Part 1. A Locust Invasion in a Two-Room Apartment
Margarita stopped outside the door of her apartment and took a deep breath, trying to push away the uneasy feeling creeping over her. The whole day, filled with the shrieks of first-graders and endless handwriting exercises, had drained her until her head felt hollow and ringing. All she wanted was silence and a hot shower. But from behind the door came a low, heavy rumble, like the sound of a transformer with something foreign trapped inside it.
She turned the key, but the lock did not resist. The door was already open. A thick, almost physical smell hit her in the face: fried onions, stale socks, and cheap tobacco.
The hallway was chaos. Someone’s huge imitation-leather jacket lay across the shoe rack, crushing Margarita’s suede ankle boots beneath it. Beside it stood a pair of size-forty-five sneakers, giving off the very smell that made her eyes water, and a pair of worn-out women’s boots.
“Oh, look who finally showed up!” a loud, hoarse female voice called from the kitchen.
Galina, Vadim’s older sister, appeared in the doorway. She was a large woman who seemed to occupy all available space, wiping her greasy hands on a kitchen towel — Margarita’s favorite embroidered towel, the one she had saved for special occasions.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Galina said, shamelessly looking her sister-in-law up and down. “Vadik said you finish at three. What took you so long? We’re starving after the road.”
Margarita silently took off her coat, trying not to touch anyone else’s outerwear. Her eyes dropped to the parquet floor: dirty shoe prints stretched across the entire hallway straight into the kitchen.
“Where is Vadim?” Margarita asked, her voice dry and emotionless.
“In the room, watching football with Tolik. My Tolik’s exhausted after wrestling with the steering wheel for six hours!” Galina turned and drifted back into the kitchen. “Go on, go see your husband. He’ll give you your valuable instructions.”
Margarita walked into the living room. On the beige sofa she shared with Vadim, an unfamiliar red-faced man with thinning hair was sprawled out with his feet on the coffee table. This was Anatoly, Galina’s husband. Beside him, perched on the armrest, sat Vadim with a can of beer in his hand. The television flickered with a sports match, the volume turned up to full blast.
“Hey, Margo!” Vadim did not even get up. He merely waved the hand holding the beer can. “Meet Tolya, my brother-in-law. You’ve already seen Galya. And Vityok is splashing around in the bathroom, my nephew. We decided to surprise you. Thought we’d stay for a week or two, see the city.”
Anatoly made a loud noise as he drank from his mug, then burped without even considering an apology.
“Nice place you’ve got here, hostess. Not bad at all. TV’s a bit small, though,” he commented.
Margarita felt something inside her begin to tighten — an invisible, dangerously thin thread. She looked at her husband. Vadim looked pleased, relaxed, like a lord receiving his household servants. He was not the slightest bit bothered that their two-room apartment had turned into a public passageway without warning.
“Vadim, a word,” Margarita said, turning around and leaving for the hallway without waiting for an answer.
Her husband came out a minute later, frowning with irritation.
“What are you starting now? They’ve come from far away. They’re my relatives. We haven’t seen each other in ages. You could at least put on a more polite face.”
“What do you mean, ‘stay for a week’?” she asked, lowering her voice so she would not have to shout over the television. “We don’t have room. And why didn’t you warn me?”
“I wanted to surprise you! Come on, it’s not a big deal. Vityok can sleep on the floor, Galya and Tolya in the living room, and we’ll stay in our bedroom. It’ll be tight, but nobody’ll die. Better yet…” Vadim patted the pockets of his sweatpants but pulled nothing out. “Run to the store. We need to set a proper table. A normal table, Margo. Get meat, cold cuts, good cognac, ready-made salads so you don’t have to cook. They’re family!”
Margarita stared at her husband for a long, unblinking moment. Then she went into the kitchen. Galina was already making herself at home: opening cupboards, rattling pots. The refrigerator door stood wide open.
