— Your leaving is not up for discussion. Pack your things and move out, — her husband said coldly.
The large living room smelled of vanilla. A handmade garland of paper flags stretched across the wall, something Lena had spent two evenings putting together. The flags were slightly crooked, but each one carried a letter, and together they read: “Tamara Igorevna, You’re the Best.”
Miron and Eva raced beneath the garland, jumping and stretching their hands upward, trying to touch it.
— Lena, why did you go to so much trouble? — Tamara Igorevna laughed as she looked at the cake with one oversized candle in the middle. — I’m sixty-five, not five.
— Exactly, — Lena replied. — At five, one balloon is enough. At sixty-five, you deserve a proper celebration, a banner, and a brass band. Unfortunately, the orchestra didn’t make it, so we’ll have Miron playing the spoons instead.
— I can do that! — Miron cried happily and immediately began banging two spoons together.
Polina quickly took them away from her son and slipped an arm around Lena’s shoulders.
 
Three years earlier, when Polina had been taken to the hospital for two weeks, Lena had taken the children into her own home without asking a single question. Polina had never forgotten it.
— Blow out the candle, — Polina told her mother. — And make a real wish. Don’t say, “I hope everyone stays healthy.” That’s not a wish. That’s a formality.
Tamara Igorevna smiled.
— I wish this table will always be too crowded for everyone sitting around it.
Then she blew out the candle.
And the table truly was crowded.
The only person missing was Nikolai. He had warned everyone that he would be late and finally arrived when the cake was nearly finished. He took off his shoes, gave one general nod to everyone without greeting anyone personally, and sat on the edge of the sofa.
— Happy birthday, — he said, pushing a gift bag toward his mother.
— Thank you, son. — Tamara Igorevna gently stroked the bag without opening it. — Sit down and eat something.
— I’m not hungry.
Lena placed a plate with the largest slice of cake in front of him anyway.
She and Nikolai had divorced three months earlier. There had been no shouting, no ugly battle over forks, dishes, or furniture. They had simply separated the way two people do when they realize there is no shared air left between them.
For the time being, however, they still lived in the same apartment.
 
The apartment belonged to Nikolai’s mother. Lena was officially registered there and, for the past eight years, had practically carried the household on her shoulders, from buying medicine for Tamara Igorevna to arranging repairs in the hallway.
— Kolya, you look terrible, — Polina remarked.
— I’m fine.
— He’s a very busy man, — Lena said. — Busy people always look gray. It’s their professional coloring. Eat the cake, Kolya. It’s politically neutral. It has no opinions.
Tamara Igorevna laughed.
Nikolai didn’t.
He ate two slices, got up, and disappeared into his room. He didn’t slam the door exactly, but he closed it in such a way that everyone heard it.
The guests left around ten.
Lena was clearing the table and carefully taking down the paper flags so the letters wouldn’t tear when Nikolai came out of his room.
He stopped in the doorway and spoke evenly, as though reading from someone else’s prepared list.
— Your leaving is not up for discussion. Pack your things and move out.
Lena did not turn around.
 
— Excellent ending to a birthday party. Cake first, eviction announcement second. You should have been a master of ceremonies.
— I’m serious. You have one week.
— I have legal registration here, eight years of taking care of your mother, and common sense. That’s a stronger package than your one-week ultimatum.
Nikolai stepped closer and stopped where the light from the room ended.
— We’re divorced. You are nobody to me now. Do you understand a simple word like nobody?
— I understand it perfectly. The word is simple. You’re the complicated part.
Lena finally turned toward him.
— But there’s one little problem, Kolya. This apartment doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Tamara Igorevna. Technically, you’re a guest here too. You just happen to have a very long history of visiting.
— I’m her son!
— And I’m the person who spent eight years bringing her medicine and washing her after surgery. Being someone’s son is not a lifetime government position with permanent benefits.
Nikolai turned pale.
His calm tone disappeared.
 
— Don’t you dare stand there counting your good deeds! You lived here with everything provided for you! You took advantage of all of us!
— I did, — Lena agreed calmly. — I took advantage of my right to behave like a human being. Apparently, that’s a feature you decided not to use.
— Keep making jokes. I’m warning you. One week. If you’re still here after that, I’ll carry your bags into the hallway myself.
— Then I’ll carry them back inside. My back is strong, and your patience is weak. We’ll see who gets tired first.
Nikolai clenched his jaw.
This was not how he had imagined the conversation.
He had expected confusion. Tears. A frightened question: “But where am I supposed to go?”
Lena’s parents lived nine hundred kilometers away, and Nikolai knew perfectly well that she had nowhere nearby to move.
— You have nowhere to go, — he said with visible satisfaction. — Do you understand that?
— Completely. And you understand it too. That’s exactly why you’re saying it.
She looked directly at him.
— Do you know the difference between a strong person and someone who is simply louder? A strong person doesn’t deliberately strike where he believes the other person has no protection.
— This is my life! — Nikolai snapped. — I want to start it without you!
— Then start it.
Lena folded the paper flags into a box.
— We have one door and you have two legs. Nobody is stopping you.
— I’m not going anywhere! This is my family’s home!
Lena smiled faintly.
— Now we’ve reached the interesting part, Kolya. You just called these people your family while trying to throw one of them out. You should decide which version of the story you’re going with. You’re using two arguments that cancel each other out.
 
