Cheese Soup and Uninvited Guests
Vera carefully smoothed the fuzzy blanket over the back of the sofa, arranged the pillows in a symmetrical semicircle, and sighed with satisfaction. The air was filled with a harmonious blend of aromas — cheese soup with thyme, a crispy baguette with rosemary, just taken out of the oven. Everything was coming together perfectly.
She checked the temperature of the soup, stirring it with a silver spoon. Perfect. Vera was used to order — not just as a state of things, but as a way of existence. In a world where everything was falling apart and changing, order was her beacon.
The doorbell rang like a slap. Sharp, sudden, inappropriate.
Vera froze, ladle in hand. Maybe she imagined it? But the bell rang again — more insistently, longer.
When she opened the door, she saw a familiar couple standing on the doorstep. Tamara and her partner Valery.
“Oh, you’re home!” Tamara exclaimed with a feigned surprise, as if she hadn’t heard Vera’s footsteps behind the door. “We were just passing by! Decided to drop in!” She held out a box of supermarket cookies as if that justified their intrusion.
Vera felt Lev freeze behind her. She didn’t turn around — she already knew what she’d see on his face: a mixture of guilt and helplessness.
“I thought they were joking when they said they’d stop by,” he mumbled, not looking her in the eyes.
“You knew?” Vera asked quietly, while Tamara and Valery were already taking off their shoes in the hallway, loudly discussing how “lucky” they were to catch the hosts at home.
Lev just shrugged, which could mean “sorry” or “I couldn’t say no.” Or maybe both.
Vera watched as her carefully planned evening crumbled like a house of cards. The cheese soup was cooling, the candles were melting in vain, and the blanket, so carefully spread on the sofa, was already rumpled under the weight of a stranger’s body.
Not the First Time
It all started innocently. Tamara was Lev’s colleague — loud, but seemingly sincere, a woman with a talent for showing up at the right moment with the right information. When Lev introduced her at the company party three years ago, Vera even found her amusing — the passion for cheap costume jewelry, the stories about girlfriends, the constant “just between us girls” chatter.
Problems began when Lev left the company. Logically, the connection with Tamara should have gradually faded. But she was one of those people who cling to relationships like burrs to fur.
First came the calls — “just checking how you’re doing.” Then — chance meetings at the mall. “What a coincidence, we’re shopping too!” Then visits “on the way” — brief but regular. And finally, Tamara started bringing Valery with her — a silent companion with a habit of surveying other people’s apartments with an appraising look.
Vera remembered their first “overnight stay.” How Tamara called at nine in the evening with a dramatic story about a burst pipe in their apartment. “We have nowhere else to go,” she sobbed. Vera stayed silent then, though she knew Tamara had a sister just five minutes away. Lev shrugged: “It’s awkward to say no.”
Now, watching Tamara open kitchen cupboards without asking, searching for “something for tea,” Vera felt irritation boiling inside. Not at the guests — she was already used to them. At her husband. At his inability to say “no.” At his eternal “I feel awkward.”
And most of all — at herself. For letting this happen.
The Door Wide Open
They left nearly at midnight. Valery turned on the flashlight on his phone, lighting Tamara’s way to the elevator, although the hallway was well-lit.
“See you!” Tamara called promisingly as they parted.
Vera silently closed the door. The apartment smelled of foreign perfume and cigarette smoke — Valery had gone out twice to the balcony “to get some air.” Lev had already disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her alone with the aftermath of the evening.
She was collecting dishes, arranging chairs. The cheese soup was poured into four bowls but was almost untouched. “I’m on a diet,” Tamara had announced, after which she ate half a baguette with butter.
On the table, Vera noticed a broken whisk. Expensive, from a special set given by her mother for the housewarming. Someone — most likely Valery with his habit of touching everything — had broken the central spring.
Vera picked up the whisk and looked at it for a long time like an archaeologist at an ancient artifact. They hadn’t even asked permission. Hadn’t even apologized. They just took it and broke it — not out of malice, but simply because other people’s things had no value to them.