“Listen, Margo,” her sister-in-law drawled, peering inside. “Looks like a mouse hanged itself in here. Empty as a drum. Just yogurts and some greens. What do you feed your man, grass? No wonder he’s so skinny.”
Margarita stepped closer. The refrigerator really was empty. Yesterday she had thrown out the leftovers, planning to buy groceries for the week today. But she had planned to buy them for two people — and according to her own budget.
“What do you mean, buy food for your relatives?” Margarita asked her husband coldly as he followed her into the kitchen, and she looked at the empty refrigerator.
“I mean exactly that,” Vadim said, spreading his hands as though explaining something obvious to a foolish child. “There are guests in the house. You need to show hospitality. Go to the market. You have your card.”
“My salary card?” Margarita clarified.
“Well, not mine,” Vadim chuckled. “You know things are tight for me right now. The job site still hasn’t been handed over, the boss is delaying payment. And you got paid the other day. Come on, don’t be stingy. They’re family, after all.”
At that moment Vityok came out of the bathroom — a twenty-year-old hulk wrapped in Margarita’s pink terry towel.
“Hey, auntie, is there anything to eat? I’m about to start eating my own stomach,” he announced in a deep voice, drying his wet head with the edge of the towel.
Inside Margarita, something snapped with a dry, cracking sound.
Part 2. A Financial Report on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown
Margarita slowly shifted her gaze from the nephew to her husband, then to Galina, who had already found the jar of expensive coffee Margarita had brought back from a business trip and was generously pouring it into a cup.
“Vadim,” Margarita said, her voice frighteningly calm. “Are you saying you invited three adults to live in our apartment without asking me, and now you expect me to feed them and give them drinks at my expense?”
“Why are you being so petty?” Vadim snapped, immediately going on the offensive. He hated being confronted about money. “I told you, once I get my bonus, I’ll pay you back. People are celebrating, we’re having a family reunion! But you… always with your accounting. Teacher mode switched on, huh?”
Galina snorted as she poured boiling water over the elite coffee.
“Oh, Vadik, I told you city people are all greedy. You couldn’t beg snow from them in winter. Back in our village, the table would already be bending under the food. But here… Fine, Margarita, don’t sulk. Go buy at least some dumplings. And vodka. The men need to relax.”
Suddenly Margarita laughed. It was not a happy laugh, but a short, barking sound that made Vadim uneasy. She walked to the kitchen table, pulled open a drawer, and took out a notebook and pen.
“Excellent,” she said loudly, her voice vibrating with restrained energy. “Let’s calculate.”
“Calculate what?” Anatoly frowned, peering into the kitchen. “Just give us food!”
“STOP!” Margarita roared so loudly that Vityok dropped the edge of the towel. She turned sharply toward her husband. Her eyes burned with an unhealthy shine. “You said the job site hasn’t been handed over? Vadim, you’ve been saying that for three months! For three months, I’ve been paying the utilities, the internet, your gasoline, and your cigarettes. I buy the groceries. I paid for the repair of your car!”
“Don’t start in front of people!” Vadim hissed, red blotches appearing on his face. “You’re humiliating me!”
“Humiliating you?” Margarita’s voice rose another octave. She was shaking, but not from fear. It was adrenaline flooding her body. “No, darling, humiliation is when a healthy grown man, the so-called head of the family, brings in a whole camp of relatives and tries to ride on the neck of his wife, who spends all day teaching thirty snot-nosed children so you can drink beer on the sofa!”
“Hey, shut your mouth!” Galina cut in, stepping forward. “Is that how you talk to your husband? We came to visit my brother!”
“To your brother?” Margarita turned to her sister-in-law with a predatory smile. “Perfect. Then let your brother feed you. Vadim, bring out your stash.”
“What stash? You’re talking nonsense,” Vadim tried to look righteously offended, but his eyes started darting around.
“The one you hide in the drill box on the balcony!” Margarita shouted. “Did you think I didn’t know? That’s where you put the cash from the side jobs you do off the books for Energoset! You’ve got at least a hundred thousand in there. And you lie to me that you don’t even have money for bread!”
