The trunk just wouldn’t close—the inflatable mattress was pressed tight against the lid, and Matvey was elbowing it in place with the determination of someone building a dam. Meanwhile, Polina was already in the back seat, surrounded by a bag of dried bagels and her book about dragons. It was a bright, breezy morning, the kind where even the traffic lights seem friendly.
“Matvey, if that mattress pops, you’ll just have to float on your optimism,” Svetlana joked.
“It won’t pop! This thing is indestructible!” Matvey insisted.
“Only things truly indestructible are the line at the clinic and rumors about the neighbors,” Svetlana shot back.
Gleb took the driver’s seat, placed his phone in the holder, and set off. It would take forty minutes to get to ‘Ryabinka,’ and the kids spent the whole ride arguing about who would be the first to reach the river. Svetlana listened with a smile, loving the lively noise more than any music.
“Mom said yesterday the fence on the north side is shifting,” Gleb pointed out. “I’ll fix it—just needs a couple more screws.”
“Go ahead and fix it,” Svetlana agreed. “A fence is a good thing. It clearly marks what belongs to who.”
“What do you mean by that?” Gleb asked.
“About the fence, Glebushka. What else?” she replied.
Nina Yegorovna met them at the gate, wearing a sunhat and holding pruning shears—though she wasn’t cutting anything, just wielding them like a symbol of authority. The kids each got a kiss on the cheek and permission to run off. Gleb headed to the shed for tools.
“Svetlana, my blood pressure’s been up since five in the morning,” Nina Yegorovna announced. “My head feels like cast iron. The strawberries are ripening in the far field already—another two days and they’ll be mush. Go pick some.”
“How far is your far field, exactly?” Svetlana asked.
“Past the birch grove, then along the ditch. Take the big bucket—a small one is just embarrassing.”
“Being embarrassed about coming back with a small bucket—that’s a new commandment for sure. Fine. But your blood pressure is up and my back will be aching. This arithmetic does feel strange, but let’s go with it.”
The ‘field’ turned out to be more of a slope, scorched so bright it almost rang, where the strawberries hid their fruit beneath the leaves, almost teasing her. Svetlana squatted, then sat on her heels, then just on the ground. The sun was right overhead, and the air shimmered like it does above a sizzling road.
Neighbor Rita passed by, carrying her bucket, solidly built and businesslike, her kerchief pulled low almost to her eyes.
“Are you by yourself?” Rita asked in surprise.
“Me and my bucket. Great company, doesn’t argue or complain,” Svetlana replied.
“What about Nina Yegorovna?” Rita wondered.
“She’s got high blood pressure,” Svetlana explained.
Rita snorted softly and shifted her bucket.
“You know what I just can’t figure out? Been watching for seven summers now: as soon as there’s hard work, she has high blood pressure. But if there are guests and barbecue, she’s the first at the grill, louder than anyone. Don’t mind me, I’m not gossiping. It’s just in ‘Ryabinka,’ everyone’s blood pressure runs on a schedule.”
“Schedules are a marvelous thing,” Svetlana replied. “Especially when it’s someone else’s, made out in my name.”
“You really ought to speak up,” Rita said.
“I do speak, Rita. I just speak politely for now—and around here, a polite word is taken as agreement.”
By lunchtime, the bucket was just half full. Svetlana returned, set it on the bench, and straightened up, listening to her knees crack. Nina Yegorovna came out, peered inside, and pursed her lips like someone who’d just been handed the bill for someone else’s party.
“That’s it? Other people’s buckets are heaping!” Nina Yegorovna exclaimed.
“Other people have wider sunhats too,” Svetlana replied. “If you want a heap, take a second bucket—we’ll fill them twice as fast together. Math is a ruthless thing.”
“If only I were your age again!” Nina Yegorovna sighed.
— So you had them. You lived through them. Sadly, mine are slipping away to your side as well.
Gleb came out of the banya just then, holding a stick and a roll of wire, clearly pleased, his arms blackened with soot up to the elbows.
— The chimney was completely clogged, he reported. I cleaned it out. Now it draws perfectly.
— Good job, son, Nina Egorovna’s tone softened immediately. At least someone is getting things done.
Svetlana poured berries into a bowl, washed her hands under the outdoor tap, and went to start lunch: potatoes, greens, and patties she had made that morning at home. In an hour everyone was seated at the table beneath the apple tree. As Nina Egorovna served a second helping to her grandson, she said proudly:
— Eat, Matveyka, grandma’s cooking.
— Grandma’s potatoes, my cooking, Svetlana corrected her. Let’s be fair and split the credit. Aren’t you all about fairness?
