‘Lyosha, bring it over here, put it by the dresser!’ Aglaya commanded in a rush, shoving a cardboard banana box with her boot straight onto the clean hallway rug.
‘Careful with that, there are old magazines and seedlings in peat cups inside!’
‘Aglaya, are you sure you’ve got the right house?’ Serafima emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a pot holder.
‘This is a living hallway, not a recycling drop-off center.’
‘Oh Sima, please don’t start!’ my sister-in-law waved her off, adjusting her brightly painted lips in front of the vanity.
‘You always make a mountain out of a molehill!’
My husband Alexey hunched apologetically under the weight of two battered wooden skis, one missing a binding. Mud was dripping from his jacket onto the floor.
‘Simочка, why are you getting upset the moment we walk in?’ he muttered irritably as he propped the skis against the wall.
‘Aglaya’s having her balcony renovated. Where else can she put her stuff? She’ll just keep it here for a month.’
‘A month, Lyosha?’ Serafima stared her husband down.
‘Your winter tires from two years ago are still sitting in my shed. There’s no room to shove even a rake in there!’
‘What, is it really so hard for you?’ Aglaya shrugged and shot a glance at her sister-in-law.
‘We’re not strangers! You have a whole house, so much space, while we’re squeezed into a two-room apartment.’
‘My house isn’t made of rubber,’ Serafima snapped.
‘And it’s certainly not your family’s storage facility.’
‘It’s only three boxes, come on!’ my sister-in-law sniffed.
‘We’re only asking for a little time, it’s nothing! Be more easygoing, Sima, we come to you with open hearts.’
This so-called ‘plenty of space’ had come to Serafima from her grandfather five years ago—a crooked old log house.
She sold her city apartment and for two years handled all the construction runs herself. In the end, what was once a wreck turned into a cozy home with a spacious, sunlit veranda.
She and Alexey got together three years ago. He was a good, handy guy, but lost all his willpower whenever his mother and younger sister were around.
His relatives quickly figured out that the new country house was the perfect free storage space.
First, some rusty galvanized buckets and his mother’s old Soviet washing machine made their way into the shed.
Then the closet under the stairs got filled with bundles of coats from the Perestroika days. By spring, a real barricade of dried-out nightstands had grown on the veranda.
«Here’s how it’s going to be,» Serafima said sternly, locking eyes with her husband.
«I want these boxes out of the house by tomorrow evening.»
«Stop grumbling already!» Aglaya waved her hand dismissively, backing toward the door.
«I’ve got to run, my bus is waiting. Lyosha, there are three more bags of books in the car trunk, bring them onto the veranda!»
Her sister-in-law hurried out the door, heels clicking down the path. Serafima walked over to a banana box and flipped back the cardboard flap.
At the top were musty cosmetics catalogs, a torn rubber hose, and a tangle of wires from an old cassette player.
«You call this good stuff?» she pressed her husband as he carried dusty sacks in from the porch.
«This is garbage, Lyosha. Just junk your sister can’t be bothered to haul to the dumpster.»
«Why do you have to be so harsh?» Alexey muttered, avoiding her gaze.
«Aglaya is practical—she’ll use everything for something. She’ll finish her balcony and take it all back.»
«And when will she finish?» Serafima put her hands on her hips.
«She put those bags of rags under the stairs two years ago. Has she remembered them even once?»
«She’s got no time, works from morning till night,» he mumbled, shoving the bags into a corner.
«Do these boxes really bother you? They’re just sitting there, not hurting anyone.»
«They bother me!» Serafima raised her voice.
«I have to walk sideways just to get across my own veranda! I wanted to put a wicker chair out there, not trip over your family’s rotten nightstands!»
«Alright, I’ll move everything to the shed this weekend,» Alexey tried to smooth things over.
«Don’t get upset over nothing, Sima. They’re family—it’s awkward to say no.»
«It’s convenient for them to crowd me, but inconvenient for you to refuse?» she replied bitterly.
«Brilliant logic, really.»
«Let’s not fight over nonsense,» Alexey said quickly, disappearing into the kitchen and clattering a pot lid.
«Come on, let’s have dinner. I’m starving like a wolf.»
Serafima just shook her head. She didn’t realize at the time that her sister-in-law’s visit on Friday was just a warm-up. The real surprise awaited her Saturday afternoon.
Early that morning, Serafima was scrubbing out the empty room on the first floor. For months, she’d been saving from her bookkeeping job for a big cutting table and a good sewing machine.
She picked up side gigs and had long dreamed of her own bright sewing studio.
