Are you out of your mind? We can’t even survive a holiday with her, and you invited her to live with you?” Ksyusha fumed.
“Well, it’s good for her—just bear with it a little!” Roman was not about to back down.
“It’d be easier for me to move to the city by myself while she’s here!”
Ksyusha and Roman had spent almost their entire married life living with Roman’s mother, Natalya Anatolyevna. They couldn’t afford their own apartment, while his mother-in-law owned a large three-room apartment in the center.
She immediately shut down any questions regarding exchanging or selling her place.
“As long as I live, I want to stay in the apartment where I was born and raised! You young people can earn your own place.”
It was as if she couldn’t understand that earning enough to buy an apartment these days wasn’t that simple—especially with a little child in tow and only one working adult in the family.
Once their little one began attending kindergarten, Ksenia started taking on clients again. Having once worked in a major advertising company, some of her former customers were pleased that they could now approach her directly.
As her fortunes grew, the couple soon decided to invest their savings in a country house. Both liked the idea—it was cheaper than an apartment and offered more space. It was just right for a family with a small, restless child.
Natalya Anatolyevna took the news like a ton of bricks.
“Why on earth do you need to go to who-knows-where? Live here in the city. Your child goes to kindergarten here and will soon attend a school here. We have a good school with a math focus—Roman studied there himself. No, I am absolutely against it,” the mother-in-law declared for everyone.
“Mom, we have already weighed everything and made our decision.”
“What do you mean ‘everything’? Without me? You’ll thank me later.”
At that moment, Ksyusha was actually glad they would be moving out of the city—away from an overbearing mother.
But she wouldn’t let it go.
“How do you think I’ll get to see you? What if you need someone to watch Masha?”
“We’ll manage on our own. If it’s really necessary, we’ll bring Masha to you ourselves,” Roman calmly explained.
“So, do you even need to buy a car for the country house? You’re not going to commute to work by train!”
“Ksyusha’s dad is giving us his old car. He hasn’t driven for a year now, and the car’s been sitting rusting. I’ll fix it up a bit, and it should get us around for another ten years,” Roman said excitedly.
“You’ll end up spending more money on repairs…” Natalya Anatolyevna kept grumbling.
“Don’t you worry about us—everything will be fine!” Ksyusha joined in confidently.
“Nobody ever asks you about these things; a man should handle such matters with his mother. I have life experience—I raised someone on my own—while your Masha hasn’t even been taught to do the simplest things by herself. You should focus on being a mother while us adults discuss important issues,” the mother-in-law snapped irritably.
“No way, I’m not doing that!” Ksenia couldn’t stand such treatment. “This house is being bought with my money too!”
“But you don’t even have a real job! You’re just into advertising—sitting online half the day, choosing pictures.”
“That’s my job—I make advertising banners and set up ads. If you don’t understand something, maybe you should start by developing yourselves,” Ksyusha retorted, turning and walking to her room.
“Oh, you’re going to have such a hard time with that girl,” Natalya Anatolyevna said to Roman. “Maybe you shouldn’t buy a place together. You already have an apartment; live there. Otherwise, she won’t get anything in the end,” she continued in a patronizing tone.
“Enough, Mom! Case closed.”
Ksyusha was the happiest about the house purchase. That thought alone gave her the strength to endure all the months of searching and viewing potential properties. After all, they were still living in her mother-in-law’s apartment.
Finally, when their agent Lena called with an offer “you just can’t refuse,” Ksyusha and Roman dropped everything and rushed to the suburbs.
They found a small but brand-new wooden frame house on a beautiful, spacious plot being sold quickly—hence at a price far below market value.
Roman and Ksyusha immediately fell in love with this cozy nest and paid the deposit.
The move was not without its nerve-wracking moments. Natalya Anatolyevna constantly complained that the children were making a huge mistake and that in these suburban areas there was neither proper ambulance service nor police. Going there with a child, she claimed, was sheer madness.
Ksyusha paid no heed to these maternal rants. She was completely absorbed in her list of items that must not be forgotten under any circumstances.
The couple settled in rather quickly. Little Masha was absolutely delighted with both the new house and the large plot where she could run around, and with the old, sprawling apple tree at the edge. Everything was going wonderfully until one fine day Roman appeared with some news.
“Mom has come to live with us,” her husband said guiltily.
A chill ran through Ksyusha. She dropped the glass of milk she had poured for Masha. Not believing her husband’s words, she dashed to the window. In the driveway, a taxi was parked, and out of it stepped Natalya Anatolyevna. As usual, she looked dissatisfied and was arguing with the taxi driver.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Ksyusha asked dryly.
“Because you wouldn’t have allowed it. Her health is not well. The doctor said she needs fresh air and minimal disturbances.”
Any further argument was pointless since her mother had arrived—there was no way back. Yet Ksyusha was so furious at her husband’s omission that she continued to fume until the sound of heavy footsteps—almost as if even the deck boards were protesting her visit—interrupting her.
“Hellooo, my dears,” the children’s greeting rang out in song as Natalya Anatolyevna cheerfully welcomed them. “Oh, you have so much space here! This is even larger than my shabby three-room place. And you didn’t even invite your mother over.”
“Seems like you never wanted to go to that who-knows-where in the first place,” Ksyusha snapped.
“Ksyusha, don’t start…” Roman said quietly.
