Forty minutes. Lyudmila stood in the hallway of her own apartment and still couldn’t get into the bathroom. A man in blue briefs was splashing around in there—the husband of the sister of her husband’s brother’s wife, a man she had seen maybe four times in her entire life.
“Gena, are you going to be much longer?” Vitaly called from the kitchen. “Lyudka’s going to be late for work.”
“Two minutes,” came the reply from behind the door.
Twenty minutes earlier, it had also been “two minutes.”
Three days earlier, Vitaly had come home from work in unusually high spirits.
“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. Remember Lyoshka, my brother?”
“The younger one? The one in Tver?”
“Yeah. He and Natasha bought an apartment. With a mortgage, but still—they’ve done well.”
Lyudmila nodded. Lyoshka, his wife, and their two children had spent ten years moving from one rental to another.
“It needs a major renovation,” Vitaly continued. “About three months of work.”
“So?”
“I told them they could stay with us. No point paying rent when they already have their own place.”
Lyudmila sat down on a stool.
“Wait. You already told them? You didn’t ask me—you told them?”
“Lyud, he’s my brother. My own flesh and blood.”
“We have a two-room apartment, Vitaly. Sixty-two square meters. Where are we supposed to put four people?”
“The kids are little. Vladik is seven, Polina is four. They can sleep on folding beds in the bedroom, and Lyoshka and Natasha can take the sofa in the living room.”
“And where will we sleep?”
“We’ll put a folding bed in the kitchen. Or make a divider in the living room with the wardrobe.”
Lyudmila stared at her husband as if she didn’t recognize him. Twenty-three years together.
“Sleep in the kitchen for three months?”
“Not three. Two and a half at most. Lyoshka said the workers are fast. Besides, it’s temporary. We’ll put up with it.”
“We’ll put up with it,” Lyudmila repeated. “We will.”
They arrived a week later. Lyoshka, Natasha, seven-year-old Vladik, four-year-old Polina. Eight bags, two suitcases, a folding bicycle, a hamster cage—and Natasha’s mother, Zinaida Pavlovna, whom Vitaly had somehow forgotten to mention.
“Mom can’t stay alone. Her blood pressure keeps fluctuating,” Natasha explained as she shoved bags into the hallway. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Lyudmila stood pressed against the wall. There wasn’t enough room in the hallway to turn around.
“Of course we don’t mind,” Vitaly answered for her.
Zinaida Pavlovna walked past without even saying hello and went straight into the kitchen.
“Is the kettle electric or regular? Regular ones take forever.”
“Electric.”
“Well, at least something. And what kind of milk do you buy? I don’t drink store-bought milk.”
That evening, Lyudmila spent until two in the morning making beds, moving furniture, and finding a place for the hamster away from the cat. Vitaly sat in the kitchen with his brother.
“The main thing is to do the plumbing first,” Lyoshka said. “Otherwise we’ll open up the pipes and find they’re rotten.”
“Obviously. Want me to give you the number of a good plumber?”
“Yeah, brother. You’re really saving us.”
Lyudmila listened and thought about how she had to be at work at seven the next morning, while one leg of her folding bed was jammed against the radiator.
The first week was chaos. Vladik ran around screaming, and Polina cried every evening. Natasha cooked three times a day, so the kitchen was constantly occupied.
“Lyudmila, do you have a decent frying pan? This one is kind of sticky.”
“It’s nonstick. You can’t use a metal spatula on it.”
“Oh, I already scraped it. Well, never mind. You can buy a new one.”
Zinaida Pavlovna watched television at full volume from morning until night. Lyudmila would come home from work and try to lie down, only to hear talk-show hosts shouting from the living room.
“Zinaida Pavlovna, could you turn it down a little?”
“I can barely hear it as it is. Your television is bad.”
Gena joined them during the second week. He was helping with the renovation too, and it was inconvenient for him to commute from the Moscow suburbs every day.
“Gennady can sleep on the floor in the hallway,” Natasha explained. “You won’t even notice him.”
Gena was very noticeable. He snored so loudly the walls seemed to shake. He got up at six in the morning, occupied the bathroom for forty minutes, and then clattered dishes around in the kitchen.
“Vitaly, I can’t do this anymore.”
“Just hold on. They’ll leave soon.”
“How much longer? You said two months. It’s already been a month and a half.”
“There was a delay. They delivered the wrong tiles. Another three or four weeks.”
