Irina and Anton met four years ago. The cheerful, kind, and rather smart thirty-year-old man immediately won the heart of native Muscovite Ira.
— «Irunya, my dear, he’s as naked as a falcon! Only a couple of years ago, he moved here from his little town Urjukovka,» the girl’s mother sighed.
— «Mom, not a couple of years. He graduated from the institute here and has already settled down. And not from Urjukovka, but from Gnilomedovo, near Ryazan.»
— «Anton is from Gnilomedovo! What a fabulous son-in-law, hard to get!» her mother exclaimed, throwing her hands up.
— «Mom, I’m not going to marry him; I’m just going on a date,» the girl giggled, twirling in front of the mirror.
— «Where there’s a date, there’s a wedding,» her mother grumbled. «You’re so naive, my dear, oh, so naive. I can just imagine how your father will rejoice over such a son-in-law.»
Irina snorted, pecked her mother on the cheek, and fluttered out of the apartment.
It might have seemed odd to outsiders that a thirty-year-old daughter lived with her parents. But few knew it was only a temporary measure, and the reason was as simple as can be: Irina was renting out her own two-room apartment near the metro in order to pay off her mortgage faster.
Irina dashed with all her might to the park, where Anton was already waiting for her with a frail bouquet of roses and a small plush teddy bear.
— «Hello,» the young man smiled, «you look gorgeous. This is for you.»
Taking the bouquet, Irina linked arms with Anton and set off for a walk.
— «Can you imagine,» Anton said with laughter, «today Tolik was drying his socks with a hairdryer.»
Irina smiled.
Tolik, Anton’s colleague, with whom he shared an apartment, was quite an original and creative personality. It was even strange that with such unconventional thinking he ended up as a simple office clerk rather than some creative artist.
Anton was no different—also just an ordinary clerk. He wasn’t rolling in millions, but he had enough to get by.
Meanwhile, Irina worked as an accountant at a very prestigious firm and was doing everything in her power to pay off her mortgage—and she eventually succeeded.
A year later, Anton proposed to Irina, to which she happily said “yes.”
— «Oh, you wouldn’t regret it, my dear,» her mother shook her head. «After all, an enviable bride with a Moscow apartment is nothing like a dairymaid from his Tuhlovarenyevo.»
— «Gnilomedovo, Mom!»
— «Or even Prosrokosokoladovo! A bride with a dowry in the form of a two-room apartment in Moscow is a prized catch for any newcomer!»
— «Mom, what stereotypes?!» Irina protested.
Her mother merely waved her hand dismissively, as if saying, “Your life, your mistakes.”
«Maybe, forget that lavish wedding with a toastmaster, absurd contests, and third-cousins on the maternal grandfather’s side as guests?» Irina asked hopelessly. «And I really don’t feel like mimicking a wedding cake by wearing a ridiculously extravagant dress.»
— «As you say, Irisha,» Anton smiled, kissing his fiancée on the cheek. «We’ll just quietly register our marriage without any fuss. Besides, the money should be put not into a celebration, but into renovating your apartment—in other words, our family nest. And besides, my mom broke her leg and won’t be able to come to the wedding, even if she wanted to.»
— «So, I won’t get to meet Tamara Leonidovna?» Irina sighed sadly. «It’s a pity, because judging by our phone conversations, my future mother-in-law is such a lovely woman.»
— «You will, Irisha, for sure,» Anton smiled, embracing his wife by the shoulders.
That day, Irina sat at her desk, poring over a report. The workday was coming to an end, and with it, thoughts of relaxation increasingly invaded her mind.
“I must stop by that new café in the building next door—I’m dying for some coffee!” flashed through her mind as the numbers on her screen blurred into a monolithic mass. The spell of this incomprehensible digital monster was abruptly broken by Anton’s phone call.
— «Hi, Irunchik, how are you? Not bored at work?» he cheerfully inquired.
— «Anton, do you have something urgent? I’m writing a report,» Irina muttered nervously, clutching the phone between her ear and shoulder while continuing to work.
— «I have good news—I’m having someone stay with us…»
— «An inspector?» Irina asked wearily, trying to catch a glimpse.
— «Better! My mom!» Anton announced happily. «She decided to come and stay with us for a few days.»
— «Usually one is warned about such things in advance!» Irina grumbled irritably.
Although she certainly respected her mother-in-law, Irina felt that meeting her in person required more careful preparation.
— «But it’s my own mother!» Anton countered, his tone reverent. «Don’t worry, Irus, she’s not fussy about food and can even sleep on a bench in the hallway.»
— «All that’s missing is buying a bench,» she replied gloomily.
Irina snorted; she had a bad premonition…
Irina walked home along a street lit by streetlamps, holding a bright cup of aromatic coffee. “I wonder if Tamara Leonidovna will like me?” she silently asked herself, sipping the fragrant drink in small gulps.
