— 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 a spoon jumped at the edge.
Svetlana froze. She had no idea how to respond. Her mind was a boiling mess of hurt, anger, and confusion.
Freeloader.
She was the very 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—washing, cooking, pleasing him, making the home cozy and clean.
Even before marriage, Sveta dreamed of being a housewife only. Having earned a decent sum by age 33, she dropped everything and put a big cross over her future career. She decided to live for herself.
And Ilya, seven years younger than Svetlana, married this successful lady more out of self-interest than love.
It seemed this time he exploded and forgot something very important. For example, whose living space his beloved mother Irina Arnoldovna comfortably occupied. And in whose apartment they were, excuse me, staying during Ilya’s difficult period?
“— Okay, my love,” said Sveta.
“— So, you think I’m a freeloader,” she repeated slowly.
Ilya, feeling the cold draft from the stairwell behind his back, shrugged uncertainly.
“— Well, how else? We have little money. You’re always at home, and I work.”
“— So you have little,” she replied.
Svetlana tilted her head and looked him in the eyes.
Seems the boy wants to play the head of the family, she thought.
And she said to him:
“— Fine, Ilyusha, you’ll have more money. Wait and see.”
Turning on her heels, she pulled out her phone from her pocket and calmly called a taxi.
“— Where are you going?” Ilya asked, trying to hold her back, sensing she had a plan.
“— For money, for money,” Svetlana said calmly and slammed the door.
In the taxi, Svetlana nervously tapped her nails on the phone.
Freeloader. So, I’m here, you see, feeding you, maintaining that spare apartment bought on a bargain, which I gave to my mother-in-law, fulfilling her dream to move to the city in her old age. And now I’m listening to her endless complaints about hemorrhoids, sciatica, and bad weather.
And on top of that, such statements: “Go get a job.”
“— Well, of course, I rushed to the nearest real estate agency,” she threw at the driver.
“— Wait there.”
Ten minutes later, Sveta, smiling bitterly and wasting no time, entered an establishment called “Your Home.” It was on the way to her second apartment—the one where her mother-in-law temporarily and kindly settled.
“— Irina Arnoldovna.”
“— I urgently need tenants,” she said to the girl at the desk. “Urgently, preferably students, even with a cat. The main thing is they pay upfront for a couple of months.”
“— Please go to office number five. Igor is just dealing with tenant selection. You can tell him everything,” the girl chirped, putting on a polite, toothy smile.
Though in her soul, she probably thought poorly of Sveta. She seemed too businesslike and quick.
Realtor Igor, after learning 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. But you need to sign a cooperation agreement.”
“— Okay, I agree.”
Svetlana briskly and almost without looking signed the lease agreement.
“— So, they’ll come tomorrow,” she clarified.
“— Yes, of course, I think so. In any case, according to your terms, by tomorrow your apartment will already have tenants.”
He smiled encouragingly.
“— At least, I will do my best.”
“— I hope so.”
Svetlana was not in the mood for a long conversation. Inside, her outrage over Ilya’s words still boiled.
Half an hour later, she was standing at the door of her apartment. Naturally, the mother-in-law opened it, wearing her old countryside robe with white flowers on a blue background and curlers on her head.
“— 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 was wrong by pure feminine intuition.
“— The borscht just started cooking here. Wait; you can have dinner with me.”
Irina Arnoldovna smiled politely, a little ingratiatingly, at Svetlana, but she was cut off by an impatient refusal tone.
“— Please pack up; your stay here is over,” the daughter-in-law said to the mother-in-law.
The mother-in-law blinked and then waved her hands. She did not understand how to react.
“— How is it over? You yourself said, ‘Live as long as you want.’ Have you forgotten? I even bought a wardrobe for my things. And, by the way, what happened? What bit you?”
Sveta nodded sweetly.
“— I remember you said that. But you see, your son Ilya is going through a tough time right now. So tough that he is desperate. He has little money, and today he even raised his voice at me. So, Irina Arnoldovna, please pack up; this apartment will be rented out starting tomorrow. So forgive me.”
Without wasting time, she began packing the stunned woman’s belongings into the nearest trash bags.
Fifteen minutes later, a handyman with tools from a company that did quick small repairs appeared at the door—called by Svetlana during the taxi ride.
“— I’m a lock specialist. 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 replied without a hint of irony. “Everything is done to increase income.”
Meanwhile, the handyman was briskly drilling the door and changing the locks.
Irina Arnoldovna sniffled in confusion.
“— Dear Sveta, what about me? Think about it. I’ve already gotten used to it here. And the borscht is still on the stove, and my begonia.”
“— It’s okay,” Sveta replied cheerfully. “With the pot, you’re on your way, and the begonia will survive in the village too.”
Irina Arnoldovna was clearly speechless.
“— Don’t worry. There’s a car already waiting by the entrance. The driver will take you to your village with the begonias and even your borscht.”
When Svetlana returned home, Ilya sat on the couch with a sour face. His mother had already called and told him everything.
“— So where were you?” he grumbled gloomily.
Svetlana businesslike took off her coat and threw her bag on the chair.
“— I was looking for money, my dear, and I found it. Starting tomorrow, the apartment where your mother lived will be rented out. I decided so.”
“— And if we have little money, as you say, we’ll live more modestly. You’ll walk to work on foot, and instead of eating out, you’ll take food from home in containers and coffee in a thermos because we need to save.”
“— And no beer in the evenings or other entertainment, and only porridge and some vegetables for food. That’s how it’ll be until your financial situation improves.”
Ilya was so outraged by the new rules he even stood up.
“— Svetka, are you crazy? You kicked out my mother? Where did you send her?”
“— Calm down. Your mother is on her way home. Her things are somewhere between the city edge and the village club.”
Ilya gasped like a fish thrown ashore.
“— So you definitely kicked my mother out.”
“— No, I just optimized our expenses and increased income.”
Ilya grabbed his head in panic.
“— Svetka, you’re a monster. That’s my mother. She’s an elderly woman.”
“— Nothing bad will happen,” Svetlana smiled sweetly. “Country air strengthens health. The local nurse once told her herself: ‘Hill the potatoes three times a day, and all diseases will vanish like a hand wave.’”
Ilya silently sank back onto the couch, feeling the ground slipping away beneath him.
Meanwhile, near the car loaded with belongings, the taxi drama unfolded.
Irina Arnoldovna called relatives one by one. She really did not want to go to the village.
“— Lyuba, hello, it’s me. Listen, take me in.”
“— What do you mean ‘two rooms for three’? It’s already hell.”
“— Okay. Aloka, 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 rather than drive anywhere.
Irina Arnoldovna looked like she’d survived a small apocalypse.
After half an hour on the phone, she finally left for the village.
Ilya could not forgive Svetlana for such a cruel act.
And after a week living on her porridge, he gradually disappeared too, leaving Svetlana with just one question:
“— Why?”
“— 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 simply bored her.
Now, although she was alone, her nerves were much calmer, and no one called her a freeloader anymore.
