— Mom, can I come in? I need to talk, — Natalia stood in the doorway of her parents’ apartment, holding a large bag close.
— Come in, but take your shoes off carefully, I just mopped the floors, — her mother stepped aside, letting her daughter in. — Dad’s home, reading the newspaper.
The apartment smelled of fried potatoes and cutlets. Fyodor, her younger brother, was supposed to return from a trip, and her mother always cooked his favorite food.
Natalia went into the room, exhaling heavily, and sat down on the couch. Her belly already noticeably protruded under her loose dress.
— Are your legs swelling again? — her father asked, putting down the newspaper. — Maybe you should see a doctor?
— It’s fine, Dad. Not the first time, right? — Natalia adjusted the pillow behind her back. — Listen, I wanted to discuss something… — she hesitated. — I have an idea. About the apartment.
— What apartment? — her mother came in with a cup of tea for her daughter.
— Yours, — Natalia took a sip of the hot tea. — Look, there’s enough space here for you and Fedka, right? He’s in one room, you’re in the other. What if you sell the two-room apartment and get a one-room instead…
— And give you the difference? — came a mocking voice from the doorway. Fyodor stood leaning against the frame, still in his work jacket with the transport company logo. — I see you’re not wasting any time, sis.
— Fedya, you’re back already? — their mother perked up. — I’ll heat some food…
— Later, — he waved her off without taking his eyes off his sister. — First, let’s hear what ideas you have.
— Fedya, why do you have to start like that? — Natalia frowned. — I’m serious. You’ll really be fine in a one-room…
— Who will be more comfortable? — He walked into the room, slammed his long-haul bag in the corner. — Me with parents in a one-room apartment? Or you with our money?
— Son, don’t shout like that, — their father tried to calm him down. — Let’s discuss calmly.
— What is there to discuss? — Fyodor began pacing the room. — Five years ago, we sold the summer house, gave it to her. Now what, the apartment too? You bought the eldest daughter an apartment? Then go live with her, — Fyodor declared to their parents.
— I’m actually having my third child! — Natalia also raised her voice. — We need to expand! It’s already cramped in the three-room apartment!
— And what about me? — Fyodor turned sharply to his sister. — I’m thirty-two and still don’t have my own place because all the family money went to you! For your three-room!
— Well, that’s right, — Natalia snorted. — Because I actually achieved something in life. I have a decent husband, a business, kids, an apartment…
— Decent husband? — Fyodor laughed. — Who keeps closing shops one after another? The whole city knows your Pavel is up to his ears in debt.
Natalia paled:
— What are you talking about?
— Come on, stop pretending, sis. I’m a trucker, I travel all over the region. Do you know how many rumors are going around? Two shops have already closed in the neighboring city, here three more are barely surviving. Suppliers don’t deliver goods because the old debts aren’t paid. So why do you really need our parents’ money?
A heavy silence hung in the room. Their mother looked fearfully from daughter to son:
— Natasha, tell me that’s not true. It can’t be, right?
Natalia slumped on the couch:
— I didn’t want to tell you… Pavel really has problems. Serious problems. The shops aren’t profitable; two had to be closed already. The suppliers are demanding debts back. If we don’t find money urgently…
— And you decided to leave parents homeless? — Fyodor shook his head. — So we have to squeeze into a one-room apartment with them while you plug your husband’s debts?
— What am I supposed to do? — Natalia snapped. Her eyes were red. — I have two little ones! The third is coming soon! We could lose everything!
— Then solve your problems yourself! — Fyodor shouted. — Stop leeching off our parents! They gave you everything your whole life — the summer house was sold, all the savings went to you! And now you want to take the last thing?
— You’re just jealous! — Natalia jumped up, nearly knocking over her cup. — Jealous that I made it, that I married a decent man, unlike you… Who are you? A driver!
