“Irish, you’ll go to Aliska’s on Saturday and Sunday to look after the nieces and nephews,” Denis’s voice, lazily stretching the words while the football match played on TV in the background, sounded to Irina like the creak of an ungreased wagon over her frayed nerves. “She’s got some important plans, you understand.”
Irina froze, holding a cup of fragrant herbal tea, never bringing it to her lips. The Friday evening was slowly and cozily spreading through the small kitchen. Outside, twilight deepened, lit by sparse street lamps, while inside her soul brimmed with anticipation. Two full days off! Two days she had planned down to the minute. Saturday morning — a long-promised visit to the new contemporary art gallery; then lunch with Katya, her best friend, whom she hadn’t seen for almost a month due to endless busyness. And Sunday — oh, that was sacred! — she planned to finally sort through the attic shelf where a ridiculous amount of old junk had accumulated and to finish the article she had long been working on for a small literary magazine, her secret refuge. And now, this casual, tossed-over-the-shoulder remark from Denis — “you’ll go to Aliska’s” — was shattering everything like a house of cards in a strong gust of wind.
She slowly set the cup on the table. The porcelain quietly clinked against the saucer, and the sound seemed deafening in the sudden silence. Denis, without looking away from the screen where green football players rushed about on the field, apparently didn’t even notice her silence. He took her agreement as something obvious, as always. How many times had it been this “you’ll go to Aliska’s”? Ten? Twenty? Irina lost count. Denis’s sister, Alisa, was a master at scheduling “urgent matters” and “important plans” precisely on weekends, effortlessly shifting the care of her two little terrors onto her sister-in-law’s shoulders. And Denis, her beloved husband, always met his sister halfway with astonishing readiness, completely disregarding his own wife’s plans and wishes.
“For what reason?” — Irina’s voice sounded low and hollow, as if coming from deep inside her indignant soul. The ice that had frozen her for a moment began to crack, releasing a burning wave of indignation.
Denis tore his eyes from the TV and looked at her in surprise. His face expressed sincere bewilderment, as if she had asked why the sun rises in the east.
“Well, how for what? Alisa asked. You know, she’s alone with them, it’s hard for her.”
“Hard?” — Irina felt blood rush to her cheeks. — “And do you think it will be easy for me to spend two of my rightful days off chasing after two restless kids who, by the way, don’t listen to me at all because their mother lets them do anything?”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Denis grimaced. “They’re normal kids. You’ll play with them, feed them, put them to bed. What’s so hard about that? Aliska will thank you afterward.”
“Thank you,” that phrase finally exploded inside Irina. How many times had she heard that “thank you” that never compensated for the nerves spent, the plans ruined, or the feeling that she was simply being used.
“Your sister has a husband, your mother, and a bunch of girlfriends — let one of them sit with her kids, I’m not your free nanny!”
She got up from the table, feeling a slight tremor of internal tension.
“I have my own plans for this weekend, Denis. Clear? My own. And I’m not going to sacrifice them for your sister’s whims.”
Denis looked at her wide-eyed, as if seeing her for the first time. His face slowly stretched. He clearly didn’t expect such resistance. Usually, Irina would grumble for show and eventually agree. But today something had changed. Today she was determined.
“You… are you serious?” — he finally managed to say, surprise and the first notes of growing dissatisfaction in his voice. — “But… she’s asking. Relatives should help each other.”
Irina smirked, but the smile was bitter, nervous.
“Helping is when help is really needed and when it’s mutual, Denis. What’s happening between us and your sister is called something else. It’s called exploitation. And I’m tired of it. Categorically.”
Denis’s face slowly but surely took on the hue of a ripe tomato. He was clearly not used to such a direct and uncompromising refusal from Irina, especially when it concerned his beloved sister. Usually, her dissatisfaction was limited to quiet grumbling that he easily ignored, or requests that could be postponed “for later.” But now in her voice, her posture, in her entire demeanor, there was such unwavering determination that Denis was momentarily at a loss, as if he’d run into an invisible wall.
