“Andy, would you like some more salad? I searched everywhere for that roast pork you loved back in tenth grade. Remember how we always bought it from the grocery store on the corner?”
Valentina Petrovna fluttered around the table like a devoted attendant serving at an altar. Her age-spotted hands trembled slightly as she placed another helping onto her son’s plate.
“Thanks, Mom. It’s delicious. But we didn’t come here to eat,” Andrei said, pushing the plate away after barely touching the meat. “Our flight is tomorrow night. We don’t have much time.”
He sat at the old round table that still bore traces of the scratches and doodles he had made as a schoolboy, yet now he looked completely out of place there. His expensive jacket, unnaturally white shirt, and habit of looking slightly above the person speaking to him made him seem like a visitor from another world.
Beside him sat his wife, absorbed in her phone, and their little daughter, who was spreading cookie crumbs across the tablecloth.
Nina sat opposite them in silence, poking at the cold potatoes on her plate. She watched their mother study Andrei’s every expression and movement as though he were some divine being who had briefly descended among ordinary mortals.
“How are things going?” Valentina Petrovna asked timidly, lowering herself onto the very edge of a chair. “Did everything work out with the contract?”
“Better than expected. They’re waiting for us in Vancouver. It’s a completely different level, Mom. Different money. A different life.”
“For good?” her mother asked, her voice trembling.
“Why make it sound so final? We’ll come and visit. Once a year, perhaps twice. The world is open now.”
Nina could no longer keep quiet.
“Yes, very open. You’ve visited once in five years, and only because you needed to deal with some documents.”
Andrei gave his sister a heavy look.
“Nina, don’t start. I have a career. I’m building a future for my family. It’s difficult for you to understand the scale of it when you’ve spent your entire life sitting in this town.”
“Of course. What would I know?” Nina scoffed. “We survive on dust around here.”
“Please, stop!” Valentina Petrovna cried, throwing up her hands. “This is supposed to be a happy day. Andrei has come to visit! Sweetheart, look, Grandma has some candy for you.”
The girl glanced indifferently at the offered sweet and turned back toward her mother. Andrei’s wife did not even look up from her phone.
“All right. Let’s get down to business,” Andrei said, taking a folder from his briefcase. “Mom, we need some money to get started. Moving expenses, rent, insurance—the costs over there are astronomical. I have a proposal.”
Valentina Petrovna listened attentively, her face brightening with every sentence.
He told her that he was thinking about her future. He said he wanted to settle the issue of his share in the apartment now so that he would not have to trouble her with inheritance matters later. His voice was soft and reassuring, wrapping every selfish demand in the language of concern.
“I’ve prepared a notarized document giving up my share of the apartment in your favor, Mom. But I need compensation for it. Market value, minus a discount because I need the money urgently.”
Nina jumped to her feet and knocked over an empty glass. The hollow plastic clatter against the wooden table sounded almost pathetic, but it was enough to interrupt her brother’s calm speech.
“Have you lost your mind? Where is she supposed to get that kind of money? We’re talking about millions!”
“I’ve already looked into it,” Andrei continued calmly, without even glancing at his sister. “The bank will give her a loan. Mom has a decent pension, and you can act as guarantor. The apartment will belong entirely to the two of you. I’ll never claim anything else. Not now, not ever.”
“You want to bury your own mother in debt in her old age? You want her living on bread and water?” Nina’s voice rose as a wave of anger boiled inside her.
“Nina, calm down!” Valentina Petrovna said sharply. “Your brother is offering a reasonable solution. He needs the money more than we do right now. He has a wife, a child, and a future ahead of him. What do we need? We’ll manage.”
“Mom, you don’t understand! This loan will enslave us for ten years!” Nina shouted, grabbing her mother by the shoulders. “He’ll leave, and who will make the payments? You? Me? My salary isn’t endless!”
“Stop counting other people’s money,” Andrei said coldly. “Mom, do you agree? This is your only opportunity to help me. Or do you want me to lose the contract?”
Valentina Petrovna pulled herself free from her daughter’s hands. Her expression became firm, almost fanatical.
“Of course, my son. I’ll sign everything. We’ll go tomorrow.”
