Marina opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut against the bright sunlight filtering through the not-quite-drawn curtains. Her first thought was a happy one—Saturday! Their first weekend in three weeks with no trips, no meetings, nothing urgent. She stretched luxuriously, savoring the softness of the bed and the quiet of the apartment.
Beside her, Alexey was snoring softly, his face buried in the pillow. His dark hair stuck out in all directions, and on his face was a peace Marina hadn’t seen in a long time. In recent months they’d both been working like the devil—she had a crunch at the advertising agency where she was an art director, and he was swamped with projects at his IT company. They came home late, ate dinner in complete silence, fell into bed, and were asleep at once.
Marina carefully got up so as not to wake her husband and went to the kitchen. Rain pattered outside—the perfect weather to stay home, wrap yourself in a blanket, and do nothing. She was already mentally planning a lazy morning: coffee, croissants from the bakery next door, maybe a movie or a book…
A sharp ring of the phone shattered her plans like lightning splitting a tree.
“Hello?” Marina answered sleepily, glancing at the screen and seeing a familiar name: “Valentina Petrovna.”
“Marinka, dear, are you up yet?” Her mother-in-law’s brisk voice sounded as if she’d gotten up at five and already done a dozen chores.
“Good morning, Valentina Petrovna,” Marina tried to pack as much politeness into her voice as possible.
“Listen, I was just thinking… The weather’s good today, even if it’s drizzling. Perfect time to head to the dacha! It’s time to plant potatoes and prepare the beds. When are you and Lyosha coming? Will you make it by lunch?”
Marina felt something inside her snap. She gently pulled the bedroom door closed so she wouldn’t wake Alexey.
“Valentina Petrovna, Alexey and I were planning to stay home. We’re very tired—we need to rest…”
“Rest?” Her mother-in-law’s voice acquired a metallic edge. “And working in the fresh air isn’t rest? You two are wilting in those offices of yours! You need to get your hands in the soil—that’s health, that’s good for your spirits!”
Marina drew a deep breath. This topic surfaced regularly. Valentina Petrovna, who’d worked her whole life as a schoolteacher and then as an assistant principal, could not grasp how anyone might dislike dacha chores. For her, the vegetable garden wasn’t just a hobby; it was practically the meaning of life.
“We understand that you enjoy working at the dacha, but we’ve been honest—we’re not going to help. We have other plans for the weekend…”
“What plans?” Valentina Petrovna cut her off. “Lying on the couch? At your age I worked from dawn till dusk and that was that! Do you know how much potatoes cost in the store? And how much chemistry is in them! No, better to have your own—clean and organic.”
Marina bit her lip. This conversation repeated year after year. Her mother-in-law stubbornly kept planting a garden even though the harvest lasted maybe a couple of months, and the rest of the time she bought vegetables at the same store. Explaining that to her was impossible.
“Let’s talk about it with Alexey when he wakes up, all right, Valentina Petrovna…”
“What is there to talk about?” her mother-in-law’s voice grew sharper. “A son should help his mother! That’s sacred! And you as a wife should support him, not lead him astray!”
That last word stung. Marina felt anger flare in her chest.
“I’m not leading anyone astray. We just want to rest…”
“Rest!” Valentina Petrovna snorted. “In my day people knew what work was and how to respect their elders. You two think only of yourselves!”
At that moment a sleepy Alexey shuffled out of the bedroom in lounge pants and a stretched-out T-shirt. Seeing his wife with the phone and her tense face, he shook his head knowingly.
“Mom?” he asked quietly.
Marina nodded and handed him the phone.
“Good morning, Mom,” Alexey said, switching to speaker.
“Lyosha, son! I thought you were already getting ready! There’s so much to do at the dacha, I can’t handle it alone!”
Alexey rubbed the bridge of his nose—a gesture Marina knew as a sign of rising irritation.
“Mom, we’ve talked about this many times. We’re not going to help with the garden. We have our own life, our own plans…”
“What plans?” Now Valentina Petrovna sounded wounded. “What could be more important than helping your own mother?”
“Mom, listen…” Alexey sat at the kitchen table and wearily dropped his head into his hands. “We work twelve hours a day. I’ve even been working weekends this past month. Marina’s exhausted too. We just need to be home, sleep, recover…”
“Sleep!” his mother burst out. “And who will help me? I’m seventy-two, and I’m hauling sacks of soil by myself!”