She was nervous primarily because in the first few months after the wedding, Anton had been incessantly singing praises about his mom. Irina wrinkled her nose, recalling how one evening Anton began to wax lyrical about his wonderful mother. How she cooked like a Michelin-starred chef and kept the house so impeccably clean! And how she managed the household and tended the garden—it was practically a song!
— «And how mom fries potatoes—finger-licking good! Of course, you’re not bad either, but mom…» Anton had enthusiastically exclaimed.
But what exactly was so great about his mom, Irina never did learn. Tired of listening to the ode to Tamara Leonidovna, the girl set her tea cup down with a clink. Instantly, Anton understood that it was best to stop the grandiose praises and quiet down.
A soft phone tone pulled her from her reverie. Apparently, Anton decided to remind her of his mom’s arrival with an SMS. The reminder carried a heavy tone, and suddenly, the idea of going home lost its appeal. But whether she liked it or not, she had to go.
After some thought, she decided to be polite and buy something for tea. To that end, Irina stopped by the finest pastry shop, where her favorite cakes were sold. Having gathered a modest assortment, she headed toward her building. In the kitchen window, she noticed the light on.
“Could it be that Anton is already home?” she wondered.
As she climbed to her floor, Irina fished the keys out of her coat pocket, only to suddenly realize that the apartment was locked from the inside.
“Unbelievable! Am I supposed to knock on my own apartment door?” the mistress fumed, pressing the doorbell.
The door didn’t open immediately. When it finally did, a tall, slender woman appeared—a woman with gray hair that resembled a hairstyle resulting from a “pasta factory explosion.”
She might have been quite charming, but at the sight of the bright coffee cup that Irina still clutched, a look of unabashed distaste crossed her face.
— «Well, hello, dear!» the woman said, pursing her lips, while donning Irina’s favorite apron adorned with juicy orange segments over her colorful bathrobe.
— «Hello, Tamara Leonidovna,» Irina greeted as warmly as possible.
Before she could even remove her boots, her mother-in-law bombarded her with a question:
— «Why did you buy these chemically-laden pastries? Don’t you know how they’re made in your culinary shops? First you poison yourself with all those coffees, and now you’ve gone and bought these for us with Anton?»
Irina sighed, discarded the nearly finished cup of invigorating liquid into the trash, and politely chirped:
— «I only just found out about your visit, so I stopped by the pastry shop. Don’t worry, they always have very fresh products.»
With those words, Irina handed the pastries to her mother-in-law and began to remove her coat.
— «And why are you undressing, dear?» her mother-in-law suddenly asked.
— «Well, I can’t go out in just outerwear,» the girl exclaimed in surprise.
— «Anton will be back from the store soon with some greens, as I ordered, and you’re just lounging around here,» Tamara Leonidovna snapped.
Irina wanted to say that besides a bunch of greens, Anton might pick up something else, but she bit her tongue and forced a saccharine smile, chirping:
— «There’s borscht in the fridge. And when Anton gets back, we’ll order dinner.»
— «All you ever want is to order things!» Tamara Leonidovna retorted angrily. «Anton told me that you don’t like cooking! That you always want to order from restaurants and squander Anton’s money left and right! And at home, it’s a complete disaster!»
— «It’s not a disaster, it’s a renovation. And I do order home-cooked meals when I don’t have time to cook,» the girl replied calmly.
She didn’t want to start her relationship with her mother-in-law off on a combative note. Irina sighed again, trying to calm herself and convince herself that Tamara Leonidovna was simply worried about her son.
“Poor guy, starving here with me and poisoning himself with all those ‘coffees’,” Irina mused to herself, then sadly thought:
«It would have been better if an inspector had really come to us! Even a hundred inspectors! Anything is better than having just one mother-in-law!»
— «Why is it that you’re always so busy?» Tamara Leonidovna squinted her brown eyes and inquired in a syrupy tone.
— «I work a lot. Sometimes I’m so tired that I can’t cook every day,» Irina replied, gathering her resolve to avoid an outburst.
— «Tired, is she! Look at her, a delicate little thing! At work, she’s just shuffling papers! If she lived in the countryside, she’d be hauling water from a well, feeding pigs, and milking a cow! Tired, I tell you! I do all that, and I always cook fresh, delicious, homemade meals for my husband and grandson! And I never complain!»
Irina had nothing to say in response. She silently went into the kitchen. And then her astonishment surpassed all limits. The kitchen cabinets were wide open, and their contents had been haphazardly rearranged. «Well, now that’s interesting,» thought the girl.
— «Tamara Leonidovna, what is going on? And why, may I ask, did you rearrange everything?» Irina asked, still trying to be polite.
— «I’m putting things in order, since you’re incapable of doing it!» her mother-in-law retorted sarcastically, then sighed and added:
— «What did my son see in you, huh? Not a bit of class or looks! And you clearly don’t like cooking—everything’s expired,» Tamara Leonidovna continued her tirade, demonstratively setting a jar on the table—a jar Irina had completely forgotten about.
