Why is my balance still empty?!” Lydia Pavlovna exclaimed indignantly as she burst into the bedroom. Her son, Sergey, didn’t notice his mother’s arrival because he was wearing headphones, but Ira flinched and dropped the vase she was dusting under.
“Irina! Where’s the money?”
“Serzha! Serezhenka!” Lydia Pavlovna began shaking her son by the shoulders, but he just brushed her off.
“Don’t bother me, Mom! I’m busy!”
“This is outrageous! Sergey!” She yanked the headphone cord and the earbud popped out.
“Your Irочка… deal with her.”
“Ir?” Sergey looked questioningly at Ira. She was crouching and gathering shards of the old vase. It was a pity.
“There won’t be any money,” Irina cut him off.
It all started when they met. Ira was walking home from work when a motorcycle sped past her, splashing mud from a puddle onto her pristine white spring coat. The dark stains made her so upset that she began to cry right there on the street in front of passersby.
She didn’t immediately notice that the culprit stopped at a traffic light and saw her in the rearview mirror. Something clicked in his mind—or maybe his conscience awoke… anyway, the motorcyclist turned around and approached Ira.
“Miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t ride like that in weather like this! The coat can be washed, but what if you hit someone? What then?” Ira scolded, shaking out her coat’s hem.
“I won’t do it again. Now I’ll be the calmest, politest driver. Just stop crying.”
Ira looked up and saw a handsome young man wearing a leather jacket that fit his toned figure perfectly—a ‘racer.’
“Not bad-looking…” Ira thought. She was no longer so angry and agreed to let him give her a ride home.
It turned out Sergey was unmarried. He literally charmed Ira at first sight, and they started dating.
Ira never considered herself beautiful. She was ordinary: short, wore glasses, had red hair and freckles. At school, she was teased as “Sunflower,” and boys rarely asked her out.
“Some have beauty, some have brains,” her mother encouraged.
And indeed, Ira graduated from school with top marks, enrolled in university, and by her fourth year was working as a programmer. Not the most feminine profession, but well-paid.
“You’re our ‘guy,’” joked her colleagues. The male team did not give her any advantage, and Ira remained single—until Sergey.
Sergey was not perfect, but Ira fell for him because he saw her femininity.
They spent the whole summer strolling through streets and parks.
“I live in a dorm and am saving for a dream,” he said. His dream was to own a motorcycle. It turned out the one he rode was borrowed from a friend just for rides.
The student from the automotive technical school had no money, so he only gave Ira “wildflowers.”
But Ira didn’t mind.
When it got too cold to walk outside, Ira invited Sergey for tea. She had inherited the apartment from her grandmother; her parents lived separately and didn’t interfere in her affairs. They were even happy Sergey appeared. Everyone was pleased.
And he stayed not just for tea. The next day, he moved his toothbrush, socks, and all his other things from the dorm.
“It’s close to the technical school from here, I can walk. Convenient.”
Ira shrugged.
“Live here. We meet every day anyway.”
She tried hard: cooked, kept the home cozy, studied in her last year, and worked! A perfect woman. Sergey, to match his “girlfriend,” got a job at a car repair shop and bragged for a long time that he was now the breadwinner.
“Sergey, why didn’t you stop by the store?” Ira asked late one evening when she got home. She hadn’t had time to buy groceries—she was submitting a project.
“You know, I’m saving money. And the boss is delaying my pay.”
“So we should starve? You could have told me your salary was delayed—I would’ve sent you money.”
“Send it. I’ll go now,” Sergey nodded and left. With Ira’s money, he bought chips, drinks, and two yogurts. Ira wanted to say everything she thought, but she was too tired. She drank the yogurt and went to sleep.
From then on, a series of money transfers began. Sergey constantly needed money—sometimes for a new jacket, sometimes for laptop repair, sometimes for medicine for his sick grandmother.
“The old lady is really bad! We don’t know what to do. Need to hire a caregiver, but there’s no money,” Sergey was sad.
“Can’t your mom take care of her?”
“Mom works, gives all the money to my sister’s tuition. Looks like we’ll have to put grandma in a nursing home.”
“What? She’s family!” Ira was worried. Her grandmother had died not long ago, and Ira couldn’t imagine putting a close relative in such a place while family was alive.
“It’s either school or medicine. Mom can’t do both.”
“Then you have to help them.”
“Me?! With my salary?”
“You should quit the service job.”
“And what would I do? Not everyone’s as smart as you.”
“Then at least send part of your salary to your mother. You won’t be able to save for the motorcycle anyway.”
“I can. Just need to wait a bit. You believe in me, right?” Sergey looked into Ira’s eyes, and she melted.
“Of course. I believe.”
Some time passed. Ira learned that the grandmother had been moved to a nursing home and Sergey’s sister was about to be expelled for unpaid tuition.
“Mom is sick. Can’t go to work,” Sergey was out of sorts. He worried a lot.
“How much do you need?” Ira grabbed her wallet.
“One hundred fifty.”
“All at once?!”
“By next Wednesday.”
Ira shook her head. She had a good salary and some savings, but she wanted to go south for the summer. But she couldn’t refuse Sergey.
