Dima, I asked you to at least buy some apples for Vanya. He’s just a little boy, he needs fruits, don’t you understand?» I asked my husband, who had brought bags from the store.
«Have you seen the prices? He’ll survive without apples. People used to give birth in the fields and grew up strong on just a crust of bread. Now they’ve become soft—wanting apples, formula, cereals in boxes!» grumbled my husband.
Sighing heavily, I gathered myself and, while my son was asleep, went to the store myself. I bought a couple of apples, a large pear, and bananas. Waiting for my husband to buy them could have taken forever, and I knew this very well and was very upset with Dima. Before Vanya was born, we lived comfortably. My husband worked at a factory and earned a decent salary, and I worked as a journalist at a rather prestigious publication in our city after university. They paid very well for materials, and when I joined the staff, I even received royal checks.
We took out a loan for our apartment, most of which my parents helped us pay off, saving to make it easier for us. My husband also bought a car on credit, which we were now paying off. These amounts didn’t burden us every month since we both worked. Then, the two coveted lines on the pregnancy test, the birth of our long-awaited and desired Vanyusha. My husband was happy to become a father. I too happily plunged into maternal cares. My maternity pay from the editorial office was small but above average.
Moreover, I almost immediately began to earn extra money by writing small advertising articles online. Copywriting was unstable work, but regularly something turned up, albeit with low pay. My son was a calm boy who ate and slept, hardly causing any trouble. But he was gaining weight poorly, and specialists recommended giving the child more fruits and meat. Meat and fruits were expensive, and now essentially only Dima was working. He made it seem like the feat of the century.
Now I had to do everything at home by myself—with a child, it was all relaxation! My life turned into Groundhog Day with washing dishes, floors, caring for the baby, listening to endless criticism from my husband, begging him for every penny for an extra banana and a pack of sausages. I wrote texts for clients mainly late in the evening—firstly, Vanyusha was already sleeping soundly, secondly, I waited for Dima to fall asleep, not wanting him to know I had extra money.
I understood that being tired with a small child in the house was normal. My friends also had little kids, but none of my acquaintances’ husbands financially constrained them like mine did. He spent his income on his whims, and my son and I were afterthoughts. Now, the monthly payments for the apartment and car were a significant part of expenses and seriously depleted our budget. I spent my money on groceries, on clothes for the little one.
Of course, friends and neighbors gave us some of their children’s old things, but sometimes I had to buy Vanyusha new stuff because he was growing, not by the day, but by the hour. Besides, the child needed a lot of things—formula because there was no milk, diapers because raising a little one in cloths was a thing of the past, rattles and teethers, good nutrition. All this my husband considered excesses and my whims.
«Our grandmothers raised us without diapers! You’re too delicate and feel sorry for yourself,» my husband reproached me.
«If you spent a night with him in a diaper, I’d like to see that!» I snapped back, tired of my husband’s stinginess.
«And there’s no need to buy him these mixes in jars. Just take a normal apple and grate it through a sieve.»
«So go and buy me apples, and I’ll grate them.»
«Potatoes are cheaper and more filling. Make him mashed potatoes with water, let him be happy. I don’t eat as much as this little troglodyte!» my husband began to get wound up.
«It’s all clear with you. I’ll buy everything myself, I don’t need anything from you!» I snapped back in response and went to take care of the child.
The idea of buying something for myself wasn’t even on the table. And my request to add money for boots, which were completely falling apart, will be remembered for many years to come.
«I’m not asking for a new hundredth skirt, but for boots, Dima! I have nothing to wear.»
«And where are you going? Like a rabbit in a cage, you always sit in the apartment,» my husband replied.
«Even if just to walk with the child, you won’t force yourself,» I tried to convey the obvious truths to my husband.
«Here’s three hundred rubles, make do as you wish. There’s no more. Ask your own mother, she’s wealthy.»
My parents indeed lived quite comfortably on their pensions. In the past, my father earned very good money, built a huge private house. Now he enjoyed smoking fish and meat for sale. The customer base had been established long ago, and even being retirees, my parents had a stable income from their products.
However, I was simply ashamed to go and ask my mother. After all, I was married, and I didn’t want to bother my parents with requests for money. My pride wouldn’t allow it. Then, to buy boots, I almost didn’t sleep for three nights, writing a thesis for hire. Sometimes such side jobs also came my way, and they paid well. After buying winter footwear, I once again heard from my husband that I was a spendthrift. I was tired of his stinginess, wanted to throw everything, take a bundle like the hedgehog from the famous cartoon, and go into the fog to find my steed.
Once Dima declared that he had nothing to pay for the car and utilities. It was a tough month, and indeed, my husband’s salary was lower than usual, and I understood that it was hard for him now. I had some savings, and also got some money for writing a birthday greeting for an acquaintance. I spent all of it on the car payment and utility bills. Our two-room apartment was quite costly in the winter period, so now my wallet was empty, with nothing left for groceries.
And Vanya, at his nine months, had tried bananas, pears, and apples, and enjoyed eating them. He was also getting used to minced meat—I ground it very finely, made steamed cutlets, which the little one diligently chewed with his first strong white teeth.
Not knowing how to make ends meet, I searched the Internet for more side jobs. I had invested all my payments into the car and apartment, and almost a whole month lay ahead. Dima also went to a temporary job, and I sincerely hoped that he would spend it on groceries. However, my hopes were not to be fulfilled. My husband bought himself new fishing baits and some parts for his expensive fishing rod.
