Not that!» the mother-in-law irritably dropped her fork next to the plate with the uneaten lasagna, «Do I have to teach you everything? Your food is a nightmare, Olenka! Don’t be offended, but Lesha should have married someone who can cook and manage the house. And you, well, you’re neither here nor there.»
Irina Vitalievna, with a face like a weary peasant burdened by a weight unknown to anyone but herself, stood up from the table. Olya watched this mournful procession to the trash can, slowly following not so much the woman as her lasagna, which was promptly thrown away among other scraps.
The mother-in-law turned around with an even more resigned expression:
«That’s how it is. You come to visit your son, and then they starve you.»
Olya sighed deeply, having lost all hope of being treated decently:
«Irina Vitalievna, you ate a full plate of soup just an hour ago.»
«Oh, I barely forced myself to finish it. It was like eating in a barn, definitely not fit for humans. Don’t serve this to guests in the future.»
As is often the case, the mother-in-law placed her dishes at the bottom of the sink as if they would clean themselves. Or perhaps a house spirit would come and wash everything. It wasn’t too important to her.
«Here’s another thing. Redo this disaster. I won’t allow Lesha to eat like this!» Irina Vasilievna muttered as she left the kitchen.
And Olya, with a detached gaze, watched the woman leave. She remembered how her mother-in-law had devoured that unfortunate soup. The bride had long recognized her mother-in-law’s quirks. Everything she did, whether it was dinner or cleaning, was always criticized. Irina Vasilievna always found something to nitpick, though her complaints hardly made any logical sense. A complaint for the sake of complaining—that’s how Olya described it.
Or, for instance, this morning a heated dialogue—or rather a monologue—occurred between the two newly related women. «You didn’t wash the dishes: you ate and just left them. Shameless! I bought you that dinnerware, and you treat it like trinkets. I spent money, all for you.»
Irina Vasilievna shadowed a hurried Olya: she had overslept, but still hoped to catch the bus. With her nerves already frayed, her mother-in-law’s senseless accusations added to the tension.
«By the way,» Olya abruptly stopped in front of the open front door, «your son left the dishes, not me. And that set was a gift for our wedding, don’t forget. You even brought your three grandchildren to our one special day, which I had spent who knows how long preparing for.» Irina Vasilievna seemed to boil over with each word, «You nearly ruined our wedding, now you want to spoil our household?»
As soon as the mother-in-law opened her mouth, clearly gearing up for a long scolding, Olya was already gone. She slammed the door and rushed to work. Apparently, Irina had been harboring all her grievances to unleash on her daughter-in-law by evening.
And so, Olya, exhausted, was scrubbing the unfortunate dishes, as if she hadn’t just thrown out food into the trash bin. The noise of running water drowned out the jingling of keys, voices, and much more. The woman found her husband already in bed.
«Lesha, we need to talk.»
Only a dissatisfied grunt responded.
«Your mom terrorized me all the time I was at home today. Lesha, my patience and strength are not limitless. I’m very tired.» The girl resignedly sat on the edge of the bed, wanting to finally open her husband’s eyes, wanting him to understand her.
«She’s just like that, don’t worry. I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. And by the way, mom’s usually right, so listen to her, and you’ll be happy.»
«You mean you’ll be happy?» Olya stared at her husband, her eyebrows knit in offense.
«What about me?»
«Exactly! Nothing for you, but she only hounds me.»
«Don’t take it seriously. Goodnight,» Lesha demonstratively turned over to his side.
It was clear he had no intention of discussing it further, so Olya resigned herself and backed off. As her husband had long since been snoring, the woman kept thinking about her life.
She lived with a loving husband in a private house, had a decent household, but a terrible mother-in-law who visited too often. It seemed a couple more trips like this, and she might stay permanently. And that prospect certainly did not appeal to Olya.
She imagined what their life could look like without constant criticism, without perpetual control. Olya dreamed of the day her mother-in-law would understand that she was not just a daughter-in-law, but a woman who also wanted to be heard.
How much could she endure this onslaught? Why did every effort she made always turn into dissatisfaction? Olya subdued her thoughts of injustice, not wanting to further spoil her mood.
She mulled things over, realizing that for the sake of her husband, she needed to find a way to get a grip and try to manage the household, but with each passing day, it became increasingly difficult. The evening’s solitude weighed on her shoulders. Olya felt like the loneliest person in the world, especially in the company of Irina Vasilievna.
