— Petya, are you in your right mind? — Vera stared at her husband with wide eyes. — How could you?! You actually came up with something like that! Forgive me, but I’m starting to doubt you have any common sense.
— And what did you expect? — he answered defiantly. — Our son doesn’t value my opinion at all, I’m nothing to him.
— Stop saying that: “nothing,” “doesn’t value”? He’s already twenty-four, and he has the right to choose who to live with and whom to marry. The last thing we need is to pick his wife for him! We don’t live in the Stone Age! Besides, Sabrina is a good girl, from a decent family, earns well, smart, and loves our son…
— And doesn’t it bother you that this “Sardine” of yours is older than our boy?
— Petya, that doesn’t bother me at all. What bothers me is that you fuss over Misha as if you were his mother, not me. And our son’s fiancée is named Sabrina, not Sardine, — Vera sharply reproached her husband.
She immediately understood that Pyotr Ivanovich had disliked his son’s fiancée from the very first day, when Misha introduced his girlfriend to the parents. The fact that the fiancée was two years older than Misha caused Pyotr Ivanovich’s internal protest.
— A man must be the head of the family, but what kind of head is it if he’s younger than his wife? — he fumed.
— Don’t exaggerate, Petya, — his wife interrupted him when he came to the kitchen to “help take the pie out of the oven.” — We are the same age, and we have equality in the family. And they only differ by two years.
The first conflict with the future daughter-in-law happened to Pyotr Ivanovich a month after they met, at a festive table where relatives and friends of the parents gathered and where Misha and Sabrina were invited.
Nothing foreshadowed trouble. Everyone was eating, drinking, telling funny life stories. It came to Pyotr Ivanovich’s turn.
— I remember: Misha wrote a love letter to his teacher in sixth grade, asking her not to grow old but to wait until he grew up and married her. And one summer he caught a frog and kissed it, hoping it would turn into a princess, — the father told joyfully, not noticing his son’s embarrassment.
— Pyotr Ivanovich, — Sabrina quietly spoke up, — I think such stories are better told in a very close circle. Your son has grown up, and he may feel uncomfortable when his childhood “exploits” are discussed in front of everyone, especially when they are laughed at.
Pyotr Ivanovich almost choked on such insolence—being taught by her.
— What, I can’t share memories of my son’s childhood? — he paled.
— Not at all, but your son is no longer a child, and he might decide himself which stories about him can be told, — the girl answered quietly but firmly.
Misha, still embarrassed, tried to joke it off:
— Dad has always liked to tease me.
But Pyotr Ivanovich was already boiling with anger: how dare some outsider girl tell him what to do.
To prevent the conflict from escalating, Misha and his fiancée left the party, citing business.
Another time, the argument between Pyotr Ivanovich and Sabrina flared up at a family dinner.
— Sabrina and I have decided to start a business, — Mikhail informed his parents.
The mother supported them, but the father “stood on his hind legs”:
— What business? I barely got you a job at that company where you now just pretend to work, while earning decent money!
— Pyotr Ivanovich, don’t you think your son has the right to decide where and with whom to work? We decided a while ago to open our own business.
— Yes, Dad, we even have a business plan ready. I just haven’t told you yet, — Misha confirmed. — And the company job gave me a good starting capital, both financially and experience-wise.
— What kind of businessmen are you? You’ll go bankrupt in a week! — the father shouted.
— Well, that will be our experience, — Misha shrugged.
— Don’t you see she’s a troublemaker?! — Petya complained indignantly to Vera after the young couple left. — She’s always trying to sow discord between me and my son!
— Petya, don’t dramatize. The girl is right — our son is old enough to stop clinging to our skirts, — Vera tried to calm her husband, but he was adamant:
— She’s undermining my authority in his eyes! If it goes on like this, soon you’ll be on her side!
— Petya, come on! Maybe she just wants independence?!
— Independence? — Petya roared. — She wants to distance our son from us and constantly puts me in awkward situations!
— Actually, these childhood stories of yours… More likely Misha felt embarrassed than you.
— See?! You’re already on her side! — he nervously paced the room. — What’s next? She’ll stop letting him visit us?!
— Stop it! She’s not going to do anything like that. She loves our boy, and he loves her! She has no reason to quarrel with us, — Vera got angry.
The husband fell silent but it was clear he still thought nonsense.
The last straw was when Misha decided to marry. At first, Pyotr Ivanovich hoped Sabrina was just another girlfriend, but it soon became clear that it was serious.
