— You know, dear, Mom is right. You’re a freeloader, go get a job! — Ilya barked at his stunned wife. Then he slammed the table so hard that a spoon jumped at the edge.
Svetlana froze. She had no idea what to say to him. In her head, a mess of hurt, anger, and confusion was boiling.
Freeloader.
She was the one paying the mortgage, the water, electricity, gas bills, and even Ilya’s mobile phone from the interest on her savings. The one who lived only for her husband—doing the laundry, cooking, pleasing him, making the home cozy and clean.
Even before marriage, Sveta dreamed of being a housewife only and, having earned a decent amount by age 33, she gave it all up and put a big cross on her future career. She decided to live for herself.
And Ilya was seven years younger than Svetlana and married this successful woman more out of self-interest than love.
Apparently, this time he exploded and forgot something very important. For example, whose apartment his beloved mother, Irina Arnoldovna, comfortably occupied. And whose place they were even in, excuse me, while Ilya was going through a difficult time?
— Alright, darling, — Svetlana said.
— So, you think I’m a freeloader, — she slowly repeated.
Ilya, feeling the cold draft from the stairwell behind his back, shrugged uncertainly.
— Well, how else? We have little money. You’re always home, and I’m working.
— So, you have little.
Svetlana tilted her head and looked him in the eyes.
Seems like the boy wants to play the head of the family, — she thought.
And told him:
— Fine, Ilyusha, you’ll have more money. Wait.
Turning on her heels, she pulled out her phone and calmly called a taxi.
— Where are you going? — Ilya asked, trying to hold her back, realizing she was up to something.
— For money, for money, — Svetlana said calmly and slammed the door.
In the taxi, Svetlana sat nervously tapping her nails on the phone.
Freeloader. So, I’m here, you see, feeding you, keeping that spare apartment bought on the cheap, gave it to my mother-in-law, fulfilled her dream to move to the city in her old age. And now I listen to her endless complaints about hemorrhoids, sciatica, and bad weather.
And here comes such statements: “Go get a job.”
— Of course, ran to the nearest realtor’s office, — she threw at the driver.
— You can wait there.
Ten minutes later, Svetlana, smiling spitefully and wasting no time, entered the establishment called “Your Home.” It was on the way to her second apartment — the very one where her mother-in-law had temporarily settled out of kindness.
— Irina Arnoldovna.
— I urgently need tenants, — she said to the girl behind the desk. — Urgently, preferably students, even with a cat. The main thing is they pay for a couple of months upfront.
— Please go to the fifth office. Igor is dealing with tenant selection. Tell him everything, — the girl chirped, flashing a standard bright smile.
Though in her heart she probably thought poorly of Svetlana. She seemed too businesslike and fast.
Realtor Igor, after finding out what the client needed, began to ask Svetlana detailed questions and then filled out forms based on her answers.
— You know, I have some young guys, just what you need. I think your offer will suit them. You just need to sign a cooperation agreement.
— Fine, agreed.
Svetlana briskly and almost without looking signed the rental agreement.
— So, they’ll come tomorrow, — she clarified.
— Yes, of course, I think so. Anyway, according to your terms, your apartment will have tenants by tomorrow.
He smiled encouragingly.
— At least I will do my best.
— I hope so.
Svetlana wasn’t in the mood for a long talk. Inside, she was still boiling with outrage over Ilya’s words.
Half an hour later she stood at her apartment door. Naturally, her mother-in-law opened the door in her old countryside robe with white flowers on a blue background and curlers in her hair.
— Sveta, why didn’t you call ahead? Did something happen? You don’t even look like yourself.
Surprised by her daughter-in-law’s sudden appearance, Irina Arnoldovna sensed something bad with purely feminine intuition.
— The borscht just started cooking. Wait, you’ll have dinner with me.
Irina Arnoldovna politely, somewhat ingratiatingly smiled at Svetlana, but Svetlana cut her off with an impatient tone.
— Please pack up, your stay here is over, — the daughter-in-law told her mother-in-law.