“Mom, why are you hauling sacks at all?” Alexey’s voice showed his fatigue. “Why do you need that vegetable garden? You can buy any vegetables in the store!”
“In the store!” she snorted contemptuously. “It’s all poison there! Your own is your own! Organic! And besides, the earth is life! A person must be connected to the land, not sit at a computer all day!”
Marina sat down beside her husband and took his hand. She could see him struggling to stay patient.
“Mom,” Alexey said as calmly as he could, “we respect that you love the dacha. But it’s your hobby. We never asked you to plant a garden; we told you we wouldn’t help. Please hire some help or ask neighbors…”
“Hire help!” Valentina Petrovna squeaked. “Strangers! And my own son won’t help! What is the world coming to! I’ve bent my back for you all my life, and now you can’t give your mother even a day!”
“Mom, you didn’t bend your back for us!” Alexey’s voice hardened. “We’re adults, independent people. We have our own family, our own life…”
“Your own family!” she cut him off. “And what am I—nobody? I gave birth to you, raised you, educated you! And now some girl has become more important than your mother!”
Marina felt her face flush. “Some girl”—they’d been married five years, yet her mother-in-law still treated her like a temporary mistake in her son’s life.
“Mom, don’t you dare talk about Marina like that!” Alexey barked.
“What did I say?” she asked with feigned innocence. “I’m just stating facts. You always used to help, and now your wife forbids it!”
“My wife forbids nothing!” Alexey stood and began pacing the kitchen. “It’s our joint decision! We don’t want to spend our weekends on the vegetable plot!”
“Spend!” the mother-in-law sobbed. “That’s how you talk about helping your mother—spending time! And who am I doing all this for? For you! So you have decent food and not store-bought poison!”
Marina saw the muscle in Alexey’s jaw twitch. She knew—one more push and he’d snap. Valentina Petrovna could press on sore spots with surgical precision.
“Valentina Petrovna,” Marina said quietly, “maybe we can find a compromise? We can help you find workers, even pay for them…”
“I don’t need your money!” her mother-in-law snapped. “I need family support! I need my son to remember who raised him!”
“He does remember!” Marina couldn’t hold back. “We help you with shopping, with doctors, with repairs in your apartment! But the garden is your choice, not ours!”
“My choice!” Outrage made her voice tremble. “I’ve lived my whole life for family! My whole life! And now you tell me it’s my choice! Ungrateful!”
Alexey stopped in the middle of the kitchen and took a deep breath.
“Enough, Mom,” he said tiredly. “Enough with the emotional blackmail. We’re not coming to the dacha today. And we’re not coming tomorrow either. We have a right to rest.”
“A right to rest!” His mother laughed bitterly. “And does a mother have no right to support from her children? Only obligations for the mother!”
“A mother has the right to ask, and children have the right to say no,” Alexey said firmly.
“To refuse your own mother!” Valentina Petrovna was clearly performing for an audience, though the only audience was her son and daughter-in-law. “How can you! I’m not asking for a fur coat or a vacation! I’m asking for help! For a sacred cause!”
Marina felt anger boiling inside. She’d endured these manipulations for five years. Five years of being called lazy, ungrateful, selfish. Five years of holding back because Alexey had asked her not to fight with his mother.
“Valentina Petrovna,” she said, keeping her voice even, “we’re not lazy. We work from morning till night. We have the right to want to spend our weekend at home.”
“Right! You’re all about rights!” Valentina Petrovna raised her voice to a shout. “And where are your duties? Duties to family, to your elders! I fed you when there was no money! I fed and watered you when you first married! And now you can’t even help plant cucumbers!”
“We never asked you to!” Marina burst out. “We told you we’d manage on our own!”
“Never asked!” his mother-in-law cackled. “You stuffed yourselves with my pies and borscht, and now suddenly you ‘never asked’! Ungrateful!”
Alexey stood and took the phone from his wife.
“Stop it, Mom,” he said harshly. “Stop it right now. You have no right to talk to Marina like that.”
“No right!” she screamed. “You’re my son! And if this… your wife doesn’t want to respect family, then she shouldn’t come here anymore!”
