Svetlana cautiously closed the door to the room. She felt an overwhelming pity for her husband. Lately, he had been so exhausted that he would fall asleep on his feet. And even now—as he rushed home from work, quickly swallowed a bowl of “navy-style” pasta, and collapsed onto the sofa—he managed only to say:
— Sveta, wake me up in an hour; I need to go see my father.
— Again? You were with him the day before yesterday.
Pitying her husband, who was off visiting his sick father, I decided to visit him myself.
Sveta realized that her husband simply wasn’t listening. She quietly closed the door and went into the kitchen. No, something had to be done about this. Sergey Semyonovich, of course, wasn’t a gift, but he was an elderly man—and since he couldn’t take care of himself, they would have to bring him here.
Svetlana even shuddered when she remembered all the scandals with her father-in-law. They say that a daughter-in-law always has a hard time with her mother-in-law, but in their case there was no mother-in-law, only a father-in-law. He took on the roles of mother-in-law, bad dog, and many others.
When Sveta got married, she tried to keep herself in check. They moved in with her father-in-law at his country house, as he himself called that unremarkable house. Commuting to work was inconvenient. Sasha had a car—not new, but in perfect order. However, they worked in different parts of the city, and Alexander had to drop his wife off at a bus stop, where she would then catch a minibus. Or sometimes it was Svetlana who had to drop Sasha off, because they’d agreed to alternate weeks. One week Svetlana went to work, the next week Sasha. Her father-in-law was horrified by this arrangement; he thought that a daughter-in-law wasn’t that important—nothing would happen to her if she walked or took public transport.
Svetlana had often heard him say to his son:
— Why do you always follow her lead? She should know her place.
Sasha would just brush him off:
— Dad, don’t talk nonsense.
But her father-in-law wouldn’t relent. It reached a point where he even began to reprimand Svetlana, saying that she wasn’t a princess to put so much strain on her husband.
Sveta and Sasha married when they were both nearing thirty. Svetlana carried the baggage of an unsuccessful previous marriage, and Sasha, as Svetlana increasingly believed, was his father’s child. If she were younger, she might have kept quiet—but this time she couldn’t. She thoroughly rebuked her father-in-law—not by insulting or shouting, but by explaining how he appeared from the outside and that the family would somehow sort things out. Oh, what followed then! Her father-in-law shouted, and she thought his blows might actually land. Sasha rushed over to stop the yelling, barely managed to pull his father away, then came into the kitchen with his head bowed:
— Sveta, I understand how you feel. I pity your father—it seems wrong to leave him alone—but if we don’t move, our family is doomed. I’ll start looking for a rental.
Svetlana didn’t object; she understood that it was all because of her, but she no longer had the strength to endure it.
For the first two years, they managed very well. Her father-in-law only phoned his son, and he visited them just a couple of times. Sasha would go to see him on weekends and help out. Svetlana, too, forced herself to go a few times—cleaning, washing clothes. They hardly communicated, but that was for the best; otherwise, they would have certainly quarreled. In the last year, however, the trips resumed.
Sveta and Sasha had just taken out a mortgage. They scraped together enough for the down payment and even had a little left over for repairs, and they immediately bought a two-room apartment, because their next plan was a child. But then her father-in-law fell ill—seriously ill. Sasha kept taking him to the doctors, but the doctors just shrugged. Sasha was depressed, realizing that his father wasn’t getting any younger—he spent nearly every free minute with him—but her husband worked so much that he couldn’t be there too often.
Today something had broken at their place, so he had come home early, decided to take a nap for an hour, and then leave. Svetlana quietly peeked into the room; her husband was sound asleep, exactly in the same position as when he had dozed off. She closed the door and decisively grabbed the car keys—let him rest. She would drive, pick up groceries, tidy up—in short, handle things as the circumstances required. She went to the store, and on the way to her father-in-law’s house she was silently berating herself. One shouldn’t behave this way; Sasha’s father was her only kin, and she must overcome herself—even ask for forgiveness, she decided.
