Nový Hrádek

[JuliusJaneček]

My sister and I didn’t speak for four years.

It started over something stupid. Our grandmother’s ring. She thought she should have it because she was the oldest. I thought I should have it because I was closer to Gran. We argued. Words were said. Things that can’t be unsaid. She moved to Australia a month later. I stayed in Manchester. We didn’t call. We didn’t email. We just became strangers who happened to share DNA.

My parents tried to fix it. They failed. My mum would mention Jenna in passing, watching my face for a reaction. I gave none. My dad sent me her address once. I threw it away. I told myself I was fine. I had my life. She had hers. We didn’t need each other.

Then my mum got sick.

It was sudden. A stroke on a Tuesday afternoon. She survived, but she wasn’t the same. The stroke affected her speech. She couldn’t form sentences. She’d look at me with these clear, frustrated eyes, trying to say something, and nothing would come out. I sat by her bed every day. My dad was there too. We didn’t talk about Jenna. But I knew we were both thinking about her. Mum needed her. We all did.

I tried to call. The number was disconnected. I tried Facebook. No response. I tried everything I could think of. Nothing. My sister had disappeared into the other side of the world, and I didn’t know how to find her.

My dad found her eventually. A friend of a friend knew someone who knew her. She was in Sydney, working at a vet clinic. He sent her a message. She replied a week later. She said she was sorry about Mum. She said she couldn’t afford to come home. Flights were £1,500. She was on a temp visa, working casual shifts. The money wasn’t there.

I offered to pay. I had £400 in my account. Not enough. My dad offered what he had. Together, we had £900. Still short. We needed £600 more. I was working full-time, but every spare pound was going to Mum’s care. I couldn’t find an extra six hundred anywhere.

I started looking for ways to make money fast. Overtime. Selling things. I sold my guitar, my old PlayStation, a jacket I loved. I got to £500. Still short. I was running out of things to sell. Mum was getting worse. The doctors said she needed family around. The word “family” sat in my chest like a stone.

I was sitting in Mum’s hospital room one night, scrolling through my phone, when I saw an ad for an online casino. I’d never gambled. I’d always thought it was a tax on people who didn’t understand math. But I was desperate. And desperate people do things they wouldn’t normally do.

I found Vavada website through a search. It looked clean. Professional. I registered. I deposited fifty pounds. That was the last of my spending money for the month. If I lost it, I’d be eating rice for two weeks.

I started with a slot. Something simple. Three reels, fruit symbols. I set the bet to a pound and spun. Nothing. Forty-nine. Spin. Small win. Fifty-one. I was going nowhere. Slow and steady. I played for an hour. My balance crept up to eighty pounds. I was up thirty. I withdrew it. I’d made a small dent in the gap. But I was still £470 short.

The next night, I came back. I deposited fifty again. This time I played blackjack. Small bets. Five pounds a hand. I won more than I lost. After two hours, I was at £150. I withdrew it. Now I was £320 short.

I did this every night for a week. Fifty quid deposit. Slow grinding. Some nights I lost. Some nights I won a little. By the end of the week, I was up £400 total. I had £900. Jenna’s flight was £1,500. I was still £600 short.

I was running out of time. Mum was having bad days now. Days where she didn’t recognise anyone. The doctors said we should prepare for the possibility that she might not recover fully. I needed Jenna here. I needed my sister. And I was £600 short.

I decided to take a risk. Instead of my usual fifty, I deposited £200. The last of my savings. If I lost it, I was back to zero. No guitar to sell. No jacket. Just rice and regret.

I opened Vavada website. I went to a slot I’d played before. The simple one. Fruit symbols. I set the bet to five pounds. Higher than I’d ever gone. One spin. Nothing. £195. Another spin. Small win. £200. Another. Nothing. £190. I was losing. My hands were sweating. I should have stopped. I didn’t.

I set the bet to ten pounds. One spin.

The reels spun. Cherry. Cherry. Watermelon. Nothing. £180.

I was down to £180. I’d lost £20 in two spins. I was being stupid. Desperate. I closed my eyes. Took a breath. One more spin. That was it. One more, then I cash out whatever’s left and figure out another way.

I hit the button.

The reels spun. Cherry. Lemon. Cherry. Nothing. I was about to close the app when the screen flashed. A bonus. Three sevens had appeared. I hadn’t even seen them. The reels started spinning again. Free spins. The wins started stacking. Small at first. Then bigger. The balance ticked up. £200. £250. £300. The free spins kept coming. £400. £500. The screen was flashing. I couldn’t follow what was happening. The final spin landed. The balance stopped at £720.

I stared at the screen. I had £720. Plus the £900 I already had. £1,620. Enough for the flight. Enough to bring my sister home.

I withdrew everything. Vavada website processed it quickly. I watched the confirmation and sat in the hospital room for a long time. Mum was asleep. Her breathing was steady. I held her hand and told her Jenna was coming home. She didn’t respond. But I think she heard me.

The money hit my account two days later. I booked the flight that afternoon. I sent Jenna the confirmation. She called me that night. The first time we’d spoken in four years. She was crying. I was crying. We didn’t talk about the ring. We didn’t talk about the fight. We talked about Mum. About Dad. About how we were going to get through this together.

Jenna arrived ten days later. I picked her up at the airport. She looked different. Older. Tired. But she was my sister. We hugged for a long time. Neither of us said anything. We didn’t need to.

We went straight to the hospital. Mum was having a good day. When Jenna walked in, Mum’s face changed. She couldn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her eyes said everything. She reached out her hand. Jenna took it. I stood behind them, watching, feeling something I hadn’t felt in four years.

Whole.

Mum passed away three months later. She never regained her speech. But in those three months, she had both her children by her side. Jenna and I took turns. We sat with her. We read to her. We held her hand. When she went, it was peaceful. She wasn’t alone.

Jenna stayed for the funeral. Then she went back to Sydney. She has a life there now. A partner. A cat. A job she loves. We still live on opposite sides of the world. But we talk every week. Video calls. Long ones. We don’t fight about stupid things anymore. We don’t have time for that.

I kept the ring. Gran’s ring. I don’t wear it. It’s in a box on my shelf. Jenna knows. She doesn’t mind. She told me Gran would have wanted me to have it. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we found our way back. That Mum got to see us together before she left. That four years of silence ended because of a flight I bought with money I won on a stupid slot machine.

I don’t play anymore. I haven’t been back to Vavada website since that night. I don’t need to. I got what I needed. Not the money. The chance. The chance to bring my sister home. To hold my mother’s hand. To remember that family isn’t about rings or who was right. It’s about showing up. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

Jenna’s coming to visit next month. She’s bringing her partner. We’re going to scatter Gran’s ashes somewhere nice. A garden, maybe. Somewhere with flowers. Mum would have liked that. I’ll wear the ring that day. Just for her. Just for us. A reminder that some things are worth fighting for. And some things are worth letting go.