Suddenly, the deep rumble of an engine and the clang of metal gates sounded from outside. Once again, Alexey hadn’t locked the gate and driveway that morning.
Serafima stepped out onto the porch, mop in hand, and froze in shock. Right down the gravel path by the flowerbeds, a cargo «Gazelle» was reversing slowly, its tarp stretched high.
From the cab, leaning on the driver’s arm, her mother-in-law Adeline Terentyevna emerged with great dignity, wearing a lilac beret and a matching raincoat.
«Boys, be careful when you lower the tailgate!» her mother-in-law commanded the two movers, who sported canvas gloves.
«That’s Czech polish on there, don’t you dare scratch my cabinet!»
«Adeline Terentyevna, what kind of caravan is this?» Serafima came down the steps, blocking the path to the house.
«Oh, Sima, good thing you’re not at work!» her mother-in-law replied graciously, not even bothering to say hello.
«Prepare to accept a few additions. We’re renting out my sister’s apartment. No way am I leaving good furniture for strangers!»
«And what does this have to do with me?» Serafima asked warily.
«What do you mean, what does it have to do with you?» Adeline Terentyevna was surprised.
«Tenants these days just destroy all the furniture! Let it stay at your place for a year or two.»
From the truck bed appeared a battered buffet with cloudy glass panes and a tattered armchair, from which a rusty spring stuck out sadly.
Next, the movers pulled out a rolled rug, moth-eaten at the edges. The smell of damp basement and mothballs hung in the air from the belongings.
«Stop!» Serafima shouted to the workers. The men obediently stopped, glancing at each other.
«You’re not bringing any of this inside. Load it back onto the truck.»
Alexey dashed onto the porch, wearing pajama pants and slippers on bare feet.
«Mom?» he asked, confused, squinting into the spring sunlight.
«Why are you here without calling first? And where did this truck come from?»
«Am I supposed to make an appointment to see my own son?» Adeline Terentyevna bristled, putting her hands on her hips.
«Aglaia and I talked it over last night. Renting a garage for the stuff costs a fortune, and I’m not squandering my pension. Meanwhile, you have a whole spare room on the first floor just sitting empty!»
«That room is not just ‘sitting empty’,» Serafima said quietly, her tone dangerously calm.
«That’s going to be my workspace. Tomorrow, my cutting table arrives.»
«What cutting table?» her mother-in-law asked haughtily, adjusting her lilac beret.
«You can hem skirts in the kitchen, sitting on a stool! Look at you, acting like some grand couture designer!»
«Where I work in my own house is for me to decide—not you,» Serafima snapped back.
«Turn the truck around.»
«Just look at her, acting so high and mighty!» Adeline Terentyevna wailed across the yard.
«You’ve gotten spoiled, Serafima, living all cozy with just two people in this big house! People have nowhere to put their hard-earned things, and you turn up your nose!»
«That buffet is a real treasure. We waited in line three whole months for it back in 1980!»
«That so-called treasure has been skipping work at the landfill since last century,» the daughter-in-law retorted.
«The cabinet has a door hanging off one hinge and mold growing on the back! I won’t let that junk into this clean house.»
«Shame on you!» her mother-in-law pressed her palms to her cheeks and turned to her son.
«Alyosha, do you hear how she talks to your mother?! We come to her out of family affection, and she throws the floor space in our faces! Tell her, are you the man of this house or just her errand boy?!»
Alexey shifted from foot to foot, his face flushing with red patches.
«Sima, seriously, people are already here and the truck’s paid by the hour,» he muttered under his breath as he took a step toward his wife.
«Where is Mom supposed to go with this now? Haul it all the way back up to the fifth floor with no elevator?»
«Let her take it to the dump,» Serafima replied firmly.
«No one even asked me before ordering the truck.»
«Can’t we at least put it all on the veranda for now?» her husband pleaded, eyeing the movers who were smirking nearby.
«We’ll figure it out over the May holidays. Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone and the neighbors! People are already peeking over the fence.»
«Your mother’s nightstands and Aglaia’s boxes are already on the veranda!» Serafima reminded him.
«We can squeeze things in a bit more, there’s still room!» piped up Adelina Terentyevna, sensing an opportunity.
«Boys, don’t listen to her—bring everything onto the veranda! Watch out for the corners!»
Serafima glanced at her husband, who avoided her eyes, then her gaze skimmed over the rusty spring of the chair and Aglaia’s battered skis sticking out of the hallway.
