When I saw Lyudmila Petrovna’s number on my phone screen, my heart skipped—but not from joy. My sense of foreboding proved prophetic: five minutes into the call, our peaceful summer idyll collapsed like a house of cards. And yet Maxim and I had been dreaming of a trip to the sea with our four-year-old Masha…
My husband’s relatives were always a mystery to me. That noisy clan regularly descended on us with their problems: someone needed treatment at a capital clinic, someone wanted a place to stay while they handled “important matters,” and now they’d even started dropping teenagers on us. Maxim bore it all in silence; blood ties meant a lot to him. I clenched my teeth, reminding myself I’d chosen this man with all his baggage.
— Liza, dear, don’t refuse me—let my Katya stay with you for a month, — Auntie pleaded.
At first my husband tried to fend her off, citing our vacation plans, but Lyudmila Petrovna was relentless. Her little girl was about to storm a culinary technical college, and our city seemed the perfect springboard. Maxim capitulated and brought me the bad news.
We argued for two days. I fumed, gradually yielding to my husband’s sincere remorse. Love triumphed over common sense—such is a woman’s lot.
Over eight years of marriage we had worn smooth to each other like two river pebbles. Maxim held a solid position as a lead developer at a large company. We weren’t destined for fabulous wealth, but we lived comfortably enough. Our Masha’s birth made my husband the happiest man alive. He immediately bought a car to ease my mothering burdens, drove us to the dacha and on short trips.
But the years slipped by unnoticed. After my maternity leave ended, there was practically no time for fun. For five years we hadn’t ventured farther than the dacha plot. And what kind of rest is that? Nothing but work: weeding, harvesting, and waging war with Colorado beetles over the potato beds.
This summer I dreamed of the sea. Masha was finally old enough for a long trip, and Maxim and I had earned the right to a real vacation under the southern sun. And then—like a bolt from the blue—came Lyudmila Petrovna’s call asking us to take in a niece.
I had nothing against Katya personally—I simply didn’t know her. I’d met her mother only a couple of times at family celebrations. She stuck in my memory as a large, rather coarse woman of indeterminate age with chemically purple hair, gaudy plastic jewelry, and massive rings on her plump fingers. She ate with gusto, laughed loudly, and left a dismal impression.
Maxim agreed to let the girl stay for a month. In that time she was to sort out her school matters and get a place in the dorm. Her mother promised that afterward her daughter would move out. Thinking that someday I might also have to ask for help for my grown Masha, I grudgingly agreed to the unwanted guest.
Katya arrived on Saturday evening with a battered suitcase. A slender sixteen-year-old with ashy hair and striking emerald eyes greeted us politely. Naturally, after her trip we sat her at the table. The appetite of this reed-thin creature proved truly wolfish—she ate as much as Maxim and I together couldn’t have managed. I was astonished at the paradox but smiled hospitably. Youth is just setting out, and it’s the duty of elders to help it along.
During the first days Katya caught up on sleep after the journey’s anxieties and recent exams. And she consumed food in incredible quantities, turning my kitchen into a real food factory. It wasn’t that I begrudged the groceries, but the fatigue was mounting—after all, I still had work. We had to urgently push our vacation to July because of the relatives who’d landed on our heads. Maxim also quarreled with his boss, but moved his time off to the end of the month.
By the third day, the presence of a stranger in the house began to be felt keenly.
— Katya, tidy up your room a bit, please, — I asked as gently as I could.
The girl obeyed, though she made a displeased face.
— All right, Aunt Liza.
— When do you need to go to the college?
— Friday. I’ve got to file some paperwork and talk to the instructors.
— I see. Nervous?
— Not really. I did fine on the exams. I’ll finish tech school first, and then maybe I’ll go to the institute for the same culinary track, to earn more money.
Talking with Katya, I saw an ordinary teenage girl—slightly sloppy, withdrawn, unsure of herself. We were all like that at her age. Something maternal stirred in me when I looked at this skinny girl with extraordinary eyes.
Lyudmila Petrovna wasn’t exactly generous with calls. Maxim, however, started to worry:
— Listen, did Katya say whether her mom gave her any money to live on here?
— I didn’t ask. I assumed she did. Why—she didn’t?
— Looks like not. So we’re going to support another person’s child for a whole month out of our own pocket!
— Max, I wasn’t counting on that. We have our own daughter. Why should we feed someone else’s? Call Lyudmila Petrovna.
But the aunt seemed to sense trouble. She called herself that evening:
— Liza, hi there! How’s my treasure?
— Everything’s fine, Lyudmila Petrovna. She’s resting, getting ready to enroll. Shall I call Maxim? He just got out of the shower.
— Yes, put my dear Maxim on! And say hello to Katya for me! I’ll ring her tomorrow, promise!
I pulled a face and handed the phone to my husband.
— Aunt Lyuda, hello! Did you send Katya any money? No? That’s a bit awkward—we hadn’t planned to support her entirely.
— Maxim, I understand, but my little one got seriously sick. I’ll transfer some later, all right? Don’t tell me you begrudge a few coins for your niece, my golden boy? You’ve always been so kind. Try to understand.
