Lida took out another tray of meat from the oven. The May heat was unbearable, and in the kitchen, warmed up from constant cooking, it was even harder. Wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, Lida glanced quickly out the window. Outside, her husband Sasha was enthusiastically discussing a new quad bike model with friends, waving a beer bottle. Laughter, conversations, and music spread across their country house’s yard.
The country house was the pride of the couple. Two floors, spacious rooms, a terrace, and a small plot of land. Not a villa, of course, but also not the cramped city apartment where they had lived during their first three years of marriage. They bought it a little over four years ago — took out a mortgage, spent all their savings, but now they had their own corner in the village, half an hour’s drive from the city. A perfect place for rest, guests, and life.
The first May holidays after the move were wonderful. Lida happily bustled in the kitchen, preparing treats for friends. Sasha took care of the meat on the grill. The guests — three couples of their closest friends — helped set the table, clean up, wash dishes. It was truly fun — with music, dancing, games until dawn.
“Lida, your appetizers are so tasty! Teach me your recipes!” marveled Marina, a friend from university.
“Cooking for such grateful guests is a pleasure,” Lida replied sincerely.
By the second year, the picture changed. Sasha suddenly invited not only close friends but also colleagues from work, and the number of guests grew to fifteen. Lida had to buy groceries on an industrial scale. She spent the whole day before the guests’ arrival in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, baking meat, preparing snacks. The new guests behaved differently — they considered themselves invited to everything ready-made, offering no help.
“Lidochka, you’re a real hostess! Sasha is such a lucky guy!” said the colleagues’ wives, happily devouring her dishes.
Lida just smiled. She still enjoyed being a hospitable hostess, though by the end of the celebrations, she felt like a squeezed lemon.
By the third year, the guest list grew to twenty-five people. Now it included not only Sasha’s colleagues but also neighbors, acquaintances of acquaintances, and some people Lida barely knew. Cooking became a real assembly line. Lida got up at seven in the morning to marinate meat, prepare salads, bake pies, slice snacks. All this had to be done by noon when the first guests started arriving. Then came the endless trays, plates, glasses that had to be served on time, cleared away, and washed.
“Lidok, you’re our home hearth fairy!” Sasha patted her on the shoulder, not even noticing his wife was dead tired.
Lida smiled less and less, more often caught herself thinking that this was no longer a celebration but hard labor.
“Do you remember where our big salad bowls are?” Lida asked once before another May holiday.
“No idea,” shrugged Sasha without looking up from his laptop. “You know where everything is. By the way, I invited Vitalich with his wife and daughter. You don’t mind?”
“Which Vitalich? The one who spilled a glass of wine on the sofa last year?” Lida asked, feeling irritation rising inside.
“Yeah, that one. But he’s a great guy, the soul of the party,” Sasha replied. “And the Sergeevs are coming too. You don’t know them, they’re colleagues of the new boss. We need to keep up relations, you know?”
Lida understood. She understood that behind those words were another five or six people for whom she would have to cook, wash dishes, and clean up. And she would be the only one doing it.
“Maybe we could order at least part of the food from a catering service?” Lida suggested. “I just physically won’t have time to cook everything.”
“What?!” Sasha was surprised. “That’s crazy expensive! Your food always turns out so tasty. Why pay when you do great yourself?”
And Lida managed. She cooked, smiled, accepted compliments from guests. Then she spent another week cleaning the house of the traces of “fun” — stains on the furniture, scattered cigarette butts, sticky spots from spilled drinks.
In the fourth year, Lida realized she couldn’t go on like this. A week before the holidays, when Sasha started making the guest list as usual, she gathered courage to talk.
“Sash, maybe this time we keep it modest?” Lida began cautiously. “Invite only close friends? Like the first year after the move.”
“Lidok, what are you saying?” Sasha was surprised. “This is already a tradition! Everyone’s waiting for our May get-togethers. The colleagues have already bought train tickets.”
“Have you thought that for me these ‘get-togethers’ are all work?” Lida sat down on the edge of the chair and looked at her husband.
“But you like cooking!” Sasha was genuinely surprised. “You always said you love hosting guests.”
“I did. When it was a shared effort,” Lida clarified. “But every year there are more guests, and less help from you. You invite friends and colleagues, and then I have to work like a draft horse to feed and serve everyone.”
“Serve?” Sasha frowned. “Lid, these are just friendly get-togethers. Don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” Lida shook her head. “Last year I counted: I cooked twenty kilograms of meat, ten kilograms of potatoes, fifteen salads. Washed a mountain of dishes. And what did you do? Stood by the grill with a beer telling jokes.”
“Hey, I was grilling the meat!” Sasha protested.
“Yes, six skewers. The rest I cooked in the oven,” Lida reminded him. “And then I cleaned the house for a week from the aftermath of the drinking.”
“Are you serious?” Sasha put down his pen and looked intently at his wife. “I thought you liked our May holidays. Everyone loves your cooking. Remember how Inna said your potatoes were out of this world?”
