“Pasha, hurry up! Your porridge is getting cold!”
Ksenia leaned her shoulder against the kitchen doorway. Her shift at the logistics warehouse had drained every last bit of energy from her. Her back was so stiff that all she wanted was to collapse onto the hallway rug and stay there without moving.
“Coming, Mom!”
Her eight-year-old son rushed into the kitchen. In one hand he gripped the strap of his impossibly heavy school backpack, and in the other he carried a bag with his spare shoes. He climbed onto an ordinary kitchen chair.
“We have PE first period tomorrow,” Pasha announced between energetic spoonfuls of oatmeal. “The coach said he won’t let me into the gym unless I get new sneakers. The soles on my old ones are completely coming apart.”
“I told you we’d go to the mall this evening.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Ksenia forced a smile onto her tired face. “Now eat. You’ll be late.”
The boy quickly finished his breakfast, pulled on his jacket, and hurried out the door.
Ksenia was left alone.
She walked over to the sink. Cookie crumbs were scattered across the table, while a single lonely plate sat in the basin.
It had been two years since the divorce. The mortgage on their two-room apartment swallowed most of her salary every month. Whatever remained went toward utilities, her son’s activities, school expenses, and groceries.
She hadn’t received a single child-support payment from her ex-husband since the day he packed his belongings and left to begin his wonderful new life.
Ksenia sat down on the edge of the table and took out her phone. She still needed to transfer money for Pasha’s school lunches.
The screen lit up with an incoming call.
It was Veronika, her friend and coworker from the warehouse.
Ksenia answered.
“Hello?”
“Ksusha, are you asleep?”
“I wish.” Ksenia rubbed her temples. “I just got Pasha off to school. I’m about to collapse.”
“Listen, I saw your ex earlier. Oleg.”
Ksenia grimaced.
“Where?”
“Outside the shopping center. He was with that glamorous girlfriend of his. They were arguing so loudly the whole street could hear them. She kept waving her handbag in his face, and he was standing there making excuses like a schoolboy caught doing something wrong.”
“What do I care? They can tear each other apart for all I care.”
“How can you not care? He still isn’t paying child support, is he?”
“Ver, what child support? Please. He hasn’t given us a penny in two years.”
“And you’re just letting him get away with it? You should go to the enforcement officers. Let them deduct money from whatever random jobs he manages to find.”
“I don’t have the strength to run around government offices and destroy my nerves over him,” Ksenia snapped. “I’d rather take another shift.”
“You’re too soft. He walked all over you when you were married, and now you’re still protecting him.”
“I’m not protecting him. I just don’t want to crawl back into that mess. Anyway, Ver, I’m going to bed. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“All right. Get some rest.”
Ksenia put the phone aside.
She had barely started toward the bedroom when the doorbell rang sharply and insistently from the hallway.
She flinched.
Who on earth was showing up at nine in the morning?
Ksenia walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.
Larisa Andreevna was standing on the landing.
Her former mother-in-law.
There was no point pretending she wasn’t home. Ksenia unlocked the door.
“Well, hello, daughter-in-law. Weren’t expecting me?”
Larisa Andreevna confidently stepped inside, forcing Ksenia to move backward into the hallway.
“Good morning, Larisa Andreevna. What brings you here?”
“What, do I need a special permit to visit my own grandson?” The woman tossed her coat directly onto the shoe cabinet. “I’m not taking my shoes off. This isn’t a museum.”
Ksenia swallowed the remark that came to mind. She was too tired to argue.
“Pasha’s at school. He left half an hour ago.”
“Even better.”
Her former mother-in-law marched into the kitchen as though she still owned the place.
“Now we can talk without unnecessary ears listening.”
Ksenia followed her.
Larisa Andreevna had already opened the refrigerator.
“And what exactly are you feeding that child?” she asked dramatically. “Cheap sausages and half a cabbage? Your refrigerator is practically empty!”
“I feed him perfectly well,” Ksenia replied, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “He had porridge for breakfast. He’ll eat lunch at school. I’ll make soup tonight.”
“Oh, I know your soups. Mostly water.”
The woman slammed the refrigerator door shut, then ran a finger over the kitchen cabinet.
“And look at this dust! You’ve completely neglected the house, Ksenia. It was never like this when Oleg lived here.”
“When Oleg lived here, I wasn’t working myself to death at two jobs.”
“And who made you do that?” Larisa Andreevna spun around sharply. “You drove your husband out of the house, and now you act like some poor victim.”
