Why are you so gloomy?” Ira looked into Sergey’s eyes.
“Nothing.” He answered curtly.
“Come on, I can see you’re not yourself! Sergey, what happened?” Irina asked insistently.
“I got fired.” Sergey grabbed his head with his hands and leaned his elbows on the tabletop.
Sergey had long been afraid of getting fired, and his fear was not unfounded.
He wasn’t the most punctual employee, often arriving late to client meetings, and sometimes, due to his absent-mindedness, he even forgot to add important events to the calendar.
“Sergeychka, you can’t be so scatterbrained! You’re an adult, you could lose your job like that!” Ira lamented.
Irina herself was climbing the career ladder at a dizzying pace. Over the past year, her salary had doubled. Smart and beautiful, she was so passionate about the business their company was engaged in that the management repeatedly named her Employee of the Month and awarded bonuses for successful deals.
Sergey, on the other hand, was forever searching for himself as an artist. It took Ira huge effort to get him a job at her friend’s company as a sales manager, but even there he managed to mess things up. And he was fired despite having connections.
Ira and Sergey got married two years ago and hadn’t yet had children. To avoid renting and to save for their own place, they decided to live temporarily with Sergey’s mother, Alexandra Petrovna.
She had a lovely and spacious two-room apartment where nobody disturbed each other, so they lived relatively comfortably.
Alexandra Petrovna was happy with her hardworking daughter-in-law, as Ira paid fully for groceries, utilities, and even finally got her son settled with a job.
“My Sergeychka is an artist,” she would tell her daughter-in-law, “He has an art education. Such a talented boy! But he has a very delicate soul. He won’t feel comfortable everywhere.”
“Yes, I understand. But he still needs to work; without a job, we’ll never buy our own place,” the daughter-in-law shrugged.
“Oh, that’s true! Prices nowadays are crazy,” the mother-in-law shook her head.
“Therefore, the budget needs income from all family members.”
When Sergey was fired and his mother found out, she lamented for a long time and called those who did this to her boy terrible names.
“Alexandra Petrovna, but actually Sergey is to blame himself. I vouched for him, but he behaved quite carelessly. He was late, missed meetings, lost many important clients.”
“But he’s an artist, not a salesman!” Alexandra Petrovna defended her son.
“It’s good Sergey is a creative person, but until he can earn with his art, I suggest he find alternative ways to make money.”
“Oh, but what about his works! He had exhibitions!” the mother-in-law reminisced.
“Let’s get back to praising his talent at a more appropriate time. For now, he needs to find a new job,” Ira interrupted her.
“Well, you want Sergey to fulfill himself as an artist? You have the financial means to give him some time.”
“That’s true, but then we won’t buy a home,” Ira said sadly.
“Well, as God wills!” Alexandra Petrovna ended the conversation.
Ira and Sergey met at a party at friends’ place. Two completely different worlds collided that evening. Sergey had come after his unsuccessful exhibition and wanted to drown his sorrows at a friend’s birthday, while Irina came with an acquaintance at the invitation of Sergey’s friend’s girlfriend.
They immediately liked each other.
Sergey was a dreamy blue-eyed blond, and Ira was a tanned brunette with sensual lips.
Sergey offered her sparkling wine, she complained about a hard day, he complained about his… One word led to another, and the young couple woke up in the same bed. Sergey didn’t leave her side afterward. He painted her portraits, dedicated poems, showed up at night with a guitar.
Irina was not used to such romantic courtship and completely melted in the arms of this talented handsome man.
But time went on, and creative failures followed Sergey one after another. Despite this, Ira accepted his proposals, and they got married. With money from Ira’s and her parents’, but it was an important event that couldn’t be postponed.
So it happened that Ira made her career, while Sergey was left without a job.
“Ira, buy groceries and pay for the internet,” Sergey shouted from the kitchen while his wife was putting on her shoes.
“Okay. How’s your job search? Did you check the mail this morning? Any offers?”
“Not yet. I decided not to stress, not to rush. Besides, I want to return to the studio. During this difficult period in my life, inspiration came to me. I want to paint again,” Sergey declared.
