A young and attractive woman in a home robe with a bright Mickey Mouse on the side blinked confusedly, standing in a long hallway with wooden floors, looking at a full woman of about fifty-five years, dressed in a good sheepskin coat.
“What do you mean, a week to move? Fear God, where are we supposed to find another apartment in a week? You have no right to do this, you should have warned us in advance.”
“What was there to warn about?” the woman shrugged her broad shoulders. “I brought buyers here to see the room, didn’t I? And everything was clear. The buyer is ready to close the deal right now. I even persuaded him to wait a week so you’d have time to get ready.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Dina lowered her head in distress. “Fine, I’ll start packing. But I have no idea where we’ll move to.”
She returned to the medium-sized room where she and her husband had been living for the past three years. There was a bed, a separate refrigerator, and a small balcony where Sasha went out to smoke. The bathroom was at the end of the hall, shared with others, as was the kitchen. Living in a communal apartment wasn’t great, of course, but Dina and Sasha had long accepted it. The rent was low and allowed them to save for their own place. According to their calculations, they’d need another year of hard saving to afford a two-bedroom apartment in a residential area. But now the owner of the room had ruined their plans, saying a buyer had been found, and they had a week to vacate. To say that Dina was upset was an understatement. For the price they were paying, they wouldn’t find anything else. Definitely not! That meant it would take much longer to save for an apartment. And also, where could they move to? How quickly could they find a new place?
Dina decided to figure it out with Sasha when he returned from work. For now, she wandered around the room, thinking about starting to pack her things. Nothing was working, and her thoughts kept jumping from one thing to another. She’d pick something up, put it down again, unable to focus.
Sasha came home quickly, already looking upset. He said he’d run into the landlady on the street. He looked at his wife as confusedly as she had looked at the landlady just moments before.
“Dina, what are we going to do? Maybe we should start checking rental ads. We probably won’t find anything at the same price.”
“It’s not ‘probably,’ we absolutely won’t!” Dina sighed. “Looks like buying our own apartment is postponed indefinitely. And we only have a week to move. What if we can’t find anything in time?”
“I guess I’ll call my dad,” Sasha said uncertainly, pulling out his phone.
Dina understood the reason for his uncertainty perfectly and didn’t see the point in making the call. Sasha’s dad, Viktor Sergeevich, was a very peculiar man. He’d been widowed three years ago and was living alone in a huge three-room apartment. He looked good for his age and could easily find a new partner, but he didn’t want to.
“He’ll start eyeing my apartment,” Viktor Sergeevich would say, half-joking, but also somewhat serious.
He was very protective of his property and had clearly told his son and daughter-in-law not to “get any ideas” about his three-room apartment.
“You’ll get it after I’m gone,” he would say, still in that half-joking tone. “But that won’t be anytime soon. I’m not planning to die just yet. So, don’t wait around, buy your own place.”
Sasha and Dina had never counted on the apartment and certainly didn’t wish for Viktor Sergeevich to pass away. He was still a young man, in his prime. He worked as a taxi driver, kept fit, and took care of himself. He didn’t buy food from cheap stores, claiming they were full of chemicals. He would travel to the village to buy meat from trusted people.
So, Dina didn’t understand why Sasha was calling his father. However, after a brief conversation, Sasha looked at Dina in surprise.
“Dad said we can move in. We can take the big bedroom.”
“What? Are you serious?” Dina asked, not believing it. “He said we can live with him, just like that?”
“Well, not exactly just like that,” Sasha hesitated. “Dad says we’ll have to pay him the same amount we were paying for this room.”
“Well, that’s still great,” Dina exclaimed. “Then we can keep saving, and our plans for buying an apartment won’t change. I can’t believe your dad has become so generous.”
“I’m shocked too,” Sasha muttered.
The move took just a couple of days, and on the third day, Dina handed the keys to the room to the very satisfied landlady.
“Well done,” the full woman chirped. “Everything was done so quickly. Good luck, guys.”