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen. The relatives exchanged glances. Anatoly grunted with interest.
“You’re lying,” Vadim said uncertainly. “There’s nothing there.”
“Then let’s check,” Margarita said, jerking toward the balcony, but Vadim blocked her path.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” he shouted. “That’s for parts! For business!”
“AHA!” Margarita shrieked triumphantly, and there was so much poison in that shriek that Galina choked on her coffee. “So there is money? And you tell me to buy food? NO! I’m not giving a single kopeck!”
“You’re hysterical!” Vadim clenched his fists. “You’re sick! You’re making me look like a miser in front of my family!”
“I’m showing them exactly who you are!” Margarita grabbed an empty plate from the table. Her hands trembled, but she slammed it back down without breaking it, making a thunderous sound. “ENOUGH! I’m tired of being convenient! I’m tired of being understanding! You want to eat? Eat his stash! Eat his promises! My refrigerator is empty because I’m not dragging this burden anymore!”
“Damn,” Anatoly spat. “Crazy woman. Vadik, deal with yours. She’s ruining my appetite.”
“I’ll deal with her,” Vadim said viciously, staring at his wife with hatred. He had never expected this kind of resistance. Usually Margarita swallowed insults in silence, sulked for a couple of days, and still did what he asked. This new, shouting, furious Margarita frightened and enraged him at the same time. “Margo, don’t push me. Go to the store. Otherwise you’ll regret it.”
Part 3. Dinner Made of Raw Facts
Margarita stood motionless for several seconds, looking at her husband. Then she suddenly smiled — a terrible, unnatural smile.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “You want dinner? You’ll get dinner.”
She turned and left the apartment, slamming the door.
“There,” Vadim said with satisfaction, relaxing. “A woman just needs to be put in her place. She’ll shout, then do what she’s told. Galya, take out whatever’s left. She’ll set the table soon.”
An hour passed. The relatives were back in front of the television, waiting for the feast. Their stomachs growled. Vityok had already finished off a dry packet of crackers he had found in the cupboard, six months past its prime.
The door opened. Margarita entered the apartment. In her hands was only one small plastic bag.
“Where are the bags?” Vadim frowned, getting up from the sofa. “Are you mocking me?”
Margarita silently walked into the kitchen, threw the bag onto the table, and began taking out its contents: a packet of the cheapest salt, a box of matches, and a roll of toilet paper.
“Please, come to the table,” she announced loudly as she returned to the living room. “Enjoy. Salt, so life doesn’t seem too sweet. Matches, so you can warm yourselves with your own venom. And the paper — well, you’ll understand what it’s for once you start digesting all this.”
Anatoly turned crimson. Galina jumped out of the armchair.
“Have you completely lost your mind, city girl?” her sister-in-law roared. “We came to you with open hearts, and you shove toilet paper in our faces? Vadik, are you a man or what? Smack her so she comes to her senses!”
Vadim moved toward his wife, his face twisted with rage.
“You’re crossing the line, Rita. This is my family! You’re humiliating them!”
“HUMILIATING?” Margarita burst into loud laughter, throwing her head back. The laughter turned into something like a sob, then rolled back into wild laughter again. “You’re the ones humiliating me! You barge into my home, track dirt everywhere, demand vodka and food when I’ve crawled home from work! Vadim, you’re pathetic! You’re a freeloader pretending to be an oligarch in front of your village relatives!”
“Shut up!” he shouted.
“I WILL NOT SHUT UP!” She sprang toward him, staring directly into his eyes. Vadim flinched under her gaze. There was so much fury in her now that the air around her seemed to spark. “Tell them, Vadim! Tell Tolya whose car you drive. That’s my car, bought on credit — a loan I pay! Tell Galya whose apartment this is!”
“Ours!” Vadim barked.