The settlement where her husband’s father lived was only fifteen kilometers from the city. Granted, he was already living his own life—with his own shops and other people. As soon as Svetlana drove in, she had to slam on the brakes. Out of nowhere, a heavyset man—and a woman as well—had come tumbling into the road. Svetlana was terribly frightened and peered out of the car. “What are you throwing yourselves in front of oncoming wheels for?” The man waved his hand without even glancing her way. In his bag, bottles clinked merrily. Svetlana snorted to herself. Of course, they had fun ahead, and here she was with some complaints. They were dressed quite decently, by the way—not like hobos or drunks. Svetlana resumed her drive. Twilight was setting in, and she would have to return in the dark. The house was very near, and suddenly she braked. Sasha had told her that his father had become terribly ill, that he could barely stand and couldn’t do anything. Sasha was practically buying him vitamins, red fish, and medicine by the ton. She had never objected—after all, he was her only relative. And now a dreadful thought struck her: what if she went in now and he was… Svetlana couldn’t even imagine what might happen. She was so afraid of the dead, and overall the situation was terrifying. Svetlana shook off the thought and took the last turn. She turned and pressed on the brake pedal.
The house was lit up. At first she was startled, then she saw a familiar man and woman entering the yard. Oh, what had they forgotten at the old sick man’s place? Svetlana jumped out of the car and ran after them. She dashed into the yard and suddenly realized what had been bothering her—it was the music. Sergey Semyonovich lived a bit on the outskirts, and Svetlana immediately caught the melody. Only then did she realize that there were no other houses nearby, so the music could only be coming from his wife. That was what she understood when she saw the cheerful gathering in the yard.
— Well, you’re up now? Come in, don’t be shy.
A voice from behind made her jump. She turned around and saw a man of about sixty—less than sober, but very smiling.
— I… I… Svetlana couldn’t get any words out.
The man scrutinized her:
— Hasn’t Semyonovich completely lost it? You’re too young for him. Is your name Natasha?
— No, it’s Sveta.
— Sveta. But that’s not important. Come in.
Timidly, she stepped forward, not understanding at all what was happening. She wanted to ask the man who had invited her, but he was already twirling around with some lady. Svetlana froze when she saw her father-in-law. He hardly looked like a dying man at all. Sergey Semyonovich was standing by the barbecue. In one hand he held a glass, and in the other he deftly flipped skewers. Svetlana was completely at a loss. Then someone gently took her by the elbow. She turned to see a woman, about sixty years old, looking at her. The stranger smiled and radiated warmth:
— You’re Svetlana, aren’t you?
— That’s right.
— Sergey Semyonovich showed me your photographs.
— Sergey Semyonovich?
— Your father-in-law.
Svetlana was utterly flustered.
— Come on, he’ll be glad. We have a small event today—declared the stranger triumphantly.
— An event? Wait, I don’t understand. And why did you decide he’d be happy?
— Well, because you haven’t visited him for so long. As he says, he felt hurt. And rightly so, since he wasn’t behaving well.
A jumble of thoughts filled Svetlana’s mind:
— What do you mean, I haven’t visited him recently? Sasha is here almost every day.
Before she knew it, the woman had led her to the table.
— Sveta? Her father-in-law looked at her in surprise. — Sveta? How did you end up here? Did something happen with Sasha?
— No. Sasha is fine. Well, except that he’s so exhausted from driving to you every day. — And I decided to come myself today.
— To my place? Every day?
In Svetlana’s mind things began to clear up a little. And at that moment, she only longed to burst into tears—so very, very much.
— Now, Svetlana, sit down. I’m not letting you leave tonight. Today, Natasha and I are engaged—well, that’s probably the proper way to put it. Let’s sit, talk, and drink to our health.
Svetlana obediently took a glass. At that moment, she didn’t care what to do; her thoughts were far away. The guests left after midnight. Svetlana helped Natalia clear the table, then sat on the sofa:
— Sergey Semyonovich, do I understand correctly that if a husband helps someone, it’s definitely not for you?