“I remember,” Lida nodded. “And I also remember that same Inna never once offered to help with dishes or cleaning. And neither did you, by the way. As if I’m a hired cook, not the lady of the house.”
Sasha frowned. They’d never had a talk like this before.
“Maybe this time we organize it differently?” Sasha suggested after a pause. “Like, everyone brings something to the table?”
“Uh-huh,” Lida smiled skeptically. “And someone will bring a bag of chips, and someone nothing at all, like Vitalik last time. And I’ll still have to cook.”
“Alright,” Sasha agreed. “I’ll help you cook.”
“Like last time? When you cut one cucumber and then ran off to meet Kirill?”
Sasha sighed.
“Lid, why are you starting this? We always had such great May holidays. Everyone’s waiting…”
“That’s exactly it,” Lida interrupted. “Everyone expects me to slave away. But I don’t want to anymore.”
“So what do you suggest?” Sasha crossed his arms. “Cancel everything? Call everyone and say no party?”
“No,” Lida shook her head. “I suggest you actually participate in preparations. For real, not just for show. And guests should help too, not just eat and drink.”
“Lid, these are our friends! It’s awkward to make them…”
“And is it convenient to make me?” Lida was barely holding back her emotions. “Why should I serve a crowd, half of whom I don’t even know?”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Sasha frowned. “You know them.”
“Do I?” Lida raised an eyebrow. “Who is Karina who came with Igor last year?”
“Well… that’s his girlfriend,” Sasha answered uncertainly.
“Wife,” Lida corrected. “They’ve been married three years and have two kids. That’s how well you know your ‘friends.’ And I have to cook for them, smile, clean up after them!”
Sasha was silent, clearly unsure what to say.
“You know what?” Lida stood up. “I’m not against guests. Really. But I’m against being a servant. If you want to throw a party — do it. But either we do it together, or not at all.”
“So, if I don’t help, you won’t cook?” Sasha clarified.
“Exactly,” Lida answered firmly. “And I want guests to help too. At least clean up their dishes. And no Vitaliches with their ‘oh, I don’t know where you keep anything’ and spilled wine on the sofa!”
“You can’t tell me who to invite!” Sasha snapped.
“I can,” Lida replied calmly. “Because this is my home too. And I don’t want it turned into a thoroughfare.”
“But I’ve already invited everyone!” Sasha exclaimed. “Twenty-eight people!”
“Twenty-eight?!” Lida stared at her husband in disbelief. “Sasha, are you crazy? Where will they all fit?”
“Well, outside…” Sasha said uncertainly. “The weather will be good…”
“And if it rains?” Lida asked.
“There won’t be rain,” Sasha waved it off. “I checked the forecast.”
“You invite guests for May holidays and I’m the cook again?” Lida was outraged.
Sasha frowned, clearly not expecting such a reaction.
“Lid, why are you starting this? Everyone’s already looking forward to it…”
“Everyone’s looking forward to it,” Lida repeated slowly. “But did anyone ask me? I want to relax over the May holidays, not stand at the stove for three days.”
Sasha sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Deep down, he knew Lida was right, but he didn’t want to change the usual routine.
“Okay, let’s do it this way,” Lida proposed, sitting across from Sasha. “We have two options. First: if it’s a celebration, everyone participates — or no one does. Second: you hold the celebration as you want, and I leave for those days. The house is fully yours.”
“You’re leaving?” Sasha even opened his mouth in surprise. “Where?”
“To my mom’s,” Lida shrugged. “Or to some resort. Doesn’t matter. The main thing is I want to rest during the holidays too, not work as a free waitress.”
“Oh, come on,” Sasha waved it off. “What resort? This is a tradition!”
“A tradition,” Lida nodded. “But for some reason, in this tradition I’m the only one working while everyone else has fun. That won’t do, Sash. Either equal participation or the house is mine for those days. I want to rest too.”
Sasha looked at his wife in confusion. Lida had never protested before, always been “the soul of the company,” “the home hearth fairy,” as guests called her. And now she suddenly rebelled.
“But how do I explain to them that there won’t be a party?” Sasha asked confusedly.
“Who said there won’t be?” Lida was surprised. “I’m not against guests. I’m against everyone sitting idle while I cook, serve, and clean. Let everyone contribute.”
“You want me to ask guests to help?” Sasha asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
“Not just help,” Lida shook her head. “Participate equally. Someone brings ready snacks, someone cooks on site, someone grills meat, someone washes dishes. All together.”
Sasha thought about it. The idea seemed crazy — to ask guests to work? But on the other hand, Lida looked absolutely serious.
“What if they don’t want to?” Sasha asked.
“Then they’re not real friends,” Lida answered simply. “Real friends don’t expect you to slave while they party.”
Silence fell. Sasha tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. Lida waited calmly.
“Alright,” Sasha finally said. “I’ll talk to them. But what if they refuse?”
“Then it’s up to you,” Lida shrugged. “Throw the party as you want, but without me. I’ll leave for those days.”
Sasha’s face showed he didn’t like this turn at all. May holidays without Lida? Who would make the signature potato salad? Who would bake the honey cake everyone loves?
