Mom called again, worried about how you’re taking care of me,” the husband sighed.
“As if you were five years old,” I responded. “Tell her already that you’re thirty-two and you don’t need a sweater.”
Borya forced a smile and dropped the subject.
My mother-in-law, Alevtina Nikolaevna, was one of those women who devoted her life to her child. Life had once put her in a situation where she caught her unfaithful husband in a clear-cut scenario, did not forgive him, and threw him out. She was left alone with a little son. It was tough for her. The boy was frail, often cried, went to kindergarten late, and collected thirty-three illnesses during elementary school, staying home all the time.
Her grandmother helped, of course. Without her, Alevtina Nikolaevna would have struggled even more. But her mother had already retired by then and could stay with her grandson, while the mother-in-law worked two jobs, trying to give her child the best of everything. But as Borya grew stronger, for his mother, he remained the same – someone who needed his forehead checked ten times a night to see if it was hot.
I met Boris at a music festival. Normally, I’m not too keen on such events, but this time, my party-loving friend dragged me to see what it was all about. I agreed surprisingly to myself, and in the end, I did not regret it. The atmosphere of freedom, youth, a picturesque September forest rustling with golden leaves – it all filled me with lightness and happiness. Until then, my life had only been about school and work. First, I finished university, paying attention to nothing but lectures and exams.
Then I got a job at a large company with a decent salary. By that time, I already had my own apartment – inherited from my aunt. She had no children of her own, and I was her only joy. When Aunt Dasha passed away, I found out she had left me her spacious two-bedroom in a quiet residential area near the center. Once the grief passed, and I could think clearly, I was happy to have my own place.
The festival was noisy. People from all over the region came, took the stage with their guitars, and sang, putting their souls into their voices. I listened, watched, and relaxed. In the evening, huge bonfires burned up to the sky, and again guitars and beautiful voices sang. They sang Vysocky, Vizbor, and songs they wrote themselves. Sitting opposite me was a handsome guy with a guitar in a worn leather jacket. He sang and looked at me, and I smiled back at him.
Later we exchanged phone numbers, went back to the city, and visited a cafe. We talked for a long time, realizing how much we had in common – she also loved Sapkowski’s “The Witcher,” listened to old Russian rock, loved historical movies, which we later rewatched hundreds of times. We dated for almost a year, and then Borya decided to propose. I agreed, and we went to meet his mother.
Alevtina Nikolaevna did not like me right away. However, she would have considered any woman next to her son as a divider between mother and child. She never said it outright, but I could clearly see how jealous she was and how she did everything to attract her son’s attention. For a year and a half of marriage, Alevtina Nikolaevna hovered over her Borya like a bird of prey over her chicks.
She called him three times a day, seriously asking if her son had put on a hat. At first, I found this amusing. My husband pretended that this care bothered him, but he tolerated it not to upset his caring mother. Then Alevtina Nikolaevna started a real pilgrimage to our house. She came to criticize everything I did. Until her, I had no idea you could incorrectly place a towel that had just dried dishes.
“Borya likes his borscht thicker, Tanya!” the mother-in-law literally screamed, not shy to peek under the pot’s lid bubbling with soup.
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, I know perfectly well how Borya likes it, I discussed it with him what soups he likes,” I replied.
“You’re cooking some slop; I know better what my son likes!”
And so it went. My windows were not clean, the floor was crumbly, I didn’t hang laundry correctly, I didn’t look presentable enough for her son. Why unnecessary presentability was needed for an electrician at a factory was not entirely clear, but Alevtina Nikolaevna saw only my flaws, about which she did not hesitate to speak. Her visits noticeably tired me. I told my husband many times to cool his mother’s ardor – after all, coming three to four times a week is too much even for those with wonderful and warm relationships. And when tense, it’s a real challenge.
The apartment I inherited from my aunt was quite old. Living her last years, she did not renovate, not wanting to stir up fuss and dust. At some point, I began to be bothered by the faded wallpapers that started peeling off the walls here and there.
And I wanted to have normal appliances at home. Once, having received a bonus at work, I bought a new dishwasher. My husband was pleased that it would now be easier in household chores. We both didn’t particularly like washing dishes, and the schedule of a modern person is such that appliances are simply necessary. Then I bought wallpapers, asking my husband to hang them.
“You know how to do it, and it will be difficult for me with my height,” I reasonably argued my request. “And let’s also participate in buying a washing machine. Our old one is completely done.”
Borya initially agreed willingly, but then, returning from his mother, to whom he had once again made up a pretext invented by his mother-in-law, said:
“Listen, Tanya, no offense, but I won’t do anything here.”
“Why is that?” I was genuinely surprised. “You live here too.”
“The apartment is fully registered in your name. Should something happen, I’ll be left with nothing, and you with order and cool expensive equipment,” Boris explained.
I shrugged my shoulders – overall, he was right. By law, the apartment, even in the event of that “something,” would remain entirely mine. Boris wouldn’t take the wallpapers with him, which would have to be torn off the walls. It wasn’t too pleasant to hear such reasoning from a spouse, but I perfectly understood that he didn’t come to such conclusions on his own.
It was clear where the wind was blowing from – the mother-in-law explained to her short-sighted son the prospects of life with a cunning wife in my person, who wants to strip him like a sticky burr, and then send him off with a knapsack in the fog to seek the coveted horse. I smiled and agreed with Borya’s arguments:
“Alright, I’ll do it myself. Then you’re on utilities and groceries.”
My husband shrugged, agreeing.