“You fool! You’re a complete fool!” Nina had lost all control. She struck the table with her palm so hard that the cups rattled. “He’s using you! He’ll squeeze you dry and throw you away!”
“Shut your mouth!” Andrei roared, finally revealing his true face. “You’re simply jealous. You sit here like a bitter failure, choking on your own resentment. Mom wants to help her son. That is perfectly normal for a mother.”
He bent down and pulled a large velvet-covered box from an oversized shopping bag. With ceremonial importance, he placed it in the center of the table.
“Here, Mom. This is for you. An elite dining set. Silver-plated. Service for eight. Now you can live beautifully and eat like civilized people.”
Valentina Petrovna stroked the velvet lid with tears of gratitude in her eyes. Nina stared at the box as though it were Pandora’s chest and felt nausea rising in her throat.
“Take your forks and get out,” she hissed. “I hope you choke on them.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Andrei straightened his cuffs. “Tomorrow at ten, outside the bank, Mom.”
Eight years of silence were louder than any scream.
Andrei disappeared the moment the money reached his account. His phone number stopped working, and his social media profiles became private.
For the first six months, Valentina Petrovna checked the mailbox every day. She waited for a postcard, a letter, or even a brief message from Vancouver. Eventually, she began checking less often.
The velvet box containing the dining set for eight was given a place of honor in the bottom drawer of the sideboard. Their mother refused to let anyone touch it.
“It’s for a special occasion. When Andrei comes home, we’ll set the table properly,” she would say while wiping dust from the velvet.
Nina carried the loan on her shoulders like a draft horse.
She took extra jobs, gave up vacations, and stopped buying new clothes. She watched her mother grow older and saw the hope slowly disappear from her eyes, replaced by a dull, constant ache.
One evening, after a debt collector called to remind them about a missed payment because her mother had forgotten to contribute her portion, Nina entered Valentina Petrovna’s room.
Her mother was lying on the sofa with her face turned toward the wall.
“We need to talk,” Nina said firmly.
“My head hurts, sweetheart.”
“Mine hurts too. From the debt. Mom, we’re changing your will. Right now. We’re calling a notary to come to the apartment.”
“Why would we do that? The apartment will belong to you and Andrei anyway.”
“No!” Nina tore the blanket away from her. “Andrei is not here. I’m the one paying the loan. You contribute almost nothing, and even that doesn’t happen every month. Unless you transfer this apartment to me alone, I’ll stop making payments. The bank can take it. They can throw us into the street. I don’t care anymore.”
Valentina Petrovna sat up and stared at her daughter in fear. She had never seen Nina like this before.
There was ice in her daughter’s eyes—a complete, polar coldness.
“But Andrei… He’s your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother. You have a thief for a son, but I have no brother. Make your choice. Either you protect my future, or both of us end up begging in the street.”
Her mother began to cry quietly, with the hopelessness of someone who had finally lost the strength to resist.
But she called the notary.
Nina checked every word of the document. It was a deed of gift transferring the entire apartment to her daughter. The son was excluded.
There was also Andrei’s formal renunciation of his share—the document he had foolishly signed years earlier when he traded his rights to the property for fast cash. Nina kept that paper in a folder with the family’s most important documents.
Valentina Petrovna died one month before the final loan payment was made. She passed away in her sleep without ever receiving a call from Canada.
The velvet box remained unopened.
The memorial gathering was modest. Nina invited no one who did not need to be there.
After the funeral, she returned to the empty apartment, which was filled with the stale smell of medicine and old age.
The first thing she did was open every window. Let the cold autumn wind drive out the atmosphere of obedience and blind waiting that had settled into the walls.
Then she took out several large black garbage bags.
Her mother’s clothes, old magazines, and countless empty ointment jars disappeared into the dark plastic. Nina worked methodically and without tears.
Her tears had run out during the third year of paying off the loan.
She opened the bottom drawer of the sideboard.
The box lay inside like a sarcophagus—heavy, dusty, and pretentious.
Nina lifted the lid.
The utensils gleamed with a cheap metallic shine. Forks decorated with elaborate curls, spoons that looked uncomfortable even before anyone tried to use them.
“A service for eight.”
Eight people who had never once gathered around that table.