“Fine,” Alexey said coolly. “We won’t. Goodbye, Mom.”
“Lyosha, what are you doing!” Valentina Petrovna was frightened. “That’s not what I meant! Lyosha!”
But Alexey had already hung up. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, cellphone clenched in his hand, breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Marina. “Forgive her—and me. I shouldn’t have let her speak to you like that.”
Marina hugged her husband. She felt his shoulders tremble with suppressed anger.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”
Half an hour later the phone rang again.
“Don’t pick up,” Marina pleaded.
“I have to,” Alexey sighed. “She won’t stop.”
“Lyosha, son,” Valentina Petrovna’s voice trembled with tears. “Forgive your mother. I lost my temper. It’s just so hard alone… My back hurts, my hands aren’t what they used to be… And there’s so much work…”
Marina watched her husband’s resolve melt. He loved his mother despite all her flaws and couldn’t bear her tears.
“Mom,” he said gently, “I understand it’s hard for you. But why won’t you hire help? We’re willing to pay…”
“Strangers!” she sobbed. “They work without heart! They cut corners! Family is different! Family does things with love!”
“But we don’t know how to work in a garden,” Alexey explained patiently. “We’ll just get in the way…”
“You’ll learn!” his mother brightened. “It’s not hard! I’ll teach you everything! It’s good for your health too! You’ll work with your hands and get some sun!”
Marina could feel Alexey wavering. She knew his weak spots: guilt toward his mother, wanting to be a good son, fear of conflict.
“All right, Mom,” he said at last. “We’ll think about it…”
“What’s there to think about?” his mother exclaimed, as if refusal were unthinkable. “Get ready and come! I’ve already put the kettle on!”
“Mom, we said we’ll think about it. That doesn’t mean we’re coming today.”
“What could you possibly think over? I’m waiting!”
Alexey ended the call and sank heavily into a chair.
“She won’t let up,” he said wearily. “She’ll call every half hour, cry, accuse…”
“And what do you suggest?” Marina sat down across from him. “Go and spend the weekend on something we don’t want and don’t like?”
“Maybe just this once?” Alexey suggested uncertainly. “Help her with the beds so she’ll leave us alone?”
“Just once?” Marina couldn’t believe her ears. “Lyosha, we already did that! Last year we helped ‘just once,’ and then she demanded we come all summer to weed, hill, water! Did you forget?”
Alexey dropped his eyes, guilty. Of course he remembered. Last summer they’d spent almost every weekend at his mother’s dacha instead of resting or doing their own things.
“But she’s alone,” he muttered. “And it really is hard for her…”
“Lyosha,” Marina took his hands, “it’s hard because she chooses that workload. No one is making her plant a whole garden. She can cultivate a smaller plot, hire help, or sell the dacha and buy a better apartment! But she chooses to suffer and drag us into it.”
“She’s still my mother,” he protested weakly.
“So what? Being a mother doesn’t give her the right to run the lives of adult children!” Real anger was waking in Marina. “Lyosha, we’re thirty! We’re adults! We have a right to our own life!”
The phone rang again. Alexey looked at the screen and sighed.
“If I don’t pick up, she’ll call all day,” he said.
“Then pick up and say it clearly: we’re not coming. Period.”
Alexey pressed the green button.
“Lyosha!” his mother’s voice sounded panicked. “Why didn’t you answer? I thought something happened!”
“Mom, we just talked…”
“So when are you coming?” she interrupted. “I need to plan! The rain will stop soon and we can start digging the beds!”
“We’re not coming,” Alexey said, and Marina heard new notes in his voice—resolve.
“How are you not coming?” his mother didn’t understand. “What about me? What about help?”
“Mom, hire workers. We’ll pay.”
“Lyosha!” hysteria crept into her voice. “How can you do this! I was counting on you! I already planned everything! And now you’re letting me down!”
“Mom, we’re not letting anyone down. We never promised to help.”
“You didn’t promise! And family ties? Do they mean nothing?”
Marina saw Alexey begin to waver again. Her mother-in-law played his guilt like a violin.
“Mom,” he said tiredly, “fine. We’ll come for a couple of hours…”
“No!” Marina said sharply, taking the phone from her husband.