“YOURS?” Margarita jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are nobody here! You’re not even registered here. You’re still registered at your mommy’s dormitory! Here you’re just a parasite who changes light bulbs and eats for three!”
“You bitch…” Galina hissed, advancing on Margarita. “We’ll teach you to respect your elders!”
“TRY IT!” Margarita grabbed a heavy vase from the table. Water splashed onto the carpet, and wilted flowers flew to the floor. “Just touch me! I’ll put on such a show the neighbors will call the police before you can say ‘Mama’! GET OUT! ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!”
Vityok, standing in the doorway, backed away in fear. He had never seen primary school teachers scream like that. It was scarier than the headmistress.
Part 4. The King of the Naked Party
“You sick psychopath,” Vadim spat, trying to save face in front of his relatives. “We’ll leave. We won’t stay in this madhouse. Come on, Galya. We’ll get a hotel. And you,” he pointed at his wife, “will crawl on your knees begging me to come back.”
“A hotel?” Anatoly repeated sarcastically. “With what money? We’ve only got enough left for gas back home. Vadik promised everything was taken care of!”
“I have money!” Vadim lied, rushing to the balcony.
Margarita watched him, leaning against the wall. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her hands trembled slightly, but a bitter smirk was frozen on her face.
A minute later Vadim returned from the balcony, pale as a sheet. In his hands he held an empty drill box.
“Where?” he whispered, staring at his wife with eyes wide in horror. “Where is the money, you bitch? Did you steal it?”
“Me?” Margarita raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t take a single kopeck. But I did see you three days ago, when you thought I was asleep, counting it and moving it into the pocket of your winter jacket. And yesterday you wore that jacket when you went to your friend’s garage to ‘fix the car.’”
Vadim rushed frantically into the hallway and began digging through the pockets of the jacket hanging there. Empty.
“Did you drink it away?” Galina gasped. “Vadik, did you blow a hundred thousand? Or gamble it? You said you were saving for business!”
Margarita knew the truth. She had seen the notification on his phone from a sports betting site. Vadim was reckless and stupid. He had lost everything, hoping to win it back before his relatives arrived, but instead he had lost even more. That was exactly why he was demanding food from her.
“I… it wasn’t me… she hid it!” Vadim squealed, pointing at Margarita.
“LIE!” Margarita roared. “Show them your phone! Your transaction history! RIGHT NOW!”
Vadim pressed his hand against the pocket where his smartphone lay. He was trapped. Anatoly, now understanding the situation, rose heavily from the sofa.
“So, son-in-law, you tricked us?” he asked grimly. “We drove halfway across the country to see you, even brought gifts…” He glanced at the package of dried fish lying in the corner. “And you’re broke? And you pushed your wife so far she’s attacking people?”
“Tolya, wait, I’ll explain everything!” Vadim backed away.
“And I’ll add something,” Margarita said clearly. “Vadim promised you he’d help Vityok get a job at the energy company, didn’t he? Well, they’re firing him in two weeks for absenteeism and stealing cable. The order is already on his boss’s desk. HR called me yesterday asking whether he was on a drinking binge.”
“What the hell are you saying?!” Vadim shrieked.
“It’s true!” Margarita threw her phone onto the floor, open to a message from Vadim’s coworker. “Read it! ‘Tell your husband to come collect his employment record before they fire him under an article.’”
Galina sat down on a chair and grabbed her head with both hands. Vityok chewed his lip in confusion. Anatoly clenched his fists. Their reliable, wealthy “city brother” had turned out to be bankrupt, jobless, and a liar.
Margarita looked at them with contempt. The fear was gone. Only disgust remained.
“Get out,” she said quietly. “All of you. Together with this failure.”
“It’s a shared apartment!” Vadim screamed. “I’m not leaving! I have rights!”
Margarita went to the hallway closet, took out a folder of documents, and pulled out a single sheet.
“Can you read? Residential lease agreement. Tenant: Margarita Sergeyevna Voronova. Only me. You’re not listed here even as a cat.”
