— What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting so high and mighty?” Anna Mikhailovna looked sternly at her daughter-in-law.
“Don’t like it? Then get out that door,” the latter replied calmly.
Lena cooked fairly well. Even good, if one were to believe her husband. But when she met her mother-in-law, it turned out that Anna Mikhailovna cooked “swill,” and serving such food to “decent people is a crime.”
Lena felt hurt because her husband and son really liked her borscht and cutlets. Moreover, she was on first-name terms with baking and often treated the family to freshly baked, rosy pies and charlottes.
“Don’t mind her, the main thing is that it tastes good,” her husband reassured Lena. “You understand, she means no harm. It’s just her clumsy way of trying to help you.”
“Well, you know! Calling that help is a stretch,” Lena complained. “With such compliments, she scares everyone around her.”
“Enough already,” her husband sighed. “Look, she’s not even speaking with Aunt Shura anymore. That woman got offended because she called her fried potatoes ‘burnt’.”
“Maybe it’s better for her not to eat as a guest if she doesn’t like anything?”
“Maybe, but you can’t change her. All you can do is endure it.”
“Or not invite her at all?” Lena looked at her husband plaintively.
“Come on, Lena, we promised that her birthday would be celebrated at our place.”
Lena sighed deeply.
“We promised.”
For two weeks, Lena began preparing for her mother-in-law’s celebration. She decided to use this as another chance to set a “proper table” and called to find out what Anna Mikhailovna would personally like to see on the table.
“Anna Mikhailovna, have you forgotten about our family get-together?”
“Well, if you call my serious date that, then I haven’t forgotten,” the mother-in-law answered, a bit hurt.
“Tell me, please, what would you like to see on the table?” Lena preferred to ignore the previous remark.
“Preferably something baked, not burnt, and with an appetizing texture,” the woman replied snarkily.
“I’ll do my best to keep that in check,” Lena again ignored her mother-in-law’s barb.
“Well then, I don’t care what’s there. Prepare a couple of salads; Alyosha loves the ‘capital-style’ one and the one with pink salmon. For the hot dish, something, and I’ll bring a cake from the pastry shop.”
But Lena knew very well that the mother-in-law didn’t really care. Such indulgence was something Anna Mikhailovna would never allow herself. She clearly wanted to decorate her own celebration with another humiliation for her daughter-in-law. After all, their family had the financial means to celebrate in a café. But no! The dear old lady had asked, as a gift, to set the table at their home so that she wouldn’t have to fuss over the stove and could simply relax.
But this time, Lena would be prepared.
“Alyosha, sit at the table!” Lena shouted at her husband as soon as he stepped through the apartment door.
“And what, can I even not wash my hands?” he asked with an amused smile.
“You’ll wash them here,” Lena pointed to the kitchen sink. “Open your mouth!” She handed him a spoon filled with salad mixture. “Is it good or not?”
“What is this anyway?” Her husband happily accepted the treat and started chewing enthusiastically.
“I prepared several versions of your favorite salads. Three ‘capital-style’ and three with pink salmon. You must say which one you think is the best. And if your deeply respected mother makes even one remark, you’ll take my side and say that you insisted on that particular recipe!”
“You’re so clever!” her husband laughed. “Alright, deal! You’d do anything for such a generous tasting.”
On the eve of the fateful day, Lena had ironed shirts for her boys, brought out a new tablecloth, and even bought a bouquet of flowers for the table so that everything would look, as she put it, “more sophisticated.”
“Dima, don’t slurp at the table!” she handed out her final instructions to her son and husband. “Alyosha, translate the conversation from the heated topics to neutral ones on time.”
“Don’t get so nervous; even if she doesn’t like something, what’s it to us?” her husband cautiously suggested.
“No, no! I want everything to be perfect. And if that witch picks on anything, everyone will see that it’s just petty nitpicking. Let her be ashamed this time.”
Besides Anna Mikhailovna, Lena had other guests. Sister-in-law Vika, who was always glued to her phone and had little interest in the occasion; Uncle Vitaliy, who was always up for “a little fun,” as he put it; and that very Aunt Shura with whom Anna Mikhailovna had established a temporary truce. Alyosha suspected it was all just for the sake of the gift.
“Oh, and you even put flowers on the table, good job! I just adore fresh flowers at home,” Aunt Shura praised the hostess.
“Thank you, I love them too,” Lena replied with a grateful smile.
“So, there were enough funds for a bouquet for everyone, but not for the mother…” Anna Mikhailovna muttered under her breath.
“No, not at all. There’s one for you too!” Lena brought out a large bouquet for the mother-in-law from the adjacent room. “Happy Birthday!”