“Marina!” Alexey was alarmed.
“Valentina Petrovna,” Marina said into the phone, keeping her voice steady, “we’re not coming. Not today, not tomorrow.”
“How can you not come?” the mother-in-law faltered. “And what am I supposed to do?”
“The same as you would if you didn’t have a son,” Marina replied firmly. “Hire help, ask neighbors, or give up part of the work.”
“How dare you!” Valentina Petrovna shrieked. “How dare you tell me what to do! I’m not your mother for you to give me advice!”
“Exactly,” Marina agreed. “You’re not my mother. Which is why you have no right to demand anything from me.”
“Lyosha!” his mother shouted. “Do you hear how she’s talking to me? Your wife is rude to your mother!”
Alexey stood between them, torn in two. Marina saw his torment and understood she had to take responsibility.
“Valentina Petrovna,” she said, steel entering her voice, “I don’t owe you anything. Alexey and I are adults, we have our own life and our own plans. We’re not obligated to spend our weekends on your hobby.”
“Hobby!” the mother-in-law gasped. “She called the garden a hobby! Lyosha, do you hear?”
“Yes, a hobby,” Marina didn’t back down. “Because that’s what it is. No one forces you to plant potatoes. You do it because you want to. That’s your right. And our right is not to take part.”
“Shameless!” she hissed. “I knew right away you weren’t one of us! Not a family person! You think only of yourself!”
“Yes, I think of myself,” Marina said. “And of my husband. And of our family. And you know what else I’ll say?”
Alexey looked at his wife questioningly. Marina took a deep breath and spoke the words she’d held back for years:
“On my weekends I will do what I want. I don’t care what you need or what you think of me.”
Dead silence hung on the line. Even Alexey’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What… what did you say?” Valentina Petrovna whispered at last.
“I told the truth,” Marina repeated calmly. “My weekends belong to me. And I will spend them as I see fit. Your opinion of me doesn’t interest me.”
“Lyosha!” his mother wailed. “You hear how she speaks to your mother? Are you going to tolerate this?”
Alexey walked over to his wife and put his arm around her shoulders.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “Marina is right. We have the right to our own life.”
“Right! Right!” his mother repeated hysterically. “You’re all about rights! What about love? Respect? Gratitude?”
“Mom,” Alexey said wearily, “love isn’t measured in hours spent in a vegetable patch. And respect is a two-way street.”
“I’ve loved you all my life!” she cried. “All my life! And you…”
“And I love you, Mom. But love doesn’t mean I have to live the way you want.”
“So you’re not coming?” Her voice turned small and offended.
“No, Mom. We’re not.”
“I see,” she said coldly. “I see everything now. So strangers are dearer to me than my own family. Fine. Good to know.”
She hung up.
Alexey and Marina stood in the kitchen in silence. The rain continued to murmur outside, music played somewhere in a neighboring apartment, a door slammed in the stairwell.
“She’s hurt,” Alexey said at last.
“Yes,” Marina agreed. “And you know what? Let her be.”
Alexey looked at his wife in surprise.
“Lyosha, how long can this go on?” Marina sat at the table and looked him in the eye. “How long are we going to live with a constant sense of guilt? We’re adults, we have our own family, our own plans, our own life. We don’t have to report to your mom about every weekend!”
“But she is alone,” he muttered. “And she really is getting older…”
“Lyosha, she’s seventy-two, in her right mind and sound memory. She can easily hire help, ask the neighbors, or simply cut back on the number of beds. But she chooses to suffer and blame us for it!”
Alexey sat beside his wife and took her hands.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I know you’re right. It’s just… hard. Since childhood she taught me to feel guilty for any ‘no.’”
“I understand,” Marina said gently. “But we can’t spend our whole lives sacrificing ourselves because she can’t handle being refused.”
Alexey nodded and squeezed her hands tighter.
“You know,” he said with a faint smile, “I liked how you answered her. ‘On my weekends I will do what I want!’ Straightforward and honest.”
“I’m tired of putting up with it,” Marina admitted. “Tired of feeling guilty because I want to rest after a work week. Tired of apologizing for having a life of my own.”
“So what are we going to do now?” Alexey asked.
“What we planned,” Marina smiled.