On Saturday, Artyom came over.
He always entered other people’s homes as though he owned them. He took off his jacket, hung it on someone else’s hook, and spoke loudly enough for everyone in two rooms to hear him.
He had already been divorced twice and firmly believed that whenever a relationship ended, all bridges had to be burned immediately and completely.
— Lena, you’re still here? — he said with amusement. — Kolya, what are you waiting for? Things like this should be handled in one evening.
— Artyom, your jacket is hanging on my hook, — Lena replied. — Let’s begin with something simple. We’ll learn to distinguish what belongs to us from what belongs to someone else.
— Still joking, I see, — Artyom said, dropping into Tamara Igorevna’s armchair. — Listen, I mean this kindly. Let the man go. A man needs a clean start. Burn the bridges and move forward.
— Bridges are burned when enemies are chasing you, — Lena said. — But when your mother and your niece and nephew are standing on the other side, it isn’t really a bridge anymore. It’s a lifeline. Only a very special kind of person sets fire to that.
— You don’t understand male logic.
— I understand arithmetic. You’ve burned everything behind you twice already, and both times you ended up standing alone on the other shore with nothing but your principles. If you want to do it a third time, burn something that belongs to you.
Artyom opened the cardboard boxes he had brought and dropped them dramatically onto the floor.
— Look. I brought five boxes. Start packing. I’ll help carry them downstairs.
 
Lena stared at them.
— Five boxes. Artyom, you’re touching. Most people bring flowers when they visit. You bring eviction supplies. Next time, bring some rope and a conscience too. Though the second item may be difficult for you to find.
— Kolya, do you hear how she talks to a guest? — Artyom burst out.
— A guest is someone who was invited, — Lena replied. — Today you’re closer to a stage prop.
Nikolai stood in the doorway, his face rigid.
— Lena, enough with the circus. Pack your things. I’ve even found you somewhere to stay. A rented room for two months. I’ll pay for it myself.
Lena raised an eyebrow.
— You’re going to pay for me? Kolya, you couldn’t afford a new winter jacket in December. I bought it for you. Where did this sudden generosity come from? Did you discover buried treasure, or are you planning to sell something you never bought?
Artyom coughed and looked away.
Nikolai answered too quickly.
— None of your business.
— It’s already my business, — Lena said. — Because this apartment belongs to your mother, and I’m not blind. For two months you’ve been taking evening phone calls in the hallway, whispering the word “valuation.” I doubt you’re having our furniture valued. Most of it is older than our marriage.
— Were you spying on me?
— I live two meters away from your whispering. If you want secrets, keep them farther away than the hallway.
On Tuesday, Tamara Igorevna arrived unexpectedly with Polina.
Lena seated them both in the living room and sat opposite them, placing her phone on the table.
— Tamara Igorevna, I’m about to tell you something you won’t like, — she began. — But you’re an adult woman, and lying to you would be disrespectful.
— Tell me.
 
— Kolya wants me out. He has the right to ask, and I have the right to refuse. We’re adults. But that isn’t everything. He’s looking for a buyer for this apartment. He has also found a residential care facility outside the city for you. And he told Polina the whole idea came from me.
Polina suddenly sat upright.
— He did tell me that, — she confirmed. — His exact words were, “Lena insists on it. She’s tired of taking care of Mom.”
— I overheard the end of his conversation with Artyom, — Lena continued. — And I recorded it. Not because I wanted a scandal. I wanted proof so nobody could later say they misunderstood something.
She pressed play.
Artyom’s voice filled the room.
“Put your mother somewhere. She’ll sign whatever you give her. She won’t refuse you. Get Lena out first. She’s the main obstacle. Tell Polina it was Lena’s idea. Your sister will believe you.”
Then Nikolai’s voice:
“Polina will believe me. Mom will cry, but she’ll sign. Six months from now I’ll be free as the wind.”
Tamara Igorevna listened with both hands resting on her knees.
Then she spoke quietly.
— Turn it off.
At that exact moment, the lock clicked.
Nikolai came inside, saw everyone sitting there, and froze.
— What is going on?
 