“Let her study. I asked for an advance,” Ira transferred the money to the required account.
“Mom will come by soon. Wants to meet her future daughter-in-law. But first, of course, we’ll get on our feet, finish school, and accomplish what we planned—and then get married,” Sergey winked. Ira froze. She hoped Sergey would marry her and thought about having children. But she only knew his mother, Lydia Pavlovna, by reputation. Lydia lived in the suburbs and had never visited her son.
“Then I have to cook something…” Ira busied herself.
“Yeah. Mom likes good food,” Sergey nodded.
Lydia Pavlovna arrived early in the morning. She appraised the apartment and sat at the table.
“Well, tell me what you do, who your parents are…” she began.
“Mom works at a bank, dad gives private math lessons.”
“So, a teacher? And where’s the money?”
“He’s a teacher…”
“Do teachers earn much? Your mother supports you, right?”
Ira was taken aback by the question.
“In our family, everyone works. Nobody lives off anyone else.”
“Mom, I told you Ira earns on her own. She’s a programmer!”
“And how much do programmers make?” Lydia Pavlovna squinted.
“Enough to pay for my sister’s tuition and still have some left, mom…” Sergey stepped on his mother’s foot.
“Don’t shut me up. I want to know what kind of bride my son has. Is she good enough?”
“Perfect. Try this chicken she made.”
“Chicken is the cheapest meat. You’re allergic to it. Remember? You can only have turkey!”
“But Sergey bought it… himself,” Ira blushed. She was flustered. She didn’t like the conversation.
“I like chicken. And you, Mom, don’t make a fuss,” he opened a bottle and poured the glasses. “To getting to know each other.”
Lydia Pavlovna ate her fill and softened. When leaving, she hugged her son and whispered something, then even smiled at Ira.
“I’ll come again. In a month.”
“Please do…” Ira shrugged.
And Lydia Pavlovna did come. Exactly on the day of the next advance.
“Irochka, daughter!” she shouted from the doorstep. “I missed you so much, it’s terrible!”
This time Sergey’s mother behaved differently. She was cheerful, talkative, and praised Ira’s dumplings. Ira spent the whole day in the kitchen the day before so her future mother-in-law wouldn’t accuse her of a “cheap” meal.
Ira was brought up to strive for perfection and took criticism very hard. So the table had caviar, delicacies, and handmade marble beef dumplings.
Ira’s food was barely keeping her upright from fatigue, but Lydia Pavlovna was pleased.
“Well, beautiful! I used to make dumplings like these… remember, Sergey?”
“So what’s stopping you, Mom? You don’t work now…”
“The stove is broken. Only one burner works and that one’s dying,” Lydia Pavlovna lowered her eyes.
“What? Really?”
“Yes.”
“You need a new one. How can you live with a broken stove?”
“Where would I get a new one? Have you seen the prices?!” Lydia Pavlovna rolled her eyes. “I’ll manage somehow.”
When she left, Ira said to Sergey:
“It’s not right that your mother lives like this.”
“Yeah.”
“We should buy her a new stove.”
“Exactly. I’ll pick one. You’re a miracle, Ira!”
Ira didn’t expect Sergey to choose the fanciest stove with a huge double-door oven. Such a stove was beyond even Ira’s budget.
“And a cookware set to go with it. I read the reviews. Like this!” Sergey beamed, giving a thumbs-up.
“Maybe something simpler?” Ira stammered.
“We’ll pay in installments. Everything’s possible now.”
Ira wanted to please her fiancé’s mother, so she agreed. She took on the financial arrangements and paid off Lydia Pavlovna’s oven for several months. Lydia said thank you and came again with another “want.”
Ira began to fear her future mother-in-law’s visits. Something was always breaking, burning, spoiling, or failing. Ira barely managed to send large sums of money with Sergey, somehow feeling obligated. She graduated and got a full-time job, but even that salary wasn’t enough. Sergey kept promising he’d soon earn well.
This would have continued endlessly if one day Ira hadn’t found out something that changed her life.
When Ira saw two lines on the test, she didn’t know whether to be happy or cry, because maternity leave scared her. They basically lived on Ira’s salary with Sergey.
She realized it was time for changes.
“Serzha… we need to talk.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll have to take a break from work,” Ira said.
“What?! How will we live?”
“You’ll have to earn more, and withdraw all the savings you’ve got and put it in our joint account.”
“That won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Because I spent it all. I bought a motorcycle,” Sergey said proudly.
“And you didn’t tell me?!” Ira flared up.
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
“When?”
“Well… when the time came.”
“And where is it?”
“In the garage.”
“And where did you get the garage?”
“Rented it.”
“With what money?!”
“With earned money.”
“So you’ve been lying to me all this time?!”
“I was saving for a dream.”
“You’re… just a weirdo!” Ira said, meaning a much stronger word.
“Same to you. A weirdo. You sit on your laptop, live in a digital world… don’t care about me at all. Maybe I didn’t dream of this life?”
“Really? What life then?” Ira couldn’t hold back.
