Marina lifted her eyes from the laptop, not immediately understanding what her husband had said. Pavel was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a cup of half-finished coffee, looking at her with a somewhat guilty expression.
“What did you say?” she asked, slowly closing the laptop lid.
“Well, Lena asked…” Pavel shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “She bought a package tour to Turkey, for two weeks. And there’s no one to stay with the kids. Mom can’t—children’s shouting gives her a headache, I’ll be at work…”
“Pavel,” Marina felt everything inside her tighten into a hard knot, “are you saying you already promised?”
“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “You’ll watch the nephews for two weeks. What’s the big deal? You work from home; it’s not hard for you.”
Marina slowly rose from the table. Her ears rang, and red spots swam before her eyes. She remembered that one time Lena brought her boys—seven-year-old Artyom and five-year-old Denis. She remembered how they tore around the apartment, scattering toys in every room. How Artyom smeared toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror, and Denis decided to feed the fish cookies. How they screamed, demanding cartoons, then sweets, then attention. How by evening she had collapsed from exhaustion, and then spent half the night scrubbing the apartment of the traces of their visit.
“Are you out of your mind?” she breathed. “Do you remember what happened last time?”
“Kids are kids,” Pavel waved it off. “But they’re so lively, full of energy.”
“Energetic!” Marina felt her voice climb toward a screech. “They wrecked the whole apartment in a single day! I spent half a day picking up building blocks all over the place, and your younger nephew managed to jam a lump of modeling clay into the DVD player!”
“Marin, don’t be dramatic. So what if it was clay. We got the player fixed.”
“Fixed?” She grabbed her head. “Pavel, it still sticks! And did you forget that they broke the leg off a chair?”
“They broke it by accident. They were playing.”
Marina looked at her husband, unsure—did he really not see the problem, or was he pretending? Pavel had always been like that: if something didn’t affect him directly, it wasn’t a problem. That day with the nephews he’d come home from work at seven, when the kids had already more or less calmed down in front of the TV. He saw a sweet picture: the little ones watching cartoons, their aunt bringing them milk and cookies. And he decided everything had been wonderful.
“Lena’s already paid for the trip,” Pavel went on. “If she cancels, she’ll lose money. She’s so tired from work, she needs a break.”
“And I don’t need a break?” Marina felt her voice getting louder and louder. “I don’t work? Or is my work not considered work because I do it from home?”
“Come on, Marin, don’t get heated. Of course you work, but you’re at home. It’s easier for you.”
“Easier!” She slapped her palm on the table; Pavel’s cup jumped. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to work with two little hooligans in the house? I’ve got complex projects; I need quiet and concentration! Not screaming and running feet!”
“They won’t be yelling all the time. They’ll nap in the afternoon.”
“Nap!” Marina let out a hysterical laugh. “Pavel, have you ever seen those kids nap? Artyom stopped napping at all at seven, and Denis only falls asleep with cartoons on—and not always!”
Pavel set his cup on the windowsill and crossed his arms. The look that came over his face was one Marina knew by heart—he was going on the defensive.
“Look, I don’t understand the problem. They’re my sister’s kids, our nephews. Family should help each other.”
“Should help,” Marina echoed bitterly. “And who asked me? Who cared what I thought? You just presented me with a fait accompli!”
“I thought you wouldn’t mind…”
“You thought! Pavel, we’ve been through this. After that time I told you—never again! And what do you do? You promise again without asking me!”
Pavel sighed and rubbed his forehead. Marina knew that gesture—he always did it when he realized he was in an awkward spot but didn’t want to admit he’d made a mistake.
“Lena already paid for everything,” he repeated. “What am I supposed to tell her now?”
“Tell the truth. That your wife is against it. That you didn’t consult me before you promised.”
“Marina, be reasonable. She was counting on this vacation.”
“And I was counting on working in peace. On my home staying intact. On my husband not making decisions for me!”