“That won’t happen again,” Vera decided, clenching the broken whisk in her hand.
She smiled at her own thoughts. The plan began to take shape on its own.
Etiquette Lesson
“What do you want?” Inna leaned back in her chair, nearly spilling her coffee. Her bright red lipstick left a mark on the white ceramic mug.
“I want you to come with me to their place. Uninvited. With the dog,” Vera repeated, surprised at her own calm.
Inna was her university classmate — bright, eccentric, and absolutely fearless. She now worked in an experimental theater and was known for her ability to fill any space with her presence. And she had a Great Dane named Jules — a huge creature with a habit of licking strangers and accidentally knocking things over with his tail.
“And the purpose of this visit?..” Inna raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow.
“To teach them a lesson in manners,” Vera replied. “To show what it’s like when someone barges in without warning.”
Inna was silent for about five seconds, then burst out laughing so loudly that nearby café patrons turned around.
“Oh God, Vera! I thought you’d gotten boring with age, but you…” She raised her mug in a toast. “This is brilliant. I’m in.”
On Saturday, they met near the metro station. Inna came in a bright red coat, with Jules on a leash. The huge dog barked happily upon seeing Vera.
“I brought everything you asked for,” Inna patted her bulky bag. “Food, games, music.”
“Great,” Vera nodded. “They live five minutes from here.”
“Does your husband know about our little operation?” Inna asked as they set off.
“No,” Vera shook her head. “He’s… a good man. Just can’t say ‘no.’”
“So you’ll be his voice,” Inna smiled. “That’s kind of sweet.”
Tamara and Valery’s home was a typical new building with a concierge who didn’t even ask whom they were visiting. Jules, sensing the approaching adventure, began to whine softly.
“What floor?” Inna asked, pressing the elevator button.
“Seventh,” Vera answered. Her heart pounded in her throat. What if they’d left? What if no one was home?
But the door opened almost immediately after ringing. Sleepy Valery stood in the doorway in sweatpants and a ketchup-stained T-shirt. His eyes widened when he saw Jules.
“Hi!” Vera exclaimed cheerfully. “We were just passing by. Decided to drop in!”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked into the apartment, leading Inna and Jules. The dog enthusiastically barked upon entering the new space.
“What’s going on?” Tamara peeked from a room, wearing a silk robe and curlers. Her face showed such genuine surprise that Vera had to bite her cheek inwardly to keep from laughing.
“We decided to visit you,” Inna smiled broadly, taking off her coat. “I’m Inna, Vera’s friend. And this is Jules!”
Jules, hearing his name, lunged forward, nearly knocking Valery over.
“Maybe it’s not very convenient now?” Vera asked with mock concern, pulling containers of food out of her bag. “We won’t stay long. About three hours, tops.”
Lost Slipper
Tamara stood in the middle of her living room like a statue frozen at the moment of disaster. Jules, freed from his leash, explored the apartment, leaving dark paw prints on the light carpet — it had recently rained outside.
“You have such a… cozy place,” Vera looked around with the same appraising glance Valery usually gave her home. “And what’s this collection?” She pointed to a shelf with cheap porcelain figurines.
“These are… my souvenirs from trips,” Tamara swallowed.
“Charming,” Vera smiled the smile she had seen on Tamara’s face so many times. “Inna, could you help me in the kitchen?”
They arranged the food containers on the table as if it were the most natural thing. Inna pulled a speaker from her bag and turned on some loud jazz music.
“Do you have wine?” she asked Valery, who was still standing in the hallway as if hesitant to enter his own apartment.
“Wine?” he repeated. “It’s morning…”
“And since when has that ever stopped anyone?” Inna winked.
Tamara finally snapped out of her stupor and began fussing — straightening pillows, tidying scattered magazines. It was clear she was trying to gather her thoughts, to find footing in this chaos.