Dina realized they’d need all the luck they could get in their first month living in the new place. Viktor Sergeevich, although not immediately, started showing his bad side. The first thing he declared was that the apartment had to be absolutely spotless, sterile clean. The fact that it was in a pretty dirty state didn’t matter.
“I’m a man,” Viktor Sergeevich smugly declared. “Men are not naturally inclined to keep things clean. You women are made of different stuff. I’m sure, Dina, you’ll be able to make it shine in no time.”
Dina understood what “making it shine” meant, but couldn’t quite figure out how to achieve that in a place where the bathtub and toilet hadn’t been cleaned in years. Sasha took care of the bathtub. He hired a specialist, and the yellow, and in some places, even black, bathtub was coated with a new layer and turned white again. But the toilet didn’t respond to the same treatment. No matter how much Dina scrubbed, no matter what harsh chemicals she used, the toilet wouldn’t become white and wouldn’t lose its buildup of calcium deposits. When Viktor Sergeevich came home, the first thing he did was head for the bathroom and click his tongue in dissatisfaction. He would scold Dina as if she were a child.
“I thought you were the housekeeper, but it turns out you’re helpless.”
Sasha grimaced at these remarks about his wife. Eventually, he got frustrated and bought a new toilet. In a family where every penny was saved, this purchase was an unexpected and unwanted expense.
After a week of scrubbing her fingers raw, Dina finally got the apartment to the desired standard set by her father-in-law. It “shone” just like Viktor Sergeevich had wanted. He walked through the rooms, surveyed everything with an owner’s eye, but didn’t praise Dina. She felt a little hurt. Every day, after work, she had scrubbed, cleaned, and scraped. Just the kitchen unit, with its greasy buildup and stains, had taken two entire evenings. Of course, Sasha tried to help, but he came home later from work and was more tired. Dina’s job was sedentary in an office, while Sasha worked in physical labor in plumbing.
But that was all right. Dina cleaned the apartment and sighed in relief. That evening, when they were alone in their room, which, by the way, they still paid rent for, and Viktor Sergeevich had already taken the rent money in advance, she complained a little.
“Sasha, what kind of person is your dad? I cleaned everything he wanted, even though at first I thought it was impossible. And he’s just walking around, looking for something to complain about.”
“I knew this wouldn’t be easy from the start,” Sasha said. “We’ll have to put up with it. At least the apartment’s clean now. No matter how he behaves, he’s happy. Now we just have to keep it tidy. I’ll help you with that. Hopefully, he won’t come up with anything new.”
Viktor Sergeevich didn’t come up with anything new; he managed just fine on his own.
Suddenly, he discovered Dina’s cooking. When Sasha and Dina moved in, Viktor Sergeevich made it clear that the food in his fridge was off-limits.
“Don’t even think about looking in there,” he said. “I only buy rural, natural products. I get them specially. You’ve got your own fridge, so put your chemicals in there. I know you buy from those cheap warehouses.”
Dina just shrugged. He didn’t need to say that—they had never planned on touching his food. But apparently, Viktor Sergeevich was the type of person who needed to “shove it in his son’s face” and point out how poorly Sasha and Dina lived, eating “God knows what.”
No matter where they bought their groceries, Dina cooked excellently. On a weekend, she made a pot of cabbage soup, cooked pilaf, and the delicious smell filled the apartment. On weekends, Viktor Sergeevich only worked as a taxi driver until noon. He didn’t like to overwork himself. When he came back home, he sniffed the air a few times, went into the kitchen, and didn’t say anything like “it smells good” or anything of the sort. He just muttered to Dina as she served him soup:
“What did you cook? Well, let’s see, I’ll try it.”
Dina was flattered the first time. Let him try it, she thought. Maybe he’d finally praise her. She knew that cabbage soup was her signature dish.
The large plate of cabbage soup was devoured by the father-in-law in “two sittings.” He almost licked the plate clean. He wanted to ask for seconds, and Dina understood that from his look. He held back, cleared his throat in an old man’s way and said:
“Well, I’ll try your pilaf.”
“Dad, we’re eating the same chemicals. Aren’t you afraid to eat our food?” Alexander teased his father.