“Oh, stop acting like a child! So the kids misbehaved a little last time. But there was so much joy and laughter in the house!”
Marina gave him a long look. Joy. Laughter. That’s really all he remembered. He didn’t remember how she ran between a crying Denis and a sulking Artyom. He didn’t remember trying to work with a chorus of kids’ voices in the background. He didn’t remember collecting toys from every corner of the apartment that evening, scrubbing sticky stains off the furniture, and vacuuming crumbs from under the couch.
“Pavel,” she said as calmly as she could, “I’m not watching your nephews. Not for a day, not for two days, not for two weeks. Never.”
“But Lena…”
“Your sister could have asked my opinion before buying the trip. And you could have asked me before agreeing.”
“I thought…”
“You didn’t think at all!” Marina burst out. “You decided that because I ‘sit at home’ I’ve got nothing to do! That I’ll gladly drop my work and entertain someone else’s kids!”
“They’re not someone else’s, they’re family!”
“Family to you, not to me! I have no obligations to them!”
Pavel grimaced as if she’d said something indecent.
“You’re such an egoist. Big deal, two weeks with kids. Other women dream of children, and you…”
“Let those others do it then!” Marina cut him off. “I don’t dream of other people’s ill-mannered kids in my home!”
“They’re not ill-mannered!”
“No? Then who smeared chocolate on the white sofa? Who broke the vase in the hall? Who started a water war in the bathroom so that it leaked to the neighbors downstairs?”
Pavel was silent for a moment, apparently recalling the details of that visit.
“Kids are kids,” he said at last. “Things happen.”
“‘Things happen,’” she mimicked. “And I’m supposed to tolerate that ‘things happen’ for two weeks? Pavel, do you hear yourself?”
She went to the window and pressed her forehead to the cool glass. Outside it was a beautiful September day, the sun shining, the leaves yellowing on the trees. And here she was, arguing with her husband because he’d once again decided something for her.
“Okay,” Pavel said in a conciliatory tone. “Don’t be so mad. Maybe you could think it over? Lena can lay down strict rules for them to behave.”
Marina turned back to him and saw hope in his eyes. He really believed she’d agree. That he could talk her into it if he framed it right.
“No,” she said firmly. “And don’t ask again. If your nephews show up here, I’ll pack my suitcase and go to my mother’s. And you can watch them yourself.”
“How am I supposed to do it myself? I’ll be at work!”
“That’s not my problem. You made the promise—so you deal with it.”
“Marina, you can’t be that cruel…”
“Cruel?” She turned to face him fully. “Cruel? Pavel, can you be respectful enough to your own wife to ask her opinion before promising something on her behalf?”
“I thought you’d understand…”
“You thought I’d swallow it like always. That I’d grumble for show and then give in. But not this time.”
Marina went back to the table and opened her laptop. She had a deadline for a café project, and the client expected sketches tomorrow.
“I’m working,” she said without looking up. “And you call your sister and explain why she can’t leave the kids with us.”
Pavel stood there a few more minutes, apparently trying to find the right words. Then he sighed heavily and went to the bedroom. A little later snatches of a phone call drifted out:
“Len, we’ve got a problem… No, no, everything’s fine… It’s just that Marina… She’s categorically against it… I know you already paid…”
His voice grew quieter and then there was silence. Marina tried to focus on work, but her thoughts scattered. She knew what would happen now. Lena would call her mother-in-law to complain about her. The mother-in-law would call Pavel with reproaches. Pavel would mope around, gloomy and displeased. And she would be the bad guy again.
But she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t keep sacrificing herself for other people’s convenience. She couldn’t turn her home into a daycare for unruly children. She couldn’t drop the work their family budget depended on.
Pavel came back half an hour later, his face sour.
“Lena’s crying,” he reported.
“Too bad,” Marina said shortly, without taking her eyes off the screen.
“She says she’s really exhausted from work. She needs a rest.”