— «Is that what you think?» the young wife inquired, raising an eyebrow.
«This is my mess?!— I start every morning with a light cleaning and a check of all the little jars for expiration dates!» Irina thought to herself.
— «You’d better go on a diet, dear,» her mother-in-law smirked, «and hit the gym. Anton doesn’t like a full-figured woman. He prefers slim girls with a stick-thin waist.»
While Irina was processing the remark and trying to hold back angry tears, her dear mother-in-law picked up a bagel from the table and began eating it with great gusto.
Irina silently opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say in response. If her reflection in the mirror wasn’t deceiving her, and if her eyes weren’t betraying her, she was a tall, slender girl with thick light-brown hair and sky-blue eyes.
— «Irinka, you’re simply an angel,» her best friend had once said. «I’d give anything to have even a bit of your beauty!»
And then came such a strange, completely illogical statement!
— «I take care of myself, and what your son prefers is hardly my concern!» Irina’s temper began to boil.
— «Such insolence!» her mother-in-law fumed.
But Irina no longer listened. To cool off a bit, the girl went to the bathroom, intending to splash cold water on her face. Yet even there, a surprise awaited her. The shelves filled with cosmetics were in utter disarray. Everything that could be opened was left open, and her favorite cream was almost entirely smeared off. As if that weren’t enough, a rope was strung above the bathtub, drying Tamara Leonidovna’s freshly laundered linen.
— «That’s just what I needed! The balcony’s drying rack is for all this ‘joy’,» Irina hissed in anger, snatching the rope along with the laundry and dashing out of the bathroom like a bullet.
«No! That’s too much! Now I’ll tell her everything… now I’ll… now I’ll…» Irina thought, but as soon as she stepped into the room, her battle mood turned into furious rage. All the cupboards were wide open, all the drawers pulled out, while her mother-in-law sat on the sofa, rummaging through Irina’s jewelry box and trying on her favorite earrings.
— «What do you think you’re doing?!» Irina snapped. «How dare you come into my home and rummage through it!»
— «And you, dear, don’t be insolent—this is my son’s apartment. There’s nothing of yours here,» her mother-in-law replied with a sweet smile that barely concealed the hunger of a shark. «Anton told me how you, this rustic from the countryside, came to his apartment all bare and barefoot, and that he bought all those trinkets for you! So everything here belongs to my son down to the last speck of dust.»
Ira nervously chuckled, rummaged through one of the cabinets, and pulled out a document.
— «Well then, Tamara Leonidovna, you snooped around and looked at everything, yet you didn’t even bother to check the documents for the apartment,» Irina chided as she handed the document to her mother-in-law.
— «What is this? Has my fool re-registered all the property under your name or something?» her mother-in-law grumbled, skimming the document. But the more she read, the more her face paled.
— «Sweetie, so this is actually your apartment?» her mother-in-law cooed once she discovered the truth. «And my parasite told me it was all his. Honey, don’t be mad—I taught you these old-fashioned lessons in life.»
Silently, Irina retrieved the documents and the jewelry box, returned them to their proper places, dressed, and left the apartment. She was in no mood to spend time in the company of that unpleasant woman who, by a twist of fate, had become her relative.
— «Irus, where are you going?!» Anton exclaimed as he saw his wife leaving the apartment.
— «I’m going for a walk!» Irina retorted, stepping into the elevator.
— «B-but what about your mom?» he called after her, confused.
Irina wandered through the nighttime city, unable to hold back her tears. In just about half an hour, she received as many «compliments» as she had never heard in her entire life. Her heart felt so bitter and pained that she wanted to cry out loud.
*»And what about Anton! He brought a barefoot, uncultured country girl to his personal two-room ‘castle’—» the thought swirled in her mind.
Several times, people approached the crying girl, asking if she needed help. But how could anyone help when her husband turned out to be a “noble knight, pitying the poor wretch,” who was, in fact, a liar?
She didn’t feel like going home.
«Wait a minute! Why should I run away from my own home out of joy? Anton owes me an explanation—why on earth has he suddenly turned into such a noble hero?»
With these thoughts, Irina resolutely strode back home. Bursting into the apartment, she intended to point out the door to her mother-in-law in a commanding tone, but there were no belongings of the relative to be found in the entrance hall. However, in the living room, she found Anton, lips pursed in discontent.
— «And where’s your mom?» he asked.
— «She left, after giving me a proper head-on collision,» Anton grumbled, and suddenly his eyes flashed with anger:
— «Why did you tell her the apartment was yours? Didn’t you think to play along?!»
Irina slid down the wall where he stood and burst into laughter.
It was beyond comprehension that this “mighty storyteller,” instead of just explaining himself, was hurling accusations.
«Maybe Mom was right. I shouldn’t have married this ‘simple as three rubles’ country storyteller!»
The very next day, Irina filed for divorce. All that was left was to be glad that the truth had come out so soon. After all, people say, you can’t fly high on someone else’s wings…