Meanwhile, Jules discovered Valery’s slippers. One of them — brown, with a worn sole — particularly caught his attention. The dog grabbed the slipper and enthusiastically started tearing it apart.
“Jules!” Inna exclaimed mildly. “No!”
But it was too late. The slipper had already lost its shape, with stuffing poking out.
Vera watched as Tamara’s face changed — from shock to disbelief, then irritation. “There it is,” Vera thought. “This is how I feel every time you come without warning.”
“I’ll open a window,” she said, heading to the balcony. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, don’t you think?”
Inna meanwhile stood in the middle of the room and dramatically raised her hands.
“‘The Cherry Orchard is sold, it’s gone now, it’s true, it’s true…’” she began reciting a monologue from Chekhov, putting so much passion into each word as if she had a full audience before her rather than a stunned couple in their home clothes.
Valery, unable to stand it, went out to the balcony to smoke. Vera followed him.
“Sorry about Jules,” she said without a hint of remorse. “He can be a little… direct sometimes.”
Valery smoked silently, staring at the gray sky.
Returning to the room, Vera opened Tamara’s fridge — a gesture Tamara often made in her home.
“Is your yogurt still fresh?” she asked, studying the contents of the shelves. “We’re just going to have a snack. Don’t want to impose.”
Tamara stood in the kitchen, clenching her fists. Her face reddened, and her eyes flashed lightning.
“Vera,” she said in a strained voice. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Of course, we’re glad to see you, but you could have warned us…”
“Warn?” Vera feigned surprise. “Why? We were just passing by. Do you have to warn friends?”
Inna, finishing her monologue, applauded herself. Jules, inspired, barked loudly.
Tamara sank hopelessly into a chair.
A Quiet Evening, Finally
It was surprising how quickly everything changed after their “polite visit.” Tamara stopped calling. At first, Vera thought it was just a temporary lull, but a week passed, then two, then a month — no attempts to contact.
Once, she and Lev ran into Tamara at the supermarket. She pretended not to see them, quickly turning down another aisle.
“Tamara didn’t say hello today,” Lev noted, putting groceries in the cart. “Did something happen?”
Vera shrugged, hiding a smile.
“Probably in a hurry.”
The house became surprisingly quiet. No uninvited guests, no evening calls, no “we were just passing by.” Vera enjoyed this silence, this chance to plan her evenings without fear of interruption.
A month later, Vera again spread the blanket on the sofa, arranged the pillows in a semicircle, and checked the cheese soup. Everything like that evening — but with one important difference: now she was sure they would not be interrupted.
Jules, temporarily left with them by Inna (who had gone to a theater festival), was dozing at her feet. The huge dog curled up like a big cat rather than a formidable Great Dane.
“The candles are lit,” Lev said entering the kitchen. “And the wine’s open. The one from Georgia.”
Vera nodded, stirring the soup. The perfect evening. Again. But this time nothing could interrupt it.
The doorbell rang like thunder out of a clear sky.
They froze, looking at each other. Jules lifted his head, ears pricked.
“Are you expecting someone?” Lev whispered, as if the uninvited guest could hear him.
Vera shook her head. Could Tamara really have decided to come back? After everything? Or was it someone else, who also didn’t know the rules of courtesy?
She slowly approached the door, feeling her heart pounding. She opened it.
A young man in a delivery service uniform stood on the doorstep.
“Order for Lev,” he said, handing over a small box. “Please sign.”
Vera exhaled with relief, accepting the package. When the door closed, she leaned back against it and laughed.
Vera opened the box and pulled out a small elegant whisk.
“In place of the one Valery broke,” Lev explained. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Vera looked at her husband, her heart filling with warmth. He remembered. He noticed. He cared.
They returned to the kitchen. The soup was still hot. And the evening — quiet.
Sometimes, to teach people to knock, you have to enter without knocking yourself once. And Vera was glad she found the courage to do just that.
