“Just look at her, Yurochka!” Elsa Naumovna started up the moment she walked in, adjusting her chunky amber necklace over her sweater.
“It’s already almost noon! And she’s just now tossing eggs in the pan! Is this what a real homemaker looks like? She’s going to dump all the kids on you!”
Evelina turned down the heat under the frying pan and sprinkled some greens over the tomatoes. She wore comfy pajama pants and a light sweater, her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.
There were just two weeks until her wedding with Yuri. They planned to sign the papers at the end of May. No loans for limos or big banquets.
Half a year ago, Yuri moved into Evelina’s two-bedroom apartment, the one she’d gotten with a mortgage three years back.
At first, everything was peaceful. Evelina worked from home as an accountant, made her bank payments herself, and never asked anyone for a cent.
Just last night she cleared a wide shelf in the entryway closet. She wanted to finally have a spot for Yuri’s summer shirts—instead of letting his duffel bag gather dust up above for half a year.
But then his future mother-in-law got in the habit of coming by every Saturday. Elsa Naumovna would arrive in her stylish buttoned cardigan, with bold lipstick and immediately start an inspection.
“Mom, please, not again,” Yuri mumbled, leaning against the windowsill.
“We went to bed late yesterday. Evelina had her quarterly reports to finish.”
“Oh, her reports!” Elsa Naumovna snorted, pushing the breadbox aside at the edge of the dining table.
“She just sits at home behind a laptop, doesn’t know a thing about real life! Not a single pot of real borscht, no cabbage pies. Family is hard work, sweetheart! And you’re just taking in some spoiled little princess, Yura.”
“This is getting interesting, Elsa Naumovna,” Evelina remarked as she served scrambled eggs onto the plates.
“It’s my apartment. The groceries were bought with my salary. I’m the one cooking. So, who exactly is mooching off whom here?”
“Don’t talk back to your elders!” her future mother-in-law snapped at her.
“I’ve lived a long life and I can’t be fooled. I know all about these remote workers. First, you can’t be bothered to cook anything fancy, and then, after you have a kid, it only gets worse!”
The man comes home tired from work, and you just hand him the baby’s diapers and go lay down!”
Yuriy stared down at the floor. He had no intention of putting his mother in her place.
“Evelin, well… Mom is kind of right,” he muttered reluctantly.
“You are home all day. You could have cooked some soup this morning, and really ironed my pants. The ironing board has been folded up by the wall since Thursday.”
“Hold on a second,” Evelina shot her fiancé a piercing look.
“On Thursday, I was up until midnight reconciling accounts. And you spent the whole evening on your phone. Were your own hands busy?”
“What do my hands have to do with it?” Yuriy grumbled.
“A man’s job is to bring home the mammoth. It’s the woman’s job to keep the home cozy! My mom managed everything—she worked at the factory, brought two bags of squash home from the dacha by bus, and cooked for all of us!”
“Oh, don’t even get me started, son!” Elsa Naumovna chimed in immediately, placing her hand dramatically to her chest.
“You stand on your feet all day at the factory, drag two bags of squash from the dacha on the bus, and still manage to cook for the whole crowd!”
But girls these days can’t even manage a simple scrambled egg without passing out. I worry about you, Yuriy! Oh, I really do!”
Evelina leaned her hip against the kitchen set. She couldn’t even stay angry anymore—the audacity was just too funny.
The thing is, late last night while Yuriy was in the shower, Elsa Naumovna sent her a long message.
It listed, by date, every weekend in June, July and August.
Yuriy’s younger sister, twenty-nine-year-old Kseniya, and her husband had a wild summer planned—with trips to resorts, barbecues at friends’, and two weeks at the beach.
And they’d decided that every Friday, their two rambunctious sons—just five and six years old—would be dropped off at Evelina’s place.
In the message, her mother-in-law laid out precise instructions. Feed the boys steamed cutlets, make sure to cook porridge without lumps, and take them for two walks a day in the avenue near the house.
At the very bottom there was a note: “Don’t tell Yuriy yet. His hands are hopeless, he’d go crazy with the kids after just an hour, and only get in the way. Just feed them yourself and put them to bed in the small room. Let Yuriy sleep on the couch.”
So, for her own future kids, Evelina is apparently a lazy mother who’ll dump everything on her husband. But for someone else’s rowdy kids all summer—she’s expected to be a free nanny and cook!
“Why so quiet, dear?” Elsa Naumovna asked with a biting tone.
“Nothing to say? Does the truth sting?”
“Just thinking, Elsa Naumovna,” Evelina replied lazily.
“How are you not afraid to have a daughter-in-law like me? According to you, I can’t even wash a spoon or look after a child properly.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll shake all that out of you!” her future mother-in-law said smugly.
“You won’t get away with anything in my house. Once you’ve lived in a real family, you’ll learn to get moving!”