Mother-in-law blinked, then waved her hands. She didn’t understand how to react.
— What do you mean it’s over? You yourself said: “Live as long as you want.” Did you forget? I even bought a wardrobe for my things. By the way, what happened? What got into you?
Svetlana smiled sweetly.
— I remember you said that. But, you see, your son Ilya is having a tough time right now. So tough that he’s desperate. He has little money and even raised his voice at me today. So, Irina Arnoldovna, please pack up, and this apartment will be rented out starting tomorrow. So forgive me.
Without wasting time, she began packing the stunned woman’s things into the nearest trash bags at hand.
Fifteen minutes later, a man with tools from a company doing quick repairs appeared at the door. Svetlana had called him while in the taxi.
— I’m a locksmith. Did someone call? — he asked.
— Yes, of course, come in, — Svetlana said, opening the door wide.
Irina Arnoldovna, still in shock, just gasped.
— Sveta, what are you doing?
— I’m taking care of my family’s future, — Svetlana answered without a hint of irony. — Everything is being done to increase income.
Meanwhile, the locksmith was briskly drilling the door, changing the locks.
Irina Arnoldovna sniffled, confused.
— Dear Sveta, what about me? Think about it. I’ve already gotten used to it here. And the borscht is on the stove, and the begonia is mine.
— It’s okay, — Sveta replied cheerfully. — Take your pot, and the begonia will take root in the village too.
Irina Arnoldovna clearly lost her ability to speak.
— Don’t worry. The car is already at the entrance. The driver will take you to your village with your begonias and even your borscht.
When Svetlana returned home, Ilya was sitting on the couch with a sour face. His mother had already called him and told everything.
— So where have you been? — he muttered gloomily.
Svetlana took off her coat and threw her bag on the chair businesslike.
— Looking for money, my dear, and I found it. Starting tomorrow, that apartment where your mother lived will be rented out. That’s my decision.
— And if, as you say, we have little money, then we’ll live more modestly. You’ll walk to work, and instead of eating out, you’ll bring your lunch and coffee in a thermos from home because we’ll be saving.
— And no beer in the evenings or other entertainment, only porridge and some vegetables. That’s how it’ll be until your financial situation improves.
Ilya stood up in outrage at the new rules.
— Sveta, are you crazy? You kicked out my mother? Where did you send her?
— Calm down. Your mother is on her way home now. Her things are somewhere between the city’s edge and the village club.
Ilya gasped like a fish thrown ashore.
— So you really kicked out my mother.
— No, I just optimized our expenses and increased our income.
Ilya grabbed his head in panic.
— Sveta, you’re a monster. She’s my mother. She’s an elderly woman.
— Nothing bad will happen, — Sveta smiled sweetly. — Village air strengthens health. The local nurse once told her: “Hill potatoes three times a day, and all diseases will go away like magic.”
Ilya silently sank onto the couch, feeling the ground slip away beneath him.
Meanwhile, a drama was unfolding near the taxi loaded with belongings.
Irina Arnoldovna was calling all her relatives in turn. She really didn’t want to go to the village.
— Lyuba, hello, it’s me. Listen, come pick me up.
— What do you mean “two-room for three”? It’s hell as it is.
— Okay. Alочка, hello, dear. Can I stay with you for a week?
— How come you’re flying to Turkey? I love the sea too.
The mother-in-law moaned, complained, got angry, but the taxi driver didn’t care. His job was paid until the end of the day, and now he preferred to stand than go anywhere.
Irina Arnoldovna looked as if she had survived a small apocalypse.
After half an hour more on the phone, she finally left for the village.
Ilya couldn’t forgive Svetlana for such a cruel act.
And after living on her porridge for a week, he gradually disappeared too, asking Svetlana only one last question:
— Why is it like this?
— Because, my boy, so you don’t upset your aunt, — Svetlana answered him.
And now she looked at him not with love but with contempt. It turned out he just annoyed her.
Now she was alone but her nerves were much calmer, and no one called her a freeloader anymore.
