You’ll be living in Ilya and Lariska’s room. I won’t be a nuisance to you; we’ll get along just fine,” the pleased mother-in-law advised, biting into a generous slice of roulade and washing it down with tea.
“Mom, it isn’t really my apartment—it’s Sonya’s,” Dima said tensely as he looked at his mother.
“Well, so what! She won’t refuse to help your brother!” Olga Vladimirovna beamed broadly as she stared at Sonya.
“Exactly—my brother. To my wife he is, essentially, a stranger. And besides, on what grounds should we move out of the apartment?” Dima tensed, his dark eyes growing even darker.
“Oh, but it’s only temporary! Once Ilyusha gets on his feet, buys his own apartment, you’ll come back,” the woman smiled, clearly proud of her plan.
“Excuse me, Olga Vladimirovna, but this state of affairs doesn’t sit well with me. This is my parents’ apartment and we spent three years renovating it—not for strangers!” Sonya finally regained her composure.
“I don’t know how your parents raised you, but that’s not the way it’s done in our family!” the mother-in-law admonished, pursing her lips and fixing her daughter-in-law with a disapproving look.
“We all help each other, that’s what family is for,” the woman declared proudly. “And besides, no one is taking your apartment away; it’s just a temporary measure.”
Igor’s relationship with his brother was far from ideal. Even in childhood, despite a two-year age difference, they hardly communicated. The younger one spent more time with their father—going fishing with him, joining him on hikes.
Ilyusha, almost like a shadow, followed his mother everywhere; together they watched talk shows on TV and Turkish soap operas. And if they ever left the house, it was only to go to the dacha, to lounge on deck chairs under the summer sun.
After their father’s death, Igor didn’t stay at home for long. In the later years of university, when internships began, he got a job and rented an apartment. The older brother continued to live under their mother’s wing—and she even brought his wife there.
Sonya rarely saw her mother-in-law. She didn’t dote on her younger son and daughter-in-law with attention, never interfering in their relationship or offering lectures and moralizing.
Over the years, the older brother and his family hadn’t once dropped in for a visit. Ilya’s girlfriend had seen him maybe three or four times at most. Igor didn’t like visiting his mother and brother. The mother didn’t know why her husband was unwilling to see his relatives, but her situation suited her perfectly.
Igor and Sonya were surprised when, the day before, their mother expressed a desire to drop by for a visit. The young man immediately tensed up, and Sonya was at a loss trying to guess the subject of conversation. But reality exceeded all her expectations.
Olga Vladimirovna circled around the subject for a long time.
“Don’t you want to delight me with grandchildren?” she suddenly inquired, then fell silent in anticipation.
“Mom, what grandchildren? Sonya is still in her third year. She needs to get her qualification first, then find a job,” Dima stammered, confused as to where his mother was leading him.
“Well, indeed—still young. How old are you, Sonya? Twenty-one? There’s plenty of time,” she smiled contentedly and finally declared, “you should hand over your two-room apartment to your brother; he’s cramped with the kids in one room. Besides, they’re expecting another child soon,” the pleased mother-in-law chirped.
“Don’t worry so much,” the woman hurriedly added upon seeing the look on her son’s face, “for now, you’ll live with me. I won’t hurt you. Before you move out, the kids will have the room renovated and new wallpaper put up. You’ll live like a king and queen!”
“Wonderful, but on what grounds should I move out? Ilya is already twenty-seven and isn’t even trying to do anything for his family. So why should I have to strain myself?” Dima fumed.
“Your brother is trying, but you understand how hard it is to get ahead in life when you have two kids and a wife clinging to you,” the mother-in-law chided, as if her son, too, had two children and no apartment.
“So perhaps, before criticizing the kids, one should think about getting a good job and a home? Instead of leeching off your mother and younger brother?” the young man couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Why are you getting so worked up—as if you earned that apartment yourself? You just got a bit luckier than Ilyusha—you snagged a wife with a place, and now you’re trying to lecture your older brother,” the mother-in-law fumed indignantly, shaking her ample frame.
“I’m not lecturing anyone, and I’m not moving out either,” Dima declared firmly.
Sonya watched the unfolding drama with wide eyes.
The young couple had been married for three years. Half a year before their wedding, the girl’s grandmother had died. She had bequeathed her one-room apartment in an old three-story building to her granddaughter.
The bride’s parents had discussed and decided to move into the grandmother’s property, presenting the young couple with their two-room apartment. It was both closer to the center and larger in area.
After the wedding, the young couple began renovating the apartment as much as they could afford. They didn’t want to go into debt, so this “pleasure” dragged on for three years.
Just as Sonya and Dima exhaled in relief, ready to enjoy the fruits of three years of hard work, Olga Vladimirovna appeared at the doorstep with her “super brilliant” idea of moving.
“Well, I’m very accommodating. You can ask Lariska (Ilya’s wife),” the mother-in-law advised while stroking Sonya’s hand. “I don’t meddle in their affairs or interfere with their household chores. I help where needed.”
