Mother-in-law was sure that after the divorce I’d keep supporting her out of fear, but she had no idea about my plans.
Anna stared at the elderly woman with a suitcase standing at her door and couldn’t believe her eyes. Galina Sergeevna, her former mother-in-law, looked as if she’d just dropped by for tea with a close friend.
“Anyechka, dear,” she drawled sweetly, “I’ve got absolutely nowhere to go. My Seryozha brought that… what’s-her-name, Natasha, to live with him. And I don’t want to get in the way of the young, you understand? Let them build their love. But me, at my age—where am I supposed to go? Will you let me stay for a little while?”
Anna silently stepped aside to let her in. What could she say? Throw a sixty-year-old woman out into the street? Yes, the divorce had been painful. Yes, Sergey had turned out to be quite the “gift from fate”—after ten years of marriage he suddenly “saw the light” in the arms of a twenty-seven-year-old colleague. But what did his mother have to do with it?
“Galina Sergeevna,” Anna said quietly as she shut the door, “you have your own apartment. Why should you live with me?”
“Oh, Anyechka,” the mother-in-law sighed, settling onto the couch and slipping off her shoes, “you know what a little cubbyhole mine is. Cramped, stuffy. And here it’s spacious, with fresh air. Seryozha said since you’re alone in a two-room apartment, you’ve got plenty of space.”
Anna clenched her teeth. Of course Sergey said that. How convenient—he set himself up with his new flame, and shoved his mother off on his ex-wife. And no one cared how Anna felt.
“For a little while,” Galina Sergeevna repeated, already unwinding her scarf. “Just until I sort things out.”
For the first few days, Anna put up with it. She made breakfast, bought “urgently necessary” medicines, quietly cleaned up after her mother-in-law. The latter turned out not to be the tidiest of tenants—she left dirty dishes in the sink, scattered her things around, and blasted TV dramas until midnight.
“Anya, sunshine,” the mother-in-law began one morning, “my pension is pennies. Could you slip me a little for groceries? And for these pills—my blood pressure’s all over the place.”
Anna silently took out her wallet and gave her five thousand. Then another three for a “miracle supplement for the blood vessels.” Then a couple thousand for “something to have with tea.”
“Galina Sergeevna,” Anna began carefully a month later, when yet another request had emptied her wallet, “maybe we should live within our means? I’m not an oligarch.”
Her mother-in-law spun around sharply, a familiar spark flaring in her eyes. Anna knew that look—the harbinger of a storm.
“What?!” Galina Sergeevna’s voice shot up. “Within our means?! How dare you! I welcomed you into the family like my own! Loved you like a daughter for ten years! And now you’re counting pennies on me?!”
“I’m not counting, I just—”
“What do you know about life, you childfree thing!” the mother-in-law screeched, waving her arms. “I raised my son alone after my husband passed! Broke my back at three jobs! And you’re denying me medicine?! I’ll tell the whole building what you’re really like! Heartless!”
Anna held her tongue. As she did the next time. And when Galina Sergeevna made a scene over the “tasteless” dinner. The woman was a virtuoso of hysteria—she could scream for hours, drag in the neighbors, and accuse you of every sin.
After yet another performance, Anna called Sergey.
“Seriozha, come get your mother.”
“Oh come on, Anya. I’m trying to build a relationship here. Mom’s losing her mind over the divorce as it is. What, you can’t spare it?”
“I can’t spare my money, my nerves, and my peace.”
“Don’t be dramatic. She’s an elderly person; she needs care. If you can help, then help.”
The line clicked. He just hung up.
Anna sat in the kitchen with a firm decision. Galina Sergeevna felt like the mistress of the house, staged scenes, drained her money, and was firmly convinced she had every right to do so.
“She thinks I’ll keep her out of fear. She has no idea—I have other plans,” Anna thought, looking out at the gray St. Petersburg courtyard.
The next morning, when her mother-in-law left for the clinic, Anna called a locksmith. The locks were changed within an hour.
In the evening, Galina Sergeevna came back from her “stroll”—she liked to wander the shops and complain to the clerks about her lot in life. But the key wouldn’t turn.
“Anya! Anyka, open up!” she pounded on the door. “What kind of stupid joke is this?!”
Anna stepped out onto the landing, looking calmly at the bewildered woman.
“This isn’t a joke, Galina Sergeevna. Pack your things—I called a taxi.”
“What?! Are you out of your mind?! Where are you throwing me out to?!”
“Home. To your son. Where you belong.”
“I can’t! That Natasha is there!”
“Was it easy for me?” Anna asked evenly, watching her mother-in-law’s face twist with rage.
“How dare you!” the latter shrieked. “I’m an old woman! My heart is weak! You have no right!”
“I do. This is my apartment.”
“I’ll tell all the neighbors what you’re like!”
“Go ahead. I don’t care.”
The suitcase didn’t take long to pack—Galina Sergeevna didn’t have many things. In the taxi she was silent, clutching at her chest theatrically.
At Sergey’s building, Anna got out first and hauled the suitcase into the entryway. They climbed to the third floor together. The door was opened by her surprised ex-husband in shabby sweatpants.
“Anna? Mom? What’s going on?”
“A return,” Anna said, shoving the suitcase into the hall. “Galina Sergeevna no longer lives with me.”
Natasha came out of the room—a slim blonde in a plush robe. On seeing her mother-in-law, she turned pale.
“But Mom can’t live here!” Sergey wailed. “We— we’re—”
“Building your personal life,” Anna finished. “Excellent. Build away. Without me.”
“Anna, you don’t understand,” Sergey whined in the tone used to explain to children that grass is green. “Mom is old, sick. Her pension is small.”
“She has a son. Let him help her.”
“But I have a new family!”
“And I have a new life. Without your problems.”