“A month? Another month?”
“Lyud, don’t act like a child. They’re family.”
People at work began to notice.
“You look like a zombie,” her colleague Irina said. “Did something happen?”
“My husband’s relatives are staying with us. Temporarily.”
“For how long?”
“Six weeks.”
“Wow. That’s some temporary stay. How many of them?”
“Five. Plus a hamster.”
Irina whistled.
“And why are you putting up with it?”
“Vitaly says they’re blood relatives and you can’t refuse family.”
“And where’s your own flesh and blood? You have a mother, don’t you?”
“In Ryazan. She lives alone.”
“Well, there you go. What if she needs help?”
Lyudmila gave a bitter smile.
“Vitaly wouldn’t let her stay even for a week. He can’t stand my mother.”
“So you tolerate his relatives instead.”
“Looks that way.”
Her mother called at the worst possible moment. Lyudmila was eating dinner at the corner of the kitchen table, because the rest of it was covered with Natasha’s pots and pans.
“Lyuda, sweetheart. I fell. I broke my leg.”
“What? How?”
“I went to the store and slipped on the steps. It’s a hip fracture. They need to operate.”
“Mom, I’m coming.”
“No, don’t. I’m in the hospital. But after the operation, they say recovery will take two or three months. The doctor said I can’t be alone.”
“Mom, maybe you can come stay with us? Just until you recover?”
“Won’t Vitaly mind?”
“He won’t. He can’t possibly mind.”
She spoke to her husband that evening, after everyone else had settled down.
“Vitaly, Mom broke her leg. Hip fracture. She needs surgery. She’ll have to stay with us afterward.”
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Where? There’s barely room to breathe in here.”
“Your brother and his whole family somehow fit.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“Lyoshka is my brother. My own flesh and blood. Your mother is your mother.”
“So your relatives can live here, but my mother can’t?”
“Lyud, think about it. There are already five people here. Where are we supposed to put one more?”
“She’s sixty-eight. She won’t be able to manage alone after surgery.”
“Let her hire a caregiver. Or go to a rehabilitation center.”
“That costs money.”
“Well, sorry, I’m not a millionaire.”
Lyudmila stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Wait. When Lyoshka arrived, you told me to put up with it because they’re family. Zinaida Pavlovna—put up with it. Gena—put up with it. But when it’s my mother, she’s supposed to deal with it herself?”
“They’re different situations,” Vitaly snapped.
“How?”
“He’s my brother. And your mother has never liked me. Remember how she sat there with a sour face at our wedding?”
“That was twenty-three years ago.”
“So what? I don’t forget things like that.”
Lyudmila stood up.
“You’re willing to tolerate five people in our apartment, but you’re not willing to take in my mother after surgery?”
“They’re not strangers. They’re my family.”
“And me? Am I your family?”
Vitaly waved a hand.
“Here we go again. Let’s talk later. I’m tired.”
Later never happened. The next day, Vitaly went to help with the renovation, came home late, and went straight to bed. Lyudmila lay on the folding cot and thought.
Twenty-three years. Their wedding. The birth of their son. The mortgage they had paid together. And now her husband was telling her that her mother was her problem.
In the morning, she called her mother.
“Mom, I’ll come this weekend. We’ll figure something out.”
“What did Vitaly say?”
“He said we don’t have the possibility of taking you in.”
Silence on the other end.
“I see. All right, sweetheart. I’ll think of something.”
“Mom, I’m coming. I promise.”
She hung up, a lump rising in her throat. Behind the wall, Zinaida Pavlovna turned the television up to full volume.
On Saturday, Lyudmila went to Ryazan. Her mother was in the hospital, metal pins in her leg, trying to smile.
“Don’t worry. My neighbor Valya promised to help. I’ll pay her a little.”
“Mom, you can’t stay alone. The doctor said you won’t even be allowed to get up during the first month.”
“Then I’ll lie down. Use a bedpan, just like in the hospital.”
Lyudmila sat on the edge of the bed and felt like a traitor.
“I’ll talk to Vitaly again.”
“Don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to be a burden. If someone doesn’t want me there, don’t force him.”
Lyudmila returned home angry.
“Vitaly, we need to talk.”
He was sitting in the kitchen with Lyoshka and Gena, discussing a hammer drill.
“Later, Lyud. I’m busy.”
