Marina licked the white cream from the teaspoon.
“Galina Petrovna, you’re retired now. You don’t really have anything to spend money on. Denis and I have decided to cut back on the help.”
On the table stood a cake that cost eighteen hundred rubles. Bought with Galina’s pension.
Galya stared at her empty cup. The tea had gone cold long ago. Something inside her clicked dryly.
“What do you mean, cut back?” Galina asked.
Marina put the spoon down. She wiped her lips with a napkin. Her movements were slow, confident, almost possessive.
“I mean exactly that. Yesterday, your first pension payment came in. Twenty-one thousand rubles. Your utilities are five. That leaves more than enough for food. What else do you need money for?”
Denis sat beside her, staring down at his plate, poking at the remains of the sponge cake with his fork.
“Denya, do you think the same way?” Galina asked.
Her son shrugged.
“Mom, we have a mortgage. The car loan. Marina needs dental work. You’re at home anyway. You don’t need a travel pass, and you don’t need new clothes.”
Galina pulled a paper napkin closer and picked up a pen.
“I sit at home. With your children.”
“Well, you’re their grandmother!” Marina snapped. “That should be your joy!”
“The fifteen thousand you used to give me,” Galina said, writing the number on the napkin, “was not help. It was payment for my work.”
Marina let out a short laugh. Not because she was amused. Because she was angry.
“Oh, please. Now the meter’s running, is it? What work? You’re looking after your own grandchildren!”
“Forty hours a week. Plus I pick them up from kindergarten. Plus I cook them lunch using my own groceries.”
“We gave you grandchildren!” Marina’s voice rose sharply.
“You had them for yourselves, Marinochka.”
Denis threw his fork onto the table with a loud clatter.
“Mom, don’t start. Marina is right. Paying your own mother to spend time with her grandchildren is insane. We’re not transferring any more money. End of discussion.”
Galina stood up silently. She walked over to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and took out a set of keys.
Then she returned to the table and dropped them in front of her son. The metal rang against the glass plate.
“What’s this?” Denis frowned.
“The keys to your apartment. Since I am now simply a loving grandmother and not a free nanny, my schedule is changing.”
Red blotches spread across Marina’s face.
“What is that supposed to mean, Galina Petrovna?”
“Very simple. Starting tomorrow, you take Tyoma and Polya to kindergarten yourselves. You take sick leave yourselves. Your children spend weekends with you.”
“I work!” Marina barked.
“So did I. Forty years at the factory. Now I’m resting.”
Galya walked to the front door and opened it.
“Finished your tea? Finished the cake? The exit is right there.”
Denis stood up first. His face was red. He grabbed his jacket from the hanger.
“You’ll regret this, Mom. You’ll call when you start feeling lonely.”
Galina Petrovna did not answer. She slammed the door shut and turned the lock.
On Monday, Galina woke up at eight. The kitchen was quiet. No one was asking her to turn on cartoons. No one was spilling compote on the clean tablecloth.
She made herself real coffee and took out her beautiful cup.
At eight fifteen, the doorbell rang.
Long. Rude. Continuous.
Galya walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Marina was standing on the landing. A phone was clenched between her teeth. In one hand, she held a yellow supermarket bag. With the other, she was gripping four-year-old Polya by the hood of her jacket. Beside them, six-year-old Tyoma shifted from foot to foot.
“Open up!” Marina shouted through the closed door. She pulled at the handle.
Galina pressed the intercom button.
“I’m sleeping, Marina.”
“Galina Petrovna, stop this nonsense! I have to be at work by nine! The kindergarten is under quarantine. I’m not taking them there.”
The children began to whine. Polya rubbed her eyes with a dirty mitten.
“And I’m retired. I have my own routine.”
Marina kicked the door with her boot.
“I’ll leave them right here! On the doormat! Then you can explain it to child services yourself!”
Galina leaned her forehead against the cold metal of the door.
“Go ahead. Auntie Nina next door is home right now. She’ll call the police immediately. I’ll tell them their mother abandoned the children in the stairwell and ran away.”
Silence hung behind the door. Only Marina’s heavy breathing could be heard.
“You’re insane. You old hag,” Marina hissed.
Then her footsteps faded. The elevator doors clanged shut. They left.
Galya returned to the kitchen. Her coffee had already gone cold. She poured it into the sink and made a fresh cup. Her hands were trembling slightly. But inside, she was calm.
Denis called at lunchtime.
Galya did not answer right away. She waited until he called for the third time.
“Yes?”
“Mom, have you completely lost your mind?” Denis shouted into the phone. Cars hummed in the background. “Marina got a reprimand! She was two hours late because she had to take the kids to my mother-in-law on the other side of the city!”