— You’re really going to count every penny with me?
— I just call things by their real names. That costs nothing.
Thursday evening, Gleb was unpacking his bag from the market, pulling out cucumbers, a zucchini, a bunch of radishes. He pulled them out like he was collecting evidence.
— Why did you buy this? he asked. Mom’s garden beds are bursting with produce. Homegrown is always better.
— Homegrown means grown with your own hands, Svetlana answered. Have you ever actually worked those beds yourself? Or just read reports about them?
— I’m building the fence! Fixed the roof! Just cleaned the chimney!
— You do the visible, photogenic tasks. Five times a summer, photo included for the album. But watering, weeding, covering, hilling—that’s my every Saturday. All of them. Since May.
— Mom lives alone, she needs help!
— She needs help, not a free laborer with only two days off a year. There’s a difference, and it’s as big as the farthest field out there.
Gleb tossed the radishes onto the table.
— You’ve gotten mean. You used to stay quiet!
— I used to speak softly, Svetlana said. But you took that for agreement. It’s easy not to hear what’s inconvenient.
— She’s getting old!
— So am I. The only difference is, no one accounts for my age because I don’t complain on schedule.
— You hate her!
— I respect her. Enough to speak to her face, not behind her back. And I respect you enough to be honest with you, too.
Two heads peeked into the room: Polina in pajamas, Matvey hugging his phone to his chest. Their eyes were wide and quiet. Svetlana cut off mid-sentence.
— Go to bed, she said gently. Your dad and I are just having a work meeting. No casualties.
— Mom, are we really going to see Aunt Alina? Polina asked. You promised.
— We’re going, Svetlana replied. Promises are the only currency I refuse to devalue.
There was a week left until vacation. Alina, her sister, had been inviting them for years, already set up a room for the kids in Adler, sent pictures of the sea—so blue, so unreal, so far away. Svetlana counted down the days, and it felt less like anticipation and more like a countdown.
Saturday morning, Gleb’s phone exploded with a call. He listened in silence, then sat on a stool, and ran his hand across his face.
— The banya burned down, he said. Completely. Last night. Mom’s in shock, neighbors tried to put it out.
— Is everyone okay?
— Everyone. She was sleeping in the house. He looked up at her. That was me. The chimney. I cleaned it, then she heated it up and…
«Don’t speculate. The people responsible will tell us the reason. Right now, you’re not an investigator, you’re a son.»
«I’ll build a new one,» he suddenly said firmly. «With my own hands. I have hands, don’t I? I’ll finish it by summer.»
«By summer? Which summer, Gleb?»
«This one.»
«You mean our summer,» Svetlana clarified. «The one with Adler, the room at Alina’s, and kids who’ve never seen the sea, not even once.»
He looked away.
«We’ll reschedule our vacation. Just this once. Mom’s alone in the ashes—do you get that?»
«I understand,» Svetlana replied. «I really do, I have an excellent memory. Two years ago, it was your knee. Last year, the roof. Before that—‘bad timing.’ Now it’s the bathhouse. Do you see the pattern here? None of these reasons are about us.»
«You’re being monstrously selfish!»
«I’m allocating resources reasonably. Those are two different accusations, and the second one is going to be much harder for you to say with that look on your face.»
In the hallway, Dasha stopped her—a friend who had a real knack for asking the right questions, short and direct.
«So, you’re not going again,» Dasha said. «Listen. What are you waiting for? Permission?»
Svetlana stopped. She had no answer—and it turned out that was the most honest answer she’d given in years.
That evening, she didn’t go home. She sat on a bench in the park, where boys were kicking a ball, pulled out her phone, and bought three tickets to the sea: for herself, Matvey, and Polina. Her fingers trembled, not from fear, but from how quickly everything suddenly became simple.
For a week, she packed a suitcase quietly in the evenings and hid it behind the winter coats in the closet. She folded sun hats, sunscreen, a book about dragons. The kids knew and stayed quiet—because children are better at keeping good secrets than adults.
Gleb found out the night before, when the suitcase was already in the hallway, zipped up and ready.
«What’s this?» he asked.
«It’s a suitcase. Inside it—summer.»
«Are you serious? You’re leaving me at a time like this?! My mom’s got no bathhouse, I’m covered in soot, and you’re off to some resort?!»
«I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m going on a vacation—paid for and planned. The difference between those words is about the same as between a bathhouse and a shed.»
«This is a betrayal of the family!» His voice broke. «You’re betraying us!»
«Betrayal is when you promise something and don’t do it. Eight years, Gleb. Eight. Count for yourself—you were always good with numbers.»