Maxim tried to understand. But not for long. I kept gently yet firmly needling my husband, and he regularly called his aunt, hinting at the need for financial support. A miracle happened on Wednesday—two thousand rubles hit Maxim’s account. Apparently for transportation. But what about food, clothing? The girl didn’t even have her own toothbrush—we had to buy one. Two T-shirts, shorts, jeans, and worn sneakers—that was her entire wardrobe. Sure, it was summer, but such a skimpy set hardly sufficed for a month in a strange city.
— Would you send your own child to strangers without a penny? — I reproached my husband, and he sighed heavily and looked away.
Thursday morning the aunt called Maxim again:
— My dear nephew, bless you! I threw in a little yesterday. My paycheck doesn’t come till Monday. I wanted to ask a family favor. Katya is dressed so poorly; we didn’t have time to get her ready. Could you and Liza take her to the store and spruce up my darling? Don’t be stingy; I’ll get my vacation pay any day now and pay back every last kopeck. She won’t be coming home—she needs to look decent at the college. Will you do it? Liza has such exquisite taste; she’ll help choose.
Maxim looked at me, I nodded, and he agreed:
— All right, Aunt Lyuda.
I calmed down a bit—if they promised to repay, we could live with it. I love shopping. Besides, I had a short day at work; I picked Masha up from kindergarten, took Katya along, and we set off to storm the mall. We bought plenty of everything. Three pairs of jeans fit her slender figure beautifully, along with several dresses and sundresses, shoes, sandals, and new sneakers. We got towels, toiletries, even a pillow for her future dorm. The happy girl chirped with delight and played with Masha. My daughter wanted a princess balloon and cotton candy. We celebrated our successful purchases at a café, where we demolished a whole pizza and washed it down with milkshakes sprinkled with colorful cereal. We headed home in excellent spirits. Katya took Masha out for a walk, and I savored the quiet. When my husband came back from work, he asked about the results and the amount spent. I kept all the receipts to report to Lyudmila Petrovna.
On Friday, dressed in her new clothes, Katya went to the college and submitted her papers. She didn’t get back until evening—she’d been exploring the city. We spent the weekend all together: visited an exhibit at the art museum and grabbed another bite at a café. Everything was going swimmingly, and nothing foretold Monday’s unpleasantness.
Evening came, and Lyudmila Petrovna neither called nor transferred the promised money. I was slowly boiling over, and Maxim was losing his temper too.
— We’ve spent over thirty thousand. I’m no miser, and the child isn’t to blame, but Lyudmila is a grown woman. She should understand basic decency.
Tuesday passed in the same silence. On Wednesday my husband couldn’t take it anymore:
— Good afternoon, Lyudmila Petrovna! We’d like to know when you’ll transfer the money for Katya’s upkeep. We clothed her, fed her, took her in. I can send the receipts—my wife saved everything for accounting…
— Maxim, what a cheapskate you are, honestly! — the aunt was shouting so loudly I heard every word — You’ll burst a vein over a few extra coins for your niece! What are thirty thousand—peanuts. You’re rich there in the capital. And we out in the sticks are barely making ends meet.
— Lyudmila Petrovna, don’t test my patience—it’s at the breaking point…
Fortunately, Katya had gone out for a walk. Masha was napping after a busy day. The girls didn’t hear that ugly quarrel.
I’ve always believed children shouldn’t be involved in adult squabbles, and I was glad they weren’t there.
— Then, dear Aunt, tomorrow we’re packing Katya’s things and sending her home. It’s not our concern that she needs to enroll. We have our own family and our own life. You’ve completely lost all sense of shame, foisting your child on us for a month like this!
Maxim slammed down the phone and looked at me. I nodded in approval. Of course, the aunt was in the wrong. It wasn’t only about the money—we were willing to help selflessly. But as far as I knew, Lyudmila Petrovna’s family lived quite decently, and her desire to dump her child on someone else’s shoulders was nothing but ordinary greed and gall.
When Katya came back, I called her into the kitchen:
— Katya, we’re sending you back to your mother tomorrow, all right?
— Why? What happened?
— We had a falling-out with your mom, you see? She’ll explain, but I’ll tell you my view too. She sent you to us with a pitiful little suitcase holding three rags. No pillow, no toothbrush. She figured we’d buy everything and support you completely. You understand, we don’t begrudge it, we’re happy to help, truly. But your mother acted badly. You understand that yourself, don’t you?
Katya lowered her eyes and blushed to the roots of her hair. She understood everything. She was clearly ashamed of her tight-fisted mother, who really had sent her to a strange city, to practically unfamiliar people, without money or basic things.
— And the shopping we did? She didn’t pay for that either?
I shook my head, understanding what Katya wanted to ask:
— It’s all yours—you’re not to blame. You’ll take everything home. It’s just that we can’t, you understand, keep you like this. We have our own life, Masha is little. Wear it in good health—the clothes are lovely, they suit you so well! A real beauty, once you’re dressed! I’m sure your mother loves you and will find a way to get you into the college. But we’re cutting off contact with her. We don’t want to quarrel—we’re too different as people.
— Aunt Liza, I understand. I’m sorry about my mom and… thank you so much!
We parted with Katya warmly. We drove her to the station and bought ice cream. The girl really did look wonderful in the new pale-blue dress and matching sandals with a slender heel. She got on the train and waved to us from the window for a long time, making funny faces to entertain Masha. A good girl. If her mother doesn’t turn her against us, I’ll be glad to see her when she’s on her feet. Good luck to you, emerald-eyed wonder!