«Dima, was this really necessary right now? Open the fridge at home. Vanya needs fruits, meat, cereals, he’s growing. And you’re buying your fishing rods, in winter. And fishing is only in summer,» I lamented sadly.
«That’s why there are discounts on Ozon right now. Just leave me alone, go take care of your gluttonous little backbiter!» my husband immediately went on the attack.
«The whole month ahead. How will we live?» I almost cried from hurt.
«We buy food separately, I for myself, and you for yourself and the son,» my husband declared to me.
«Do you have any conscience at all? I sit with the child, and all my money goes to him. And I can’t get a word out of you about snow in winter!» I raged. «I’m asking for basic needs—food, diapers, and you only reproach me for squandering money. You know what, I’m tired. Pack your things, go to your mother’s.»
«Here, choke on this money!» Dima threw two thousand rubles at my feet, but I didn’t accept them.
«Take it and leave. I don’t need anything from you anymore. This is the end, Dima. I’ll file for divorce tomorrow.»
To my surprise, my husband started packing. Throwing things into a travel bag, he hurled insults. He left, slamming the door loudly, and then my mother-in-law called, trying to find out what really happened and to hear my version of events. I honestly told her everything as it was. Surprisingly, my mother-in-law sympathized, sided with me, and went to scold her greedy son.
I was rocking Vanyusha when my mother called.
«Daughter, is everything okay? I’ve been so anxious since this morning, as if a disaster will happen,» my mother said worriedly on the phone.
«Everything’s fine, I kicked Dima out, I’ll file for divorce tomorrow, Vanya and I will live alone.»
«What! What happened? Okay, don’t say anything. I’ll come now.»
My mother arrived an hour and a half later, as she had promised. In her hands was a full bag of fruits for Vanyusha. Laying out the groceries on the table, my mother listened to my story without interrupting.
«So, you did everything right, daughter. You can’t live with such a man. A miserly husband is a misery in the family,» my mother supported me. «Don’t worry, I’m retired, I’ll always help with the grandson.»
«That would be wonderful, Mom. I’m so tired of being broke and stuck at home. I’ll go back to work, at least get back to myself,» I admitted honestly.
In the end, Vanya and I kept the apartment. My parents managed to prove that they had invested significant sums into it, and my ex-husband was left with nothing. Since I kicked him out, he vanished like into thin air. He didn’t call, didn’t write, showed no interest in Vanya at all. I expected that and was even glad that it all ended so easily and well for us and our son.
My mother stayed with Vanyusha, and I returned to work. The editorial office welcomed me with open arms, gladly loaded me with work. I plunged into the work hustle with pleasure. They gave me an entire page to run alone, provided a very good salary, and didn’t skimp on bonuses. In the evening, I spent time with my son—bathed him, chatted with him, assembled blocks. Vanya walked and talked early.
A hundred «whys» from a little person made every evening special, making me both melt and laugh. Now Vanyusha and I had enough money for everything. I bought him everything the child wanted—toys, treats, clothes. Vanya went to kindergarten at one and a half years, quickly adapted to the group, was lively and curious. My parents adored him; the son gladly stayed with them and was happy when they came to our home. My mother-in-law, after I separated from her son, also showed no interest in her grandson. She sent a terse SMS for his birthday and then disappeared again. I didn’t need communication with her, and I didn’t miss Dima. I had things to do. Life now was varied and full.
We enrolled Vanya in swimming, and Grandpa now took his grandson to the pool twice a week. Vanya really liked it. He cheerfully told us how he learned to dive and how the coach praised him. Now the marriage with Dima seemed to me like some vague dream that was recalled less and less often. Parting was definitely the optimal option for us and our son. Now no one ever argued at home, Vanyusha became calmer, happier.
I also became more balanced, rested. There was no longer a need to count every penny, and I calmly stopped at a cafe after work, bought my favorite coffee with a pastry, pizza for Vanyushka, a handful of grapes and pears at any time of the year. And Grandpa and Grandma always came to visit with full bags of treats. They recently started keeping chickens and pigs, so now we also had our own eggs and meat, definitely assured of the quality of the products.
Through mutual acquaintances, I knew that Dima had not set up his personal life again, paid debts for the car, lived with his mother. I, however, had improved in appearance, which everyone noted. Recently, I started a relationship with a work colleague, Nikita. I had already introduced him to Vanya, and my new man sincerely liked my son. We even went together to a sanatorium in the early warm October. Autumn was not rushing with cold and winds, the forest still stood golden and silent.
We walked a lot, played with Vanya, rode on carousels and horses. Nikita also had experience from a first marriage behind him, but he had no common children with his ex-wife. He was drawn to Vanya with all his heart, happily chatted with my son, spoiled him with gifts and treats. I did not rush to shape our relationship with Nikita, watching the young man. Maybe everything will work out between us—who knows. For now, I decided to be happy in the day I live in.
I had Vanya—my inexhaustible sun, which led me even in the darkest moments. I had myself, respecting myself enough not to build a family with a man who didn’t care about us with his son. My parents also really liked Nikita; they were waiting for the man to ask me to marry him. And they waited. We had a winter wedding—without any special celebration, surrounded by family and friends. Vanya sat in Nikita’s arms, trustingly leaning against him, asking for a little sister. My husband and I giggled happily and exchanged secretive glances.
«You’ll have a little sister. Or maybe a brother,» Nikita told his son.
«A brother is also good. But I’d rather have a sister. I’ll protect her, play with her,» Vanyusha replied.
«Agreed, buddy!» my husband gently hugged his son, kissing his whirling crown.
I looked at my two beloved men, and inside me, a warm tenderness spread to both of them.