In the morning, the alarm clock routinely rang. It screamed only for the girl, as her husband, on his rare days off, slept like a baby. Half-asleep, her hand instinctively reached for the off button, but the sound continued, becoming seemingly louder with each second. Olya irritably rubbed her eyes and fully woke up when she realized—it was the ringing phone. She quickly picked up the receiver, and a tearful voice came through:
«Olya?»
On the other end of the line was her visibly shaken sister.
«Luba, hello, what happened?»
«My boyfriend kicked me out. We had a fight… And that’s that.» she sniffled over the phone.
«And you’re there alone? How dare he?! Wait, I’ll be right there.»
Olya hastily got ready, threw on a coat, and gently nudged her husband. It didn’t take much time to explain the situation—her bewildered husband sympathized with Luba and wished her luck. He understood the seriousness. To pack up, move out, and also endure such a nasty act from a loved one. Lesha offered to help, but Olya quickly said that her sister needed her moral support more than a dry solution to a housing problem. The man did not argue: he saw her to the door and that was that.
There was no sleep in either eye after such news, and a day off should always start with a cup of tea. From this, it follows that Alexey spent the next half-hour in proud solitude, sipping tea in the kitchen. Maybe from the loud clattering, or perhaps by the call of nature, the mother-in-law followed the homeowners’ lead.
«Oh, where is Olya?» Irina Vasilievna entered the kitchen.
«Her sister has problems, so she went to help. And good morning, mom.»
«What kind of problems are so serious that you can ignore your mother-in-law’s requests?»
«What are you talking about?» Lesha was slightly surprised and asked again.
«I kindly asked her last night to make my bed, and she decided there were more important things,» Irina Vasilievna assumed a wounded stance.
«Well, there actually are more important things than a made bed. If it’s so important to you, I can make it myself.»
It seemed that such a heartfelt offer might just make Lesha’s mother explode.
«‘Well, actually,'» she unpleasantly repeated, then raised her voice slightly: «My requests should be her priority.»
«What priority, mom? Do you understand that Olya’s sister has problems? Physically, she couldn’t have stayed to make your bed.»
Lesha sighed, trying to find the words to explain to his mother the pressure his wife was under. He didn’t want Olya to feel guilty for choosing to help her family. Irina Vasilievna, it seemed, did not understand this, and the tension only escalated.
«She always finds a way to ignore me!» the mother-in-law stated without malice but with deep indignation, «Don’t I deserve attention in my old age?»
Her son shook his head sharply in response:
«Olya never refuses, but you know she’s swamped with tasks, and sometimes unforeseen circumstances just happen unexpectedly.»
Irina Vasilievna apparently felt she wouldn’t cross the finish line in this argument, so she attempted to start a new conflict:
«Is her opinion more important to you than mine? I’m your mother!»
«Please, pack your things. You’ll just make the morning train,» Lesha sighed in disappointment, realizing that his closest relatives were unlikely ever to find common ground.
The mother-in-law jumped at the unexpected statement and furrowed her brows angrily.
«So you traded your mother for some girl?»
«Olya is my wife.»
«Your little wife should clean my room every day,» the mother-in-law declared.
Lesha was deeply disappointed, as deep down he had desperately hoped that everything would work out. But a sharp question of choice had arisen, and he had chosen his spouse. The comfort of the loved one with whom he was to spend a whole life was far more important.
«This is our home, and we decide what we must and must not do. Please, pack your things and don’t come back with such statements.»
Offended, Irina Vasilievna stomped into the guest room, loudly enough for the whole house to hear, slamming the door. Lesha, meanwhile, sat in the kitchen, no longer desiring to finish his now cold drink. A few minutes later, without a «goodbye» or «all the best,» the mother-in-law now slammed the front door.
Alexey could hardly believe that his wife had such a hard time in the company of his mother. She had always seemed to him just slightly annoying, it seemed that Olya exaggerated out of old habit, but it turned out quite differently.
By the time Olya returned home, Lesha had already cleaned the house and prepared a fragrant dinner. The girl was surprised, not finding the mother-in-law in any of the rooms.
«Where’s Irina Vasilievna?»
Lesha exhaled guiltily:
«I’m sorry, I couldn’t have imagined that mom was so troublesome. I asked her to go back to her place. I hope you’re not upset, dear.»
A smile of relief bloomed on Olya’s face; she was immensely glad that her husband had finally heard and understood her, even if in such a way.
«I forgive you! And what smells so delicious? I smelled it from the next street.»
Lesha looked at his wife mysteriously but cheerfully, grunting as he bent over the oven.
«You’re grunting. That’s the first sign of turning into a grumpy old man, did you know?»
«No way, you definitely couldn’t handle another one,» the husband laughed.