— Yeah, you made it, — Fyodor smirked. — Now you want to rob the parents. Hey, maybe you should take them in? Since they gave you everything — the summer house and money — let them live with you!
— What? — Natalia recoiled. — No! I have my own family, little kids…
— Oh, so you can take from them, but not help? All you know how to do is take!
— You don’t understand anything! — Natalia grabbed her bag, her hands trembling. — We have such problems… Pavel could lose everything!
— So we should be left without a roof over our heads? — Fyodor stepped closer. — Get out of here. Stop milking the parents. Solve your problems yourself.
Natalia stormed out, slamming the door so hard the glass in the cupboard rattled. Their mother sat down on a chair, covering her face with her hands:
— Why are you like that to your sister? She’s pregnant…
— And how do you want me to be? — Fyodor sat opposite, tiredly rubbing his neck. The long trip had left his whole body aching. — You see for yourselves — she doesn’t care about you. The main thing is to get the money out.
— But her situation is really difficult…
— And ours isn’t? — He looked around the old apartment with peeling wallpaper and cracked window paint. — Dad, your pension is in a year. Mom, your blood pressure is unstable. And she wants you to move to a one-room apartment in a new area, far from the clinic…
— Maybe she’ll come to her senses, — the father said quietly.
But Natalia did not come to her senses. For a week there was no news from her. Mother tried calling — daughter ignored the calls. Then something unexpected happened — Pavel came.
Fyodor was just about to leave for work — a new trip was starting. The doorbell rang. At the door stood his sister’s husband — gaunt, in a crumpled suit, with empty eyes.
— May I come in? — His voice was hoarse, tired. — We need to talk.
Mother silently led her son-in-law into the kitchen. Fyodor was about to leave, but father stopped him:
— Sit down, son. Listen. This concerns the whole family.
Pavel was silent for a long time, fiddling with a cup of cold tea. Then he spoke:
— I came to apologize. For myself, for Natasha. We shouldn’t have dragged you into all this.
— What happened? — mother asked quietly.
— It’s over for the business, — he smiled bitterly. — Yesterday the last shop was closed. Creditors came and took the goods, equipment, the car. I thought I’d manage somehow. Borrowed, reborrowed… Natasha believed in me, that’s why she came to you. She thought that if you sold the apartment…
— And did you think about the parents? About asking pensioners for the last? — Fyodor couldn’t stand it.
— You’re right, — Pavel raised his eyes. — Absolutely right. I overreached. Tried to play the big businessman, took out loans. When everything fell apart, I couldn’t think straight. I’m ashamed to look you in the eyes now.
— And how is Natasha? — mother worried.
— She cries all the time. Says she doesn’t know how to build life anymore. She’s ashamed to come to you after that conversation. You know how proud she is…
— But are you managing at least somehow? The kids are still small…
— We try, — Pavel nodded. — I got a job as a dispatcher in a wholesale company. Natasha also found work — she’ll start as an administrator in a shopping center after the birth. We’ll live like everyone else. Just… — he stopped, — forgive us, really. We shouldn’t have involved you in this.
When Pavel left, a heavy silence hung in the kitchen. Fyodor sat looking out at the gray autumn yard. Thoughts about his sister swirled in his head. How much she had changed over the years — from a cheerful girl to a proud rich wife. And now…
— You know, son, — father suddenly said. — You did the right thing not to let them sell the apartment. We spoiled Natasha all the time, forgave her everything. But she…
A month later Natalia appeared again at the door. Thinner, only her belly was sharply protruding, in a simple dress, without usual jewelry or makeup. She sat right in the hallway, bursting into tears:
— Forgive me. I’m such a… You did so much for me, and I…
Mother rushed to her:
— Enough now. You’ll manage somehow.
Fyodor looked at his sister, not recognizing her — where was the recent proud woman? Sitting tearful, without makeup, in worn shoes.
— Alright, — he finally said. — Forget it. Now you’ll live like everyone else, no show-offs.