The old man raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, chemicals and GMOs in your food. Nothing healthy about it. But sometimes it’s okay. You’re still alive, so I won’t die either. Serve the pilaf, Dina.”
That “sometimes” from Viktor Sergeevich turned into “always.” Now, even when the man stayed out late working as a taxi driver, he reliably came home twice a day, for lunch and dinner. Dina and Sasha were never home for lunch. Viktor Sergeevich ran the house and raided their fridge. He would serve himself soup and take seconds. Of course, he didn’t wash his dishes, just left them in the sink.
“I’ve found a housekeeper,” Dina sighed when she returned from work.
At first, Dina wasn’t bothered by the fact that her father-in-law started eating with them. But by the end of the month, after tallying up the costs, she and her husband realized that they had saved far less—much less.
“And that’s because we’re spending more on groceries now,” Dina said indignantly. “Your dad eats ‘like there’s no tomorrow.’ He forbids us from touching his food, but he dives into ours several times a day. Do you know what I’ve noticed? Now he’s not just eating prepared meals, he’s even helping himself to sausages. Just yesterday, I bought a Krakow sausage stick, and today there’s only a little bit left.”
“Seriously? We had sausage,” Sasha glanced at his wife. “I just came from the fridge to get a drink. There’s not even a little bit left.”
“Well, there you go,” Dina exclaimed. “Just like I said. Your dad’s got a taste for our ‘harmful food’ and now you can’t pry him away from it. I’m not complaining, but when you look at the money, it’s clear that we’re renting a nice apartment, not just a room. You can see how little we’ve been able to save this month.”
“I see,” Sasha nodded sadly. “Dina, what can I do? I can’t scold my dad over food.”
“He told us not to touch his food!” Dina shot back, but deep down, she knew Sasha wouldn’t say that to his father. She wouldn’t have the heart to deny her father-in-law a bowl of soup either. Besides, now he didn’t even ask; he just helped himself to whatever he wanted. He never once said “thank you,” let alone complimented her cooking, even when it was delicious. And when it wasn’t, why did he stuff his face like there was no tomorrow?
Three months went by like this. Dina and Sasha grew more and more unhappy. Her father-in-law was never lacking an appetite, and they couldn’t save money like they used to. When Dina came home from work, it felt like she was starting her second shift. She felt like Viktor Sergeevich deliberately tried to make a mess just to keep her busy, to keep her from having any free time. There were greasy stains in the kitchen, dirty tracks in the hallway, and don’t even mention the bathroom. Dina would clean, cook, and then collapse, only to wake up and go to work again.
One evening, Viktor Sergeevich casually hinted that his birthday was coming up. Not just any birthday, but a milestone one.
“Fifty isn’t something that happens every day!” he said, raising his finger to the ceiling. “We need to celebrate. I haven’t seen my relatives in ages. Sasha, let’s invite everyone here for my anniversary. The apartment’s big, there’s plenty of room.”
Sasha, looking sour, agreed. They sat down to make a guest list, trying not to forget anyone. They ended up with twenty-seven people. Dina was horrified when her father-in-law told her:
“Well, can you surprise the guests with your dishes?”
“What do you mean, surprise with dishes?” Dina’s eyes widened. “I thought you’d order the food. I can’t cook for twenty-seven people!”
“Order?” Viktor Sergeevich snorted. “I can’t even imagine how much that would cost. And why should I, when I have a woman in my house now? Don’t worry, I’ll buy the food. Just make me a list.”
“He’s being generous, buying the groceries,” Dina muttered to Sasha. “But I can’t do it, Sasha. I just can’t. It’ll take me at least two days off to shop and cook. And I don’t even know what to make to impress all those people.”
“I’ll help however I can. We’ll buy the food together. I’m not good at cooking, but I’ll call Auntie, Mom’s sister. She worked as a cook once. She’s a simple person, she’ll come and help.”
In the end, everything worked out. Sasha’s aunt helped, the tables were piled high with food. Exhausted, Dina sat next to her husband, weakly smiling as the guests praised her cooking. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation she had had with her father-in-law the night before. Viktor Sergeevich had firmly told her and Sasha:
“I have one condition, and it’s very important. When the guests are here, don’t you dare mention that I take rent from you. Don’t even hint at it.”