“I also need a rest—from having other people’s responsibilities foisted on me.”
“Marina, think again. Maybe we could take them for a week? Not two, just one?”
She slowly turned her head and looked at her husband. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gazing at her with a pleading look.
“Pavel,” she said very quietly, “if you say the word ‘we’ll take’ one more time, I will get up and start packing. I’ll go to my mother’s today, without waiting for your nephews to arrive.”
“You can’t be so uncompromising.”
“I can. And I will. This is my home, and I have the right to decide whom I host.”
Pavel leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes.
“Lena said she’ll try to persuade Mom. But Mom really is unwell—her blood pressure spikes.”
“Then she should return the trip to the travel agency. She’ll lose part of the money, but what can you do. She should have thought earlier.”
“Easy for you to say. You know what Lena’s salary is like. For her that money is a fortune.”
Marina knew. Lena worked as a sales clerk in a children’s clothing store, earned pennies. Divorced, two kids, rented a one-room apartment. That trip really was a big deal for her.
But why was Marina supposed to solve all her problems? Why did everyone think that because she worked at home, she had the time, strength, and desire for everything else?
“Pavel,” she said, striving to keep her voice even, “I understand Lena has it hard. I sympathize with her. But I’m not ready to sacrifice my peace, my work, and my nerves for her vacation. That’s not my responsibility.”
“But we’re family…”
“Family is you and me. Your sister is a relative. Close, but not so close that I’m obliged to babysit her children.”
Pavel opened his eyes and looked at her in puzzlement.
“You didn’t used to be this tough.”
“I used to be a fool who didn’t know how to say ‘no.’ Now I do. And I’ll say it every time someone tries to impose what I don’t want.”
“But Lena…”
“Lena is a grown woman. She has children; that means she should have figured out who would watch them before buying a trip. Not counted on relatives dropping everything for her convenience.”
Pavel was silent, apparently digesting what she’d said. Then he asked:
“What if we hire a nanny? For these two weeks?”
“With whose money?”
“Well… we could…”
“We could spend our savings on a nanny for someone else’s kids? Pavel, do you hear yourself?”
“They’re not someone else’s…”
“They are someone else’s!” Marina couldn’t hold back. “To me, they are someone else’s children! I don’t have maternal feelings for them; I don’t want to fuss over them! And if their mother wants to rest, she can sort out the financial side herself!”
Pavel stepped away from the door and sat on the couch, looking lost.
“I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted. “Lena’s set on the trip, Mom can’t, I’ll be at work…”
“And what does that have to do with me? It’s not my problem.”
“But you’re my wife…”
“Exactly. I’m your wife, not a free nanny for all your relatives. And you, as my husband, should have thought about my interests before promising anything.”
Marina saved the file and closed the laptop. Working in that atmosphere was impossible.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said, getting up from the table. “And you think about what matters more—your sister’s convenience or your relationship with your wife.”
She grabbed her jacket and purse and left the apartment without waiting for an answer. The stairwell was cool and quiet. Marina inhaled deeply. Her hands were trembling from the nerves.
Was she really that bad? Didn’t she have the right to say “no”? Everyone thought she was selfish, but why didn’t anyone call Lena selfish for buying a trip without checking with the people she expected to watch her kids?
Outside it was sunny and calm. Marina walked slowly toward the park. She needed to think, calm down, make a final decision.
She remembered herself a year ago—accommodating, ready to do anything for the sake of peace in the family. Back then it seemed better to agree than to quarrel. Better to put up with it than upset relatives. But gradually she realized: the more you agree against your will, the more they demand of you. And in the end you turn into a person whose opinion no one asks at all. They just present you with facts and expect obedient consent.
No. Not anymore. She had her own life, her own work, her own plans. And no one had the right to manage them without her consent.
When Marina returned home an hour later, Pavel was sitting in the kitchen with a gloomy face.
“I called Lena,” he said. “Told her we can’t take the kids.”