She decided not to cause a public scene with all these men around. Instead, she sank down onto the bottom step of the porch, propped the mop against the railing, and spent a few seconds wearily rubbing her temples with her fingers.
«Put it all on the veranda,» she said, not looking up.
«But not a single foot in the living rooms.»
«See, that’s better!» Adelina Terentyevna instantly switched from anger to delight.
«Should’ve agreed right away—no one would’ve had frayed nerves. Come on, boys, bring it in!»
When the movers had unloaded the last sagging sofa and left, and Alexey’s happy mother-in-law caught her bus, the veranda looked like a film set for a junk dealer’s movie. It was impossible to get to the garden bench—even sideways.
Alexey came up behind his wife and tried to hug her shoulders.
«Simochka, why the long face?» he asked, peering into her face, trying to appease her.
«I’ll build a shed from slate behind the barn by summer. We’ll move everything there and finally have some peace.»
«No need for a shed, Lyosha,» Serafima gently removed his hand from her shoulder.
«I’m telling you for the last time, plain and simple.»
«There you go again…» he grimaced.
«Let me finish,» his wife cut him off.’
«By tomorrow morning, you will call your mother and your sister. You two will arrange for a truck and get every bit of your stuff out of my house and yard. That includes the washing machine in the shed and the bags under the stairs.»
«Sima, are you kidding?» Alexey spread his arms in exasperation.
«How are we supposed to get a truck on a Saturday night? And where would we take all of it? Mom’s balcony is packed and Aglaia’s doing renovations!»
«That’s not my problem,» Serafima replied coldly.
«Rent a garage, take it to your aunt’s dacha, sell it online—but everything that’s still here after eight tomorrow morning, I’ll put out for trash.»
«Oh, stop trying to scare me,» her husband waved her off carelessly and headed inside to heat up dinner.
«You’re not tossing anything out. That credenza weighs a hundred kilos, you can’t even budge it. You’ll make a fuss and settle down.»
He had no idea his wife never made empty threats. That evening, Serafima went to the bedroom, searched online for a company that hauls away bulky junk, and called the dispatcher.
Handing over the money I’d been saving for a sewing machine stung more than I could have imagined, but sometimes having order in your own home is worth every penny.
Sunday morning, right at eight o’clock, a heavy diesel engine roared outside the gate. The noise was so loud, it felt like a cargo helicopter was landing right in the vegetable garden.
Alexey dashed onto the porch, his hair a mess, quickly pulling on a house sweater as he went.
Parked at the wide-open gate was a special utility truck that, with a deafening metallic crash, unloaded a huge metal dumpster-boat onto the driveway. Two broad-shouldered guys in work overalls jumped out of the cab.
«Where do we start, ma’am?» the older of the two called out, all business.
«Start with the veranda and the shed, guys!» Serafima already stood by the steps in her coat, pulling on the very same heavy-duty gloves the movers left behind at her mother-in-law’s house yesterday.
«We carry out anything I point to. Begin with the Czech cabinet and those boxes by the entrance.»
«Sima, are you out of your mind?!» Alexey clutched his head, watching as the guys effortlessly lifted the massive lacquered cabinet and dragged it toward the metal container.
«Stop them right now! Mom is going to kill us!»
«Mom got her warning yesterday, and so did you,» Serafima replied without the slightest hint of a smile.
She stepped into the entryway, brought out a pair of battered skis without bindings, and tossed them straight into the metal belly of the dumpster. The dry wood made a sharp, ringing crack against the steel.
«What are you doing?!» her husband yelled, pacing frantically across the porch.
«Those are Aglaia’s things! And Auntie’s armchair!»
«You were so eager to please the relatives yesterday, Lyosha,» Serafima said, hauling a banana box stuffed with tangled wires out onto the porch.
«So call them right now. Let them come and collect their treasures on the fly before the guys load it all up.»
Alexey dashed inside for his phone. Half an hour later, a taxi screeched to a stop at the wide-open gate.
Aglaia tumbled out of the car, jacket hastily thrown over pajama pants, and Adeline Terentyevna followed, flushed and flustered.
By this time, the dumpster was more than halfway full. On top of the smashed cabinet and bags of damp magazines, there was an artful pile of cracked nightstands, rusty buckets, and an old Soviet washing machine.
Right then, the workers were wresting that sagging armchair by its legs.
«Stop! Put it back, you monsters!» wailed Adeline Terentyevna, sprinting towards the truck.
But the guys dumped it in unison. With a long, twanging snap of a broken spring, the chair landed squarely in the middle of the heap, sending up a cloud of ancient dust.
