“Are you still wearing your coat?” Anton grumbled disapprovingly as he peeked out from the kitchen into the hallway.
“Come on, Zhenya, hurry up! It’ll only take half an hour and you haven’t even started!”
Evgenia pulled off her boots by the shoe rack and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe.
After spending Friday dealing with residents at the district housing office, her back ached so much she could howl. All day long, grumpy pensioners argued about heating bill recalculations.
“What do you mean I haven’t started, Antosha?” she asked, annoyance in her voice.
“It’s seven in the evening. I’ve been sitting with payment slips and spreadsheets since eight this morning.”
“That’s not my problem!” her husband shot back firmly, waving his hand toward the kitchen.
“I brought you everything you need. There’s beef liver in that bag, a sack of potatoes, and sour cream. By eight o’clock, I want it all sizzling! Lyova and Mom are already on their way.”
Evgenia stepped into the kitchen and stared at the dining table. Right on the wooden surface, with dry bits of soil scattered around, sat a net bag of small, unwashed potatoes.
Next to it, a brown chunk of raw liver was thawing inside a paper wrap, leaving a cloudy pink puddle all around it. On the stove was a dirty frying pan, still marked with traces of her husband’s morning eggs.
After four years of marriage, Anton still hadn’t gotten used to asking if his wife was up for company. The moment he’d moved into Evgenia’s grandma’s two-room apartment, he quickly began to act like a generous country squire.
He barely did any real work at the motor pool, but endlessly sucked up to his bosses. As soon as he wanted to show off, he’d gather people together and take charge of the show.
Just a month ago, he pulled the same stunt.
Back then, Evgenia was barely alive after the quarterly report, but spent four hours straight making dumplings, roasting a whole chicken, and baking cabbage pies for that very same Lyova.
Getting in good graces with the head of the garage meant profitable routes for Anton.
That time, his mother-in-law, Karolina Naumovna, rushed over too, with her trusty shopping bag on wheels. During dinner, she didn’t stop nitpicking Evgenia over the dry chicken.
But before she left, she calmly packed up the leftover chicken and a whole tray of pies into her cart—said it would help avoid spending her weekend tied to the kitchen.
Anton didn’t even help clear the table—he just flopped on the couch and started snoring.
The next morning, Evgenia told her husband point blank: one more unannounced surprise like that and he’d be the one cooking for his guests.
But Anton apparently figured she was just blowing off steam and that she wasn’t going anywhere.
“So Lyova and Karolina Naumovna are already on their way?” Evgenia asked, glancing from the dirty pan to her husband.
“Well, yeah!” Anton gleefully replied, thinking the storm had passed.
“Lyovushka picked up Mom on the way back from the clinic. She was getting her physical therapy. He’s an important guy, Zhenya! He promised to get me a new Gazelle van for my route!”
“And what does my kitchen have to do with all this?” she asked with an icy tone.
“Are you serious?” her husband exclaimed, clearly offended.
“I bragged about you to him! Told him your sour cream liver simply melts in your mouth, plus there’d be zucchini fritters and an apple pie!”
“Is that so?” Evgenia drawled sarcastically.
— And I’m supposed to whip all this up in forty minutes from a frozen chunk of liver and unwashed potatoes with peas?
— Oh, don’t start! — Anton waved her off.
— Turn on two burners, crank up the oven—let’s go! Your arms won’t fall off!
Right then, Anton’s phone started ringing at the edge of the table. He hurriedly jabbed at the screen, switched to speaker, and grinned with an eager smile:
— Yes, Mom! Are you almost here?
— Antonenka, we’re stuck at a red light! — came Carolina Naumovna’s commanding voice, filling the whole kitchen.
— Lyovushka says he hasn’t had so much as a poppy seed in his mouth since lunch, his stomach’s stuck to his back!
I hope your chicken has already set the table? Or will we be waiting another thirty minutes for something hot, like last time?
Evgenia leaned against the dresser, listening intently without blinking.
— Everything’s right on track, Mom! Zhenka’s already spinning at the stove! — Anton lied without missing a beat, giving his wife a stern shake of the fist.
— You better! — Carolina Naumovna said as a warning.
— And tell her not to add any pepper to the gravy—her cooking gives me heartburn! And make sure she fries up plenty and doesn’t skimp on the pies.
I brought my trolley bag; I need to stock up on food for Saturday and Sunday—no way am I standing by the stove myself!
— We’ll make everything perfect, Mom! — Anton shot back, then hastily ended the call.
He turned to his wife, expecting to see her by the sink with a knife in hand. But Evgenia hadn’t moved an inch.
— Why are you just standing there like you’re not part of this family? — Anton snapped.
— Didn’t you hear? People are practically at the door! Peel those potatoes, quick!
— I didn’t sign up to be your laborer after work, — Evgenia said firmly.
— I warned you a month ago, plain and simple. Whoever invites the guests is the one who feeds them. The frying pan’s on the stove, the oven mitt’s hanging up—enjoy yourself!
— Are you out of your mind?! — her husband stared at her in disbelief.