“I drove him out?” Ksenia gave a short, humorless laugh. “He left on his own. For that pretty woman from the car dealership.”
“If a man leaves, it means he wasn’t happy at home!” Larisa Andreevna declared as though stating a universal law. “A wife is supposed to create comfort. But you’ve always had that difficult personality. Look at you now—you haven’t even brushed your hair. No wonder he couldn’t take it anymore.”
Ksenia shoved her hands into the pockets of her house sweater.
“Larisa Andreevna, I just finished a night shift. I want to sleep. Please tell me directly why you came.”
The woman pursed her lips.
“You’re rude. You always were. You won’t even properly welcome your husband’s own mother.”
“Ex-husband.”
“He’s only an ex-husband according to your paperwork!” Larisa Andreevna waved dismissively. “In front of everyone else, you’re still a family. You have a child together.”
“You should tell Oleg that.”
Larisa Andreevna ignored the comment.
She walked to the window, looked down into the courtyard, and then turned back toward Ksenia.
“Oleg! Come inside already! Stop hiding out there!” she shouted toward the still-open front door.
Ksenia immediately tensed.
A moment later, her former husband appeared in the doorway.
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, staring somewhere near the baseboard instead of looking at her. In the two years since their divorce, Oleg had put on some weight, and dark circles had settled beneath his eyes.
“Hi, Ksusha.”
“Hello to you too. Are the two of you performing as a group now?”
“We came here to reach an agreement,” Larisa Andreevna announced solemnly.
She pulled out a chair and sat at the table, making it obvious that she expected a long discussion.
“An agreement about what?” Ksenia remained standing.
“Oleg is moving back home.”
Ksenia stared at them for several seconds.
Then she quietly laughed.
“Moving back where? Here?”
“What exactly is so funny?” Larisa Andreevna demanded. “This apartment belongs to both of you. We came to settle this peacefully.”
“Did you forget the address? Oleg and I have been divorced for two years.”
“He never gave up his keys to his own apartment!” her former mother-in-law raised her voice. “Oleg has every right to stay here.”
Ksenia slowly turned her heavy gaze toward her ex-husband.
“Seriously, Oleg? Did they surgically remove your conscience?”
He hunched his shoulders.
“Ksusha, come on. I’m in a difficult situation.”
“What kind of difficult situation? Did your fashionable girlfriend finally throw you out?”
Oleg said nothing.
“He lost his job!” his mother interrupted. “He can’t afford rent anymore. And you’ve got an entire bedroom sitting empty.”
“Empty?” Ksenia repeated.
“Well, yes. The boy can sleep in the living room with you for a while. He’s not some prince.”
The sheer absurdity of the suggestion left Ksenia almost speechless.
“Are you actually serious?” she asked slowly. “You want my ex-husband to move into my apartment and take our son’s bedroom?”
“What’s the problem?” Larisa Andreevna threw up her hands theatrically. “The man has nowhere to live. I only have a one-room apartment. Where am I supposed to put him, under the kitchen table?”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“No, sweetheart. It’s our problem,” Larisa Andreevna said, immediately going on the offensive. “My son worked himself to the bone renovating this place! He ruined his health! He spent every weekend here!”
“He wallpapered the bedroom once. Badly.”
“That’s not the point!” her former mother-in-law snapped. “And who bought the appliances? The washing machine? The television? All of that was purchased with his money.”
“With our money, Larisa Andreevna. I worked too.”
“And who gave you the down payment?” the woman demanded. “My savings! A very considerable amount, by the way.”
“What savings?” Ksenia asked coldly.
“You know exactly what I mean! I sacrificed that money so the two of you wouldn’t have to spend your lives renting apartments.”
“You lent it to us.”
“Yes, I did! So what?”
“So your son took the money back a month later. He told me you urgently needed it for a health resort.”
“What?” Larisa Andreevna’s face changed. “That’s a lie! He never returned any money to me! I’ve never been to a health resort in my life!”
“Then ask him where it went.”
Ksenia nodded toward Oleg.
Larisa Andreevna suddenly fell silent and looked at her son.
Oleg became intensely interested in a stain on the linoleum.
“Oleg?”
“Mom, we’ll talk about it later,” he muttered.
“No, let’s talk about it now,” Ksenia said, stepping forward. “Since everyone suddenly decided to divide square meters according to fairness and conscience.”
“I told you, I just want us to come to an arrangement peacefully,” Oleg finally said. “I’d only stay for a couple of months. I’ll find another job and move out. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
“You’re not moving in here for even one hour.”