“And what did she say?”
“She cried. Then hung up. Now she’s trying to reach Mom, but she’s not answering.”
Marina sat down across from her husband. She felt sorry for Lena—but not enough to sacrifice her own peace.
“Maybe she’ll find another solution,” she said. “A friend or a nanny.”
“For two weeks?” Pavel shook his head. “Most likely she’ll have to return the trip.”
“Then she will. Next time she’ll plan ahead.”
Pavel looked at her for a long moment.
“You know, I hardly recognize you,” he said finally. “You used to be different.”
“I used to be convenient,” she corrected him. “Now I’m just honest. I say what I think and do what I believe is right.”
“But family should help…”
“Help—yes. But not sacrifice yourself completely. And not silently agree to what’s being imposed on me.”
Pavel stood and went to the window.
“Lena will be offended,” he said.
“Let her. Next time she’ll ask permission before making plans that involve other people.”
“And Mom? She’ll be unhappy too.”
“Your mother is always unhappy with me. So it won’t make much difference.”
Pavel turned back to his wife.
“Marina, could you think again? Maybe agree at least for a week?”
She slowly rose from the table.
“Pavel,” she said very quietly, “I’m going to the bedroom to pack. If by the time I come back you’re still trying to pressure me, I’ll go to my mother’s tonight. And I won’t come back until you understand that ‘no’ means ‘no.’”
She went to the bedroom and took a travel bag from the closet. Her hands were trembling again, but now from resolve rather than anger. Enough. Enough of being convenient. Enough of agreeing to what she didn’t like just to avoid upsetting anyone.
A few minutes later, Pavel came into the bedroom. His face was contrite.
“Marina, don’t leave,” he pleaded. “I understand. I won’t insist anymore.”
“And you won’t make decisions for me?”
“I won’t.”
“And you won’t promise anything on my behalf without asking me?”
“I won’t.”
Marina put the blouse in the bag, then looked at her husband.
“And what will you tell your sister?”
“I’ll tell her the truth. That I rushed into a promise. That I should have asked you first.”
“And that you were wrong to think my time is less valuable than yours just because I work from home?”
Pavel was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“I’ll say that too.”
Marina took the blouse out of the bag and put it back in the closet.
“Good. Then I’m staying.”
Pavel breathed out in relief.
“But, Marina, what about Lena? She really does need a break…”
“Pavel!” his wife cut him off.
“All right, all right, I get it. Not another word.”
The next day Lena still couldn’t persuade their mother to take the grandkids. Pavel’s mother was adamant—children wear her out; she has a heart condition, blood pressure, age. In the end Lena had to go to the travel agency and return the package. She said she lost almost half the price, but there was no other way.
That evening Pavel told his wife.
“Lena’s very upset,” he said. “But she said she learned her lesson. Next time she’ll line up a nanny first and only then buy a trip.”
“Good,” Marina replied without looking up from her laptop.
“And she… apologized. She said she didn’t think about the fact that you have your own work and your own plans.”
“Unexpected.”
“Marin, are you mad at me?”
Marina looked up from her work at her husband. He stood beside her desk, holding a cup of tea.
“No, I’m not. But I hope it was a lesson for you too.”
“It was,” he admitted. “I really didn’t think about you. I decided that since you’re at home, it wouldn’t be hard for you to watch the kids. But your work is no less important than mine.”
“No less,” Marina agreed. “And our home is not a daycare.”
Pavel set the cup on the table and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Next time I’ll definitely ask your opinion before promising anything.”
Marina leaned back against him.
“And remember,” she added, “that ‘you’ll watch the nephews for two weeks’ is not a trifle you can decide without discussion. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The big deal is that it’s two weeks of my life, my nerves, and my work.”
“Got it,” Pavel said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”
And Marina believed him. Because for the first time in a long while, she felt that her opinion truly mattered. That she had the right to say “no.” And that her “no” would be respected.