“I dreamed of seeing the world. As soon as the new helmet arrives, I’ll travel to cities! Life has so much to offer, Ira. What do you understand?” He waved his hand, and tears ran down Ira’s cheeks.
“I’m pregnant, Sergey. And it’s not just my child but yours too.”
“What?!”
“That’s how it is. Time to grow up, Serzha. Stop living off me. Time to take responsibility for others. So forget about traveling. Sell the motorcycle—we’ll fix up the nursery with that money.”
His eyes went wide, and he started packing.
“And where will you go? Live in the garage?” Ira continued.
Sergey didn’t answer. Ira realized talking to him was useless. She let him leave and cried all night, feeling sorry for herself.
The next day Lydia Pavlovna called.
“Ira, why did you kick out my son?”
“He left himself. And let him go to hell.”
“I’ll come.”
“No need.”
“No, I’m coming. I’m experienced now, listen to me,” Lydia Pavlovna probably had hypnotic powers, but Ira couldn’t resist.
They came together. Sergey was silent and subdued, Lydia Pavlovna talkative and intrusive.
“You’re having a baby, make up. What’s the big deal? The motorcycle. Tomorrow you’ll file papers at the registry office. Pregnant women get fast marriages. Don’t throw a wedding, save money. We’ll need more soon.”
Lydia Pavlovna somehow convinced Ira to keep living as before, and Sergey stayed. But he didn’t improve. He didn’t participate in family life, disappeared to the garage, came home late, and Ira worked bringing home money.
Her patience was running out, rose-colored glasses were off. She just couldn’t throw Sergey out because she was weak-willed and used to being taken advantage of. But even angelic patience eventually breaks. The last straw was Lydia Pavlovna’s new visit.
She declared from the doorstep that her daughter, Sergey’s sister, needed money for rent.
“You always helped us, Ira… don’t refuse this time. Daughter’s getting married, but has nowhere to live. We have to help.”
“I’m happy for you. But I have no money.”
“What do you mean no money?”
“I opened a future account. With interest. You can’t withdraw money.”
“So what now?”
Ira didn’t answer, silently went to the bedroom. She didn’t want to continue the conversation. She had long planned to pack Sergey’s things, and at that moment, she grabbed his shirts in a heap and threw them in a bag, then to keep her composure, took a cloth and started dusting. She needed to calm down to not harm the unborn child.
“Why is my balance still empty?!” Lydia Pavlovna exclaimed angrily, bursting into the bedroom. She hadn’t received any kindness from her future daughter-in-law and was very angry. Sergey didn’t notice his mother because he was wearing headphones, but Ira flinched and dropped the vase she was dusting under.
“Irina! Where’s the money? Serzha! Serezhenka!” Lydia Pavlovna began shaking her son by the shoulder, but he just brushed her off.
“Don’t bother me, Mom! I’m busy!”
“This is outrageous! Sergey!” She yanked the headphone cord and the earbud popped out.
“Your Irочка… doesn’t want to help!”
“Ir?” Sergey looked questioningly at his wife. She was crouching and collecting shards of the old vase. It was very sad, although the vase always got in the way and was basically useless. You couldn’t put fresh flowers in it because of a crack at the bottom.
“I won’t transfer my salary to your sister’s needs. It’s enough that I support you,” Ira said in a trembling voice. “And you.” She pointed at Sergey’s mother. “And your whole collective farm judging by how much I’ve already spent on you. Take your son and go. There won’t be a wedding.”
“What about the baby? Who will help you, huh? You’re heartbreaking!” Lydia Pavlovna grimaced.
“It’s better for me to raise the son alone than with such a father and grandmother. You’re no help, just a burden. Clear out! You can slam the door and leave the keys on the shelf. And take your trash,” Ira shoved the vase shards at Lydia Pavlovna and, without waiting for them to leave, went to her parents.
The next morning Sergey came to negotiate with Ira’s father, but he didn’t let him in. Ira was exhausted and no longer wanted to glue her feelings back together like a broken vase. It was easier to say goodbye.
She didn’t abandon her son, though it was psychologically hard. But Ira endured the test of strength.
Sergey went on a motorcycle trip. It didn’t bring him pleasure because halfway the bike broke down and he had no money for repairs. He had to hitchhike home.
Ira filed for child support, and Sergey had to change jobs. Gradually he began earning more, paid child support, but luck did not favor him. Two years later, he realized Ira was a very good girl for him. Sergey regretted their breakup and even tried to watch Ira near her building. But Ira was firm.
Maybe later she would have allowed her father to see the child, but at that moment Ira couldn’t overcome herself and trust Sergey. When she remembered how they lived, an old vase with a crack at the base came to mind. Ornate but useless, taking up space and never used.
“Good thing it broke,” Ira thought.
The empty spot on the shelf was eventually taken by a new, more modern, unbreakable vase. Flowers appeared in it from Ira’s new friend, with whom she just flirted but didn’t let close. He was her colleague and sometimes helped with work. Ira worked remotely even on maternity leave with a child in her arms.
“Well, son… your dad will definitely come to us. A new one. Better than the last.”
The child smiled. Life was just beginning, and everything would get better.
