— Katya, has Sasha told you yet? — the mother-in-law rattled off. — Look! There’ll be forty people. So we’ll start cooking at night. I’ll come early, at six in the evening the day before.
— What? At night? — the daughter-in-law smirked. — No, I didn’t sign up for that.
— Oh, hold on. I’m not finished. I sent Sasha the grocery list; he promised to buy everything.
Sasha had always helped his older sister Veronika. By thirty she had managed to marry twice and divorce twice, and each time the husbands were to blame — “I just got the bad ones.” Their mother, Anastasia Grigoryevna, had drummed into Sasha since childhood:
— You have to help your sister.
And Sasha helped. Sometimes with money when Veronika was “temporarily” between jobs, sometimes with repairs in her rented apartment, sometimes with endless moves after yet another divorce.
And then he got married.
Katya, his wife, put up with it at first. But when Veronika asked for the fifth time that year to “borrow their car for a couple of days” because hers had “let her down again,” Katya gently but firmly said:
— Sasha, maybe that’s enough? We need your car this weekend too. I thought we had plans…
— Yeah? What do we need to do? Walking won’t work?
— No. You can’t walk to my parents’ dacha. They picked two buckets of cucumbers for us. I thought you heard me when I mentioned it.
— Yeah… I kind of heard something, but you understand, Sveta has an urgent situation.
— And what urgent situation does she have this time?
— I’m not exactly sure, — Sasha hesitated, — but she needs it more.
— No, Sasha. Not this time! Either you tell your sister no, or you buy me a car. I’m tired of riding the trolleybus when my husband with a car could drive me where I need to go.
For the first time, Sasha thought about it and was about to call his sister to refuse, but Anastasia Grigoryevna quickly put everything back the way it was:
— What, you’re going to abandon your sister because of your wife? She’s on her own! Who will help her if not you?
And Sasha kept helping, despite the fights with his wife. Once, after they hadn’t spoken for several days, Sasha couldn’t stand it:
— Why are you so silent?! Are you mad or something?
— Really? It took you three days to figure out I’m upset? — Katya protested.
— I just don’t understand. About what exactly?
She snorted in disbelief:
— Seriously? You don’t get it? Your dear sister took you away for the entire weekend because she needed to go out of town to a friend’s. I thought you’d just drive her there, but you ended up staying two days with her. Nothing about that bothers you?
— What’s supposed to bother me? So we had a few drinks. Her ex-husband turned up — I get along well with him. We had to mark the occasion somehow. What was I supposed to do, leave like an idiot? That would’ve been rude.
— You could at least have called.
— You could have called too, — Sasha parried.
— I did call, only your phone was unreachable. Imagine that. What was I supposed to think? I was a bundle of nerves, not even knowing where my husband was. And he just decided to take a break from me, — Katya fumed.
— Don’t make things up, — he waved her off and gestured that someone was calling him.
Sasha didn’t answer until he stepped out onto the balcony. He knew perfectly well his wife wouldn’t appreciate him chatting with his sister.
— Hi, little brother! — Veronika chirped into the phone. — My birthday is in two weeks! Thirty! You got that, right?
Sasha cautiously glanced at Katya, who was ladling soup into bowls.
— Well… what do you want? — he asked.
— You always know exactly what I mean! — Veronika laughed. — I want to celebrate it at your place! You’ve got a big living room. My rental is too cramped, and the landlady will complain, and a restaurant is too expensive.
— How about a café? I’ll chip in whatever it takes.
— Are you out of your mind?! — Veronika flared up. — It’s a milestone! You want me to pay for a hall when you’ve got your own apartment? And you’ll have to chip in anyway. I’m not some millionaire’s daughter.
— Let me talk to Katya first. It’s her apartment; she might have plans.
— Too late! — she cut him off. — I already told everyone the party’s at your place. Clear the apartment for the whole day, okay? Mom said she’ll cook everything.
Sasha exhaled, covering his eyes with his hand. While he was trying to figure out how to spin this, his phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from his mother.
“Veronika told me to put together a menu. Here’s the list of dishes. We’ll need to buy the groceries too. Tell Katya to help. And an extra pair of hands for the cooking won’t hurt.”
Meanwhile, Katya, unaware of Veronika’s upcoming birthday, had sprawled comfortably in an armchair with her phone. She wanted to watch her favorite show. When Sasha came into the room with his eyes downcast, she understood immediately.
— Well, what is it this time? — she asked calmly, pausing the video.
— Katya, listen… Veronika… She’s turning thirty, you know. It’s a big date. She wants to celebrate.
Katya looked up.
— So let her celebrate. Are we forbidding her?
Sasha scratched his head.
— That’s not the point. She wants to celebrate at our place.
— What?! — Katya sat up in shock. — Wait. In our apartment?
— Yes, but just for one evening. She says a restaurant is too expensive, and her place is too small…
— And you what? Agreed?
— I said I’d talk to you! But… Veronika’s already invited everyone. And Mom is putting together the menu…
Katya closed her eyes and took a long breath.
— Sasha. Tell me, are you actually an adult? Or are you just a go-between for Veronika and her whims?
— Why are you starting this?
— I’m starting? — Katya pointed at the phone with a wry smile. — And what, no one could be bothered to come to me directly? This is, in fact, my apartment, not a thoroughfare for ambitious relatives. Veronika wants to celebrate her birthday in my home, I’m supposed to cook for her, I’m supposed to help your mother — and no one even thought to inform me?!
Just then Katya’s phone rang.
— Oh, and here’s the cherry on top, — Katya hissed. — Your mother, — she waved the phone in front of her husband’s face.
