Mom called again, worried about how you take care of me,” sighed my husband.
“As if you were five years old,” I replied. “Tell her you’re thirty-two and you don’t need a sweater.”
Borya gave a strained smile and dropped the conversation.
My mother-in-law, Alevtina Nikolaevna, was one of those women who dedicated her life to her child. Life had turned such that she caught her unfaithful husband in an unequivocally clear situation, didn’t forgive him, and kicked him out. She was left alone with her young son. It was hard for her. The boy was often sick, cried a lot, was late starting kindergarten, and spent most of elementary school collecting thirty-three different illnesses, mostly staying at home.
Thankfully, her mother helped out. Without her, Alevtina Nikolaevna would have had a very hard time. But her mother was already retired by then, could stay with her grandson, while my mother-in-law worked two jobs, trying to provide her child with the best. But as Borya grew healthy and strong, for his mother, he remained the same boy 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 my friend, a die-hard party girl, dragged me along to see what it was all about. I agreed unexpectedly, even to myself, and ended up not regretting it. The atmosphere of freedom, youth, and the picturesque September forest rustling with golden leaves filled me with lightness and happiness. Until then, my life had been all about school and work. I had just finished university, paying attention to nothing but lectures and exams.
Then I got a job at a large company that paid well. By that point, I already had my own apartment – inherited from my aunt who had no children of her own; I was her only joy. When Aunt Dasha passed away, I found out that she had left me her spacious two-bedroom in a quiet residential area, not far from the city center. Once my mourning passed and I could think clearly, I was glad to have my own place.
The festival was loud. People from all over the region came, took the stage with their guitars, sang with all their soul. I listened, watched, relaxed. In the evening, huge bonfires burned up to the sky, and guitars and beautiful voices rang out again. They sang Vysotsky, Vizbor, and songs they had written themselves. Across from me sat 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 numbers, went to a café back in the city, and talked for a long time, realizing how much we had in common – he also loved ‘The Witcher’ by Sapkowski, listened to old Russian rock, loved historical films, which we then watched hundreds of. We dated for almost a year, and then Borya decided to propose. I agreed, and we went to meet his mother.
Alevtina Nikolaevna didn’t like me right away. However, she would have taken any woman next to her son as a rival to a mother. Directly, my mother-in-law never said this, but I clearly saw how she was jealous and did everything to attract her son’s attention. For a year and a half of marriage, Alevtina Nikolaevna hovered over her Borya like a hawk over her chicks.
She called him three times a day, seriously asking if he had put on a hat. At first, I found this amusing. My husband pretended that this care bothered him, but he tolerated it so as not to upset his caring mother. Then Alevtina Nikolaevna started a real pilgrimage to our home. She came to criticize everything I did. Until then, I had no idea you could place a towel the wrong way, which I had just used to wipe the dishes.
“Borya likes thicker borscht, Tanya!” my mother-in-law would literally shout, not ashamed to peek under the lid of the pot where the soup was bubbling.
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, I know well what Borya likes, we’ve discussed what soups he likes,” I responded.
“You’re cooking some slop, I know better what my son loves!”
So it went with everything. My windows were not clean, the floor was crumby, I didn’t hang the laundry properly, I didn’t look presentable enough for her son. Why an electrician at a factory needed to be overly presentable was not entirely clear, but Alevtina Nikolaevna saw only my flaws, which she boldly spoke about. Her visits noticeably tired me. I told my husband several times to cool his mother’s ardor – it was too much even for someone with whom you have wonderful and warm relations. And when they’re tense, it’s a real trial.
The apartment I inherited from my aunt was quite old. In her last years, she didn’t remodel, not wanting to stir up trouble and dust. At some point, the faded wallpapers that were starting to peel off the walls started to bother me.
And I wanted to have decent appliances at home. Once, after receiving a bonus at work, I bought a new dishwasher. My husband was pleased then, thinking it would make domestic life easier. Neither of us liked washing dishes much, and with the schedule of a modern person, appliances are simply necessary. Later, I bought wallpapers, asking my husband to put them up.
“You know how, and it’ll be hard for me with my height,” I argued sensibly. “And let’s also chip in for a washing machine. Ours is quite old.”
Borya initially agreed willingly, but then, returning from his mother’s, whom he had visited again under some pretext invented by his mother-in-law, he said:
“Listen, Tanya, no offense, but I’m not going to do anything here.”
“Why is that?” I was genuinely amazed. “You live here too.”
“The apartment is entirely in your name. If something happens, I’ll be left with nothing, and you with a neat order and cool expensive appliances,” Boris explained.
I shrugged – overall, he was right. By law, the apartment, pre-marriage, even in the case of that ‘something,’ would remain entirely mine. Borya couldn’t take the wallpapers with him, which would have to be ripped off the walls. It wasn’t very pleasant to hear such reasoning from my husband, but I understood perfectly that he hadn’t come to these conclusions on his own.
It was clear where the wind was blowing from – the mother-in-law had explained to her short-sighted son the life prospects with a cunning wife, who wanted to fleece him like a sticky bug, then send him packing with a bundle in the fog to find the elusive pony. I smiled and agreed with Borya’s arguments:
“Alright, I’ll do it myself. Then you take care of the utilities and groceries.”
