The doorbell broke the silence, persistent and demanding. Lyudmila Nikolaevna set the pot on the stove, wiped her hands on the old kitchen towel, and went to the door.
It was getting dark outside. She had just come back from work, her back ached, and her head too. She longed for silence, a hot bath, and soup for dinner. And now — someone was banging on the door. Neighbors? Couriers? Unexpected guests — the worst.
«One moment,» she muttered and turned the key.
Vadim stood on the threshold. His cheeks were unshaven, his eyes filled with anger. In his hands were two heavy, dirty cloth bags. He stepped inside without greeting her.
«What’s going on?» Lyudmila stepped back. «What happened?»
«Everything’s over,» he snapped. «Lena kicked me out. Said I was free like the wind. I stayed two days at Tolik’s, but then his father came, needed the couch. So now — I’m here.»
He set the bags in the hallway and, as if nothing unusual was happening, hung his jacket on the hook. The room suddenly felt cramped and stuffy.
«Wait… Are you staying for good?» She was still standing at the door, unmoving. «And the apartment? You bought it together, right?»
«It’s hers. The mortgage is hers. I’m nobody there. I just invested in the renovations, the furniture, that damn laminate. And now — I’m free. She wouldn’t even let me collect my stuff. She said she’d do it herself.»
«And you? Where have you been?»
«First in the car, one night. Then at Tolik’s. Sleeping in the car’s not so bad when it’s minus three outside. So, come on, mom, no drama.»
«Vadim, you could’ve at least warned me.»
«What’s the point? Would you have said no?»
She fell silent. Would she have said no? No. But something inside her tightened. This scene — like a repeat of an old movie, one she had seen before, but hoped for a different ending each time.
«I just want to understand,» she said more quietly. «Is everything really that bad?»
«Worse than ever,» he sat down on a stool right in the hallway. «No job, no place to live. All the money’s gone. And more surprises coming my way.»
«What surprises?»
«Later, mom. I’m hungry. You must have something, right?»
Lyudmila turned around and went to the kitchen. In the fridge, there was boiled potatoes, some cabbage, a piece of chicken. While she fried the potatoes, she heard him open the door to his old room. The bed creaked. The air in the apartment changed — it was as if the old smells returned: men’s shoes at the entrance, cheap tobacco.
«And what about the job?»
«Mom, please. I just got here.»
«But you didn’t fall from the moon. Haven’t you been working for a while?»
He entered the kitchen, sat at the table, sniffed his plate.
«A month. Since I left the office. But you don’t believe in me — why explain?»
«I believe in responsibility, not your ‘startups,’ ‘projects,’ and ‘it’s going to be a blast, mom, just wait and see.'»
«Yeah. And you believed in Lena?»
«Yes, she worked, she tried.»
«Well, there’s your logic,» he put down his fork. «You were always for her. I’m just the eternal failure, huh?»
«I raised both of you alone. And yes, it’s hard for me to see you mess up again. I’m not angry. I’m tired.»
He stood up.
«That’s it. I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do. Thanks for letting me stay. The rest — we’ll talk later.»
«Vadim…»
«What now?»
«I don’t have enough money. I can’t support two of us. I work as a caregiver. It’s not much.»
«I’m not asking you to support me, mom. I just… I have nowhere else to go. That’s it. Goodnight.»
He left, slamming the door behind him — not out of anger, just because the door was too light.
Lyudmila sat at the kitchen table. An empty plate, a frying pan, a piece of bread. She listened as her son shifted on the bed in the other room, and thought: again. Back to square one. And again — with no guarantees that it won’t get worse.
The next morning, Vadim woke up late. Lyudmila Nikolaevna had already been to her neighbor on the fifth floor — she went there in the mornings to give shots, then ran to the pharmacy and came back with a bag that had two packs of pasta and cheap toothpaste. In the mailbox, there was a pizza ad, a water bill, and something from the pension fund.
The kitchen was quiet. Only the sound of a jackhammer from somewhere outside. She didn’t wake him up. Let him sleep. But her heart pounded, like before a storm. As if it wasn’t her son behind the door, but responsibility, from which there was no escape.
He came out around noon, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
«Do you have any eggs?»
«Yes. One.» She looked over her glasses. «Take it. I had porridge.»
«Thanks, mom,» he said, and for the first time, it sounded almost genuinely sincere.
While he ate, she looked at his t-shirt… old, with a faded «Hardcore gamer since 2005» printed on it. He had worn it back in college. He grew up — but his character remained the same: quick-tempered, harsh, always with plans that fell apart at the first step.
«Are you in touch with Lyosha?» she asked, folding laundry.
«No. He’s got his own stuff.»
«And Tolik?»
«He’s the same — let me crash on the couch and then kicked me out.»
«He didn’t kick you out. He just had guests.»
He didn’t look up, but his tone became sharp. Lyudmila decided not to respond. She was tired of this endless cycle: ask something — he’d get offended, stay silent — it would be even worse.