— Thank you, — Natalia raised tearful eyes. — For not letting them sell the apartment back then. You were right — we have to manage ourselves.
That evening they sat for a long time in the kitchen. Natalia told how everything collapsed — first one shop closed, then the second. How Pavel ran around the city trying to find money. How she didn’t sleep at night thinking about what to do next.
— You know, — she said to her brother. — I really thought we were better than everyone else. That since we had money, we were special. But now… Pavel delivers goods, I’ll soon go to the shopping center to work. Like all normal people.
— Well, that’s good, — Fyodor nodded. — There’s nothing scary about that. I also drive a truck — and I don’t complain.
A year passed. Natalia had her third child — a boy. Pavel worked as a dispatcher, was gone all day, but always came home with groceries. Natalia got a remote job as a copywriter, quickly got the hang of it, even received a bonus for the first quarter.
One evening Fyodor stopped by his sister’s after a trip. Natalia was busy with the kids in the kitchen:
— Oh, brother! Come in, I’ll pour you some soup.
— I’m just for a minute. For these little ones, — he pulled out a bag with candies and toys.
The older kids ran screaming to their uncle. Natalia smiled:
— You spoil them forever.
— Why not spoil? — Fyodor tossed his nephew up. — You’re raising good kids.
Later, when the kids ran to the room, Natalia poured tea for her brother:
— Listen, I wanted to ask you. You know the company “Transoil”? Pavel’s been offered to move there, salary is higher.
— Decent company, — Fyodor nodded. — I work with them often. They pay on time.
— That’s what I tell him — to agree. But he’s afraid to change anything.
— After his own business? Understandable. But they really pay well.
Natalia was silent for a moment, then said:
— You know, I recently passed by our old shops. Now there’s some pharmacy chain. And you know — it’s not even sad. Like it all happened in another life.
— That’s right, — Fyodor sipped his tea. — You live normally. You have a job, kids grow.
The next day Fyodor visited their parents. Father was reading the newspaper, mother tending seedlings on the windowsill.
— Fedya, sit down, — father put the paper aside. — Your mother and I talked…
— Let’s skip the introductions, Dad.
— In short, we decided to give you money. For a down payment on a mortgage. We’ve saved a bit.
— What? — Fyodor even stood up. — What money? You yourselves…
— Don’t argue with your father, — mother interrupted. — We see how much you’re saving. And your pension just increased…
— No way, — Fyodor shook his head. — I’ll manage myself. Keep that money for yourselves.
— We know how you manage, — father grumbled. — You take extra trips, work yourself to the bone. Take it, don’t argue. You’ve always been a support for us.
Fyodor wanted to refuse but then thought — how long can I keep renting? And agreed.
Two weeks later he found a suitable one-room apartment. Not downtown, of course, but close to work. Parents helped with the down payment, the rest was a mortgage.
— Well, now you have your own place, — mother said, helping with the move. — Not renting anymore…
— It’s fine, Mom. I managed.
Natalia also came to help. She brought some curtains, pots:
— This is from me and Pavel. For the housewarming.
— I have everything already.
— Take it, take it, — she started putting the dishes away. — You know, I thought… You were right to yell at me then. I really got out of line. Always demanding…
— Forgotten, — Fyodor waved it off. — The main thing is you understood.
That evening, after everyone left, he sat in his new apartment kitchen. The city buzzed outside, the kettle whistled on the stove. Fyodor smiled — well, it worked out after all. Bought an apartment, made peace with his sister. And most importantly — parents stayed in their two-room.
Now he visited parents on weekends — to bring groceries, help around the house. Mother always tried to give him cutlets to take:
— Take some, son. I know you don’t cook for yourself.
— I eat fine, Mom.
— Take it, take it, — she shoved the container. — You’re the only one I have.
What else do parents need? The main thing is the kids nearby. Everything got better with Natalia, and Fyodor got his own home. Life was slowly getting better.