«Mom’s going to say you’ve let the whole family down!»
«Let her say it. I’m ready to listen, I’ve got tough ears. But I’m also going to list everything I kept silent about, and you’ll listen without interrupting—it’ll be good for you.»
He froze.
«I picked wild strawberries on the slope while your mother checked her blood pressure in the shade. I cooked lunches that were called ‘not mine.’ I weeded the garden—and then the harvest was handed to me as a gift. I heard ‘other people fill buckets to the brim’ and answered with a joke, so the kids wouldn’t see us fighting. I never once refused your mother help—and never got a ‘thank you’ without something attached.»
«I didn’t know it was hard for you!»
«You never asked. That’s cheaper than not knowing.»
«So what now? Am I just supposed to handle everything myself?!»
«It’s up to you to decide what family means to you: two kids waiting for the sea, or a charred log house. I’ve made my choice and packed it. The train leaves at six twenty.»
Alina greeted them on the platform in a yellow sundress, hugging them so tightly that Polina’s sunhat slipped off. The kids saw the sea two hours later and shrieked in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it. Matvey waded into the water with an air mattress and finally proved it was indestructible.
In the evenings, Svetlana stood on the balcony and listened to the cicadas. Their sound was dense, wild—and best of all, free from any chores.
Gleb called every day. At first, he spoke dryly, just relaying other people’s words.
«Mom says you embarrassed us in front of the whole neighborhood.»
«Tell her I picked her half a bucket of wild strawberries—reputation prepaid.»
«Mom says real wives don’t do things like this.»
«Real wives do exactly this. The ones who don’t just endure and eventually fall apart.»
On the third day, his voice changed—it sounded lost.
«I’m here alone. It’s quiet. I’m sitting in this wreckage and, you know, I can hear myself from the outside. How I kept telling you ‘let’s postpone.’ Eight times. Eight, Sveta.»
«If you can hear it, that’s good. Hearing comes back faster than conscience.»
«Today Mom announced she doesn’t even want the sauna. There’s a shower, she says. Says I’m wasting money.»
«Great news. Now we just need to figure out why our vacation had to go up in smoke, then.»
On the fifth day, he called early.
«I was wrong,» he said. «Not ‘partially.’ Completely. I got used to you carrying this house, thought it was just a law of nature, like gravity.»
«Gravity doesn’t cook dinner.»
«I ordered a ready-made barrel sauna for Mom. They’ll bring it, install it, hook it up—without me. And I got a ticket. For tomorrow. If that’s okay.»
«It’s okay,» Svetlana replied. «Just know the rules are strict around here. You get to inflate the swim ring.»
At the platform, both kids wrapped their arms around his neck at once, and Matvey immediately started pointing out where the mussels were, the slide, the hottest sand. Gleb just held them and stayed silent—the right words hadn’t quite found him yet.
That evening, as they walked along the shore, he said:
«Boundaries. We should have set them long ago. Not because Mom’s a bad person, but because our home is us—and everyone else is a guest, no matter how close they live.»
«That was well put. Now just try not to forget it by next June,» Svetlana replied.
«Will you remind me?»
«I will. You’ve noticed by now that I don’t keep quiet.»
She gazed at the sunset—broad and bold, flooding the water with copper—and felt it clearly: this life is hers. Not borrowed, not begged for, not scheduled by someone else’s hand for Saturdays.
Meanwhile, back at Ryabinka, Nina Yegorovna was crawling up the slope with a bucket. Her back ached since morning, her sunhat kept slipping over her eyes, and she had to hunt for berries under the leaves, which were dry and scratchy.
«Lazybones,» she muttered to the emptiness. «Took off, dragged the kids away, left the old lady alone. And my son—a wimp who won’t even stand up to his mother. Abandoned me. I didn’t even want that sauna, there’s a perfectly good shower, just pour some water over yourself and be happy. Money down the drain, so much money… who even cares, who?»
The bucket was only a third full. Neighbor Rita walked past with a full pail, said hello, and didn’t stop.
And on the shore, Gleb was blowing up a flamingo pool float—bright red and shiny—and his cheeks were already sore. Polina held the strap; Matvey bounced by the water’s edge.
«Dad, hurry up!»
«Two more breaths,» Gleb rasped. «This flamingo is going to finish me off.»
«Keep breathing,» Svetlana ordered. «It’s good for you. For eight years, all you did was exhale.»
Then the three of them squealed and dashed into the sea, while she remained standing on the sand—letting the sound wash over her. This was her noise, rightfully hers, paid for with nothing more than a timely bought ticket.