He sighed and sat next to her. Natalia, on the other side, said:
— Sveta, I haven’t seen Sasha for about three months, I think. He’d come over just to ask for money, and that was all. And I thought you were very upset with me. He was about to come and apologize for his behavior. It’s good that you came on your own. Forgive me, you old fool. I must have knocked my head—everything’s fine for everyone except that I’m all alone. And then I met Natalia and realized just how foolish I was.
Natalia went to prepare a bed for Svetlana, and the guest went outside. Suddenly, Svetlana’s phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Sasha.
— Yes? Svetlana answered.
— Sveta, where are you? Did you really go to your father’s? Why? Who asked you to?
— Sasha, is that all you want to say? Silence fell on the line. Then her husband spoke:
— What do you want to hear? That you look like a gloomy mouse? But you cook well and manage the budget so that there’s enough for everything? Or that I’m never going to give you the apartment, so you’d better not do anything—just forget everything and let’s continue our life as it is? What exactly do you want to hear? You do understand that you can’t do anything without me.
Every word from her husband struck her like a whip. She took a deep breath:
— And what about everything you told me? Did you really lie about it all?
— Sveta, don’t start, okay? Come home. Let’s just forget this little misunderstanding.
— A little misunderstanding?
— Of course. We’re fine together. And besides, no one is likely to covet you.
Svetlana put the phone aside. In fact, she turned it off. Her father-in-law and Natalia were waiting for her:
— Did Sasha call?
— Yes.
Svetlana finally began to weep.
Natalia rushed to her:
— Oh, come on, you should cry for those who deserve it.
Sergey Semyonovich paced back and forth:
— Ah, Sasha, you fool.
Sergey Semyonovich and Natalia offered her a place to stay. Sasha never came for his car again, nor did he call. A week later, Svetlana filed for divorce. Sergey Semyonovich didn’t try to persuade her to reconsider or to forgive his son. He simply said that she should do what she felt was right. In those days, both he and Natalia had become closer to her than her own family. She could never have imagined finding such support in her father-in-law.
Svetlana parked the car and went into the house. The next day was her day off, and she and Natalia planned to pickle cucumbers. Sasha was sitting on the sofa. Apparently, he had arrived very recently because his conversation with his father was still in full swing:
— Father, what the hell makes you interfere?
— Am I supposed to chase Svetlana to you? To someone who doesn’t love her and deceives her?
Sasha frowned:
— Don’t exaggerate; she won’t vanish. She’s just interested in eating, cooking, washing, cleaning—so let her be.
Svetlana coughed.
Sasha turned to her in alarm:
— Sveta, I’m here for you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Well, forgive the idiot—these things happen.
Svetlana pulled away when he tried to embrace her and asked:
— Are we out of food, or are the shirts clean?
Her father-in-law smirked and gave her a big thumbs-up.
Sasha narrowed his eyes:
— I see you’ve grown bold. Alright, I’ll wait until you crawl over. I’ll think about whether to take you in or not.
— No, Sasha, I won’t crawl. By the way, I’ll be fighting for the apartment; that’s my half.
Her husband laughed.
— Well, you can have it—but you’ll have to pay me for my share, since you haven’t a penny in your heart.
— That’s where you’re mistaken! Sergey Semyonovich gave his son a stern look. We’ll give Svetlana some money.
— What? Have you all completely lost your minds? I’m your son, and this is some random woman.
Sergey Semyonovich cautiously took his son by the elbow and led him outside:
— Come on, son, let’s talk outside.
A year later, Svetlana remarried. A man who adored her—a man who was ready to move mountains for her—was found. And Svetlana? She was practically afraid to breathe in his presence. The wedding was a joyous affair; they even skipped the restaurant because Sergey Semyonovich decided that his house was better. And overall, life took on new colors, though the new husband, who only discovered after the wedding that Sergey Semyonovich and Natalia were not Svetlana’s parents, remained in a state of shock for a long time.