«My precious things! Hooligans!» the mother-in-law waved her arms right under the foreman’s nose.
«Who gave you the right to destroy someone else’s furniture?!»
«The lady of the house paid for the job, ma’am,» the worker replied coolly, brushing off his gloves.
«We’ve been told to clear the place, so that’s what we’re doing. Please step back from the dumpster, move closer to the fence.»
«Aglaia, my seedling cups and autumn shoes are in those boxes!» Adeline Terentyevna shrieked, grabbing her daughter by the sleeve.
«Why are you just standing there? Go get them out!»
«Get them yourself, Mom! There’s rust and broken glass in there!» Aglaia snapped back, staring in horror at the jagged cardboard pieces sticking out of the dumpster.
— I’m tearing my hands to shreds! Serafima, are you completely out of your mind?!
Both of them turned toward the porch, ready to scorch their daughter-in-law with their glares. Alexei pressed his back against the wooden railing, not daring to say a word.
Serafima took off her heavy canvas gloves, folded them together, and looked her relatives up and down with a long, measured stare.
— Listen to me, both of you, and listen closely, she began quietly, but so clearly that even the driver by the truck cab went silent.
— I put up with your branch of the city dump under my roof for three years. You dragged here everything you couldn’t bear to throw out, but didn’t want cluttering up your pristine apartments.
Your rotten armchairs, moldy rags, and skis from the seventies are no gift to me. I never signed up to be your free security guard or warehouse manager!
— You owe us a debt for life now! Aglaia gasped with indignation, jabbing her finger at the dumpster.
— There are good things in there worth a pretty penny! Lyosha, why are you silent? Get your wife under control, knock that nonsense out of her!
— Why don’t you start by knocking it out of yourselves first, Serafima shot back at her sister-in-law.
— You found yourselves a fool! Renting a storage unit is too expensive, but turning my house into a dump and taking away my room suits you just fine?
You have exactly five minutes to take Alexei’s winter tires from the shed. Everything else is leaving for the landfill right now.
— I’m not letting this go! Adeline Terentyevna’s face turned blotchy red with anger.
— I’ll tell every relative what a miserly, scheming snake you are! Tossed your own mother-in-law onto the trash heap!
— Tell anyone you want, Serafima turned to the driver.
— Driver, load the truck bed, we’re done here!
The loader’s hydraulics roared loudly as steel cables hooked onto the container. Adeline Terentyevna grabbed the brim of her lilac beret, watching her precious ‘scarce goods’ slowly get hauled onto the platform by the metal giant.
— My feet will never cross this yard again! the mother-in-law blurted out, backing toward the gate.
— And you, Lyosha, pack your bag this instant! No reason to live with this lunatic. Let her sit alone in her mansion!
— That’s right, Lyosha, let’s go to our place! Aglaia chimed in, tugging her brother’s sweatshirt sleeve.
— Let her dig her own garden beds and fix her own fences!
Alexei glanced, lost, from his mother to his wife. Serafima stood on the porch, leaning against a carved post, waiting. She didn’t plead, didn’t grab his hands, and didn’t try to justify herself.
— Mom, how can I move into your two-room place, Alexei mumbled, lowering his head.
— The balcony is being renovated and it’s a mess. And I have to be at work for the early shift tomorrow at seven—it’s closer from here.
— So that’s your tune now?! Adeline Terentyevna gasped, stung by the betrayal.
— You’re choosing this petty woman over your own mother and sister?!
— I’m not choosing anyone over anybody, Mom. Really, you just went too far with all that junk, he muttered apologetically.
— Go catch your taxi before the driver leaves. I’ll call you later this week.
His mother glared at him with such a contemptuous look it was as if he’d betrayed his country, then waved her hand and proudly marched off behind the departing truck.
Aglaia, muttering curses under her breath, shuffled after her in pajama pants, constantly glancing back at the now-empty veranda.
By early summer, the veranda was filled with the scent of pine shavings and baked apples.
A comfy wicker chair with a soft cushion stood by the sun-soaked window, and in what used to be the guest room, Serafima was busy cutting out linen sundresses on a wide new table.
Adelina Terentyevna and Aglaya kept their word and stopped coming by—pride simply wouldn’t let them.
Of course, that didn’t change their personalities one bit: rumor had it, they were now trying their best to offload the rest of the bags from the balcony to their cousin’s dacha.
As for Alexey, he’d become extraordinarily cautious: before putting even an extra pack of nails on the shed shelf, he’d ask his wife three times if it would interfere with her sewing projects.