“Are you mocking me?” — he raised his voice, the notes of offense mixed with barely concealed irritation. — “What exploitation? Alisa is my sister! We’re one family! And helping each other is normal, it’s right! She’s not a stranger to treat her like that…” — “And who am I to her, Denis?” — Irina turned to him, arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze was direct and very serious, without a hint of flirtation or desire to smooth the sharp edges. — “I’m a convenient, free nanny who’s always at hand. When Alisa has ‘important plans,’ she remembers me. But when I have things to do or just want to rest, no one cares. My weekends, my strength, my time — by default, all must be thrown at her feet.”
Denis paced the kitchen, clearly trying to control his rising anger. He stopped at the window, drummed his fingers on the windowsill, then abruptly turned around.
“What are you talking about! What ‘whims’? You know how hard it is for her alone with two kids? Her husband is always at work, and kids, they’re kids! They require attention, care. You’re a woman yourself, you should understand.”
“Precisely because I’m a woman and understand what caring for children means, I don’t want to take on someone else’s duties constantly,” Irina countered, not lowering her voice. “Alisa has a husband. Let him take time off or rearrange his ‘eternal work’ to look after his own children if his wife has such urgent matters. She has your mother, who, as far as I know, dotes on the grandchildren and doesn’t live on the other side of the world. Why me? Why is it always me whenever Alisa needs to ‘free herself’?”
Denis snorted and waved his hand as if shooing a pesky fly.
“Well, you know, that’s just nitpicking! Mom can’t always, she has her own things, her blood pressure is up. And Seryoga, her husband, he provides for the family, works like crazy so they have everything. He won’t just drop work every time Alisa wants to. And you… you’ll be home. What difference does it make to you whether you spend time on your own business or looking after the nephews? They love you, by the way.”
“They love me only as long as I allow them everything their own mother forbids and then clean up after their mischief,” Irina thought bitterly but said aloud:
“It does matter, Denis. A lot. I had plans this weekend. I wanted to go to the gallery, meet Katya whom I haven’t seen in ages. I wanted, at last, to just rest, read a book, take care of myself. Or don’t I have the right to that? Should my desires always come last?”
Her calm but firm tone seemed to inflame Denis even more. He was used to Irina being yielding, easy to manipulate by playing on guilt or duty. Now he was confronted with something new, and he didn’t like it at all.
“You’re always like this!” — he exploded, his voice thundering through the kitchen, pushing out the cozy Friday evening silence. — “No understanding for my family! For you, my relatives mean nothing! Only your own ‘wants’ on your mind! Selfish!”
Irina flinched at his shout but did not retreat. The accusation of selfishness was an old favorite Denis tactic when he ran out of arguments. Before, she might have been embarrassed, started to justify herself. But not today.
“And does your family show understanding to me when they shamelessly dump their burdens on me?” — her voice remained even but steel-toned. — “When Alisa calls on a Friday evening to say I have to cancel all my plans because she, you see, wants to unwind? You call that understanding? You call that family values? I think it’s called something else. And I’m done playing these games. I’m not going to Alisa’s. End of discussion. Let her solve her own problems. Or finally hire a professional nanny if she has such ‘important plans’ that can’t be canceled. I’m sure Seryoga, who ‘works like crazy,’ can afford that.”
Denis looked at her with his mouth open, words stuck in his throat. It seemed only now he began to realize the seriousness of her intentions. The football match on TV had long ended, but neither he nor Irina noticed. In the small living room, their own much more important and heated battle was unfolding. And the first round apparently went to Irina. But she knew this was just the beginning. Denis would not give up easily. And neither would Alisa.
Denis fell silent, breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon. The air in the kitchen seemed to thicken, becoming viscous and heavy. Irina saw a vein bulge on his neck and his fingers nervously clench and unclench. He was clearly unaccustomed to such resistance and was feverishly searching for a new argument, a new way to pressure her, to make her submit to the usual script. Finding nothing better, he silently grabbed his phone from the table and, demonstratively clicking his heels, left the kitchen for the room. A couple of minutes later, Irina heard his muffled but irritated voice — he was clearly complaining to his sister, portraying himself as a victim of an ungrateful and selfish wife.
Irina smiled to herself. Predictable. She had calculated this move too. Let him complain. Let Alisa try to “talk her around.” Wonder what arguments she’ll bring up? Probably something about “women’s solidarity” or how “the kids adore her.”
She was not wrong. About ten minutes later, when Irina had already washed the cup and loudly set the kettle on to show life went on and her plans for the evening remained intact, her phone rang. The screen showed: “Alisa.” Irina took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and pressed the answer button.