“Now. Come into the hallway.”
“I went to see Mom. After the operation, she won’t be able to live alone. She needs help.”
“We already discussed this.”
“I want to discuss it again. You said your brother is family. Is my mother not family?”
“Don’t start.”
“Why can your relatives stay here but mine can’t?”
Vitaly became angry.
“Because Lyoshka is doing the renovation himself. They’re here temporarily. Your mother will settle in and never leave.”
“What renovation is Zinaida Pavlovna doing? She watches television all day.”
“She helps with the children.”
“I’ve never seen it. Yesterday I picked Polina up from kindergarten because Natasha went to get a manicure.”
“You’re twisting things.”
“I’m stating facts. Vitaly, I want Mom to stay with us. At least for a month.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want her here. Is that enough?”
“Fine. Then your relatives move out, and Mom moves in.”
“Why should they? They only have two weeks left.”
“You said they had two weeks left a month ago.”
“There was a delay.”
“Vitaly, I’m exhausted. I’ve been sleeping on a folding cot for two months. I cook for six people after work. I clean up after other people’s children. I listen to Zinaida Pavlovna complain about everything. But there’s no room for my mother?”
“That’s just how things worked out.”
“No. That’s how you decided things would be. Your family matters more than mine.”
“Stop being hysterical.”
“I’m not being hysterical.”
Lyoshka looked out from the kitchen.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Vitaly muttered. “Go back inside.”
When his brother disappeared, Lyudmila said quietly:
“I suggest an experiment. Let’s tell Lyoshka they need to move out within a week. We have circumstances of our own.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Why? You told me to put up with it because it was temporary. They can put up with it too.”
“I’m not throwing my brother out.”
“And I was supposed to turn my mother away? She’s sixty-eight and recovering from surgery. Your brother has a wife, they’re both healthy, there are five of them. They’ll manage.”
Vitaly turned red.
“It’s different.”
“Explain how.”
“Lyoshka is my brother.”
“Mom is my mother.”
“But I don’t want to live with your mother.”
“And do you think I want to live with your relatives?”
Silence.
“You never said you were miserable.”
“I did. You didn’t listen.”
“Well, you know what? If you don’t like it, you can go stay with your mother.”
Lyudmila froze.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. If you don’t like it, leave. I’m not stopping you.”
She didn’t sleep that night. Gena snored behind the wall. Polina tossed around in the room. The television murmured from the living room.
Twenty-three years. A jointly owned apartment. A son they had raised together.
And now: “Leave. I’m not stopping you.”
In the morning, she got up before everyone else, packed a bag, and left. Vitaly was still asleep.
She reached her mother by lunchtime.
“Sweetheart, what happened? You look so pale.”
“Mom, I want to take you home with me.”
“But Vitaly is against it.”
“Vitaly doesn’t get to decide anymore.”
“Did you argue?”
“Mom, I’ve spent twenty-three years putting up with things. His opinions, his decisions, his relatives. And then he told me to leave.”
“He probably said it in anger.”
“Maybe. But I’m tired of waiting for him to calm down.”
Her phone rang all day. Vitaly. Then Vitaly again. Then Natasha.
“Lyudmila, Vitalik is worried. Where did you go?”
“To my mother’s.”
“Oh, thank goodness. When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
She turned off her phone.
That evening, her son called from St. Petersburg.
“Mom, what happened? Dad keeps calling me saying you left home.”
“I’m at Grandma’s.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Andryusha, it’s complicated.”
“Try explaining.”
“Grandma broke her leg. She needs help. I wanted her to stay with us. Dad refused.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said there was no room.”
“But you have a two-room apartment.”
“There are five of your father’s relatives living in it. Plus a hamster.”
A pause.
“What relatives?”
“Uncle Lyosha and his family. His wife’s mother. And Gena, the husband of his wife’s sister.”
“For how long?”
“Two months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What was I supposed to say? Dad told me to put up with it.”
Andrei was silent for a moment.
“So those five can stay, but Grandma can’t?”
“Apparently.”
“How does that make any sense?”
“I don’t understand it either.”
“I’m calling Dad.”
“No, Andryush. Don’t.”
“Mom, Grandma is my grandmother.”
Three days later, Andrei flew in. Tall, resembling his father physically but with his mother’s temperament.
“Dad told me his version. I want yours.”
