The Crocodile Handbag
Saturday turned out quiet. A fine drizzle streamed down the windowpanes in uneven trails, and the apartment smelled of freshly brewed tea and that special Saturday hush when you can finally relax after a workweek. Nika settled into the old armchair—the very one they’d inherited from Grandma, with its sagging seat and worn armrests—and wrapped her hands around her favorite mug. The ceramic warmth felt good against her palms.
This is happiness, she thought, breathing in the tea’s aroma. No extra people, no talk about work, about money, about how it’s “high time already”… Just her, hot tea, and a new series on the tablet.
These quiet hours had become her salvation in recent months. Roma, her husband, had been out of work for three months now, and the home had turned into a battlefield of unspoken grievances. He sat at the computer all day—playing shooters, watching soccer, “supposedly” job-hunting, though more often than not the screen showed anything but job sites.
“Sweetheart!”—Roma’s voice exploded in the silence like a firecracker. “You won’t believe it! Mom picked out her own anniversary present!”
He burst into the room, beaming with delight like a schoolboy who’d just gotten an A. Nika slowly tore herself from the screen and looked at her husband. Something in his tone set off alarms.
“A crocodile-skin handbag!” Roma went on, oblivious to her wariness. “She’s dreamed about it for so long!”
Nika carefully set her mug on the table and narrowed her eyes.
“A crocodile-skin handbag? Did she decide that herself, or did someone suggest it? And did she happen to consider that animal-rights people might be outraged?”
The sarcasm sailed past Roma as if he were deaf.
“She’s my mother! She deserves it!”
“Deserves it?” Nika felt something tighten inside. “Tell me, what exactly has she done to merit that? I’ll grant you—she raised you. But I’m not on that list; I have my own parents. And how much does this ‘gift’ cost?”
Roma coughed, embarrassed, and looked away.
“Oh, a trifle, really… About five of your paychecks.”
Nika felt the ground give way beneath her.
“Five of my paychecks?” she repeated, her face going rigid.
“Well yeah, it’s Nile crocodile leather, not some faux leather,” he explained as if nothing were amiss.
“And why are you telling me this? I’m not the least bit interested.”
Roma fidgeted and averted his eyes completely.
“Well… I put the bag on credit.”
“On credit?” Nika’s voice turned dangerously calm.
“Yeah. Huge thanks to my sis Lenka—she helped. You know she works at a bank, and she processed everything so fast…”
“And in whose name?”
Something awful began to dawn on Nika.
“Well, whose do you think… yours. Who else? I just used your documents…”
Nika rose without a word and slowly walked toward her husband. She suddenly wanted to kill him. Or at least hit him with something heavy.
“So, Roma darling, you’ve been unemployed for three months, decided to give Mommy a present, but I’m the one who has to pay for it?”
Roma involuntarily took a step back, sensing the temperature rising.
“Nika, it just worked out that way… In our family you’re the only one working…”
“I am working! And you, instead of looking for a job, instead of feeding your family like normal husbands, sit at home like a schoolboy on vacation and think I don’t have enough problems without your loan!”
“Nika, don’t get wound up! It’s just a loan—no big deal…”
At that moment his mother, Nadezhda Ivanovna, made one of her customary entries. She always came to “visit the kids,” but in reality she brought a heap of complaints and remarks.
“What’s all the noise?” she asked, coming in with the air of the lady of the house.
“Nothing, everything’s fine, Mom. Nika’s just a little upset about the loan,” Roma complained.
“What’s there to be upset about?” The mother-in-law plopped into a chair, arms crossed. “It’s a family matter, and it’s your duty to one another.”
“Meaning? Please substantiate,” Nika said.
“Your duty is to pick out expensive gifts, and mine is to pay for them?”
“What’s so strange about that? You work, and your salary is good,” the mother-in-law said coolly.
“I understand. Wonderful. And Roma? What does he do?”
“Roma is my son and, incidentally, your husband. And you should support him.”
“Husband?” Nika laughed. “That’s what you call a husband? A man who takes out a loan in his wife’s name because he himself can’t do anything and doesn’t even want to? Who’s settled in behind my back like a parasite!”
“Nika!” Roma tried to object. “That’s not nice! Why humiliate me? We’re a family, after all!”
“Fine,” Nika said, pressing her lips together. “I’ll handle it myself tomorrow. And believe me, everything will be fine.”
She smiled oddly, as if to herself, and there was something in that smile that made Roma wary. In fact, Nika already knew how she would untangle the situation.
“Good girl, dear, good girl!” the mother-in-law nodded approvingly.
The entire next day Nika worked and, in parallel, took care of her own business. She made several calls to the online classifieds and arranged to meet one of the posters in the evening.
When she returned home that night, she greeted her husband with her sweetest smile.
“Roma darling! I’ve got news for you today!”
“Oh? What is it?” He sat down on the couch, suspecting nothing.
“You know, I paid off the loan for the crocodile-skin handbag.”
“Really? No way!” Roma practically jumped. “I knew you were the best! How did you do it? Where’d you get the money?”
“Simple. I sold your car.”
Roma froze as if struck with a hammer.
“You… what? How— the car?”
“I’m telling you: I sold it. Quickly and cheaply. Got exactly enough to close that wretched loan.”
“Are you out of your mind?! What am I supposed to drive now?”
Nika smiled innocently.
“Ride the crocodile-skin bag like a horse. You know, I read online today that some bags are made from leather taken from the crocodile’s… delicate areas, and when you stroke them they turn right into a suitcase. The bag you gave your mom isn’t one of those, by any chance?”
Nika wanted to laugh. Roma turned purple.
“You couldn’t have done that! Tell me it’s a joke! That was my car! And to sell it for peanuts—that’s… that’s insane!”
“Well, now you’re without a car, and I’m without debts. Fair enough. And your mother has her handbag. Great arrangement, don’t you think?”
Drawn by her son’s shouting, Nadezhda Ivanovna rushed in.
“What’s going on now?”
“Imagine, Mom: Nika sold my car! It’s a tragedy for me!” Roma cried.
“So what? She did the right thing,” Nika shrugged. “After all, a loan is a family matter. Isn’t that so?”
“That was a mistake! A big one! You had no right—it’s his property!” The mother-in-law planted her hands on her hips. “And now, without a car… did you think about that?”
“Did you ask me when you bought that handbag? When you took out a loan in my name?” Nika raised her chin. “Now I’m keeping things fair.”
“This is outrageous! Look how independent she’s become!” the mother-in-law shouted, staring at her daughter-in-law as if she’d stolen something.
“Outrageous is the two of you deciding I’m your personal cash cow and can spend my money without asking my consent,” Nika shot back.
Roma tried to intervene.
“Nika, think! Think it over! We’re a family, we’re together, we’re one whole!”
“A family, you say? Then let’s do this: since you’re the most useless member of it, pack your things and go live with your mother. Let her feed you and pay for your internet. And I’ll live for myself for once.”
Nika sat down on the couch and deliberately picked up her tablet, making it clear the conversation was over. After a few seconds she added, with relish:
“And you, Nadezhda Ivanovna—by the way—take your crocodile handbag and try stroking it very gently.”
A couple of days later Roma, worn out by the constant low-grade quarrel, moved in with his mother. Nadezhda Ivanovna didn’t hide her indignation. Nika simply ignored her.
For the first time in a long while, she felt light. And now she knew for sure: they’d gotten the message—she was not someone to mess with.
Outside, the drizzle continued, but now that Saturday silence truly belonged to her.