— Katya, has Sasha told you yet? — the mother-in-law rattled off. — Look! There’ll be forty people. So we’ll start cooking at night. I’ll come early, at six in the evening the day before.
— What? At night? — the daughter-in-law smirked. — No, I didn’t sign up for that.
— Oh, hold your horses. I’m not finished. I sent Sasha the shopping list; he promised to buy everything.
— Let’s suppose… — Katya snorted. — And the money? Where are we getting that kind of money?
— Sasha promised to help, — Tamara Vladimirovna answered curtly.
— Oh, I see. Not only do you want to turn my apartment into a restaurant, you want us to pay for the banquet too? — Katya couldn’t hold back anymore.
— Is Veronika nothing to you or what? Is it really so hard to help for one day, spend some time in the kitchen, chop some salads… You’re the lady of the house!
— Tamara Vladimirovna, — Katya cut her off, — I just found out about this party. I did not give permission to celebrate Veronika’s birthday in my apartment.
— Why do you keep saying “my apartment”? You and Sasha are husband and wife. Everything’s shared! — the mother-in-law snapped.
— Oh, really? And if the apartment were Sasha’s, you wouldn’t say that. In that scenario I’d be a freeloader.
— Don’t talk nonsense. That’s it, conversation over. You need to buy all the groceries by Friday, — said Tamara Vladimirovna and hung up.
— What was that? — Katya asked her husband after hearing the busy tone.
— Enough of acting like you’re someone special! — Sasha finally found his voice. — You’ve already been told you’re in the wrong. Admit your mistake and stop being stubborn.
Katya was stunned by what her husband had said. She got up, went to the closet, and silently took out a large sports bag. Then she went back to the bedroom, opened the dresser, and began methodically folding his T-shirts and jeans into it. Sasha, meanwhile, considered himself the winner.
He yanked open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer, slammed the door, and went to the living room, settling in front of the TV as if nothing had happened.
He figured Katya would just “cool off,” and things would go back to normal. She’d fuss a bit, grumble — and calm down. Sasha even turned on the football match, thinking that Katya would poke her head in and call him to dinner any minute. But he was wrong.
Half an hour later, Katya was standing in the hallway with a bag in one hand, and next to her lay the sports bag, packed to the brim with her husband’s things. Sasha came out of the living room on his way back to the fridge and spotted his wife in the hallway.
— And what’s this supposed to be? — he muttered. — What kind of circus are you putting on here?
Katya looked at him with dislike.
— This isn’t a circus, Sasha. This is the end. I’m not going to be a shadow in your life anymore, the hired help in my own apartment, or the background for your mother’s and sister’s endless whims. If you want to be a good brother and son — be my guest. Go back to your mother. Get ready for the party with her. I’m sure she’ll happily give you a corner in her living room.
— Are you serious right now? — he stepped toward her. — I’m not coming back, you know.
— Absolutely serious, — Katya nodded. — I don’t want you to come back. I put up with so much that I now have questions for myself. But I’m done. If you haven’t learned to respect me in three years, it’s not going to get better.
— Katya… you can’t just destroy everything like this! In a moment!
— You can’t destroy what’s already collapsed.
Sasha smirked, still not understanding that his wife had made up her mind for good.
— And by the way, — Katya added, — all your shirts and jeans are right here. No need to thank me. Leave. Now.
He tried to say something, but Katya opened the front door. Sasha stood there, his face flushed with anger. His cheeks burned, his lips were pressed tight. He still hoped Katya would cave, but her absolute calm only irritated him more.
— What an idiot! — he spat. — Think you’ll find someone better? Guys like me are one in a million!
Katya snorted and took a step back:
— Guys like you really are hard to find. Thank God.
— You’ll regret this, got it?! — Sasha shouted, grabbing the bag. — You’ll crawl back on your knees when you realize no one will even want to talk to you! Without me you’re a nobody!
— If “nobody” is someone who lives in her own apartment, works, doesn’t wait on her husband’s adult relatives, and doesn’t tolerate rudeness, then I quite like being “nobody.”
Sasha left, and Katya was alone in the silence. With a heavy sigh, she went to the window, pulled back the curtain, and watched her former husband get into a taxi, shoving the bag with his foot.
Several months passed.
The divorce was unpleasant. Sasha tried to paint Katya as greedy and mercenary. The main intrigue was the dispute over the car bought during the marriage. He insisted he had paid the entire amount himself, and Katya supposedly just “rode around in it.”
— Your Honor, I put up the money; everything was registered to me! — he declared confidently in court. — My wife didn’t put in a penny!
Katya, leafing calmly through a folder, laid out bank statements on the table: transfers, copies of receipts. She even found the advance payment agreement with her signature on it.
— I’m not claiming his share. But I’m not giving up mine either, — Katya said evenly.
The court sided with justice.
Sasha didn’t like that. The car was registered to him, and he had almost considered it his. Now it would have to be sold and the proceeds split. He left the courtroom with his face twisted in rage.
And at home he didn’t find support — only a barrage of complaints.
— What kind of sap are you? — Tamara Vladimirovna yelled. — You just handed everything to her! The car! The apartment! You could at least have hired a decent lawyer!
On top of everything, Sasha had taken out a bank loan to pay for his sister’s birthday at a restaurant, because he had “let her down with the apartment.” Now Sasha had his own cozy corner with a folding cot in Tamara Vladimirovna’s apartment.
And Katya, for the first time in a long while, slept peacefully. She decided she was still young enough not to cling to a man like Sasha. There are plenty of decent men out there; the main thing is to recognize who’s who in time.
