The lock refused to give in until the very last moment. Lena leaned her shoulder against the door, and it creaked plaintively open. Inside, the air smelled of old furniture and mothballs.
“Hmmmm,” the girl drawled as she stepped inside. The floorboard creaked sadly under her feet. “The floor needs replacing,” she noted.
Lena looked around. That was pretty much how she remembered it. “Well, it’s nothing,” she told herself. “All of this can be fixed up. Now it’s all mine.”
The dusty light from the window illuminated the whole sorrowful scene: the darkened corners of the ceiling, the old floral wallpaper smeared in streaks, and a lonely stool standing in the center of the kitchen. How long had it been since she had been here?
“And what am I supposed to do with it?” Lena asked aloud, though the answer was obvious.
“Alright, I’ll do a little renovation. Some of the furniture needs updating, and then I’ll rent it out. Money never hurts—I’ll save it up,” she decided, smiling.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of footsteps on the stairs. Lena became alert, wondering who else might be attracted to her grandmother’s apartment besides herself. She turned, and just as she managed to understand what was happening, the door swung wide open, striking the wall. Standing in the doorway was her mother-in-law.
“Well, mistress, will you let us in?”
Lena was taken aback.
“But you’ve already… entered yourselves,” she mumbled. “Did you want something?”
“Of course I did,” replied the guest cheerfully as she began inspecting the apartment as if it were her own property. She even peeked into the bathroom, snorted, and returned to the center of the room. “I thought that when you set up this little apartment, our family could finally catch a break.”
“In what sense?” Lena asked cautiously. She already sensed that nothing good would come of this visit, yet she couldn’t help but ask.
“How do you mean!” her mother-in-law spread her arms. “You see for yourself—the lovely apartment your grandmother left you. We’re going to settle my nephew in there. You remember Igor, right? He just got married. Young people, you know, take on family obligations out of sheer enthusiasm. And look at the way they live! Oh, if you could see the dump they’re forced to rent now,” her mother-in-law clicked her tongue, shaking her head.
“And what does my apartment have to do with it?” Lena had already guessed where her mother-in-law was heading.
“That’s why I’m saying—why be stuck bouncing between other people’s places when our Lena now owns property? You and Zhenya don’t need this apartment; you bought one last year. But for Igor—it’s perfect! An excellent option!” her mother-in-law finished joyfully.
“Option?” Lena felt anger rising inside her.
“Of course, an option,” her mother-in-law nodded as if Lena should agree. “You wouldn’t rent out the apartment to strangers, would you? But here—it’s for family. We’ll bring them in.”
“Bring them in?” Lena repeated, the words barely squeezing past her choked throat. “Ahhh, you want me to rent it to them?”
“Are you out of your mind?” her mother-in-law shot back, looking at Lena as if she’d just spouted complete nonsense. “Not rent it out, you dummy—let them live there!”
“Who came up with this?”
“Who? I did!” her mother-in-law declared without batting an eye. “I already told them that they could get the keys from you tomorrow. They’re so excited!”
Lena exhaled sharply, as if all the air had been knocked out of her.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” her mother-in-law waved off, not noticing the range of emotions sweeping over her daughter-in-law’s face—from confusion to fury. “Young people need help.”
“I was planning to do some repairs here,” the daughter-in-law grumbled.
“Don’t even worry about the repairs! You know how handy Igor is—he’ll hang the wallpaper and redo the floor. You just buy all the necessary stuff! And don’t even think about cutting corners. Buy only quality materials! After all, you’re doing this for family.”
“So you want me to renovate, furnish the apartment, and then let your relatives live there for free?” Lena frowned.
“Oh, you say that so ungraciously!” her mother-in-law chided, shaking her head. “We are family, Lena. Relatives must support each other.”
The daughter-in-law looked at her and realized that arguing was pointless. Her mother-in-law was as immovable as a monolith, completely convinced of her own rightness.
“No,” Lena said.
“What?”
“No,” she repeated firmly. “No repairs. No keys. This is my apartment, and I’ll decide what happens to it.”
Her mother-in-law looked at her with mild bewilderment, as if before her was a child who refused to share candy.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
For a moment, the room fell silent. Then her mother-in-law let out a loud sigh, adjusted her scarf, and turned sharply toward the door.
“I always knew you weren’t like us,” she said over her shoulder and, holding her head high, left with a slam of the door.
The newly minted mistress was left alone in the empty apartment. Outside, dusk was beginning to settle.
Soon after graduating from college, Lena married Zhenya. Yet even ten years later, she still remembered her first encounter with his mother and other relatives.