— What do you mean the stove? I’ve never fried liver in my life! Are you trying to embarrass me in front of Lyova?! In front of my mother?!
— They’re your guests and your promises, Antosha, — she shot back.
— If you want to impress someone, order them some barbecue at your own expense or step up to the stove yourself. As for me, I’m off to shower and straight to bed.
— Who’s going to let you sleep at eight in the evening?! — Anton exploded.
— You’ll be rushing to peel potatoes in a minute, just wait!
A car honked long and loud outside in the yard. Anton jumped to the window, pulled back the curtains, and started to fuss:
— They’re here! Lyova is parking in the yard, he’ll hand me that canister of antifreeze from the trunk, and we’ll come right up! Zhenka, don’t be silly!
In ten minutes, I want boiling water in the pot and a clean tablecloth on the table! You wouldn’t dare chicken out in front of the guests!
He dashed to the hallway, shoved his bare feet into some old rubber slippers, and threw a mid-season coat over his lounge pants.
— I’m not taking the key, don’t touch the lock, our hands will be full! — Anton shouted from the doorway and clattered down the stairs.
Evgenia was left alone. She went back to the kitchen, sat down on a stool at the table, and stared for a minute at the murky pink puddle left by the raw liver.
She rubbed her temples wearily. Carolina Naumovna’s words still echoed in her mind: “I brought my trolley bag, I need to stock up on food for Saturday and Sunday!”
There was no resentment left. Only a cold, almost cheerful sense of anger remained.
Evgenia stood up from the stool with determination. She grabbed the paper bag of liver from the table, stuffed it right on top of the dirty potatoes inside the net bag, then added the sour cream and a bunch of dill as well.
She walked into the hallway. She grabbed Anton’s autumn shoes from the shelf near the door, took his shearling coat from the hanger, and slipped his key with the worn garage keychain into the outer pocket of the coat.
She stepped onto the landing, set the bag of groceries by the door, placed the shoes beside it, and hung the coat directly on the handle outside.
Then she went back to the hallway, gently closed the door, and slid the massive top night bolt all the way, the one that couldn’t be unlocked from the outside with any key.
She walked over to the wall and flipped the small black switch at the bottom of the intercom handset. The red light went out.
Exactly five minutes later, the elevator rumbled on the landing. Lev’s booming bass echoed:
“Well, Antoha, you might not pay me back for that canister of antifreeze, but we’re definitely going to enjoy this liver in sour cream right now! My stomach’s been grumbling since lunch!”
“Of course, Lyovushka, our Zhenya is an angel—as long as she’s kept in an iron grip!” Karolina Naumovna chattered from behind, then suddenly fell silent.
“And what’s this still life by the door?!”
Footsteps instantly stopped on the landing, then the rustling of a paper bag could be heard.
“Anton, is this your shearling coat?!” Anton’s mother shrieked.
“And raw potatoes! Still covered in clumps of dirt!”
The door handle outside starting rattling wildly up and down. Metal scraped in the lock—Anton had found his key in the coat pocket—but the top night bolt held strong.
“Zhenya! Open this instant!” Anton banged on the door.
“Have you lost your mind?! Leva’s out here! My mother’s out here!”
Evgenia came out to the hallway in her terry robe, took a little box of wax earplugs from the shelf by the mirror, and shouted loudly:
“The net bag of raw potatoes is by the door, so host your guests at your mom’s kitchen tonight!”
“What?!” Karolina Naumovna screeched from the landing.
“You ungrateful snake! We came to her with nothing but love, I hauled my rolling suitcase across half the city, and she leaves her husband’s own mother stranded in the hallway with dirty potatoes!”
Anton, break down that bolt! Are you a man or what?!
“Antoha, I don’t get it!” Lev said in his bass with obvious irritation.
“You’ve been talking my ear off all day that there’s a feast at your place and apple pies are baking!”
“What’s with this raw potatoes in a net bag?! Did I come here to just stand around like a schoolboy on the landing?!”
“Leva, wait, there’s been a misunderstanding!” Anton babbled, still fidgeting uselessly with the handle.
“She’s got a migraine, maybe her mind’s gone! Zhenya! I said unlock this door right now before I get really angry!”
“Be as angry as you want, Antosha,” Evgenia replied lazily.
“Karolina Naumovna has a great kitchen, and her rolling suitcase is already with her—she won’t even have to carry anything in her hands.”
“Just put on your shoes—running to the car in rubber slippers barefoot is chilly. Good night!”
“You viper!” Anton’s mother wailed.
— How could you even say that! There’s nothing left in my fridge, I was counting on having a proper meal myself!
— What do you mean, nothing left?! — Lev protested.
— What is this, a performance for my benefit?! Antosha, don’t try to distract me! I’m starving here!
Either you feed me the dinner you promised, or I’m hauling that can of antifreeze back to the trunk, and you can kiss your chance for a new Gazelle goodbye!
You’ll be turning wrenches on your old junker till retirement!
— Levushka, please, don’t get upset, dinner’s coming right up! — Anton pleaded, nearly in tears from embarrassment.