Later, he dressed and left somewhere, and she started washing the dishes. It was still grey outside, spring wouldn’t start. When she finished, she went to change. In the hallway, she stopped by her son’s door. She opened it carefully and stepped inside.
The wallpaper was the same as ten years ago when he moved out to live with Lena. There was a dark stain in the corner by the ceiling, as if damp had seeped in. The bookshelf was dusty, the lamp burnt out. On the windowsill — an old toy car, the one he used to play with as a child. She hadn’t thrown it away. Years had passed, but everything felt frozen.
She walked up to the table. On it was his phone, a pack of cigarettes, and a to-do list written on a scrap of paper:
• «Call Slava»
• «Talk to Lyosha about the car»
• «Ask Tolik about shifts»
• «Lyosha — 3k debt!»
Lyudmila sat on the edge of the bed. Not a word about work. Only cars, debts, and some Slavas. It made her uneasy. As if she hadn’t let her son in, but some stranger with his unclear business and dull eyes.
In the evening, he came into the kitchen again.
«Mom, listen, if I take a shift with Tolik, is it okay if I’m out late?»
«But your car is broken.»
«Tolik’s got everything set up. I’m just helping him out, for a cut. And anyway — it’s temporary, we’ll see.»
«You’re not planning to look for a real job?»
He smirked.
«You know I’m not an office guy. I’d go crazy there.»
«Have you tried not going crazy?»
«Mom, enough. Don’t start.»
She turned to him. She wanted to say it calmly, but her voice trembled anyway.
«You don’t want to live like everyone else. But you’re living at my place. And living like that costs money.»
«I’m not asking you to support me. I’m doing it on my own. Just give me some time.»
He left. The door slammed again — not sharply, but enough to make Lyudmila flinch. She looked at the stove, lowered the flame. And suddenly remembered: in his whole life, he never apologized. Not to Lena, not to his sister, not to her. Not for the broken vase, not for the fight with Katya, not for being here again.
That night, she dreamed that the apartment suddenly became cramped, like in an elevator. The air was hot, and the walls were pressing in. She woke up at four in the morning, turned on the lamp, and stared at the ceiling, listening to her son mumble in his sleep from the next room.
On the third day, Lyudmila Nikolaevna came back from work earlier — the procedure for her patient had been canceled. In the mailbox, there was a white envelope without a stamp, with a crooked postmark. It was addressed to her, but the name was written incorrectly: Lyudmila Nikalaevna.
She took the envelope, went upstairs to her apartment, set her bag with milk and eggs by the door, and ripped open the paper. Inside was a printed letter in bold type:
Notification of Overdue Payment
Dear Lyudmila Nikalaevna,
You are listed as the contact person for borrower Vadim Sergeevich Fedoseev. Currently, the outstanding balance is 86,400 rubles…
Her hands trembled. She read it again. And again. They hadn’t called, hadn’t written. Just a threat, a sum, a name. Her apartment, her address. Everything was in this letter.
«Vadim!» her voice cracked. «Can you come out here?»
He came out in sweatpants, holding a phone in his hand.
«What?»
«What’s this?» She showed him the letter.
He took it and glanced at it.
«Ah, it’s nothing. A microloan from last autumn. They send these to everyone.»
«To my address?»
«Well, I live here.»
«And you didn’t warn me?!»
He shrugged.
«Well, I put it down so the letter wouldn’t get lost.»
«And you didn’t warn me?!»
He was silent. He laid the letter on the nightstand. Lyudmila felt her fingers go numb with anger.
«And this is the only loan?»
«Well… two. There was a small one — fifteen. I thought I’d pay it off quickly. Then…»
«Then?»
«Then I had a fight with Lyonka, and Tolik messed up the car… Anyway, everything just piled up.»
«Do you even understand what you’ve done?»
«Mom, it’s all small stuff. Right now, Tolik and I are starting a scheme: we rent a car and drive taxis together. In a month, I’ll pay it all back. At most — two.»
She sat down, as if her legs had given way.
«You used my address for a microloan.»
«It’s not criminal. Just a contact. It’s a formality.»
«A formality?!» Her voice trembled. «Do you know how these things work? Who are the people behind this?»
He shrugged again. And then, as always, he started attacking:
«What did you expect? Me to go out on the street? I didn’t rob you, I didn’t deceive you. I’m just temporarily living with you. Don’t freak out.»
The doorbell interrupted the argument. Lyudmila stood up, adjusted her robe, opened the door — Katya was standing on the threshold.
«Mom. Hi. Svetka told me Vadim’s here?»
Katya — the younger daughter. Two kids, a mortgage in Balashikha, a husband who drives. She lived hand to mouth, but never abandoned her mom. Sometimes she brought groceries, helped with utility bills.
«Yeah,» Lyudmila said quietly. «He’s here.»
«For three days?»
«Come in.»
Katya stepped in and glanced at her brother.
«Right. Again?»
«Not your business,» Vadim muttered.
«It’s very much my business. Because I end up cleaning up all the mess. Just like mom. Like when you borrowed money from my Misha and disappeared for a year.»