Anna Mikhailovna did not expect such a turn of events and crumpledly thanked her daughter-in-law.
“Alyosha, Dima, will you help with the salads?”
Aleksey brought a large glass bowl with the ‘capital-style’ salad from the kitchen, and Dima a dish with layered fish salad.
They didn’t immediately find a place for the appetizers, as the table also had vegetables, fruits, meat platters, and cheeses… Lena had tried to please every taste.
“Oh, don’t pile that on me!” Anna Mikhailovna said distastefully, pointing at the ‘capital-style’ bowl.
“Why not? You asked for the ‘capital-style’,” Lena replied calmly.
“Is that the ‘capital-style’? It doesn’t look very good.”
“Anna, come on, let’s just drink and snack.” Uncle Vitaliy impatiently interrupted. He had long been nervously fiddling with his shot glass while eyeing the condensation on the bottle on the table.
“Really!” Aunt Shura cheerfully raised her shot glass.
“Happy Birthday, Mom!”
Anna Mikhailovna nodded and began to pick at the salad meticulously.
“What is this? The meat is like rubber, and the cucumbers are slimy. Change my plate—I’ll take something else,” the mother-in-law summarized.
“And do you like your salad?” Lena asked Uncle Vitaliy with the same unruffled tone.
He jumped in surprise and nearly spilled his drink, which he had been pouring while all attention was focused on his sister.
“It’s nice, very tasty,” he said, looking at his empty plate, “and the little cucumbers are good, they taste homemade.”
“I really liked the salad too,” Aunt Shura added, “the beef is tender, not a single piece was tough.”
“Vika, put your phone away for a second. Please try the salad too,” Lena gently but firmly urged her sister-in-law.
Vika looked up from her smartphone in surprise.
“Okay, thank you.”
She set aside her phone and sent a spoonful of salad to her mouth. After chewing, she smiled and said:
“Listen, it’s very tasty! I hadn’t tried it with beef before; Mom always cooked with chicken. Mom, why don’t we cook with beef from now on?” Vika addressed Anna Mikhailovna.
“I wouldn’t be able to cook it even if I tried. I’m used to cooking with good ingredients, and your fish dish is a joke even for chickens.”
“But you haven’t even tried it,” Lena began to boil over, but she struggled to keep herself in check.
“Why should I try it if it doesn’t even look appetizing?”—she practically spat out the juice; the liquid from the fish needed to be drained. Honestly, she prepared it as if it were for pigs…
Anna Mikhailovna pushed her plate of salad aside and reached for a fork to spear a piece of sausage, but Lena grabbed the plate away from her.
“If you don’t like my food, get out of my house. This isn’t a restaurant,” the daughter-in-law, exhausted from enduring her mother-in-law’s reproaches, declared.
Anna Mikhailovna froze with her fork in mid-air. She couldn’t believe that her daughter-in-law had the nerve not only to contradict her but also to kick her out of the table on her own celebration.
“Yes, yes. You heard it correctly. I see that everyone present likes the food. But every time you criticize my cooking so rudely, it seems to me that it would be a relief for you to leave this table—and the house where it has been so terribly set.”
Anna Mikhailovna looked at her son questioningly.
“Alyosha isn’t obliged to stand up for you,” Lena took the initiative, “if you don’t respect your own son’s tastes, why should he take your side?”
It was clear that Anna Mikhailovna was flustered, and for a moment, Lena even felt sorry for her, but she pulled herself together and repeated:
“Anna Mikhailovna, please leave.”
“Anna, you’re always dissatisfied with everything. Everyone devours my fried potatoes, and you call them ‘burnt, burnt’… So? Why are you looking at me like that? Isn’t it so?” Aunt Shura recalled an old sore subject.
“Forget all of you…” Anna Mikhailovna managed to say before turning and walking toward the door. But she stopped, turned back, retrieved her bouquet from the vase, and stepped into the hallway.
“You didn’t even spare the flowers. And that’s something,” observed Uncle Vitaliy.
After that, Anna Mikhailovna no longer visited them. She would call Alyosha exclusively to ask how he and Dima were doing. She never asked about Lena, but it couldn’t be said that Lena was upset—if anything, it was the opposite.
A pleasant bonus was that the relatives began to respect Lena more after that incident. Even Vika set aside her smartphone at the table and started asking if the hostess needed help. Needless to say, all family celebrations were held at Lena and Alyosha’s place from then on, while the mother-in-law continued to ignore these gatherings, holding a grudge against both her daughter-in-law and Aunt Shura, and even against her own daughter who had betrayed her right before everyone’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, it’ll pass and she’ll cool off,” Uncle Vitaliy promised everyone, though he never specified when.