— Let’s go to mom’s place, it’s just a ten-minute drive! I’ll peel those cursed potatoes myself, and mom will make the liver just right! Mom, get your cart ready and load up the groceries!
— Anton, but my blood pressure! — Karolina Naumovna tried to protest
.
— What do I need the stove for at this hour?!
— Mom, please, don’t make things harder for me! — Anton shrieked.
— You’re the one who insisted on giving Lev a ride as a guest! Hand over your bag!
The wheels of the cart rattled in the hallway, Lev’s grumbling echoed, and his mother-in-law huffed in annoyance. A minute later, the elevator went down.
Evgenia decided not to listen to any more arguments outside.
She put in wax earplugs, slipped on a soft sleep mask, snuggled up in a hand-knit blanket in her bedroom, and slept soundly until ten o’clock Saturday morning.
At noon, after having hot cheese toast for breakfast and tidying up the kitchen, she heard a persistent knocking on the stairwell. The intercom was still turned off.
Evgenia went to the door and slid back the night latch. Out on the landing stood Anton, gloomy as a raincloud, and Karolina Naumovna, disheveled in a sweater with big buttons and lips painted lilac.
Her mother-in-law clasped the handle of her empty rolling bag, both of them looking like they’d been unloading freight all night.
Two cardboard boxes and a large sports bag, stuffed to the brim with Anton’s shirts, track pants, and sweaters, were already waiting by the bench in the hallway.
— Are you happy now, shameless girl?! — Karolina Naumovna snapped at her daughter-in-law from the doorway, shaking her shopping trolley handle menacingly.
— Because of your tricks, that big bear Lev ended up at my place! And he bossed me around like it was his own garage!
I, an older woman with high blood pressure, had to stew that wretched liver in sour cream till one in the morning, while Anton scrubbed a whole bucket of tiny potatoes!
— Why didn’t Anton just fry the liver himself? — Evgenia asked innocently, leaning against the doorframe.
— Last night, he was shouting it would take just half an hour and his hands wouldn’t fall off.
— He burned half of it on my cast-iron pan! — the mother-in-law blurted out, forgetting she meant to scold her daughter-in-law.
— The whole kitchen’s filled with smoke! And that Levushka of yours, Anton, he has no shame at all!
— Mom, that’s enough already! — Anton cringed, his face red with embarrassment.
— No, you have to listen! — Karolina Naumovna wouldn’t let it go.
— Not only did he eat all the liver, he also rifled through my pantry!
He polished off a week’s supply of homemade cutlets, finished an entire stick of sausage, drank all my cherry infusion for my joints, and then crashed on my couch for the night in his pants! We barely managed to get him out by nine the next morning!
“At least you showed respect to the right person,” Evgenia remarked with a gentle smile.
“Did he at least leave the canister of antifreeze?”
“Not a chance he did!” the mother-in-law exploded again.
“He said Anton still owed him for that burnt liver without any pies! Didn’t leave the canister, just left!”
Anton sulked in silence, staring at the floor, then glanced over at the cardboard boxes and sports bag by the bench in the hallway.
“And what’s all this junk by the door?” he asked cautiously.
“That’s your dowry, Antosha,” Evgenia explained warmly.
“Your jackets, winter sweaters, and razor are in the top box. Put the key to my apartment on the dresser, I already took the spare from your drawer.”
Since you and Mom make such a great culinary team, you two can live together. And feel free to feed your buddy Lev every Friday at your own expense.
“You’re kicking me out over a piece of liver?!” Anton blurted out, shocked.
“I just wanted the bus company to give me a decent route! That’s all!”
“Wait just a minute!” Karolina Naumovna suddenly exclaimed, quickly catching on to what her daughter-in-law was getting at.
“What do you mean, live together with me?! I have a schedule and high blood pressure—I don’t need another mouth to feed and snoring at night!”
“Zhenya, what are you thinking? The guy slipped up just once, you made a fuss for form’s sake—let’s leave it at that.”
“No, Karolina Naumovna, you’re getting exactly what you fought for,” Evgenia responded, throwing up her hands.
“Just yesterday, you said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt Antosha. So go ahead and put his boxes in that rolling bag of yours.”
There’s a reason you’ve both been rolling around town together for two days straight!
Anton was about to puff up and say something threatening, but met his wife’s cheerful, absolutely unflappable stare and instantly lost his nerve.
Reluctantly, he took the key from his pocket, set it on the corner of the dresser, stacked the cardboard boxes onto his mom’s rolling cart, grabbed the sports bag, and shuffled toward the elevator.
Karolina Naumovna, grumbling about ungrateful snakes and her ruined couch, hurried after her son.
Two months passed. Anton ended up staying at Karolina Naumovna’s place, taking over that very same couch in the living room.
According to mutual friends, the new Gazelle van Lev promised never materialized at the motor pool, but he did start stopping by every Friday out of habit—to see what they were serving for dinner.
Word is, Karolina Naumovna now stashes the sausage and a pot of cutlets on her glassed-in balcony under lock and key, and if she hears a car horn in the courtyard at night, she’s the first one to the hall to flip off the intercom. Continued in the comments.