— Mom, Dad, Sabrina and I submitted our application. We want to have the wedding outside the city, — the son shocked his parents by running into their place one day after work without his fiancée.
More precisely, the mother was already ready for this outcome, but the father…
— Mikhail, are you joking? — the father flopped into a chair staring at his son. — You can’t marry that…
— Dad! She is my fiancée, and her name is Sabrina. Not submarine, not mackerel, not sardine. I want you to treat my future wife with respect! — Misha frowned.
Vera tried to smooth things over:
— Son, where will you live? Like now, at Sabrina’s?
— Dad promised to give me great-grandmother’s one-room apartment. We decided that after the wedding we’d sell both our apartments and buy one big one, — Mikhail shared his plans.
Vera praised their entrepreneurship, and the son left, not noticing his father’s strange reaction.
— Petya, are you normal? — Vera was speechless when a few days later her husband told her he had sold the grandmother’s apartment promised to their son.
— Why do you say that? — Pyotr Ivanovich was surprised. — I can do whatever I want with it! You know, I was just sitting, recalling my youth… How my mother often looked at the stars and dreamed that someday scientists would find a way to send tourists to space. And I did nothing for my mother. She raised me alone, fed me, protected me, and I couldn’t even fulfill her dream. So I bought her a future tourist trip.
— Where? — Vera whispered in horror, her heart pounding.
— To space, — Pyotr Ivanovich announced joyfully. — The company “Scam-Travel” lowered prices on tours. Mom will be thrilled!
Vera had no choice but to call her son, mother-in-law, and invite them for a serious talk.
— Dad, are you serious? You sold the apartment you promised me? — Misha was stunned; he couldn’t believe that an adult man, who has a decent business and is respected in his circle, just threw millions of rubles at a nonexistent scam tour.
— Petya, son, have you lost your mind? — gasped his mother, an eighty-two-year-old woman. — I’m afraid of going above the third floor! I use heart drops just to step on an escalator in the store, and you want to send me to space? Couldn’t you just wait for me to die? That’s just ridiculous!
— Mom, I wanted to make you happy, — Petya was offended no one appreciated his generous gift. Well, the son was upset. Serves him right! Next time he’ll think before talking to his father and teach his spoiled girl some manners.
— Well, you proved you’re the boss! — Misha said bitterly. — Be proud of yourself!
And he left, quietly closing the door behind him.
— Son, you disappointed me. I don’t know what’s come over you, but you should see a doctor. No sane person does something like this, — Petya’s mother shook her head and also left without saying goodbye.
— Do you realize that your unjustified hostility toward your son’s fiancée has destroyed our family? — Vera sat in the kitchen, resigned, lowering her head.
Then she looked at her husband as one looks at a foreign object in the room, wondering where it even came from.
— I can’t stand to see you, — she said, getting up. — I’ll stay with my mother.
Vera took some of her things and left the house. Pyotr was left alone in the empty apartment. At first, he was indignant: his wife didn’t support him, his mother called him stupid, and his son wouldn’t even talk to him. Then came the realization of what he had done. Because of stupid ambitions and arrogance, he lost not only the apartment and money but also his family, their trust, their confidence in his mental health.
Loneliness, though not immediately, sobered him up, and Pyotr Ivanovich looked at the situation from another side: from the side of his loved ones.
— Fool! Old selfish man! — he grabbed his head after a few days. Then he made a decision.
Music played in the hall, guests congratulated the newlyweds. Pyotr Ivanovich felt like a stranger at this celebration, but he gathered all his willpower and approached his son and fiancée, noticing Vera watching him warily. “She’s afraid I’ll start a scandal now,” he realized.
— Mikhail, Sabrina, — the groom’s father began with a trembling voice, — forgive me.
He handed them an envelope. The son suspiciously glanced at the gift, hesitant to take it. Then Sabrina smiled, took the envelope, and looked inside. Her face lit up with a surprised smile. Keys to an apartment fell into her palm.
— This is not the grandmother’s apartment, but no worse, — he said with satisfaction.
“Bitter!” the guests echoed…
— Petya, where did you get the money for the apartment? — Vera quietly asked her husband, genuinely surprised.
— I’m not completely crazy — I didn’t spend everything from grandmother’s apartment. Besides, I had been secretly saving money for the wedding for a long time… — he replied embarrassed and, pleased with the effect, hugged his wife.
The family reunited, but for a long time, everyone kept an eye on Pyotr Ivanovich, afraid he might snap again somewhere.