“Women always twist you around their little finger!” Larisa Andreevna snapped at her son. Then she turned back toward Ksenia. “Look at her! Throws a man out into the street and sits here like a queen.”
“I pay for this apartment myself.”
“With my son’s child-support money!” the woman shot back. “You barely earn anything at that warehouse.”
For a moment, Ksenia genuinely lost the ability to speak.
“With what money?”
“Child support! He transfers ten thousand to you every month. He practically goes hungry himself so he can send money to his child! He paid for school expenses. He gave money for sneakers too.”
Ksenia burst out laughing.
It was not a cheerful laugh.
It was sharp and bitter.
“Oleg, are you serious? You told your mother you’ve been paying child support?”
Oleg’s face went blotchy red.
“Ksusha, don’t.”
“No, Oleg. We absolutely should.”
Ksenia turned toward Larisa Andreevna.
“Your wonderful son hasn’t given his child a single penny in two years. Not for his birthday. Not for New Year’s. Nothing. I spend my nights sorting boxes in a warehouse so I can afford to buy Pasha a winter jacket.”
“That’s not true!” the woman protested, shaking her head. “He showed me receipts! Transfers on his phone!”
“Fake screenshots, maybe? Or perhaps he transferred money between his own cards? Go to the bank and ask for a statement from my account. You’ll find nothing there.”
“But he told me himself…”
“He told you a lot of things.”
Ksenia stepped closer to her former husband.
“Go ahead, Oleg. Tell your mother everything. Since we’re all being so open today.”
“Shut your mouth,” Oleg hissed.
“No. Tell her about the envelope. The blue one in the bookcase.”
Larisa Andreevna looked suspiciously from Ksenia to her son.
“What envelope?”
“We were saving money for Pasha’s dental treatment,” Ksenia said slowly, emphasizing every word. “He needed braces and dental plates. We saved for two years. I denied myself everything. No new boots, no cosmetics, nothing. The money you had supposedly given us toward the apartment was in that envelope too because the developer postponed the transaction.”
“And?”
“And right before our divorce, your precious Oleg emptied the envelope down to the last banknote. Then he packed his things and took his new girlfriend on vacation. Pasha’s treatment money paid for the trip and all those grand romantic gestures.”
“That can’t be true…”
Larisa Andreevna’s voice suddenly sounded weak.
“It can. He even emptied Pasha’s piggy bank. He smashed it open and took the coins. Ten-ruble coins, Larisa Andreevna. He stole loose change from his own son so he could impress another woman.”
Oleg remained silent.
He simply stared at the floor.
“Is that true?” His mother slowly rose from the chair.
All of her earlier confidence had disappeared.
“Oleg? You stole money from your own child? And then you kept telling me stories about your evil ex-wife?”
“Mom, I was going to put it back later…”
“When?” she shouted. “You told me she threw you out! You told me she was bleeding you dry with child support!”
“I exaggerated a little. I didn’t want you nagging me.”
Larisa Andreevna slapped her son across the face.
The sound cracked through the kitchen.
Oleg stumbled backward, grabbing his cheek.
“You idiot!” she hissed. “You petty thief. I actually believed you had some rights to this apartment. I thought maybe there was still a tiny bit of decency left in you. But you…”
She spat to the side in disgust.
Then she turned sharply and marched toward the hallway.
She grabbed her coat from the shoe cabinet.
Oleg looked at Ksenia like a trapped animal.
“Happy now? Great job. You really turned everything around beautifully.”
“Get out.”
Oleg spat onto the hallway rug and walked out after his mother.
Ksenia slammed the door behind them with all her strength.
She turned the key in the lock and rested her forehead against the cold metal.
The apartment fell silent.
Somewhere several floors above, the elevator hummed.
From the stairwell came the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs, followed by Larisa Andreevna’s muffled, furious voice scolding her grown son as though he were a misbehaving little boy.
Ksenia went into the bathroom and rinsed her hands, as if she could wash away the unpleasant residue of the entire confrontation.
She still had years of mortgage payments ahead of her.
Her warehouse shifts weren’t going anywhere.
Life wasn’t suddenly going to become easy.
But at least her apartment was finally free of the ghosts of the past and other people’s ridiculous demands.
A month later, a notification appeared on her phone.
Oleg had transferred a pitifully small amount of money with the note: “For the kid.”
Apparently, the journey home with a mother who had finally opened her eyes had accomplished more than years of requests ever had.
Ksenia didn’t spend the money.
She simply moved it into a separate savings account.
For Pasha.