“Hello, Irish, sunshine, hi!” — Alisa’s voice oozed with such sickly-sweet honey that Irina nearly clenched her teeth. — “How are you, dear? What are you up to?”
“Hi, Alisa,” Irina answered evenly, deliberately not matching her syrupy tone. — “Planning the weekend.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” — Alisa pretended not to notice the coldness in her voice. — “I’m calling about that. Denis told me… well, you know, he’s so impressionable, probably misunderstood… I wanted to ask you, Irish, to sit with my angels on Saturday and Sunday. I have, you see, such important, absolutely super-important things! Canceling everything would be a catastrophe, everything would fall apart! You’ll help me, right? The kids love you so much, they only talk about you, asking when Aunt Ira will come.”
Irina listened to this verbal flood, a wave of cold anger rising inside her. “Angels,” who after her visits left the apartment as if a hurricane had swept through. “Super-important things,” which usually turned out to be another party with friends or a shopping trip. And that endless manipulative “the kids love you so much.”
“Alisa,” she interrupted her chatter, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible but firm, “I already told Denis I have my own plans this weekend. And I won’t be able to look after your kids.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. It seemed Alisa did not expect such a direct answer. Her “charm” tactic clearly didn’t work.
“How… how can you not?” — surprised and slightly offended notes cut through the sister-in-law’s voice. — “Irina, what’s wrong with you? I was really counting on you! I really have everything very serious. Please understand! We’re family, we should help each other. What kind of plans do you have that can’t be postponed?”
“Alisa, my plans are my plans,” Irina snapped.
Her patience was rapidly running out.
“And I don’t feel obliged to justify them to you. You have a husband, you have your mother. Why don’t you turn to them? Or your girlfriends, with whom you spend so much time, can surely help too.”
“Well, you compare!” — Alisa protested, the sweetness gone from her voice, replaced by barely concealed irritation. — “Mom feels bad, and Seryozha works. And the girlfriends… what do girlfriends have to do with it? You’re practically family! I thought you’d be human about it…”
“Being human means not abusing your kindness and not considering you obligated to solve others’ problems,” Irina snapped back, no longer holding back. — “Listen, Alisa, let’s be honest. I’m tired of being your go-to girl. I’m not a free nanny. If you have such important matters that can’t be canceled, hire a professional nanny. I’m sure your family budget can afford it. And please don’t bother me with such matters anymore. I’m not coming. Period.”
Without waiting for an answer, Irina hung up. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from released emotions. She knew the second wave was about to start. And it did not keep her waiting. The kitchen door burst open so sharply it nearly hit the wall. Denis stood in the doorway. His face was distorted with anger.
“What did you tell her?!” he growled, stepping almost close enough to touch Irina. — “She called me, almost crying! She says you were rude, practically told her off! What do you think you’re doing?! You’re embarrassing me in front of my sister! You’re deliberately ruining my family relationships!”
“I told her the truth, Denis!” — Irina straightened up, looking him in the eyes. Her own anger, previously restrained, now burst out. — “The very truth you’ve been afraid to tell her for years! That she is an adult woman and should take responsibility for her children and her ‘important plans’ herself! And not dump everything on others! And if your ‘family relationships’ are built on me being their free servant and silently enduring all their whims, then such relationships are worth nothing, Denis! Maybe you should think about why your sister tries at every opportunity to dump the kids on anyone just to ‘unwind’ herself?”
Denis gasped in outrage. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to find words. Irina’s accusations hit the mark, but of course, he couldn’t admit it.
“You… you just hate her!” — he finally spat out. — “You envy her! That’s all!”
“Hate? Envy?” — Irina laughed bitterly. — “Denis, come to your senses! What is there to envy? That she can’t spend a day with her children without trying to shove them off on someone? Or that she doesn’t care about other people’s time and plans? No, Denis, I don’t envy her. I even feel sorry for her a bit. And sorry for you that you don’t see it or don’t want to. But feeling sorry is not the same as letting someone walk all over you.”
The rest of the evening passed in oppressive silence. Denis locked himself in his room with his laptop, deliberately ignoring Irina. She, trying not to pay attention to the storm raging in her soul, finished her cold tea and started tidying the kitchen, methodically wiping surfaces and putting dishes away. This monotonous work calmed her a bit, allowing her to collect her thoughts. She knew the Friday night scandal was only a prelude. The main battle was yet ahead. And it did not take long to arrive.