“I’m very happy for you, but I’m not ready to live in your mother’s apartment until old age,” Ira reminded him.
“Yes, of course, me neither. But in the end, we’ll win more! Do you know how much paintings by artists who ‘make it’ cost? Ira, that’s hundreds of thousands of rubles. Or even more, if we’re lucky.”
Ira didn’t want to start the morning with conflict. She silently grabbed her purse and shut the door behind her.
In the evening she dragged two large bags of groceries inside. Alexandra Petrovna was cooking dinner.
“Oh, Ira, hi. Listen, we need to replace the fridge. Ours rattles nonstop. I don’t have the strength to listen to it all day in the kitchen.”
“Okay, I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you, dear! Give me the bags, I’ll unpack them.”
Since Sergey was fired, Ira took care of everything. She bought food, replaced furniture, chose new refrigerators, paid all debts, and at the same time had to be a compliant daughter-in-law and a supportive, understanding wife.
One day, coming home earlier than usual, Ira overheard her mother-in-law’s phone conversation. She wouldn’t have paid attention to the chatter if she hadn’t heard her own name.
“… Ira got him a job, and he got fired. Well, it’s not for him! But she constantly pushes him to work! What are you going to do with her!?” she complained to some friend.
Ira quietly took off her shoes and silently stepped further into the hallway.
“What do you mean ‘on whose money’? We’ll live off the daughter-in-law, she has a good job,” the mother-in-law shared with her friend.
Ira tensed.
“Yes, let her provide for us! I won’t let my Sergeychka work, let him do his art. That’s his calling. She chose a genius for a husband—let her provide,” Alexandra Petrovna concluded.
Ira quietly went to her room and left the door ajar. Luckily, Sergey wasn’t home; apparently, he was at the studio.
So Irina could hear the end of the conversation.
“Good thing she’s got money, at least I’m saving my pension. If Sergey has hard times, I’ll help out. Well, okay dear, I have to go, Sergey’s back,” the mother-in-law hurriedly said goodbye to her friend and hung up.
“Mom! Today I painted Yana again. She’s so beautiful!”
“No way, Sergeychka, I can’t believe you found your Yanka—that’s a miracle she returned to our yard from the capital!”
“Yes! She’s just the same! You know what’s interesting? She admires my works. She thinks I’m a genius. Ira never said that to me.”
“Well, Irina never understood art, she’s only good with the wallet!” Alexandra Petrovna smirked.
“What can you do! We’ll have a sponsor with Yanka for the first time,” Sergey added.
Ira was overwhelmed with anger.
Not only was the whole family, it turned out, benefiting from her success, but now she had to support Sergey’s muse too.
Like an enraged fury, Ira burst from the room into the kitchen.
“So, you like living off me, huh?”
“Oh, Ira, you’re home! You’re my berry!” Sergey reached for her.
“Don’t touch me! You bastard!” Ira no longer cared about choosing words. And who was she trying to impress?
“Ira, what’s wrong?” Alexandra Petrovna asked, surprised.
“I’m not your ATM anymore. I’m packing my things and leaving your rotten family.”
Half an hour later, Ira was dressing in the hallway. Two suitcases stood next to her.
“I’ll take the rest tomorrow,” she said firmly.
“Ira, we didn’t mean that…” the mother-in-law clung to the last straw.
“I understand. I haven’t said everything I wanted to either. First, I don’t like your borscht. And second, Sergey, I want to tell you the truth.”
“Yes, I’m listening,” Sergey looked at his wife with pleading eyes.
“You’re a terrible artist without a shred of talent. Actually, no, I was wrong! You do have one talent — sucking money from other people! You’re like a tick stuck on me! And you, Alexandra Petrovna, aren’t far behind. I’m grateful to fate that I didn’t have children by your son.”
Ira grabbed the suitcase handles and slammed the front door with her foot.
After she took all her things, she changed her phone number and never crossed paths with Sergey again.
Whether he became the famous artist he planned to be, the story doesn’t say.