Back then, it seemed as though the world had come to a standstill: the small kitchen in a one-room apartment was crowded like a subway car at rush hour. Someone was drying dishes, someone was slicing cucumbers, and laughter drifted from the open bathroom door—there Aunt Zhenya was trying to style his grandmother’s hair.
“This is Lena,” Zhenya proudly introduced her, adding a bit sheepishly, “my girlfriend.”
Olga Nikolaevna gave her a long look.
“Girlfriend?” she drawled. “Well, hello, Lena.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned to someone nearby:
“Kolya, did you go get the bread? Oh, you didn’t? Then, Lena, quickly go get some bread—buy three loaves, that should be enough!” the mistress ordered, shoving the girl out the door.
Flustered, Lena fluttered her eyelashes and went off to run the errand. That evening, she watched everything with wide, astonished eyes.
At that time, the girl felt as though she had stepped into another dimension, where all the relatives—from the distant to the very close—not only conversed but lived as one organism. Everyone clung to each other, discussed other people’s problems as if they were their own, offered advice on trivial matters, and sometimes argued loudly, as if the fate of the entire universe depended on it.
“It’s all so simple,” Zhenya later explained as he walked her home. “If someone needs something—everyone helps.”
Lena smiled silently. Back then, she wasn’t sure whether she liked this setup or not…
Returning home from the apartment, Lena began preparing dinner. Zhenya was due back from work any minute.
“Lena, what did you say to your mom?” he began as he stepped through the door.
“Nothing. I just told her I’m not planning to give the apartment to Igor’s folks or any of the other relatives.”
“Are you kidding?” Zhenya’s tone carried a note of irritation, as if he were explaining something to a foolish child. “This isn’t for some outsider; it’s for my cousin!”
“Even if he were your own mother!” Lena replied with genuine surprise. “Who is he to me? Cousin? Father? Maybe even a son? He’s a stranger to me—a person your mom decided to give MY apartment to! Do you want me to transfer the documents to him as well?”
“Don’t exaggerate! No one is laying claim to your precious square meters! We’re family. We have to help each other.”
“So you mean your family is everyone except me?”
Her husband sighed.
“Fine. Do as you wish, but your mom has already promised the keys to Igor. Tomorrow, he and his wife will come over and you’ll hand over both sets. Or have you forgotten that Aunt Marina, Igor’s mother, helped us out so much last year when we ran out of potatoes and she shared with us?”
“Oh, so that ‘peas’ you got from her? It must have been too much trouble for her to lug a bucket of spare change to the dump, so she gave it to you.”
“Come on, Lena, don’t embarrass us!”
“Not at all!” Lena struggled to keep from throwing her dinner plate at her husband. “Wait, which side are you on?”
“The reasonable side,” he replied, as if enduring the situation with the last of his strength. “We’re decent people!”
“Great, then you enjoy your dinner, and I’ll handle my apartment on my own. We rented an apartment for nine years and saved for a mortgage, and I don’t recall any of your generous relatives ever offering us help.”
“Because they didn’t have any free apartments!” her husband countered.
“And I don’t have any either! I’m going to rent this one out and save up for my maternity leave. Remember, we planned for the two of us!”
“You’re so mercantile!” Zhenya glared at his wife as if she had suddenly turned green and grown warts right before his eyes.
“At least in your family, everyone is kind and generous,” she retorted sharply, deciding the conversation was over, and began washing the dishes.
Lena recalled an incident that her mother-in-law used to call “helping as best as possible” in family lore. It was a year after the wedding. At that time, she and Zhenya had rented a tiny apartment in a panel building. The communal services were awful, and money was always tight—Zhenya’s salary went toward loan payments, and her own income was swallowed by utility bills and food expenses.
“Zhenya, my boots are torn. I have nothing to wear to work on Monday.”
“You should ask for money,” Zhenya declared resolutely.
“Ask from whom?” Lena raised her eyebrows.
“From my mom,” he answered confidently.
Lena gulped silently. She had no desire to ask her mother-in-law for help. But she had to go to work somehow.
The next day, they went to visit. Olga Nikolaevna met them at the door and immediately began lecturing on how important it was to manage the household frugally.
“There’s never enough money,” she said, generously ladling a portion of porridge into Zhenya’s bowl. “But you did well to ask for advice. Advice is the most valuable thing we have.”
“We came for something else,” Lena thought.
“Olga Nikolaevna, I appreciate your advice, but maybe you could lend us some money until payday? My boots are torn.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so sooner!” exclaimed her mother-in-law. “Let’s see, your size seems to be thirty-eight?”
After receiving an affirmative nod, she dashed out of the room. Zhenya and Lena watched in astonishment.
“There!” Olga Nikolaevna returned a few minutes later carrying a package. “A neighbor gave it to me last year for charity. They accept items for the needy. And they didn’t take mine because they said they were too worn. But the boots are actually not bad at all—and exactly your size!”