“Olga Vladimirovna, I have no doubt about your kindness, but I’m not moving out. According to the documents, this is my parents’ apartment; I’m not even the owner here,” Sonya protested, at a loss for more arguments to temper her mother-in-law’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, are we not going to come to an agreement with the matchmakers or what?” the woman burst into hearty laughter and took another piece of roulade.
“Mom, we have our own plans. We’re saving up for a car,” Dima interjected.
“Yes, save away—who’s stopping you? With me paying the utilities, you’ll save even faster!”
“Then why doesn’t Ilya save for an apartment, living with you?”
“Once he lives separately from me, he’ll understand how good it is, and then he’ll want to save, you’ll see,” she explained her plan to instill determination in her older son.
Sonya did not share her mother-in-law’s optimism. In truth, she didn’t have much sympathy for her husband’s brother. He struck her as a slob who lived by the principle: the day is over—and thank God.
Ilya had neither ambition nor desire to achieve anything. Right after finishing school, he landed a job at the local housing office as a locksmith, as he claimed—temporarily. Yet this “temporary” has stretched on for nearly ten years.
In fact, Lariska, his wife, wasn’t exactly ambitious either, though she was notably prolific. In three years of marriage, she had given birth to two children, and judging by the mother-in-law’s words, a third was imminent.
Before her first childbirth, she had worked a bit as a nanny at a kindergarten, but then she went on an extended maternity leave.
“Igor, you’re brothers after all—how can you refuse?”
“Well, fine, Sonya, but you!” the woman flung her arms and glared at her son in reproach.
“Olga Vladimirovna, this is our apartment, our renovation—and I’m not going to exchange all that for one room in your apartment for the sake of someone else’s convenience and children I barely know!” Sonya remained silent for a long time before finally voicing her opinion.
“You can’t view the world so selfishly! Now it’s clear where my son got such mercenary views!”
Sonya felt as though she and Dima were schoolchildren sitting on a carpet before a strict headmaster.
“It’s selfish to have children if you can’t even feed them. Every month you complain about having no money. I give you thirty thousand every month, no questions asked!” Dima could no longer sit still. He sprang up and began pacing the kitchen.
“And now, apparently, I’m supposed to give him an apartment too?” Dima shouted, his voice so loud that the chandelier trembled.
Sonya’s eyes widened; she knew nothing about her husband’s monthly charity to his older brother.
“Son, he’s still your brother—that’s normal, helping one another!”
“Yes, but Ilya doesn’t even say thank you; he takes it for granted. In all these years, he hasn’t even phoned me on my birthday!” Dima blushed furiously.
“You’re nitpicking over trivialities. So what if he didn’t call!” his mother interjected, springing up, “it’s your sacred duty to help your family in hard times—your mother, your brother, and your nephews!” she declared theatrically, raising her chin and putting on a solemn face.
“I’m willing to help in tough times, but this moment just never seems to end!”
“A debt repaid is a debt honored. If your—” the mother waved her hand toward Sonya, “you’ll be turned away. Where will you run? Right—to your mother!”
“Even if I end up on the street, I won’t step foot with you!” Igor bellowed. “I’m not meddling with you, and you shouldn’t meddle with me! How much is enough?”
“If you refuse to help your brother, then I’ll sell the apartment. We’ll buy two smaller ones instead. Keep in mind, you won’t get a single ruble from the sale!” the mother pursed her lips, grabbed a bag from the bedside table, and stormed toward the front door.
“Hahaha! As many as you want! Just don’t forget that I own one-third of the apartment!” Dima shouted after his mother.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” the woman, flushed crimson with anger, reappeared in the kitchen doorway, “decided to scheme against us?”
“If you hadn’t threatened just now and had asked politely, I would have relinquished my share in favor of my brother or you, but now—on principle—I won’t do it!” Dima no longer shouted, yet his voice remained firm and resolute.
“You’re not acting like a family member—spurning family values and your own brother and mother. And you know, dear, I no longer have a younger son!”
With those final words, the woman slammed the front door so hard that the crystal in the cupboard tinkled, and a neighbor from the opposite apartment peered out in alarm.
Now Sonya understood why her husband disliked visiting his mother and brother.
“Igor, didn’t you get an extra share of the apartment?” Sonya cautiously asked her husband a minute later.
“No, that’s enough,” the man stated firmly. “They’ve been leeching off me with their family sentiments and milking money from me for so many years that I can’t tolerate it anymore.”
“Maybe we should—”
Sonya stopped mid-sentence. Igor glared at her with a lethal look.
“Let’s not talk about this. Forget it,” he demanded, and left the kitchen.
Despite her threats, the mother called Igor several more times. Sonya didn’t heed the calls, but the conversations were brief and unproductive for the woman.
Soon, all the relatives, friends, and even mere acquaintances of Olga Vladimirovna knew what an ungrateful brat she had raised. They said his material values outweighed any love for his mother and his own brother. And poor Sonya suffered as well.
As the saying goes, simplicity is worse than thievery! To think—coming in demanding an apartment, imposing your conditions, and then being offended when you’re refused… Such unclouded insolence is hard to come by.”