“And how is Zinaida Stepanovna?” Galina Petrovna asked evenly. “Was she happy to see her grandchildren?”
“Don’t make me angry. Why did you put on this circus?”
“Deniska, I warned you. My services cost money. You refused to pay.”
“What money? They’re your blood!”
Galya picked up the napkin with yesterday’s calculations from the table.
“Blood? Fine. Three months ago, you borrowed one hundred and thirty thousand from me. For your gearbox repair. Have you paid it back?”
Denis faltered.
“I’ll pay it back. As soon as my salary comes in, I’ll pay it back.”
“You won’t. I took out a loan for that amount. And I’m paying interest from my pension. Twenty-one thousand, Denis. Minus five for utilities. Minus four for the loan for your car. How much is left?”
“I bring you groceries!”
“Once a month. Two bags of grains and a chicken. Two thousand rubles’ worth. Meanwhile, the children ate three thousand rubles’ worth of food at my place every week.”
“Mom, you’re always counting everything!” Denis howled.
“I had to learn. Once my son started counting my pension.”
Galina hung up. Then she pressed the mute button.
That evening, a notification pinged in her banking app.
Transfer from Denis. Five thousand rubles. Message: “Here. Choke on it.”
Galina transferred the money back. She did not write a message.
Two weeks passed.
They lived like strangers. There were no calls. Galina walked in the park. Read books. Took her old coat to the dry cleaner.
On Friday evening, she was baking an apple pie. Just for herself. The smell of cinnamon filled the tiny kitchen.
The doorbell rang.
Galya opened it. Denis Vladimirovich stood on the threshold. He looked rumpled. His eyes darted around. Beside him stood Tyoma in a dirty blue jacket.
“Mom, help me out.”
Denis pushed his son into the hallway.
“What happened?”
“Marina’s in the hospital. Possible appendicitis. I’m going there now to find the surgeons. Her mother took Polya, but there’s nowhere to put Tyoma. Keep him until tomorrow. Please.”
Galya looked at her grandson. He stood with his head lowered, clutching a tablet in his hands.
“All right. Come in, Tyoma. Take off your coat.”
Denis exhaled as if he had just dropped a sack of potatoes.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call in the morning.”
The door slammed shut behind him faster than Galya could ask for the name of the hospital.
Tyoma took off his jacket and threw it on the floor.
“Pick it up and hang it on the hook,” Galina said calmly.
The boy looked at her from under his brows, then picked up the jacket.
“Are you hungry?”
“No. We ate at McDonald’s.”
They sat in the kitchen. Galya sliced the pie.
“How is your mother?” Galya asked. “Was her stomach hurting badly?”
Tyoma was devouring the pie.
“Mom’s stomach doesn’t hurt.”
Galya froze. The knife stopped a millimeter from the plate.
“Then why did Dad say she was in the hospital?”
“I don’t know. Mom was at home trying on a swimsuit. She and Dad went to a spa hotel. It’s Aunt Vika’s birthday.”
Something inside Galina closed with a heavy, final lock.
She put the knife down. Wiped her hands. Picked up her phone.
She opened the page of Vika, Marina’s younger sister. The first story loaded with cheerful music.
A wooden pier. A hot pool. Marina in a new green swimsuit, clinking a champagne glass with someone. The caption read: “Girls will be girls! Husbands paid for the weekend!” Posted forty minutes ago.
The country club “Sosnovy Bor.” Twenty kilometers outside the city.
A message bubbled onto her phone. From Denis.
“Mom, false alarm. No appendicitis. But the doctors said she should rest. We’ll stay at her mom’s until Sunday. Let Tyoma stay with you for two days. Love you.”
Galina stared at the screen for a long time.
Then she looked at Tyoma. He was smearing apple filling across the table.
“Tyoma, get dressed.”
The boy lifted his head.
“Where are we going? We just got here.”
“We’re going to see your mother. To congratulate Aunt Vika.”
The taxi cost twelve hundred rubles.
Inside the car, it smelled of cheap air freshener and wet snow. Tyoma fell asleep in the back seat. Galya looked out the window. Bare black trees flashed by.
There was no rage. Only cold calculation.
The car stopped at the wrought-iron gates of the Sosnovy Bor club.
Galya paid the driver. Stepped out into the frosty air. Led sleepy Tyoma by the hand.
The boy yawned and rubbed his eyes. His jacket was fastened crookedly. His hat had slipped to one side.
At the reception desk stood a tall young woman in a strict uniform.
“Good evening. Could you tell me where Viktoria Savelyeva’s banquet is being held?”
