The relatives showed up after I built a house by the seaside.
Right now, Im twenty-two years old. My father and mother passed away not long ago, which made it easier for me to leave my small hometown behind without remorse. Their funerals were truly quiet affairsbarely anyone from the family bothered to attend, even though both Mum and Dad had plenty of siblings. Family ties, it seems.
After the funerals ended, every relative dashed off, claiming pressing matters to deal with. Well, let them get on with itI thought. The memories were much too painful for me to stay, so I decided it was best to move away.
Life in my home town hadn’t treated me kindly. It started back at secondary school, where classmates bullied me relentlessly. After finishing school and landing a job, I became the permanent whipping boy for bosses and colleagues alike. Eventually, I realised enough was enough and I should try my luck elsewhere. So I sold my parents house, packed up, and set off to build a better life by the English coast. There, I bought a modest plot and put up a house, about a hundred and fifty square metres.
Once the house was complete, I snapped a few photos and shared them online across various social media platforms. Throughout the build, I reached out to relatives for advice and opinions, but they acted clueless. Not a single one offered any real helpno advice, no support.
Then summer arrived, and suddenly every cousin and uncle started ringing me up. They all announced they were eager to spend their summer at the seaside, asking if Id let them stay in my new house during their holidays. I could have agreed, maybe, but why should I?
None of them managed to come to my parents funerals, and when I needed financial help they said they could barely scrape by. Now, suddenly, they were keen to holiday at my expensehardly a cheap treat.
This summer, its become clear I have more relatives than I ever realised; apparently, they all adore me and have missed me terribly. Even old schoolmates began texting, cheering me on and asking if they could pop by for a catch-up.
Ive grown tired of their hypocrisy. On social media, I confessed that my seaside house was just wishful thinking, or a harmless bit of daydreaming if you like. I put up a picture of a battered old cottage, telling everyone that I lost all my money from selling my parents home and could only afford that. I added that I couldn’t wait for their visits, and maybe they’d lend a hand fixing it up. Strangely enough, all my relatives and friends vanished once more. Suddenly, they were busy elsewhere, andso it seemstheyre all as poor as church mice.
Now, I sometimes wonder why people are so two-faced and the world so cold. Sitting in the sun on the beach today, I consider sharing new photos to my website. But then I thinkperhaps theres no need to wave a red flag in front of the bull and invite envy. Maybe next summer, Ill post a real photograph of my house, just to see what my family will do then.