Saying that, Olga Nikolaevna efficiently pulled the boots into view.
“Look at what a beauty!” she cheered, proudly displaying the find. “Genuine leather, a remarkably sturdy sole! And the heel is just right.”
Lena grimaced, not sure whether to cry or laugh. The boots had clearly seen more than one season—hardly even three. It was even difficult to tell what their original color was: gray or black. But that was only half the problem.
“Olga Nikolaevna, you’d better lend us money and I’ll buy the boots I actually need,” the daughter-in-law tried to smooth things over. “What am I supposed to be—going around like Philippa in those clunkers?”
“Did you marry a millionaire or something? There’s no money—where would it come from? And you’d be borrowing forever. No, just take them and wear them! They’re perfectly fine boots, and no one is to complain.”
Lena fell silent for several seconds, searching for the right words.
“Thank you,” said Zhenya, grabbing the boots and hastily taking them into the hall to avoid further discussion in the presence of his mother.
The boots never made it home. Lena forced him to stop the car and tossed the “free” boots into a container.
“Is this what you call help?” she finally burst out.
“Well… it’s something,” Zhenya mumbled.
The next day, Lena borrowed a small sum from a friend and bought herself a proper pair of boots. From then on, they tried not to ask for help unless in the most desperate circumstances. Yet her mother-in-law still loved to recall that story:
“We always helped as best as we could. We even gave away the boots, even though she could have sold them. They were in perfect condition!”
The next morning, Lena stood at her apartment window, watching as a black car pulled into the courtyard. Two people got out: a young man in a rumpled jacket and his wife, draped in a silk scarf.
“Ah, there’s little Igor,” Lena murmured. No more than five minutes later, the doorbell rang.
“Good morning!” Igor beamed.
“Morning,” Lena replied curtly.
“We’re here for the keys,” Igor’s wife said, extending her hand. “Oh, how wonderful that you now have this apartment! Otherwise, we’d still be stuck in rentals.”
Lena slowly scanned them with her eyes.
“For keys? What keys?”
“For the apartment,” Igor continued smiling, though now with less confidence. His wife still held out her hand.
“Interesting,” Lena felt her heart begin to pound, but taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. “Did you leave your keys here?”
She feigned looking around as if searching for something.
“Lena, what are you doing?” Igor asked, puzzled. “The keys to your apartment. We need to see it.”
“Ah, to my apartment?” she said. “And what is there to see? It’s not a museum.”
“Well, Olga Nikolaevna promised them to us…” Igor mumbled.
“Oh, so you’re asking Olga Nikolaevna for the keys. But I’m not giving you mine.”
“How so? Olga Nikolaevna explained everything to us!” Igor’s wife stepped forward. “Aunt said that for the next ten years we could comfortably live in your apartment.”
“Is that so?” Lena nodded. “And what about the fact that—as you rightly noted—it’s my apartment?”
The young couple exchanged glances.
“Lena, we’re not taking it away from you. We’re just going to live there… Oh, come on, will you let us, or are we to be homeless by your mercy now?” Igor’s voice grew rougher. “Or what, are we to live on the street?”
“On the street?” Lena laughed. “Where do you even live now, or did you plan on counting on my inheritance right after you got married?” she said mockingly.
“That’s too much!” Igor’s wife exploded. “Lena, I thought you were decent!”
“Decent? Me? Yes! And you?” Lena looked at them with interest.
Igor opened his mouth, but was cut off by the sound of high heels. At the doorway appeared Olga Nikolaevna herself. Her expression was such that she seemed capable of stopping a train.
“Lena!” she said firmly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Me? What do you mean?” Lena smiled, feeling a wave of indignation rise inside her. “I’m just safeguarding my property from freeloaders.”
“How can you behave like that with family?!” hissed her mother-in-law at her daughter-in-law.
“I can help if I want to, but I’m not obliged,” Lena replied, looking straight at her without averting her gaze. “This is my apartment, and only I decide what happens to it.”
“Hold on! On what grounds should I have to justify myself to you?” Lena silently turned away, making it clear she was done discussing her apartment with her guests.
For two days, Zhenya and his mother staged nightly quarrels with Lena.
“I don’t even know if I want to live with you anymore,” he angrily tossed over his shoulder. “You would have been doomed if you’d let Igor in!”
“Enough with this circus!”
Lena couldn’t understand how these insolent relatives were pinning all the blame on her! The very next day, Lena moved out of the apartment. She filed for divorce, not forgetting to claim her share of the money from the apartment she once shared with her almost ex-husband.
All that remained was to rejoice that she had managed to hold her ground against a bunch of people who were more in love with someone else’s property than with her.