My husband shrugged, agreeing.
At work, I had a very difficult two weeks. Sometimes it was like that – everything piled up all at once, and the whole team rushed around, not knowing what to grab first. I was so tired that I only had a quick snack before bed at home and fell asleep without a back. Borya helped around the house as best he could. Tomorrow was scheduled to be a day off, and I planned to sleep until noon, then laze under a blanket and drink cocoa, licking sweet mustaches and chasing the aromatic drink with crispy sesame cookies, which my husband baked for me to sweeten the weight of workdays a bit.
At ten in the morning, I woke up from a loud scream:
“And what is she still doing in bed, when she’s supposed to be making you breakfast?”
I jumped up, nearly falling off the bed, instantly waking up after blissful slumber. My mother-in-law’s voice was unmistakable. And why, you ask?
I slipped my feet into fluffy cozy slippers with bunny ears, went to meet the uninvited guest.
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, why are you shouting and why did you come without warning?”
“I don’t need a warning to visit my own son!” the mother-in-law attacked right away. “I know how you take care of him. It’s eleven o’clock, you’re lying down, not even bothering to make breakfast for my Borya.”
“Alevtina Nikolaevna, he’s perfectly capable of frying his own eggs. He’s not a child.”
“What does that have to do with anything? Why did he marry you then? To watch you sleep all day?”
Not wanting to argue further, I sighed heavily. I had to go wash up, hurriedly bake a charlotte for tea, keep up a conversation in which I was guilty everywhere.
When Alevtina Nikolaevna finally left, I turned on my husband.
“Borya, what is this? Why does she barge in 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, we’ll have children, and a complete stranger calmly enters the house, who has a set of keys. You didn’t even bother to inform me about this. I was scared out of my wits in my sleep!”
“No, don’t be mad, you know what my mom is like.”
“Exactly, I know exactly what she’s like!” I snapped, and went to do the laundry.
Borya’s unclear answer definitely did not please me, and I decided to act radically. Monday was supposed to be a short day for me. The emergency 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 café, then called a firm to change the locks.
I arranged quickly, and, coming home, fifteen minutes later was greeting a stern master of his craft. A huge man, resembling Hagrid from ‘Harry Potter,’ quickly changed the lock on the front door, I paid him and thanked him. I didn’t tell my husband, opened the door for him myself when he came from work. And on Tuesday evening, Alevtina Nikolaevna, who was in for a big surprise, showed up.
I was just cooking dinner. Aromatic fish soup was simmering on the stove, which I stirred, tasting for salt. In the oven, a potato casserole with minced meat, cheese, and zucchini was baking. When the door was pounded with shouts and curses, I wiped my hands on a towel, and, not removing my apron, went to open it.
On the doorstep stood my mother-in-law with huge bags full of food. Apparently, for her starving Borya.
“Good evening, Alevtina Nikolaevna. What brings you here? And why such knocking?”
“I didn’t allow you to change the locks in your apartment,” declared the mother-in-law.
I closed my eyes, inhaled, slowly exhaled.
“As you’ve noticed, the apartment is mine. I have the right 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 going on?”
“She won’t let me in, son! I brought food so you wouldn’t starve.”
“As if he’s swelling up from hunger here!” I couldn’t hold back.
“I have the right to enter here, how will you manage without my supervision!” the mother-in-law pressed on my husband.
“Tanya, well, mom’s right. Why shouldn’t she take care of me? It’ll 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…”
“I’ll sue you for a bunch of money for repairs and appliances! My son has invested a ton of money here!” the woman shrilly interrupted me.
I blinked in confusion, and went to the dresser, where all the receipts for the repairs 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 go live with you. I’ll file for divorce tomorrow, because I don’t need such a mommy’s boy.” I declared, and closed the door right in the shocked faces of my mother-in-law and soon-to-be ex-husband.
After I demonstrated the receipts, everything quieted down behind the door. I turned off the fish soup, covering it with a lid to let it steep. When the casserole was ready, I cut myself a piece, leisurely had dinner. 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. Borya and I had no joint property, no children either. My husband never called or wrote, and the mother-in-law was also silent as a fish thrown onto ice. This silence quite suited me. I didn’t want anything more to do with these people.
To occupy myself, I decorated the apartment for Halloween – hung up cute foamiran bats, made papier-mâché garlands 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 became somehow easier to breathe when I separated from Boris. After all, he wasn’t the right person for me, and now that he was no longer in my life, I acutely realized that. Outside, it was getting colder, the first snow was swirling in the air, and the wind howled through the nights.
I took up knitting to pass the dark autumn evenings. I always liked knitting, but before, there somehow wasn’t time for it. But now, when I was alone, I had plenty of time, which I wanted to spend on something that truly brought me joy. I hardly thought of my ex-husband. I figured out what was really important to me, what I wanted, how to achieve it. All these questions inevitably required answers if I wanted to have healthy and happy relationships in the future. And I will definitely find the right answers, and everything will be fine for me.