“You might want to shake it off yourself first,” Evelina replied gently.
Elza Naumovna was so outraged she even opened her mouth to respond, but didn’t get a chance. The doorbell rang in the hallway—two long rings, then three more in a row. Only her sister-in-law ever rang like that.
Yuri went to answer the door. His mother-in-law perked up noticeably, adjusted her necklace, and shot a sneaky glance toward the hallway.
“Oh look, it’s Ksyusha!” she sang out melodiously.
“Perfect timing!”
Ksenia appeared in the doorway, her beige coat unbuttoned. She slid a stuffed children’s backpack, decorated with little cars, off her shoulder and dropped it right on the bench in the hallway.
“Phew, barely made it!” she rattled off quickly, peeking into the open closet.
“It’s scorching outside and the minibus was a sauna—just brutal! Oh, Evelin, did you leave an empty shelf in the closet?”
Lovely! I’ll put the boys’ spare shorts and sandals here, so I don’t have to haul bags every Friday.
Yuri stared at his sister in confusion.
“What shorts, Ksyukh?” he asked again.
“Why are your boys’ things in our closet?”
“Oh, Yura, don’t be dense!” Ksenia waved him off as she stuffed a pile of kids’ clothes onto a shelf by the mirror.
“My husband and I are heading to a resort tonight for his friend’s birthday. Dad’s fixing the porch at the dacha. Mom’s off to the sanatorium with a friend tomorrow to buy tickets.”
So, my husband will drop the boys off here at six this evening—they’ll stay until Sunday! Let’s call it a dress rehearsal for summer!
“What summer rehearsal?” Yuri looked uncertainly from his sister to his mom.
“Wait, we were supposed to go to the mall tomorrow! We have to pick up the rings and the wedding suit!”
“You’ll get your suit after work on a weekday, what’s the big deal?” Ksenia said sharply, heading to the kitchen and pulling a folded sheet of notebook paper from her pocket.
“Here, Evelina, take this cheat sheet. It lists what time the little one needs nasal drops and which stories to read them at bedtime.”
Just so you know, my boys have personality! If they refuse to eat porridge without lumps, make them pancakes instead. You’re staying home anyway!
Ksenia put the sheet of notebook paper on the edge of the dining table.
Evelina sank heavily onto the stool by the window sill and rubbed her temples wearily.
For a few seconds, she stared at the sheet covered in handwriting. Her hands rested on her knees. She didn’t feel like arguing or making excuses anymore.
Then she looked up, picked up her phone from the windowsill, and unlocked the screen.
“Yura, come here,” Evelina called, her voice calm.
“Take a look.”
“Evelina, don’t you dare!” Elza Naumovna cried, even standing up from her seat in alarm.
“We agreed this as family! Why involve a man in women’s business?”
“Let’s be honest,” Evelina cut her off, handing her phone to her fiancé.
“Read it out loud, Yura. Start from last night.”
Yuri took the phone, frowned and mumbled to himself, then began reading aloud:
“Evelina, sending you the summer schedule. First weekend of June—Ksyusha and her husband go fishing, boys are with you from Friday after five. Second weekend—Ksyusha has the salon and friends, you pick the kids up from daycare yourself…”
What is this, Mom?!
“What’s so wrong about that?” Elza Naumovna shot back, chin raised in defiance.
— Ksyushenka is swamped with two little ones! The young people need a break too! And your fiancée is just sitting at home in the warmth on her computer. She’s not going to break if she babysits her nephews for a bit!
— Keep reading, — Evelina’s voice grew stronger.
— The very last paragraph, Yura. What your mom wrote about you.
Yuri swallowed nervously and read through to the end:
— “Don’t tell Yura yet. His hands just aren’t made for this, he’ll lose his mind with the kids in an hour, just get underfoot. Feed them yourself and put them to sleep in the small room, let Yura sleep on the couch.”
Mom, what is that supposed to mean?!
— It means exactly that, son! — Elza Naumovna cried out, waving her hands.
— I’m just looking out for you! You need rest after a working week! And she should practice if she doesn’t have the chops to be a housewife!
Evelina stood up from the stool and took Ksenia’s piece of paper from the table.
— So here’s the deal, — she said, looking her future mother-in-law straight in the eye.
— Just ten minutes ago you were going on and on about what a terrible housekeeper I am and how I’ll dump our future kids on Yura.
And at the same time, you’ve mapped out all my weekends for the next three months so I can be a free babysitter for Ksenia’s kids!
— Oh, come on, you’re making a big deal out of nothing! — Ksenia snapped back, hands on her hips.
— Is it so hard to look after two boys? Family is supposed to help each other! We’re relatives!
— But I didn’t sign up to be a babysitter, — Evelina shot back.
— Why should I have to waste my weekends while you’re off at country resorts? There won’t be any kids here in my apartment—tonight, or in June.
