary and I are two years apart, and we started elementary school together. I only got to go because of him. When I reached school age, my mother wouldn't let me enroll. Watching the other kids my age walk off with their backpacks, I cried and begged her to let me go too.

She threw a big feed basket at me and screamed until her voice cracked, "The day you can carry a full basket of grass on your back, then you can start thinking about school."

She probably said it without meaning anything by it, but I took it to heart. Every day I hauled that basket out to cut grass, and every time I brought back more than the last.

While I cut pig grass, Cary sat in the shade eating crackers and jeered that I was a big idiot. "Darlene, you really are a big idiot. Mom said even if you can carry a whole basket of grass, she still won't let you go to school."

I was stubborn. I kept cutting just as much grass anyway.

My dream of going to school didn't come true until Cary was old enough to start himself.

I was the oldest kid in my class. The condition for my going to school at all was that I look after Cary there. Even so, I treasured the chance.

From the day I started, my grades were always near the top. I did so well that even my parents couldn't stop me from going further.

I drew serious attention from the district, the county, even the city, and in the end I earned a scholarship placement at the vocational trade school in the city, the kind of opportunity that meant a stable, secure job the moment I graduated.

I thought it was the beginning of my escape from the grip of my family.

After I graduated, I went to work at the grain depot. It was a fairly steady job, and having it gave my parents plenty to brag about.

But it was also the beginning of them wringing me dry.

My mother knew I was soft-hearted, obedient since childhood. Once I started working and she learned my payday, she'd show up every payday to take my wages.

Today the house needed fertilizer, tomorrow it was pig feed. Even Cary's living expenses came out of my pocket.

Cary came home before he even finished middle school and lived off everyone, idle day after day, and still envied me for having a good job.

Before long, Cary reached the age to marry. But with the reputation he had across the whole area, no one was willing to give him their daughter.

So my parents fell back on upgrading the hardware. They emptied their savings and built a big five-room brick house.

They took every cent of my wages, calling it my repayment for the kindness of raising me.

Then they went around begging people to find Cary a match, and after countless trials and setbacks they finally found Sylvia McClain.

My parents were afraid a long delay would bring trouble, so they wanted the two married as soon as possible. But Sylvia's family were no fools. They kept stalling the wedding, and my parents pulled out every trick to curry favor with them.

I'd worked for three years, and most of that money had been taken by my mother. This past year I stopped giving them anything, and it left a fire smoldering in their chests.

And that fire had been smoldering all the way to Cary's wedding.

04

The only reason Cary pulled this off was because I worked at the grain depot. A table at the state-run restaurant wasn't easy to book, so he used my name to lock down the banquet and puff himself up.

And on top of that, he wanted me to foot the bill for the whole thing. I doubt this was Cary's idea alone. This was something they'd all cooked up together.

Since starting work, I'd lived in the staff dorm and rarely went home.

Living on my own suited me just fine. Back at the dorm, I washed up and turned in, and whatever was happening over at the restaurant had nothing to do with me anymore.

After I left, they went right on entertaining their guests. When I filed the report, I made a point of telling the officers at the police station to get over there fast, or the people involved might slip away. Better to head out right now.

I was, after all, an official state employee. Using my name to impersonate someone was grounds for real disciplinary action.

Sure enough, the police moved quickly and headed straight for the restaurant.

My parents were basking in the flattery of friends and relatives. Not many families could put a son's wedding banquet inside a state-run restaurant, and Walter's face was glowing with pride.

Sheila was grinning so wide she couldn't close her mouth, and Cary was so full of himself he'd completely forgotten who he was.

The restaurant had actually been worried the banquet money would vanish, but my cousin's husband kept vouching hard for it, so they were only half convinced.

Just as the banquet hit a fresh peak of noise and cheer, two officers from the police station walked into the reception hall.

"Which one of you is Cary Summers?"

The drunken guests caught the wrong smell in the air and cut off their racket. Cary, ringed by his good-for-nothing buddies, was still drinking.

It took everyone a beat before someone pointed at Cary. "That's him."

My parents saw the situation turning bad and moved to stop it, but the officers weren't having any of it.

They walked straight up to Cary, showed their badges first, then announced in a flat official tone, "Cary Summers, you've been reported for using someone else's identity to obtain a large sum of money. You'll need to come with us for questioning."

Of course Cary wasn't going to go along with it. He swayed on his feet. "Who reported me? I'm getting married today. On a day this happy, who'd dare report me?"

My parents' faces went ugly, and so did the faces of the guests at the tables, especially Sylvia's side of the family. Some in the room were there for the show, and some were plainly worried.

My father rushed over to smooth things over, even fishing out cigarettes to curry favor, but the officers didn't bite.

"It was Ms. Darlene Summers who filed the report under her own name. She says he brought her ID here to book this banquet, and she knew nothing about it."

"There are also several employees of this restaurant involved. We'll be taking them in for questioning as well. Please come with us."

The moment my name came up, the whole room boiled over. They probably couldn't fathom how someone as obedient as me could have done such a thing.

When my parents heard it was me who'd reported him, their faces went green with rage. If I'd been standing in front of them, they'd probably have wanted to beat me to death.

My father hurried to explain. "This is all a misunderstanding. Darlene is my daughter, and Cary is her brother. We're all family. There's no impersonation here."

"Without the person's consent, it's impersonation. Please come with us."

The officers weren't buying it and stood firm on taking him in.

It was their son's wedding day. They'd fight to the death before they let anyone haul Cary off.

"Is there really no other way? My son's getting married today. If he's arrested now, where does that leave our faces?"

The officer was still fairly civil, and he laid out the road for them plainly. "The only way is for the person who filed the report to drop it."

My mother heard that and thought it was easy enough. She scrambled to reach me, calling my workplace over and over, but I'd arranged in advance for no one to take her calls.

She fainted right there from the fury. The banquet guests should have cleared out long ago, but not one of them left. They all stayed to watch the show.

By eight that night, just as I was getting ready to sleep, someone started pounding on my dorm door.