«I’ve switched our old lady to winter tires; now we’ll survive the winter,» I told my husband.
«Good, but we really need a new car, don’t we? I’d like to travel around the country while we still don’t have kids.»
«I’ve been thinking the same, Pasha. Let’s start looking for options, and we can put ours up for sale. I don’t want us to go deep into debt, so we’ll look for something affordable. We’ve been saving for a while; we can find something much better than our current workhorse.»
Hello, dear readers. Today, I’ll share with you another case from practice that I think many will find familiar. A client came to me and told me about an event that recently occurred in her family. The conflict that eventually resolved left the heroine with many contradictions, which we addressed together in our sessions.
This car was a gift from my dad. When I got married three years ago, my father had just bought himself a promising expensive Japanese car, and he gave me his domestic old-timer. My husband and I were happy with such a gift—it transports us, what more do we need! However, as the years passed, the car didn’t get any younger, even though we treated it very carefully.
My marriage to Pasha could confidently be called successful. We met at English classes we both attended after work. I needed the language to earn extra money through translations, while my future husband simply loved self-development. He read a lot, including in foreign languages, so he decided to improve his skills through these courses. We sat next to each other, walked home together—it turned out our apartments were nearby, in neighboring buildings. After eight months, Pasha proposed. Neither of us had much at the time, we even had to rent an apartment. But we weren’t in a hurry with children, enjoying each other’s company and married life. We had enough for clothes and food, and we always paid our rent on time.
Pasha worked as an electrician at a factory, and I worked as an accountant at a small company. We both spent our money quite rationally, were early birds, and preferred order at home. There were no significant friction points when we moved in together. Right away, we found a quiet harbor and comfort in each other. In the evenings, we read, watched movies, and chatted. We always had something to talk about with my husband. We dreamed of traveling, but our car was too old to risk long distances.
We only ventured out of the city in our old car—to the forest for mushrooms in the fall and to the lake for barbecues in the summer. But we enjoyed that too.
My relationship with my mother-in-law, Irina Dmitrievna, was strained from the beginning. For some reason, from day one, she thought that I wanted to strip her son bare like a bark, and that he was just a stepping stone on my path to a more financially advantageous marriage. Of course, my mother-in-law was mistaken. I knew well whom I was marrying; I sincerely loved Pasha and didn’t notice anyone else in the whole world. My husband and I were soulmates. He started a sentence—I finished it. We often laughed together until we cried, and could spend hours discussing a book we’d read.
Irina Dmitrievna tried to turn her son against me, but Pasha invariably took my side, asking his mother not to speak ill of me. I valued him for this support because marriage is about falling in love with the same person over and over again, including for his actions.
Gradually, we acquired more appliances for our apartment, and by autumn, we had bought warm, comfortable clothes and shoes. We also had no particular problems with food. Both Pasha and I liked simple food—minimal meat, maximum vegetables, cereals, fish. For holidays, we enjoyed seafood and natural juices. We both ate a lot of fruits. We hardly ever bought candies and cakes, preferring dried fruits and grapes instead. In the summer, we bought watermelons and melons, which we ate in huge quantities.
My mother-in-law also criticized our lifestyle.
«Is this what, soup? Orange-green?»
«It’s pumpkin, broccoli, and leek soup. Pasha and I love it.»
«Oh Lord! Is there even any meat in it?»
I smiled enigmatically, trying not to confront my husband’s mother.
«A man needs to be fed properly, Sofia! What are these cutlets with, I don’t understand?»
«With soy mince and zucchinis. And these are made from chickpea flour.»
The look on my mother-in-law’s face was as if she had been offered a mole under pineapple sauce. Irina Dmitrievna did not visit us often, which I was immensely grateful for, as every visit was a real test of endurance for me. She criticized everything—the book left on the sofa, the contents of the pots and pans, even my appearance.
I tried not to pay attention to my husband’s mother. After all, I was living with Pasha, and it was with him that I was happy. The mother-in-law was just a temporary phenomenon that I simply had to endure. Moreover, her slanders about me were not heeded by my husband.
Over the past few months, by mutual decision, we started saving up for a new car. Repairing our old one had become tiresome. But we still had to switch it to winter tires—fortunately, my father had just bought some used ones at a very democratic price. Pasha and I found an option that suited us, and we put our old lady up for sale.
There were quite a few interested buyers, but the car had high mileage, though it was in perfect condition for its age. Eventually, a buyer from another city came, inspected our old lady, and immediately said he would buy it. My husband and I could barely contain our joy—finally, we could get something more reliable and take trips around towns and villages!
My husband also had a driver’s license, although the car was registered in my name since my father had given it to me. Everything was also formally in my name, and I was planning to sell and buy the new car myself as the owner. We didn’t tell the mother-in-law about the sale and purchase. But when the deal was already done, we decided to go celebrate in a café.
I dressed up in a new dark blue dress. It was cozy, with a voluminous neckline, just right for the start of a frosty November. Nude-colored tights perfectly complemented it. I styled my hair in a high updo, shaded my eyes with grey eyeshadow, touched my lips with pink gloss, and added a little blush to my cheeks. As I was applying perfume to my wrists, I raised an eyebrow in surprise at the sound of the doorbell.
Pasha went to open the door, and right then, I heard Irina Dmitrievna’s voice:
«I’ve brought pies! I baked your favorites, sonny—fish and mushroom! And here’s some julienne, just be careful with it.»