“Don’t worry, Romochka, I’m not holding a grudge. I’m not in a position to be upset about anyone these days. I’m not as good as I used to be,” the mother-in-law cooed while dragging her suitcase inside.
“Looks like you’re staying with us for a while.”
“No, just for about a month, no more.”
Ksyusha sat down. It seemed she needed a sedative. A whole month alone with her mother-in-law? Roman would be commuting to work, and what was she supposed to do? At that moment, Ksyusha was even willing to take a job as a cashier at the nearest store just to avoid spending time with Natalya Anatolyevna. But, alas, it was too late already.
The mother-in-law immediately and meticulously began imposing her rules.
At home, no one was allowed to watch TV after 10 p.m., or else Natalya Anatolyevna would get a migraine. During the day, from three to four o’clock there had to be complete silence—her afternoon nap time. Masha was ordered to play outside so as not to disturb her grandmother.
Natalya Anatolyevna arrived with a printed diet plan, which she promptly hung on the refrigerator.
“To keep it in sight at all times,” she declared as she affixed the A4 sheet to the glossy door with strips of tape, “Ksyusha, try not to buy or keep any products that I’ve forbidden. They’re listed in the red box at the bottom.” she pointed to the lower part of the paper.
Every Saturday, Roman was to take his mother to the market where she bought fresh, farm products. And every Monday, Ksyusha had to pick up fresh newspapers and magazines for her at the local post office.
Natalya Anatolyevna spared no opportunity to tell her daughter-in-law what she was doing wrong.
For instance, she was against liquid hand soap and threw out an entire bottle, replacing it with a “proper,” antibacterial one. Ksenia’s arguments that it was unhealthy and dried out hands were completely disregarded.
The same went for her culinary skills. The mother-in-law flatly refused to eat what her daughter-in-law cooked, whispering to Roman that she deliberately prepared overly fatty food to break her diet and, as she put it, “to drive me crazy.”
Ksyusha was ready to kick her out the door, but she tolerated her for Roman’s sake. Deep down, though, she even felt a bit of pity for that pernicious old woman.
“One day, she even asked, ‘Ksyusha, give me a foot massage.’”
“Excuse me, what did you say?” Ksyusha thought she must have misheard.
“Massage my legs. What are you staring at me for? I’m your husband’s mother—you should take care of me eventually.” It was clear that Natalya Anatolyevna didn’t understand what was off about her request.
“I don’t want to,” Ksyusha replied calmly.
“I’m not asking whether you want to or not. I need you to massage me. I pulled a muscle last night and barely managed to get up this morning!”
“I’m not going to massage someone else’s legs. That makes me uncomfortable,” the daughter-in-law firmly repeated.
“Can’t you do anything useful at all? I’ll tell Roman that you’re trying to seduce me. Let’s see who is more important to him— you or his own mother! And besides, I think Masha isn’t even your biological daughter. There’s nothing of our kind in her—no pedigree.”
In essence, Ksenia could endure almost anything, but when it came to her child, she couldn’t hold back. Silently she moved to the far room allocated for her mother-in-law, opened the suitcase, removed all the hangers from the closet, and tossed them into the suitcase along with the clothes hanging on them. Judging by the number of items, it was clear that her mother had come to stay not for just a month, but almost until winter!
Then she began pulling out drawers from the dresser and methodically transferring their contents onto a neatly folded pile of clothing in the suitcase.
“What do you think you’re doing in my room? Who gave you permission to touch my things?”
Ksyusha left the drawers alone, turned to her mother-in-law, and quietly but firmly said:
“There is, and will never be, anything of yours in this house. Remember that and never come here again.”
The mother-in-law stepped back toward the door. She had not expected this from her quiet daughter-in-law.
Ksyusha was already dialing a number on her phone.
“Hello, taxi? Please send a car to 23 Dubovaya. Thank you, we’re waiting.”
Natalya Anatolyevna watched everything silently, mouth slightly agape.
After snapping her suitcase shut, Ksyusha grabbed it with her free hand and brought it into the living room.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Excuse me, Natalya Anatolyevna, but this is yours too!”
She peeled off the strips of tape holding the diet sheet to the refrigerator and reattached the colorful paper right onto the suitcase’s lid.
“To keep it in sight at all times,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
When the taxi arrived, she took her mother-in-law by the arm and led her to the car, still clutching her suitcase.
Natalya Anatolyevna remained silent, trying to process what had just happened.
Ksyusha put the woman into the taxi, closed the door, and just as she was about to turn back toward the house, the taxi driver called out:
“Hey, where are we going?”
Ksyusha paused for a moment and then replied with a smile:
“Somewhere far away.”
That evening, Roman returned earlier than usual.
“Why are you so early?” Ksyusha asked as she had just begun preparing dinner.
“Well, tomorrow I need to take Mom to the market, and I have a ton of work. I decided to work from home tonight,” he explained.
“And I kicked your mom out,” Ksyusha said with a calm smile.
“Ksyusha, what do you mean? Really?” Roman questioned. “She’s an elderly person.”
“I took her by taxi home. She insisted that I massage her feet and claimed that Masha isn’t your daughter.”
Roman wanted to ask another question, but refrained. The new, predatory smile on Ksyusha’s face made it clear that she would not forgive her mother-in-law for a long time regarding the daughter issue.