Hello! My name is Francine, I will soon turn eighteen
years old, and as soon as this happens I will move out of my parents’ house ... Almost
six years ago, my older brother did the same, but it didn't do him any good. He died six months ago. And only now am I able to talk about it at
all. But, oddly enough, the darkest hour is the
one before dawn... And this is what my story is about. My brother's name was Roy. As I have already told you, he left our house
about six years ago to go to college in a neighboring state. Roy was a good guy, a good son, and a good
brother ... I miss him so much. He was the one our parents’ put their greatest
hopes in — he was a totally self-reliant guy, he got scholarship for his college studies,
and after classes he worked part-time to pay his bills. Of course, when he one day called our mother
and asked her, in a very agitated voice, to send him a large sum of money, my parents
felt terribly worried and asked Roy if he had gotten into trouble. Roy neither admitted it nor denied it, but
he did confess that he had a debt that needed to be paid, otherwise he could really get
into a lot of trouble. All this was true, but only partially. My parents ...well, you know, they are a little
gullible. Sensible people would have gone to the city
where Roy lived, or would have called the police to find out if he was in danger or
had become involved in some criminal activity. They did nothing like that and simply took
the money from their savings and sent it to Roy. But I was perfectly sane, and I knew my brother
better than my parents did – after all, we grew up together! I called Roy and demanded an explanation,
threatening him that if he did not tell me the truth, I would come to him with his best
friends, who still lived in our city. And, together, we would surely make Roy tell
us what had happened and knock some sense into him. Roy became silent on the other end of the
phone for a while, and then he promised to send me an email with an explanation. He said that these things should not be discussed
on the phone. And the next day, my brother kept his promise. The first thing I saw when opening his letter
was a large picture of Roy, a thin girl with a sloppy, shaggy haircut and gaudy makeup,
and ...her pregnant belly. I did not really understand what it meant
until I carefully studied the text under the picture. The girl’s name was Iris. And she was my brother's girlfriend. She was one year older than him, they had
been together for seven months already, and their relationship was really serious. Roy was going to marry Iris very soon, especially
since she was about to give birth to their child. He didn’t want to introduce her to our parents
yet, because he knew that they would never approve of the marriage — Iris was from
a dysfunctional family, never attended college, did not have a steady job, and on top of that,
she never managed to make a good impression on people. But Roy saw how good she was, and he loved
her with all his heart. I looked at the photo again and didn’t see
anything resembling a good girl there, but I thought that my brother probably understood
what he was doing. Next, Roy wrote about why he needed the money. Or rather, why Iris needed the money. Iris had a weakness that even Roy recognized. She was addicted to slot machines. Roy tried to justify it, saying that because
she was a girl from a poor family she just dreamed of getting rich, thinking it could
bring her from poverty to a better life… But, frankly speaking, this did not sound
convincing. Iris blew all the money she earned from her
odd jobs at the slot machines, then she borrowed money from someone, and again lost it, and
this situation repeated in cycles. But Roy promised that as soon as they paid
Iris’ debts, which was now necessary in order to avoid real trouble, he would introduce
Iris to me and my parents. At the end of the letter, Roy wrote that he
had moved from campus to Iris's house and left me her address. However, Roy never married Iris, the same
as he never graduated from college, or ever came home again. As we were later informed, for some reason,
Roy crossed the road in the wrong spot, and the driver of the car that hit him could not
have prevented the accident. It was a real tragedy for both our parents
and me, and we still have not recovered from it. But, as I said at the very beginning, the
darkest hour is always before the dawn. As soon as the first shock passed, I remembered
that this Iris, who was never introduced to our parents, was expecting a child. My nephew? Or a niece? I decided that I would not say anything to
my parents before I found out the truth — why should I hurt them even more, if it were a
lie? So I went to see this Iris – thank God the
address from my brother’s letter was real. Iris’ house was very small, and poorly built,
without a backyard. Iris really did not have any money. When she opened the door, I recognized her
immediately, although in real life Iris looked even worse. She had greasy hair, she looked thin and haggard,
and I think she smelled like alcohol. And she was no longer pregnant. When I introduced myself, I had to put my
foot in the door to prevent her from slamming it in my face. I asked Iris what had happened to my brother's
child and was ready for the worst, but Iris said that as soon as the baby was born, she
immediately gave it up for adoption without even asking about its’ gender. For some reason this did not sound very convincing,
and I wanted to ask her more questions, but Iris began to freak out and threaten me that
if I did not get off her property, she would call the police. Iris’ strange look and behavior made me
suspicious, so I decided to avoid arguing with her and just opted to leave. I was confused and had no idea what I should
do next or how I could find out if Iris was telling the truth, and where my brother’s
child was now! But as soon as I walked several steps away
from her house, I heard, through thin walls, a baby crying. So Iris lied! And I had to find a way to save Roy's baby
from living with a mother like this one! There was nothing I could do, so I turned
to my parents for help. I showed them Roy’s letter, and told them
everything about my visit to Iris's house, describing the way she looked and behaved,
as well as the impression that I had from this trip. My parents agreed completely – they could
not let their grandson stay with this woman. Besides... you see, they still had not recovered
from losing their son. I think they saw the living memory of Roy
in this baby. And who could blame them, especially since
I knew for sure that they would love their grandson and care about him as much as they
loved me or Roy. "All together we went to visit Iris again. This time we simply waved an impressive check
in front of her nose. To be fair, I have to say that Iris still
hesitated. And I don't know what made her agree to our
proposal - was she just greedy for the money or had she finally understood that raising
a child would be too difficult for her? The only thing that Iris asked us was, would
we love her son. The answer was obvious." The rest of the story — are the legal proceedings
that you won’t be interested in. I just want you to know that the baby now
lives with my parents, and that he is doing well. And I am going to move away and go to college
soon, knowing that my parents are happy again, taking care of their little grandson. Tell me, have there ever been any sad stories
with unhappy but bright endings in your life? Write about it in the comments to this video.