Stunned, I emerged from the room to greet her. My husband also looked bewildered, but it would have been awkward to turn away his mother with her gifts, especially as she stood there with melting snow on her collar.
«Irina Dmitrievna, please come in quickly, I’ll warm up some tea, you must be cold from the frost!» I said warmly and went to put the kettle on.
«And why are you all dressed up? Is it some kind of holiday?» my mother-in-law tossed at my back. «Instead of prancing around, you should have cooked a proper dinner! Only a mother truly feeds a man, and you don’t care. You pamper him with some herbs, as if he’s a prized rabbit!»
«Mom, we just wanted to spend the evening alone, and Sofia cooks very deliciously, so please don’t start.»
Irina Dmitrievna pursed her lips dramatically and proceeded to the kitchen. My husband, with bags full of containers, followed her.
«So, what’s the occasion for dressing up, and you’re in a shirt and all scented with cologne!» the mother-in-law persisted.
«It’s nothing special. We sold Sofia’s car, and now we’re looking for a new one.»
«The money from the car sale should be given to me, I can manage it better,» declared the mother-in-law.
I nearly spilled tea outside the cup at such a statement.
«Excuse me, Irina Dmitrievna, but why should I give you the money from the sale of my car?» I emphasized the word «my» with special intonation.
«Because you’ll spend it all on yourself, on your trinkets, and my spineless Pasha won’t say a word against you! I’ve lived a life, I know better where to use that money, so don’t argue.»
«It’s none of your business where and how I spend it. We have already decided to buy a new car.»
«You want to make your son a driver again and you, no great lady, ride around in a carriage! A bus is your level, darling, you’re not worth more than that,» the mother-in-law chided, and my vision darkened from anger at her words.
«Mom, stop saying such things right now, Sofia is my wife!»
«Wife! Mark my words, she will dump you like a puppy, taking every last penny. I see right through her greedy little soul.»
«Irina Dmitrievna, leave our house immediately!» I said, intentionally calm.
«Fine! I won’t set foot here again! My son doesn’t value me, and the daughter-in-law is rude. You’ve found yourself the worst wife imaginable, Pasha!»
Irina Dmitrievna, laboriously getting up from the table, showered us with insults, and upon leaving, scooped up all the pies she brought as gifts, even the julienne. Packing everything into bags, she left, proudly lifting her chin and deliberately slamming the door loudly. My husband and I looked at each other and shook our heads.
«Sorry for my mother’s behavior.»
«It’s okay, she’s a difficult person, I know.» I replied and approached my husband to hug him.
Pasha hugged me back, kissed me tenderly at the parting of my hair. I felt his breath tickling my skin and fluttering my hair.
«Shall we still go to the cafe to celebrate?»
«Let’s go. You look so beautiful right now!»
We got ready and went out to celebrate the sale of the car. While we were eating, I received a reply from the man selling the car I had contacted in the morning. The model fully met my expectations, I consulted with my husband, and after finishing our salad and grabbing a pizza to go, we rushed to seal the new deal.
We returned home as the happy owners of an almost new Lada. We flopped down on the sofa, happily ate pizza, and chatted. We didn’t bring up the quarrel with Irina Dmitrievna again, but dreamed away.
We spent the winter driving the new car, and in the spring, we took off on a trip around the Golden Ring of Russia. Old towns greeted us with picturesque streets, ancient temples, interesting museums. Each town had its own voice, smell, atmosphere. Now we were traveling as we had always dreamed. At the same time, we began saving for our own home, for the down payment. The vacation passed very quickly, but we came back filled with new impressions and wonderfully rested. The following year, we planned to drive to the sea.
Meanwhile, we returned to our routine, worked quietly and happily. Irina Dmitrievna did not call or write, deeply offended by us. We, feeling justified, did not reach out either. If a person doesn’t understand that it’s inappropriate to interfere in someone else’s family, what can you do? My mother-in-law’s confidence that she knew everything better always irritated me. But that story with the car sale was the last straw. I realized there was no sense in smoothing over conflicts anymore—the mother-in-law had done everything to make our discord overt. Fortunately, my husband was on my side, as always.
On weekends, we sometimes drove to a huge forest park. It was like being in a real forest—snow-covered spruces, larches, birches, fresh air, pure white snowdrifts. There we ran on skis, cheeks flushed from the cold, happy, carefree. We both enjoyed when our bodies were tensed from exertion, and above us stretched a winter-blue high sky, and birds threw their trills into the azure heights. Then we returned home tired, by car. We always brought a thermos of hot tea, which we made sweet with lemon and herbs. We chatted, laughed, and dreamed that we would soon buy our own apartment, furnish it as we wanted, and start a family. We both wanted children but approached this issue responsibly. First, prepare everything, get on our feet—then fill the nursery with the joyful voices of sons and daughters. I was sure that Pasha would make a wonderful father. And for now, he was the best husband in the world, whom I loved with all my heart. Irina Dmitrievna was mistaken—Pasha was never something temporary for me, something just convenient. My love for him only grew and strengthened, as did his for me. I couldn’t imagine a family with anyone else. We matched with my husband in every nook and cranny, breathed in unison, dreamed of the same things, looked in the same direction, and moved forward in life step by step.