The girl smiled politely.
“The Pearl Hall, down the corridor to the right. Would you like me to show you?”
“We’ll find it ourselves.”
Galya held Tyoma’s hand firmly. They walked down a corridor with a soft carpet. Muted lounge music played in the background. The air smelled of expensive perfume and roasted meat.
She pushed open the heavy oak door of the Pearl Hall.
There were about twenty people inside. A long table was covered with appetizers. The lighting was dim. A plump man was giving a toast.
Marina sat beside the birthday girl. She wore an evening dress with bare shoulders. Her hair was beautifully styled.
Denis sat across from her. He was laughing, leaning back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
Galina stepped into the room.
Her footsteps sounded loud against the parquet floor. Tyoma stumbled over a chair leg and whimpered.
Several people turned around. The toast stopped.
Denis turned his head. His smile slid off his face so quickly it was as if someone had wiped it away with a cloth. His face went pale.
“Mom?” he breathed. His glass clinked against the edge of his plate.
Marina leaned forward. Her eyes became round as saucers.
Galya walked straight to their table.
She did not shout. She did not swear. She spoke evenly, but loudly enough for the whole room to hear.
“Denis. You forgot your luggage.”
Galya gently pushed Tyoma forward. He ran to his mother and buried his face in her evening dress, leaving a damp mark from the dirty sleeve of his jacket on the silk.
“Mom, I’m hungry!” Tyoma whined.
Marina clenched her jaw so tightly that the muscles bulged.
“Galina Petrovna, what do you think you’re doing?” her daughter-in-law hissed. “You’re humiliating us in front of our friends! Leave immediately and take him with you!”
Vika, the birthday girl, half rose from her seat.
“Denya, what kind of circus is this? You said the children had been taken care of.”
Denis jumped up and grabbed Galya by the elbow. His fingers squeezed painfully.
“Why did you come here? I asked you!”
Galya slowly lowered her gaze to his hand. Then she looked into his eyes. She looked at him as if he were an obstacle. As if he were nothing.
“Take your hand off me, Deniska.”
He pulled his fingers away.
“You lied to me,” Galina said clearly, so the guests could hear too. “About appendicitis. About the hospital. You dumped your child on me like luggage in a storage room and went off to drink.”
“We’re tired! We have the right to rest!” Marina shouted.
“You do. But at your own expense. From now on, you rest with your children. I am retired. My working day is over.”
Galina turned around.
“Grandma!” Tyoma shouted.
She did not look back. She walked toward the doors, looking straight ahead.
Her son’s shout struck her in the back:
“You’re not my mother anymore! Forget our number!”
The door closed, cutting her off from the noise of the hall.
The corridor was quiet. Galina adjusted the collar of her coat and called a taxi home. Inside her was a strange emptiness, and for some reason, it was very easy to breathe.
On Sunday afternoon, the key turned stiffly in the lock of Galina’s apartment.
The door shook from a blow.
Then the bell rang. Long. Furious.
Galina Petrovna was brewing tea in her favorite cup with cats on it. She did not hurry. She took the kettle off the stove and wiped the table with a sponge.
Then she walked to the door. She did not open it.
“Who is it?” Galya asked loudly.
“Open up!” Denis’s voice cracked. “Did you change the locks?”
“I did. The locksmith came this morning. He charged two and a half thousand. From my pension.”
Denis slammed his fist against the door.
“Mom, are you out of your mind? Marina hasn’t spoken to me for two days! Vika kicked us out of the party! My boss was there. He saw everything!”
“Your problems, Denis.”
“Bring out my things!” her son shouted from the landing. “My tools, fishing rods, winter skates. Everything that was on the balcony.”
“I will. On Friday. I’ll pack them in boxes and leave them by the garbage chute.”
“You’re sick! You turned your own grandson into a joke! You traumatized the child!”
“The people traumatizing him are his parents, who see him as an obstacle to drinking champagne at a spa hotel.”
A heavy silence hung behind the door.
Then Denis hissed through clenched teeth:
“You’ll die alone. No one will even bring you a glass of water.”
Galina smiled at her reflection in the peephole. The smile turned out hard.
“I’ll buy a water cooler. With home delivery. Goodbye, Denis Vladimirovich.”
She stepped away from the door. The footsteps on the stairs faded.
In the kitchen, it smelled of fresh tea and peace. There were no strangers’ dirty boots, no broken toys, no screaming relatives. For the first time in many years, the apartment belonged only to her.
Galina Petrovna sat down at the table and took a sip of hot tea.
And what would you have done in Galina’s place: kept the child with you and swallowed the lie, or brought him straight to the party where his parents were?
