“What’s the big deal?” Yuri asked, confused. “We’re practically family!”
“Well then, take care of your family yourself!”
On Saturday, Valentina and her husband headed to their dacha to get ready for the season and treat themselves to some barbecue. There was a ton to do: dusting, sweeping the veranda, setting the table, cleaning the grill, getting the coals started ahead of time, chopping up salads… By lunchtime, Valentina was completely exhausted.
“Yur, help me at least carry the table outside!” she shouted to her husband, who was lying in a hammock with a newspaper.
“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled without looking up from his reading.
In the end, Valentina hauled the heavy table outside herself—barely managing it. Suddenly she thought, why am I doing everything alone? She wanted to speak up but didn’t get the chance—a car honked behind the fence. Out stepped Igor and Svetlana, Yuri’s friends, from a familiar car. As always, they came empty-handed.
“Did you invite them over?” Valentina asked in surprise.
“What’s wrong with that?” Yuri replied, just as surprised. “They’re our best friends, practically family!”
“Yeah, a family of hungry squirrels and freeloaders,” Valentina thought with annoyance.
Last time, she spent half the day on her feet, cooking, while the guests chatted about their new TV that cost a hundred thousand. Then Svetlana even packed up the leftover salad to take home saying:
“Why let good food go to waste!”
That salad, by the way, Valentina had made with expensive shrimp…
And just last month, Igor bragged about buying a vacation package to Sochi for two hundred thousand. But for the barbecue, as usual, he didn’t chip in a single ruble.
“We’re guests, not at a restaurant!” he laughed.
Valentina couldn’t bring herself to say out loud that she’d spent their last money with Yuri on today’s spread, and now they’d have to raid their savings just to make it until payday.
Igor clapped Yuri on the shoulder.
“So, man, are we grilling the barbecue? I’ve really missed your signature recipe!”
“Of course, of course,” Yuri perked up. “Valya has everything ready.”
“Oh, Valya,” Svetlana sang sweetly, “it’s so wonderful here! Everything’s ready, we don’t even have to do anything! It’s just perfect!”
And suddenly, something inside Valentina snapped. ‘No need to do anything’… But who got the meat, made the salads, prepped the grill? Who’s been up since morning, who spent the money and nearly threw out her back?
“Sit down at the table,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll serve everything now.”
Igor and Svetlana sat back in the armchairs looking pleased. They chatted about their new car, their vacation in Turkey, their apartment renovations…
“They definitely have enough money,” Valentina thought. “But when it comes to chipping in for barbecue—As if! We’re guests, after all!”
Yuri fussed with the grill, turning the meat. Valentina served the salads, cut the bread, poured the drinks. The guests ate, complimented everything, asked for seconds while she kept serving and clearing the table.
By evening, the guests were getting ready to leave. Svetlana, as always, peeked into the fridge.
“Hey, can I take the leftover salads? Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I won’t feel like cooking.”
“Of course, of course,” Yuri nodded. “Take them, Svetka—otherwise, they’ll just go to waste.”
Valentina silently watched as Svetlana packed every last bit of leftover food into containers. Every single scrap—down to the last sprig of dill. She even took the final piece of expensive cheese. All the guests left behind was a mountain of dirty dishes, scraps on the table, and empty bottles. Valentina stood on the veranda, surveying the mess. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion. Yury had already collapsed comfortably into an armchair, looking thoroughly satisfied.
«That was a great evening, wasn’t it? Haven’t relaxed like this in ages,» he said.
Relaxed, she thought… Valentina sat down at the table, her legs feeling weak. This same story had been repeating for years, ever since they bought the summer house. Igor and Svetlana would swoop in like a swarm of hungry locusts, demanding to be catered to as if this place was their own private resort. She had put up with this for so long. What had changed?
Nothing. Igor and his wife kept getting richer, buying new cars, going on vacations. And here she was, tied to the stove, spending her own money, straining her back.
«Yury,» she called softly to her husband, «come here.»
«What is it?» he got up reluctantly.
«Look,» Valentina pointed at the empty fridge. «Do you see anything left?»
«Well… it’s empty. And so?»
Valentina’s voice trembled, not from anger, but from exhaustion. A deep tiredness that made her want to just lie down and never get up.
«Do you have any idea how much I spent today?»