Saturday morning greeted Irina with bright sunshine and a feeling of fragile, barely established truce. Denis came out of the room looking like someone who had spent the whole night carrying sacks of cement. He silently poured himself coffee, avoiding eye contact with Irina, and silently left again. Irina shrugged. Her plans for the day remained intact. She quickly ate breakfast, got dressed, anticipating the long-awaited visit to the gallery, and was already heading for the door when someone rang insistently.
Irina’s heart skipped a beat. She knew who it was. Looking through the peephole, she saw Alisa on the doorstep holding the hands of her restless offspring — five-year-old Maxim and three-year-old Vera. A small children’s suitcase stood next to Alisa. Hearing the bell, Denis peeked out of the room with a questioning look.
Irina took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Irochka, hi! Here we are!” — Alisa cooed with a falsely cheerful smile, trying to squeeze inside. The kids, seeing the open door, immediately tried to slip inside, but Irina, not moving from her spot, barred their way.
“Hi, Alisa,” she said calmly but firmly. — “I’m afraid you have the wrong address. Or time.”
The smile slipped off Alisa’s face like melting butter.
“What do you mean?” — she blinked in confusion. — “We agreed… I thought… Denis said it was all right.”
Denis, who had come out into the hallway, turned beet red. He clearly did not expect this turn of events.
“Alis, well, I told you… Ira…” — he faltered, not knowing how to get out of the awkward situation.
“I told Denis and you, Alisa, on the phone yesterday that I couldn’t watch the kids,” Irina said sharply, looking straight at her sister-in-law. Her calmness seemed to infuriate Alisa far more than yelling would. — “I have other plans for the weekend. And I’m not going to cancel them.”
“But… how can that be?” — Alisa’s voice trembled with hurt and indignation. — “I have everything planned! Tickets bought! I can’t cancel it all! Are you mocking me?”
Maxim, sensing the tension, whimpered. Vera, looking at her brother, also pouted, ready to cry.
“You’re the one mocking all of us, Alisa!” — Ira snapped.
“Ira, what are you doing?! She’s my sister, my nephews! You can’t do this!” — Denis finally found his voice. His face showed extreme outrage.
“I can, Denis. And I will,” Irina looked at her husband with a cold, detached gaze. — “Because I’m tired of being convenient and unquestioning for all of you. Tired of my wishes and plans never being taken into account.”
“What plans can you have that are more important than family?!” — Alisa screeched, her face twisted with anger. — “You’re just selfish! Heartless selfish! You hate my kids, that’s all!”
“Stop talking nonsense, Alisa,” Irina’s voice became as hard as steel. — “I don’t hate your kids. I hate how you manipulate them and try to manipulate me. You’re used to everyone dancing to your tune, but it’s over. Find another nanny. Or maybe their own uncle,” she looked pointedly at Denis, “will finally remember that he’s family here and spend the weekend with his nephews, since their mother is so busy with her ‘super-important plans.’”
Denis went red. The accusation thrown by his wife in front of his sister struck his pride.
“How dare you talk to me like that?! And to my sister?!” he shouted. — “I won’t allow it!” — “You don’t tell me what to do, Denis,” Irina answered calmly. — “If you don’t like a wife who has her own opinion and doesn’t want to be a servant to your relatives, you can pack your things and move to your sister. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have such a helper. And I’m going to the gallery.”
With those words, Irina grabbed her purse, decisively bypassed the stunned Denis and Alisa, still standing on the doorstep with the kids and suitcase, and left the apartment, closing the door firmly behind her. She did not look back, though she heard Alisa erupt into an angry tirade behind her and Denis furiously responding.
Walking down the street, Irina felt a strange mixture of emptiness and relief. She understood this scandal was final. After this, her relationship with her husband’s family — and with her husband himself — would never be the same. Maybe this was the end of their marriage. But at the same time, she felt a huge, unbearable burden she had carried for many years fall from her shoulders. She had finally said “no.” And that “no” sounded deafeningly loud, primarily to herself. What would happen next, she didn’t know. But one thing was certain: she would never be a free nanny again. Never…