She remembered the enthusiasm with which Andrei had described the value of the gift while their mother signed the papers for a crushing loan. She remembered how carefully her mother had protected those pieces of metal while continuing to eat with an old aluminum spoon.
Nina felt neither pity nor nostalgia.
Only disgust.
She grabbed the box and threw it into the largest garbage bag with all her strength. Then she piled old rags on top of it and pulled the knot so tightly that her fingers turned white.
“So much for eating beautifully,” she said to the empty room.
That evening, she carried the bags outside.
The crash of the “elite dining set” hitting the bottom of the metal dumpster sounded like the finest music she had ever heard.
“Life in a Single Day” Project — Vladimir Leonidovich Shorokhov | LitRes
The call came three months later.
When Nina saw the unfamiliar international number, she immediately knew who it was. She accepted the call, switched on the speaker, and placed the phone on the table while continuing to chop vegetables.
“Hello? Nina?” Andrei’s voice sounded as though he had stepped out to buy bread five minutes earlier. “Hi. Listen, I just heard… Mom passed away?”
“How long ago did you hear?” Nina asked, her knife striking the cutting board in a steady rhythm.
“Well… word reached me eventually. My condolences. It’s a shame no one told me. I would have… well, I would have been there with you in spirit.”
“What do you want, Andrei?”
“Why are you being so hostile? I’m just calling my sister. Although there is one practical matter. I may be coming to Russia on business soon, and I need to deal with the inheritance. The apartment is vacant now.”
Nina put down the knife.
“What inheritance?”
“What do you mean? Mom’s share. I understand that I gave up my original portion, but her part should legally be divided between the two of us. I’ve already checked. I’ve spoken to people who understand these things. We’re family, Nina. I’m not planning to throw you out. We’ll simply sell the apartment and divide the money. I’m going through a difficult period right now. Business has slowed down, and every penny matters.”
Nina began to laugh.
It was loud, genuine, and frightening.
“Why are you laughing?” Her brother’s voice tightened. “What is wrong with you?”
“Andrei, are you really that stupid, or are you pretending?” Nina wiped her hands on a towel. “What inheritance are you talking about? Mom gave everything to me. Your name does not appear anywhere in the deed. Not once.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. She could hear him breathing heavily.
“That’s illegal. She wasn’t mentally competent. I’ll challenge it. I’ll hire lawyers. You pressured her!”
“Pressured her?” Nina raised her voice and moved closer to the phone. “Yes, I pressured her! I paid the debt you left behind. I changed her sheets. I cooked for her and cared for her while you were building your ‘beautiful life.’ I have medical records proving she was mentally competent, and the notary recorded the signing on video. I have your notarized renunciation of your share from ten years ago. I also have bank records showing exactly who repaid the loan. Go to court, and I’ll sue you for half the interest I paid because you profited at my expense. You want a war? Come here. I’ll tear you apart in court!”
Andrei breathed angrily into the phone before changing tactics. His voice became sweet, wounded, and pleading.
“Nina, why does it have to be like this? We’re family. Fine, I made a mistake. I didn’t call. These things happen. But on a human level… you can’t treat your own brother this way. Surely I deserve something from Mom? Some kind of keepsake? I’m still her son.”
Nina smiled at her reflection in the dark window.
“A keepsake? Of course. I saved the most precious thing for you. Your gift.”
“The dining set?” Andrei suddenly sounded excited. “You still have it? That thing is valuable! It’s practically an antique. Listen, at least give me that. Or sell it and transfer the money to me. That would be fair.”
“It’s waiting for you, Andy. I made sure it was placed exactly where it belongs.”
“Where? Did you mail it to me?”
“No. I put it in the appropriate place. At the city landfill. In a communal dumpster, together with rotten potatoes and torn socks.”
“You… you threw it away?” His voice filled with the genuine horror of a greedy man watching money disappear.
“I threw it out like garbage. Along with every memory of you. You might still find it if you hurry. Perhaps the homeless people haven’t taken it apart yet. The forks were silver-plated, weren’t they?”
“You vicious bitch!” Andrei screamed. “You—”
Nina ended the call.
Then she opened the settings and blocked his number.
The silence inside the apartment was pure, bright, and astonishingly light.