“Aaa, Dad, how interesting,” Sasha teased. “So, you realize that it’s, let’s say, not exactly normal to charge your own son for room rent?”
Viktor Sergeevich’s eyes bulged with anger. He barked:
“It’s normal! I’m not taking money from my little son, I’m taking it from an adult. It’s normal. But relatives don’t need to know. Got it?”
Dina and Sasha got it. At the table, they kept quiet about their living situation. They might have kept silent if, after the toasts for the birthday boy, Viktor Sergeevich hadn’t started boasting.
“No, really, what’s the big deal? I’m standing firm on my feet. I’ve acquired quite a lot. I have a big apartment, a car. My son, look, he’s almost thirty, and look at him—no property, no nothing. I took them in, poor things. They have nowhere to live, haven’t built anything yet. Well, let them stay here. They’re my son, not strangers.”
The guests all began to praise him in unison, but Dina was furious. She stood up with a glass in her hand, as if to make a toast, but instead, she said:
“Thank you, Viktor Sergeevich, for your hospitality. Special thanks for not charging us too much for rent. If only the grocery expenses hadn’t gone up, maybe we’d still be managing with the same budget we had when we lived in a communal apartment. But now, it’s like we’re renting a whole apartment. At least, financially. Well, we’re not strangers! Thank you, Viktor Sergeevich.”
Dina finished her speech and quickly downed her champagne. She sat back down, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Sasha’s aunt was the first to react, the same one who had helped with the cooking.
“Wait, you’re charging your kids for rent? You bastard!” she cried out. “That apartment isn’t even yours! Your sister earned it. She’s probably turning in her grave knowing that you’re ripping off your own son. You were always a skinflint, Viktor, and you’re still one.”
Viktor Sergeevich turned beet red, his eyes bulging with rage. He stared at Dina with those wild eyes. She knew that, most likely, they’d have to leave the next day. Or maybe even that night. Some relative tried to ease the tension at the table.
“Well, alright, alright, it’s none of our business. Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight. I want to raise a toast to our birthday boy. Here’s to your health, Vitya.”
The guests cheered, and the incident seemed forgotten. But Dina and Sasha knew that a tough conversation awaited them. Dina mentally started planning how to pack their things.
The party lasted late into the night. The last guests left when Dina and Sasha were already asleep. So, all of Viktor Sergeevich’s anger would be waiting for them in the morning. Exactly at 7:30, he burst into their room and shouted:
“Enough sleeping!”
Dina sat up, pulling the blanket over herself. She didn’t let her father-in-law continue yelling.
“Viktor Sergeevich, don’t even start! I know everything already. We’ll pack our things today and leave. And no, I don’t regret what I said. It’s true, we’ll be paying the same for a normal apartment as we are now. Only, I won’t have to work myself to death at two jobs. It’s like you’re doing everything you can to make a mess, just so I don’t get bored and have no free time.”
“Why are you silent?” Viktor Sergeevich growled at Sasha, who was lying in bed with his arms behind his head.
“What’s there to say? Nothing to add, nothing to subtract! Dina’s right. You can say nothing, we’ll leave on our own.”
“You think I came here to kick you out? Well, you’re wrong! Stay, I don’t need your money anymore. I’ll eat your food, but I won’t take your money!” Viktor Sergeevich growled and quickly ran to the door. He opened it, paused, and without looking back, said: “And by the way… I won’t make a mess anymore. I’ll wash the dishes, I’ll clean up the kitchen if I mess it up.”
After that, he seemed embarrassed by his words, left, and slammed the door behind him.
“What was that?” Dina blinked. “Sasha, did your dad’s conscience suddenly wake up?”
“Keep your expectations low, conscience!” Sasha laughed. “Dad doesn’t know what conscience is. He’s just afraid of losing your soups. You’ve bribed him with your cooking so much that he can’t let go of it. And you say he never compliments your cooking. He turned down money for it!”