Part 5. Darkness Is an Electrician’s Friend — But Not This Time
Vadim froze. He had always known that Margarita rented the apartment through her acquaintances at a reduced price, but over the years he had become so used to calling it his that he had started believing his own lie to his relatives.
“Your lease still has six months left!” he blurted out. “You can’t throw me out right now!”
“I can,” Margarita smiled cruelly. “Because I terminated the lease two days ago. I found a job in another city. A private boarding school with housing included. I’m leaving tonight. My train leaves in two hours.”
She nudged the suitcase standing behind the bedroom door with her foot. It was already packed. Vadim had not even noticed it, too absorbed in himself.
“And the landlord…” Vadim stammered.
“The landlord will be here in fifteen minutes to inspect the apartment. And if he sees a whole camp of people here, broken furniture, or the smell of your fish, he’ll keep the deposit. From me. And I’ll subtract that deposit from your life, Vadim. I’ll file a report about my jewelry that disappeared a month ago. I know you pawned it. I found the receipt in your jeans.”
Vadim’s face turned gray.
“So you… knew everything?”
“Everything. I endured it because I thought maybe you’d come to your senses. But ‘buy food’ was the final line.”
The doorbell rang. Firmly. Demanding.
“That’s the landlord,” Margarita lied, glancing at her watch. In reality, it was the private security team she had summoned with the key fob five minutes earlier while standing in the hallway. “You have three minutes.”
Anatoly spat on the floor.
“Pack up, Galya. We’re leaving. That worm has disgraced us.”
“Tolya, where are we supposed to go at night?” Galina wailed.
“To the car! We’ll sleep on the road if we have to. Won’t be the first time. And I’ll have a separate talk with your dear brother later.”
The relatives began frantically grabbing their bags. Vadim stood in the middle of the room, crushed and destroyed.
“Margo…” he whispered, trying to appeal to her pity. “Where am I supposed to go? It’s night, it’s cold… We’re family.”
“Family?” Margarita put on her coat and took her suitcase. “No, Vadim. Family is when people share bread, not when one person devours another. You have your relatives. Look how many of them there are — a whole carload. Ask Tolya. He’s kind.”
She opened the door, letting two solid men in private security uniforms into the apartment.
“Gentlemen,” she said to the guards. “These citizens refuse to leave the premises. I am the legal tenant, and I have the agreement in hand. Please help clear the apartment.”
“No problem,” one of the guards muttered, tapping his baton lightly. “Citizens, out. With your belongings. Quickly.”
Margarita stepped out onto the landing without looking back. Behind her she heard the uproar begin: Galina shrieking at the guards, Anatoly swearing at Vadim, and Vadim whining pitifully as he tried to justify himself.
But there was one more detail, the cherry on top, that Margarita had prepared for last. Being the wife of an electrician, she had learned a thing or two. Before leaving, she discreetly flipped a switch in the hidden panel in the vestibule, cutting power to the entire apartment.
The lights went out.
“Hey!” Vadim shouted from the darkness. “The power’s gone!”
“For nonpayment, Vadik!” Margarita called from the staircase, feeling a wild, intoxicating freedom fill her lungs. “I took the battery from your screwdriver. There’s no flashlight. Good luck in the dark with furious Tolik!”
She walked out of the building into the cool evening air and called a taxi. Her phone beeped — a message from the bank. The remaining money from the joint account, which she had managed to transfer to her own card a minute earlier, had arrived. It was not much, but it would be enough for the beginning.
From above, through the open window on the third floor, came shouting. The relatives were searching for the exit in the dark, tripping over scattered belongings. There were dull thuds and Vadim’s cries: “Tolya, don’t! Tolya, I’ll pay you back!”
Margarita got into the taxi and gave the address of the railway station. For the first time in many years, she was not going to buy food for someone else, not going to solve someone else’s problems, but going to live her own life.
And that feeling was sweeter than even the finest delicacy.