— Family meeting, — Lena said. — You’ve arrived just in time for the main event.
— You recorded me?
His voice rose instantly.
— That’s disgusting! That’s an invasion of privacy!
— What’s disgusting is planning to sell your mother’s home and blaming it on my supposed demands, — Lena replied. — The recording only prevents you from calling everyone else liars afterward. I knew you would try.
— Mom, don’t believe her! She edited it! She cut pieces together!
Tamara Igorevna looked at him.
— Kolya, I can recognize your voice after three words. I’m the woman who taught that voice how to speak.
— I was trying to make things better! You’d have care there, doctors, a schedule!
— I already had care here, — Tamara Igorevna said. — Lena provided it. There was no schedule, perhaps, but there were hands that actually helped me.
Red blotches spread across Nikolai’s neck.
Then he exploded.
— What do all of you want from me? I owe everyone something! I owe my mother, I owe my sister, I owe her! When am I allowed to start living my own life?
— You already are living your life, — Lena said. — You simply chose the genre. In your version, there is only one main character. Everyone else is scenery that gets in the way.
— You destroyed me!
— Kolya, I didn’t even move you. You fell apart all by yourself. I simply refused to sign the acceptance papers.
Tamara Igorevna pushed herself up from the chair.
Polina moved to help her, but her mother gently brushed her hand aside.
— I’ve made my decision, — Tamara Igorevna said. — On Thursday I’m going to transfer ownership of the apartment. One half will go to Polina, for Miron and Eva. The other half will go to Lena.
Nikolai froze.
— And I get nothing?
— Nothing.
Tamara Igorevna’s voice remained steady.
— Not because I’m a vindictive old woman. Because a person who is trying to sell me cannot be trusted with something that can be sold.
— That isn’t fair! I’m your son!
— It’s very fair, — Polina said. — You lied to me about Lena so I would support you. You dragged me into your scheme like I was a piece of furniture. I won’t forget that, brother.
— Polina, since childhood you’ve always—
— Since childhood I’ve always covered for you, — she interrupted. — Not anymore. The cover is gone.
Nikolai turned toward Lena.
His voice became quieter, but more poisonous.
— This is what you wanted. You planned all of this. You’ve been preparing for years.
— Preparing?
Lena almost laughed.
— Kolya, I wasn’t preparing anything. People prepare revenge when they silently endure things for years. I didn’t endure you. I simply respected people. Apparently, respect turns out to be a frightening weapon when it’s used against someone who doesn’t understand it.
— Where am I supposed to go now?!
— Interesting question, isn’t it? — Lena said. — You spent the whole week asking me the same thing. Funny how well it works when the roles are reversed.
She paused.
— You do have a friend with strong opinions. Artyom can take you in. He’s an expert at burning bridges. I’m sure he always has matches nearby.
 
Nikolai grabbed his phone and called Artyom right there in front of everyone.
The answer was brief.
“Listen, my place isn’t a public hostel. Find somewhere else.”
Then the call ended.
Lena gave Nikolai a long look.
— And there you have male logic. It works beautifully as long as someone else’s bridge is burning.
Nikolai stood in the middle of the room.
And slowly, painfully, reality reached him.
He had no apartment.
No sister on his side.
No mother willing to protect him.
No loyal friend.
No wife whom he could send into nowhere.
All he had left was his jacket hanging from somebody else’s hook.
— Lena, — he said in a completely different voice. — Can we talk like normal people?
— Of course.
She looked at him calmly.
— Like normal people: you have one week. Pack your things and move out. Your wording, Kolya. I only changed the name.
He looked up at her.
For the first time in three months, there was something new in his eyes.
Fear.
 
— You’re throwing me out of my mother’s home?
— Your mother will decide who lives in her home, — Lena said. — I’ll put it another way. You can stay if you become a decent human being. Not tomorrow. Not with promises. For real.
She counted on her fingers.
— Apologize to Polina. Start taking your mother to her doctors yourself. Stop treating other people’s lives like storage space for your convenience. I’m not boarding up the door in your face. But I’m done laying out the welcome mat for you too.
Tamara Igorevna walked toward the hallway and stopped beside the front door.
— Kolya, — she said without turning around. — I am signing everything on Thursday. And I truly hope that by the time you are fifty, you manage to become the man I tried to raise.
She paused.
— You still have some time left.
Then she added quietly:
— But not very much.
The door closed behind her.
 
Polina followed, pausing only long enough to squeeze Lena’s hand.
Nikolai slowly sank to the floor beside the wall.
He said nothing.
Lena reached up and removed the final paper flag from the string.
It had the letter “T” written on it.
She placed it carefully into the box with all the others.
The garland would be useful again.
The table would still be crowded someday.
The only question was whether Nikolai would become the kind of person who deserved a seat at it.