At work, I had a very tough two weeks. Sometimes it happens – everything piles up at once, and the whole team rushes around, not knowing what to grab onto. I was so tired that at home I only quickly snacked before sleep and fell into bed exhausted. Borya helped around the house as much as he could. Tomorrow was supposed to be a day off, and I planned to sleep until noon, then laze around in a blanket and drink cocoa, licking sweet mustaches and munching on aromatic crunchy sesame cookies that my husband baked to sweeten the weight of working weekdays somehow.
At ten in the morning, I was awakened by a loud scream:
“And why is she still in bed when she’s supposed to be making you breakfast?”
I jumped up, almost falling off the bed, instantly waking up after a blissful slumber. It was impossible not to recognize my mother-in-law’s voice. And what for, I ask?
I slipped my feet into fluffy cozy slippers with rabbit ears, went out to meet the uninvited guest.
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, why are you yelling and why did you come without warning?”
“I don’t need a warning to visit my own son!” the mother-in-law immediately went on the attack. “I know how you take care of him. It’s eleven o’clock, you’re lying there, not even bothering to make breakfast for my Borya.”
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, he can very well crack his own eggs in a skillet. He’s not a child.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Why did he marry you? To watch you sleep all day?”
Not wanting to argue further, I sighed heavily. I had to go wash up, quickly bake a charlotte for tea, maintain a conversation in which I was blamed everywhere.
When Alevtina Nikolaevna finally left, I confronted my husband.
“Borya, what’s this? Why does she barge in on us without warning?”
“I gave her the keys, you know how mom worries about me. She keeps asking if I’m fed, how I slept, if the house is clean.”
“And you think that’s normal? We’re married, we have our own life. In the future, there will be children, and a complete stranger walks into the house quite calmly, who has a set of keys. You didn’t even bother to inform me about this. I was scared out of my sleep!”
“No, don’t be mad, you know what my mom is like.”
“Exactly, I know perfectly well what she’s like!” I snapped, and went to do the laundry.
Borya’s vague response did not sit well with me, and I decided to act radically. On Monday, I had a short day at work. The rush at work had subsided, and the boss, understanding how tired we all were, let us go three hours earlier than usual. I grabbed a bite to eat at a cafe, then called a lock-changing company.
Arranged quickly, and coming home fifteen minutes later, I was already greeting a stern master of his craft. A huge man, reminiscent of Hagrid from “Harry Potter,” quickly changed the lock on the front door, I paid him and thanked him. I didn’t tell my husband anything; I opened the door for him myself from work. And on Tuesday evening, Alevtina Nikolaevna showed up, who was in for a big surprise.
I was just preparing dinner. Fish soup was fragrantly simmering on the stove, which I tasted for salt. In the oven, a potato casserole with minced meat, cheese, and zucchini was baking. When the door was banged on with screams and curses, I wiped my hands on a towel and, without taking off my apron, went to open it.
On the doorstep stood the mother-in-law with huge bags full of food. Apparently, for her starving Borya.
“Good evening, Alevtina Nikolaevna. What brings you? And why are you knocking like that?”
“I didn’t allow you to change the locks in your apartment,” the mother-in-law declared.
I closed my eyes, inhaled, slowly exhaled.
“As you’ve noticed, the apartment is mine. I am entitled to decide who enters here and who, at best, comes by invitation.”
At that moment, Boris, who had just returned from work, came out of the elevator.
“What’s happening?”
“She’s not letting me in, son! I brought groceries so you wouldn’t starve.”
“As if he’s swollen with hunger here!” I couldn’t hold back.
“I have the right to enter here, how will you be without my supervision!” the mother-in-law pressured her son.
“Tanyush, well, mom is right. Why shouldn’t she take care of me? It will be easier for you too.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“So, either you tell your mother right now that she comes only by call, or…”
“Yes, I’ll sue you for a bunch of money for renovations and appliances! My son invested a lot of money here!” the woman screechingly interrupted me.
I blinked in confusion, and walked to the dresser, where all the receipts for renovations and appliances were kept.
“Here, I bought all this. Your son didn’t invest anything here. And now, after everything said, I strongly recommend he move back in with you. Tomorrow I’ll file for divorce because I don’t need a mommy’s boy like this.” I declared, and closed the door right in the shocked faces of the mother-in-law and the almost ex-husband.
After I showed the receipts, everything quieted down outside the door. I turned off the fish soup, letting it steep. When the casserole was ready, I cut myself a piece, dined leisurely. Then I called my mom, told her I was divorcing Borya. Mom was initially upset, but then, hearing the reason, supported me.
As planned, I filed for divorce. We had no joint property, no children. My husband never called or wrote, the mother-in-law was also silent as a fish thrown on ice. I was quite satisfied with this silence. I didn’t want to have anything more to do with these people.
To keep myself busy, I decorated the apartment for Halloween – hung cute foamiran bats, made garlands out of papier-mâché in the form of spiders and pumpkins. In the evenings, I drank cocoa with marshmallows, rewatched “The Lord of the Rings” and “Harry Potter.” Loneliness didn’t weigh on me at all. On the contrary, it felt easier to breathe once I had separated from Boris. After all, he wasn’t my person, and now that he was no longer in my life, I keenly felt it. It was getting colder outside, the first snow was already swirling in the air, and the wind howled at night.
I took up knitting to spend the dark autumn evenings. I always liked knitting, but there was never time for it before. Now that I was alone, I had plenty of time, which I wanted to spend on something that truly delighted me. I hardly remembered my ex-husband. I was figuring out what was truly important for me, what I wanted, how to achieve it. All these questions definitely required answers if I wanted to start healthy and happy relationships in the future. And I will definitely find the right answers, and everything will be fine for me.