«I’ll pay it back!» Vadim shouted. «I’ll pay it all back! Everyone remembers everything, but no one cares that I’m going through a tough time!»
«You’re always going through a tough time. You’re an adult. Thirty-five years old! People at this age are paying off mortgages, raising kids, but you’re still with your schemes…»
«Shut up,» he hissed. «You’ve always been like this. Arrogant.»
«And you’re irresponsible. You didn’t come here for tea, you came to live with your mom, whom you haven’t seen in years. And now — you’re yelling at everyone.»
Katya walked over to Lyudmila and placed her hand on her shoulder.
«Mom, you don’t have to put up with this. He’ll drag you into debt. You know how these microloans work? They’ll start calling tomorrow, threatening…»
«Stop with the panic!» Vadim got worked up again. «Everything’s under control. Just need a little time.»
«Get out of the apartment,» Lyudmila said.
Everyone fell silent. Even the fridge seemed to stop.
«What?»
«You’re not a child. And you’re not on vacation. You’re an adult man with debts, and you want to fix everything at my expense. But I’m not going to be your bailout anymore. Pack your things.»
He stood there, rooted to the spot.
«Mom… are you serious?»
«I’m not a bank. And not free housing.»
Katya stood nearby, silently. Her face had turned pale, her lips were trembling — but not from fear, from anger.
«Go to Tolik’s, to Slava’s. Or finally get a real job.»
He went to his room, rustling around, cursing, kicking his bag. He didn’t say anything as he left. He just looked at her — his gaze wasn’t hurt, but confused.
The door closed.
Lyudmila sat at the table, resting her head on her hands. Katya remained silent. A minute later, she said:
«I’ll call you tonight. Do you need anything brought?»
«No, darling. Nothing’s needed.»
She was left alone. The apartment smelled of cigarettes and something else heavy and sticky — as if it were the smell of defeat.
A week passed.
Lyudmila Nikolaevna lived in a half-daze. At first, every evening she waited for him to call or at least text. Then, she feared he’d never call. And then — she just lived. She went to patients, sorted through her winter clothes, repotted flowers on the windowsill. She tried not to think. Not to remember.
There were no more letters in the mailbox. Neither with mistakes, nor without. And somehow, that scared her more than when the first one came.
On the eighth day, in the evening, the doorbell rang.
Vadim was standing at the threshold.
«Can I?»
He was wearing the same jacket, holding a plastic bag — the kind you get at stores for two rubles. His face looked tired, his eyes like he had lost the challenge he once had.
«Come in.»
He stepped inside silently, set the bag on the floor. Inside — a can of stew, a pack of pasta, two lemons, and a box of cheap tea.
«I’m staying at Igor’s for now. He works at a warehouse — arranged something for me. The shifts are dumb, but I already got an advance. Brought this.»
«You shouldn’t have.»
«I had to. It’s the human thing to do.»
He sat down on the stool, not taking off his jacket.
«Mom, I get it now. I overdid it. You were right. I dug myself in — and I wanted to drag you in too.»
She stayed silent.
«I’m not asking for permission to come back. I’m fine where I am. But… I feel like I’ve had an epiphany. It was even easier when you kicked me out. Honestly. It felt like I realized: either I do it on my own, or nothing.»
«You won’t quit your job?»
«No. Igor promised, if I show I’m serious, they’ll take me on full-time. Then I can look for a place. Not mooching off these guys.»
He spoke evenly, almost quietly. And in his voice, there was none of the old Vadim — no bravado, no irritation. Just tiredness and some strange honesty.
«Do you have five minutes?» she asked.
«Of course.»
«Help me move the chair?»
He nodded. They went into the room together. Lyudmila pointed to the old chair that had been in the way for years. He silently grabbed the armrests. They moved it.
«Here,» she said.
«Like this?»
«Yeah.»
He straightened up, brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. She looked at him and suddenly saw it: his cheeks were hollow, his hands thin, but his face — it looked older. Calmer.
«Do you want some soup?»
«I do,» he said simply. «But I’ll help.»
While she got the pot, he took a knife and started peeling potatoes.
Everything was like it used to be — the water boiling, spoons clinking, the radio humming somewhere in the background. But something inside her loosened. It was as if the feeling returned: as long as someone was trying, it wasn’t in vain.
She set the bread, salt, and soup on the table. They ate silently. But this silence wasn’t suffocating anymore.
When he got up to wash the dishes, she didn’t stop him.
«Mom?»
«What?»
«I would like… if possible… someday to give you everything back. Not with money. Just… so that you’re proud of me. Even just a little.»
She didn’t say anything. She just nodded.
Later, she stood by the window and watched him leave — his steps slow, but steady. He didn’t look back. And that was right.
Lyudmila Nikolaevna ran her hand across the windowsill. Tomorrow — to Vera Arkadyevna’s, then — to the market for some soil. The seedlings were ready.
She smiled to herself. And went to turn off the light.