She took out a calculator and began to punch in the numbers with trembling fingers:
«Meat—three thousand four hundred. Vegetables—a thousand. Bread, sauce, spices—five hundred. Charcoal—five hundred. Drinks—six hundred. Salads—six hundred. That’s a total of six thousand six hundred rubles. Plus gas for the trip there and back! And they showed up in a car worth a couple million and couldn’t even chip in for the meat!»
«Val, come on…» Yury mumbled. «They’re our friends, they came to visit us, it’s awkward to ask them for money.»
«Awkward?» Valentina looked at him with tired eyes. «Is it not awkward for me to cook and clean all by myself, to spend my own money? Is it convenient for me to have a sore back and aching legs, while I’m still slaving over the stove?»
She stood up and slowly walked around the veranda. She counted in her head how many times she had cooked for these ‘friends,’ how much money and effort she’d spent. And what did she get in return? Empty compliments and leftovers in the fridge.
«You know what, Yury,» she said, her voice now steely enough to make him flinch. «That’s it, this will not happen again.»
«What won’t happen again?» he didn’t understand.
«Me doing everything for everyone by myself. Them coming empty-handed and taking everything home. That’s over.»
Something in her tone made Yury suddenly uneasy.
«Come on… Igor’s a good guy, and Svetka’s alright too. They’re just not used to…»
«Not used to it?» Valentina spun around. «In all this time, not once, not a single time, have they ever brought over even a pack of cookies, not even a bottle of water, never once offered to help clean up!»
«But they always thank you… say nice things…»
«Their praise doesn’t make me feel any better!» Valentina flung the sponge into the sink. «Has their gratitude ever made my wallet fuller? And do you know how many times they’ve invited us to a restaurant in all these years of friendship? Not once. How many times have they invited us to their place? Also zero.»
«Well, their apartment is small…»
“Do you think we live in a palace? But we always find space for them anyway!” Valentina turned firmly to her husband. “That’s it, Yuri. I’m done. If you want grilled meat, you organize it yourself. I’ll just sit next to you.”
***
The week was tense. Yuri kept quiet about the dacha, probably hoping Valentina would change her mind. But Valentina only grew more determined in her decision. Every day, she remembered that Saturday evening, and her anger kept building.
On Thursday, Yuri tried to start a conversation:
“Val, how about going to the dacha tomorrow? The weather is supposed to be great.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “But just know this—you’ll buy all the groceries and do all the cooking.”
“Come on…” he didn’t believe her. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m absolutely not joking.”
On Saturday, Valentina got up as usual, but didn’t get ready for the dacha. She sat down in her armchair with a book.
“Why aren’t you getting ready?” Yuri asked, surprised.
“Why would I? You didn’t buy any groceries, and you don’t plan to cook. I have no reason to go.”
“We’ll buy something there, in the village…”
“Go ahead and buy it, I don’t mind.”
They arrived at the dacha around lunchtime. Yuri wandered around the property, checking things out. Valentina sat on the veranda with her knitting.
At three o’clock, Igor and Svetlana showed up. As always, empty-handed.
“Oh, we’re not late, are we?” Svetlana waved cheerfully. “Where are our famous kebabs?”
“Nowhere right now,” Valentina answered calmly, not looking up from her knitting.
“What do you mean, nowhere?” Igor was confused. “Where’s the meat?”
“Someone was supposed to buy it. Whoever wanted kebabs should’ve bought the meat.”
Igor and Svetlana exchanged puzzled looks.
“Valya, what’s going on?” Svetlana laughed nervously. “Are you joking?”
“Not in the slightest. The fridge is empty, the grill is cold. If you want to eat, the store’s that way.”
Yuri was red all the way up to his hairline.
“Val, what are you doing… We have guests…”
“Guests who want to eat should take care of the food. It’s only basic courtesy.”
“But we…,” Igor started awkwardly, “it’s just… we’re used to… usually you…”
“Usually, I was being foolish,” Valentina cut him off. “Now, I’ve smartened up.”
Svetlana jumped out of her chair in protest.
“You know, this feels… inhospitable! We came to see friends, not eat at a restaurant!”
“Friends help each other,” Valentina replied, still focused on her knitting. “All these years, you’ve only been taking. Now it’s time to give back.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Igor protested. “We were always such good friends! And now, over a few measly coins…”
“A few coins?” Valentina finally lifted her head. “Six thousand in one go—is that nothing? And if you add it up for every weekend?”