Lyudmila told him everything. About the folding cot, Zinaida Pavlovna, Gena taking over the bathroom, the frying pan. And about the argument.
“He said, ‘If you don’t like it, leave.’”
Andrei clenched his fists.
“Seriously?”
“Completely.”
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“I don’t want you fighting with your father.”
“I won’t. I’ll just tell him what I think.”
The result came the next day. Vitaly arrived in Ryazan.
“We need to talk.”
They sat in the hospital cafeteria with coffee from a vending machine.
“Andrei spoke to me.”
“And?”
“He said I’m behaving like a pig. Said Grandma means more to him than some Uncle Lyosha. Said if I’m not prepared to help your mother, he’ll take her to St. Petersburg himself.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him it was none of his business.”
“And him?”
“He said then my problems aren’t his business either.”
Lyudmila nodded. That sounded like Andrei.
“I lost my temper,” Vitaly said. “I don’t even know what came over me.”
“For two months?”
“Not for two months. I thought you were managing.”
“I was. Until I couldn’t anymore.”
Vitaly looked at her.
“You want Lyoshka to move out? I’ll talk to him.”
“Too late.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t about Lyoshka anymore. You told me to leave. My own apartment. The one we paid for together.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I snapped. It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen to me. In twenty-three years, I never once told you to get out.”
Vitaly rubbed his face.
“So what now? Divorce?”
Lyudmila shrugged.
“I don’t know. Right now, Mom comes first. She’s being discharged in a week.”
“Where will she go?”
“Andrei offered to take her to St. Petersburg.”
“And you?”
“I’m going too. To help.”
“What about your job?”
“Vacation first. Then I’ll quit.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve been serious my whole life. You’re the one who treated everything like a joke.”
Two weeks later, her mother moved to St. Petersburg. Lyudmila went with her. Vitaly stayed behind with five relatives.
“Natasha, when are you moving out?” he was overheard saying on the phone. “Vitalik is furious because Lyudmila left.”
“It’s his own fault. He shouldn’t have thrown her out.”
“Nobody threw her out.”
“Sure.”
Vitaly walked into the kitchen. A crumpled sheet lay on the folding cot—Gena hadn’t made the bed. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Zinaida Pavlovna was shouting comments at the television from the living room.
He sat down on a stool and, for the first time in two months, saw the apartment through his wife’s eyes.
A month later, he sent her a message:
“Lyoshka moved out. The apartment is empty. You can come home.”
She replied:
“Mom needs another two weeks of help. Then I’ll decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Everything.”
He called that evening.
“Enough already. I’m sitting here alone like an idiot.”
“How does it feel?”
“Fine. I miss you.”
“And when I spent two months missing a normal life, did you notice?”
“Oh, here we go.”
“No. We’re not starting anything. We’re finishing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I filed for divorce. The papers will come in the mail.”
Silence.
“You’re joking?”
“No.”
“Because of what? My relatives stayed for a couple of months?”
“Because you told me to leave.”
“I already apologized.”
“And I thought about it and made my decision.”
“Do you understand what you’re doing? Twenty-three years down the drain?”
“I spent twenty-three years building a family. You spent twenty-three years building a system where everything had to be your way.”
“What system?”
“One where your relatives matter more than mine. Your opinion matters more than mine. One where you think you can tell me to get out of my own apartment.”
“It was one sentence.”
“One sentence that put everything into perspective.”
Vitaly breathed heavily.
“What are you going to do? Stay in St. Petersburg?”
“For now, yes. I haven’t spent enough time with our son in years.”
“And work?”
“I found a remote job.”
“You planned everything.”
“Finally. My own life, instead of ours.”
Three months later, the divorce was finalized. They sold the apartment and divided the money. Lyudmila bought a one-room apartment in St. Petersburg. Vitaly bought one in Moscow.
Lyoshka stopped calling. Zinaida Pavlovna found new relatives to complain to. Gena went back to the Moscow suburbs.
Lyudmila’s mother grew stronger and began going outside with a cane. She looked at her daughter with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.
“Sweetheart, you destroyed your family because of me.”
“Mom, I didn’t destroy it. I freed myself.”
“From what?”
Lyudmila paused.
“From double standards.”
Her mother didn’t quite understand, but she nodded.
The important thing was that her daughter was there.
The important thing was that she wasn’t alone.
Lyudmila finished her coffee, put the cup in the sink, and went to get ready for work.