— What do you mean there won’t be?! — Ksenia squealed.
— We already paid for the cottage! We won’t get the deposit back! Where am I supposed to put the boys on Saturday afternoon?!
— Take them to your mom, — Evelina handed the page from the notebook back to her sister-in-law.
— Elza Naumovna is a powerhouse. She worked at the factory and used to haul bags of squash from the garden. Two grandkids should be a breeze for such a model housekeeper.
— How dare you talk to your elders like that, shameless girl?! — Elza Naumovna flared up, her cheeks blotching red.
— My blood pressure is up now! I need my rest! Yura, why are you just standing there? Tell her off! Tell her the nephews are coming to your place today!
Evelina turned to her fiancé.
— Well, Yura? — she asked.
— It’s your call. Either your mom and sister take this backpack off the bench and clear my shelf right now, or all three of you leave.
Yuri shifted from foot to foot and looked pleadingly at his fiancée.
— Come on, Evelin, let’s not make a scene, okay? — he whined.
— What, you really can’t watch the boys for just two days? Ksyuha is going to lose her deposit. We could just put some cartoons on for them and boil a few sausages. Why get the whole family fighting over something so minor, especially right before the wedding?
— She’s right, Evelin! — Ksenia cut in, sensing her brother might give in.
— Yurka is a good man, he gets it! Just stay home this weekend, your wedding rings won’t run away!
And in June we’ll bring you a sack of new potatoes from the garden as a thank you!
— A sack of potatoes for three months’ work as a 24/7 nanny? — Evelina even raised an eyebrow.
— Wow, that’s generous, alright. But Yura, seems like you forgot what your mom said in her message. No cartoons, and no sausages!
You’re all thumbs—you’ll be sleeping on the sofa while I’m juggling two little kids and cooking in our tiny apartment!
— Come on, don’t nitpick every word! — Yury grimaced and waved his hand dismissively.
— Mom was just talking, that’s all. I’ll help you, take them out to the yard once or twice. No need to throw out your own sister over something petty! Give them a break, be the bigger person!
Evelina looked at this 34-year-old man in a soft hoodie, who, even in her own mortgaged apartment, wouldn’t dare say a word against his mother or sister.
And yet, how easily he just signed her up for a whole summer as a free maid—all for someone else’s barbecue!
And suddenly, Evelina felt as light as if she had shrugged off a heavy bag from her shoulders.
— I see, — she said.
— No further questions. There won’t be a wedding, Yura. We’re not going to the registry office.
— Are you crazy?! — Yury exclaimed in shock.
— You’d cancel the wedding over your nephews?!
— Not because of my nephews. But because I don’t need to run a traveling daycare, or have a husband who wants to please his mom and sister at my expense.
Evelina walked into the hallway, opened the closet, and gathered up the children’s shorts and sandals from the shelf.
She placed them on top of a backpack stuffed with toy cars. Then, she pulled down Yury’s travel duffel from the top shelf where it had been gathering dust for six months.
— Take these, — she set the duffel bag by the door.
— Your shirts and jackets, you can pack up yourself—sorry they’re not ironed. And feel free to take the ironing board to your mom’s place with you.
— Yura, pack up! — commanded Elza Naumovna sternly, sweeping in from the kitchen.
— Don’t lower yourself in front of this selfish woman! Let her sit alone with her balance sheets! Let’s see how long it takes before she comes crawling back for forgiveness!
— And you’ll be kicking yourself! — blurted out Ksenia, grabbing the kids’ backpack and a piece of paper from the table.
— You just let such a great man go out of sheer stubbornness!
Yury lingered at the door, clearly hoping his fiancée would change her mind, apologize, and agree to all their conditions.
But Evelina just opened the closet wider, waiting for him to take his jackets off the hangers.
What else could he do—fifteen minutes later, Yury, looking gloomier than ever, grabbed his stuffed duffel and trudged after his mother and sister to the elevator.
Two months passed. July was scorching hot.
On Saturday morning, Evelina was crossing the square to the bus stop—planning to spend the weekend at her friend’s dacha. By a bench near a neighboring building, she was stopped by a familiar elderly neighbor from Elza Naumovna’s building.
— Oh, Evelina, you’re glowing! — the neighbor beamed, nodding toward the second floor.
— And your would-be in-laws? Wild chaos for the second weekend in a row! Ksyusha went off to the sea, dumped the boys on grandma, and Elza Naumovna used her blood pressure as an excuse and took off to a health resort!
Evelina glanced up and couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
On the second-floor balcony was a sweaty, sleep-deprived Yury, holding a folded notebook page and shouting to two messy boys in the yard that there would be no cartoons without porridge—no lumps allowed. In response, loud cries were coming from the sandbox.
Be careful what you fight for—you just might get it!