“Okay, okay…” Yuri was flustered, caught between his wife and his friends. “I’ll go to the store and buy something…”
“Go ahead,” Valentina agreed. “But you’re cooking and cleaning up yourself. Today, I’m relaxing.”
“What if… what if we help?” Svetlana suggested nervously.
“Of course you can help. The stove is waiting.”
But no one moved. They all stared at Valentina like she’d lost her mind. Svetlana tried a different approach:
“Listen, what’s happened? Did we do something wrong? Did we offend you somehow?”
Valentina gave her a long look.
— So what do you think? You’ve been coming here for years without bringing anything. I do all the cooking, shopping, and cleaning, while you just eat and take leftovers home. Do you really think that’s okay?
— Well… it’s not like we asked you to do all that…
— Exactly, you never asked. So from now on, I’m not going to bother for you anymore.
Valentina turned away, making it clear the conversation was over.
***
Yuri, red as a lobster, went to the store alone. He came back an hour later with bags full of groceries, but forgot the charcoal for the grill.
— Yuri, where’s the charcoal? — Igor asked.
— Ah… I forgot. I’ll go back and get it now.
By the time the charcoal was finally bought, everyone was in a terrible mood. Yuri was mad at his wife, and Igor and Svetlana were clearly upset by the cold welcome.
— So, are we going to grill? — Igor asked uncertainly.
— Go ahead, — Valentina said without even looking up.
The three of them started messing around with the grill. Yuri was puffing over the charcoal, Igor tried to light the fire, and Svetlana was awkwardly cutting vegetables. Nothing was working out.
— The fire won’t start! — Yuri grumbled.
— Try putting some paper underneath, — Valentina suggested, not looking up from her knitting.
— Where am I supposed to get paper?
— Look for some in the house.
They kept fumbling around, and finally got the fire going, though it was weak. They put the meat on. Yuri got distracted talking to Igor about fishing, and the skewers burned on one side.
— Oh come on! — he swore. — Val, how do you turn them over?
— I turn the skewers over myself. Gently.
— When do you do it?
— When it needs to be done. You have to pay attention.
But they didn’t pay attention. They chatted and drank beer. Svetlana tried to help, but only got in the way. In the end, half the kebabs were burned and the other half were undercooked.
— This is inedible, — Svetlana said sadly, tasting the meat.
— At least you got some experience, — Valentina remarked philosophically. — Maybe it’ll turn out better next time.
— If there is a next time, — Igor muttered.
By evening, everyone was irritated and hungry. Instead of a celebration, it was just chaos. Igor and Svetlana decided to head home early.
— Well… goodbye, — Svetlana said coldly.
— Goodbye, — Valentina replied politely. — Stop by some time, but make sure you let us know in advance and bring your own food.
Once the guests had left, Yuri protested:
— Do you realize what you’ve done?! I won’t be able to look them in the eye tomorrow! You embarrassed them, made them look like freeloaders!
— And what else are they? — Valentina asked calmly. — They’ve been coming here, relaxing, and eating for free. That’s the definition of freeloaders! Do you think I was happy to play maid for them all these years?
Yuri sat down across from her, trying to strike a conciliatory tone.
— Okay, let’s say you’re right. But you could have said something differently… More delicately…
— How differently? — Valentina looked at her husband tiredly. — Hinted? You guys never pick up on hints.
Valentina stood up and began clearing the dirty dishes from the table. Yuri followed her with his eyes.
— What are you doing?
— I’m collecting the dishes so you can wash them.
— Me?! But I have to heat water for that!
— Perfect, you’ve got the whole night ahead of you, Cinderella. And make sure you clean up the grill too.
Valentina shoved a stack of plates into her husband’s arms, which he barely managed to hold on to in surprise.
«And you know what, dear,» she added as she wiped her hands. «Next time you want to invite someone over, you better talk to me first. Make sure we agree in advance on who’s buying what, who’s cooking, and who’s cleaning up. Otherwise, you’ll end up carrying the whole thing on your back again, just like today.»
***
Six months passed. Igor and Svetlana never came back to the country house. At first they called, trying to make peace, but once they realized there would be no more freebies, they vanished. Valentina wasn’t upset.
Yuri was hurt by his wife at first, but then he realized the family’s finances were much better.
«I never knew we spent so much on those gatherings,» he told his wife in surprise. «You were right!»
Valentina didn’t say anything. She could have replied, “I told you so,” but what for? Yuri finally learned his lesson anyway.