“I… will think about it,” Sasha said uncertainly.
Lida nodded and left the room, leaving her husband alone with his thoughts.
For two days Sasha was gloomier than a thundercloud. He tried to talk to Lida about the upcoming holiday, but she was firm. Finally, on the third day, Sasha made a decision.
“Okay,” he said at dinner. “I’ll talk to the guys. Explain the situation.”
“Thanks,” Lida replied simply.
That evening Sasha gathered courage and called his best friend Kirill. The conversation was awkward.
“Kiryuha, hi. Listen, about the May holidays… This year it’ll be a little different,” Sasha began.
“What do you mean?” Kirill was surprised. “Did something happen?”
“No, just… You see, Lida cooks, sets, cleans alone every year,” Sasha chose his words carefully. “And she’s a bit tired of being the cook for all of us.”
“Come on,” Kirill chuckled. “She likes to fuss in the kitchen. Always has.”
“Apparently not always,” Sasha sighed. “So this year the condition is: we all cook and clean together. Lida shouldn’t have to serve everyone.”
There was a long silence on the other end.
“Uh… okay,” Kirill finally replied but without enthusiasm. “What exactly will we have to do?”
“Not sure yet,” Sasha admitted. “Maybe bring some ready-made stuff or help cook on site. And clean up together afterward.”
“Got it,” Kirill dragged out. “Well, I’ll think about it. I’m expecting a rush at work right now…”
After talking to Kirill, Sasha called several other friends. The reaction was similar — after hearing the new rules, they suddenly remembered urgent business, work, or trips to their parents.
“So how did it go?” Lida asked when Sasha finished calling guests.
“Half refused,” Sasha answered gloomily. “They say they’re busy, working…”
“No surprise,” Lida nodded. “They want a free restaurant, not friendly get-togethers.”
“But the others agreed,” Sasha added. “At least they didn’t refuse immediately.”
In the end, only five of the twenty-eight invited confirmed attendance. Three more promised to come “if possible.” And on the day of the holiday, only two showed up — Kirill and his wife Marina.
“Where’s everyone else?” Sasha asked, confused, greeting the friends.
“No idea,” Kirill shrugged. “We came. Brought meat for the barbecue and wine.”
“And salad,” Marina added, showing a container. “Lida, I remember how you like it with tuna.”
Lida smiled. Of all Sasha’s friends’ wives, Marina had always been the most sensitive.
At first, the atmosphere was a little tense. Sasha was nervous, often glancing at his phone waiting for messages from other guests. But gradually everyone relaxed. Kirill took over the grill, Sasha helped with the coals, and Lida and Marina prepared appetizers together in the kitchen.
“You know, I wanted to offer you help a long time ago,” Marina admitted, chopping vegetables. “But it felt awkward. Everyone sits and drinks while I’m the only one going to the kitchen…”
“I understand,” Lida nodded. “But I would have liked it.”
“Sorry,” Marina looked genuinely sorry. “It’s just that no one wanted to break the tradition.”
“The tradition of making me a servant?” Lida smiled, but without malice.
“No, of course not!” Marina objected. “It’s just everyone was used to you controlling everything in the kitchen. It seemed more convenient for you.”
“Maybe it was like that before,” Lida replied thoughtfully. “But then the guests grew and the help decreased. And at some point I realized this is not a holiday for me, but hard work.”
Marina nodded understandingly.
“You know, I actually like it,” she admitted, putting salad into a bowl. “Cooking together is more fun than just sitting at the table.”
The dinner turned out surprisingly cozy. The four of them settled on the terrace. Kirill proudly laid out perfectly grilled meat on plates, Marina decorated her salad, Sasha opened the wine. There was less food than usual, but the atmosphere was much warmer.
“You know,” Kirill said, raising his glass, “at first I thought it would be boring without a crowd. But now I see I was wrong. This is even better — calm conversations, no extra noise.”
“And nobody gets drunk to oblivion,” Marina added.
“And I don’t have to clean the house for a week after the holiday,” Lida smiled.
Sasha looked thoughtful. All evening he seemed to be getting to know his friends anew. It turned out Kirill was into photography, and Marina wrote children’s stories. In the noise of big crowds, such conversations just didn’t happen.
After dinner, they all cleared the table, washed dishes. Then they sat by the fire late into the night, talking about everything under the sun. For the first time in many years, Lida felt not exhausted but rested after the holiday.
When Kirill and Marina left, Sasha came to Lida and hugged her shoulders.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I really took it for granted that you did everything. I didn’t think about how you felt.”
“It’s okay,” Lida snuggled up to her husband. “The important thing is you understood.”
“You know,” Sasha said thoughtfully, “I think I liked it better this way. Without a crowd of strangers, without drunken chatter… Just a nice evening with real friends.”
“And with a wife who finally rested too,” Lida smiled.
“And with my wife,” Sasha agreed, kissing Lida on the temple. “Definitely with my wife.”
The next day, Marina called and suggested repeating the get-together in a week, but this time at their place. And this time Lida happily agreed. Because now it was a real celebration — not work on an assembly line.