“We’re going to have Grandma Olya staying with us soon,” Alla told her mother-in-law. “She called Zhenya and let him know.”
“What?!” Inna Igorevna threw up her hands in disbelief. “That woman? That walking disaster in a skirt? Have you lost your minds? Why would you invite her here? She’ll turn your whole life upside down! Cancel the visit immediately!”
Grandma Olya had once been Inna Igorevna’s own mother-in-law. When Zhenya was only six, his parents split up, and his mother had always insisted that Olya was to blame. She said the woman constantly interfered, behaved harshly, and had a terrible influence on her grandson — and that was why the marriage had fallen apart.
“If she steps into your house,” Inna Igorevna went on, “you can start preparing for a divorce from Zhenya! She’ll never let you live in peace.”
Alla fell silent. Great. Another problem. Then again, she couldn’t exactly call her current mother-in-law a blessing either. Inna Igorevna also loved inserting herself into their lives, giving endless advice, and acting like the perfect model of sophistication. It was hard not to wonder which of the two women was worse.
Zhenya himself barely remembered his grandmother. The last time he had seen her, he’d been around nine, spending the summer at her place. All he remembered was a loud, energetic woman. Maybe his mother was right after all. Maybe it was worth talking it over with him.
“My grandma’s fine,” he said dismissively. “Sure, she’s a little emotional. But she’s seventy-four now — she must’ve mellowed with age. She’ll help you out, bake pies, take Antoshka for walks.”
“And how long is she staying?”
“A week or two. We’ll manage. She’s family, after all.”
At the station, Alla expected to see an elderly woman with carefully styled hair, dressed in a long colorful dress and dragging bags full of homemade treats.
But no one like that appeared.
Instead, a slim woman in shorts, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap headed straight toward them.
Must be a foreign tourist, Alla thought. What a look.
“Hedgehog? Is that really you?” the woman cried happily, rushing to Zhenya. “Look how much you’ve grown!”
Zhenya hugged his grandmother and looked embarrassed — only she had ever called him that childhood nickname.
She had no heavy bags with her, only a sports bag slung over one shoulder. After meeting Alla and six-year-old Anton, she immediately asked:
“So then, where’s the nearest supermarket?”
“There’s no need, Grandma, we already bought everything.”
“Oh really? And what have you prepared? Cake, champagne, and roast chicken?”
“No, Alla made cutlets. We just have to warm them up.”
“Well, just so you know, my dears, I don’t eat meat anymore,” she said. “I became a vegetarian. Not because I pity animals — I just got sick of it.”
At the store, Grandma Olya loaded up on greens and vegetables, and by dinner she had already made several unusual salads.
They all sat down at the table.
“Grandma, would you like some champagne?” Zhenya offered.
“No champagne for me! That fizzy stuff only bloats your stomach,” she waved him off, pulling out a stronger bottle instead.
“But I thought you were into healthy living now!”
“Oh, nonsense. I never said that. I simply don’t eat meat. And cognac, by the way, is good for your circulation! The important thing is not to drink more than fifty grams a day!”
“And the cake?” someone asked.
“Ugh. I’ve never liked sweets. Not because I care about my figure — I just find them unpleasant. But don’t let me stop you. Eat whatever you want. I’m not judging anyone.”
Alla felt a little disappointed. No pies, no cozy grandmotherly warmth… and Anton hadn’t even gotten a gift.
But Grandma Olya seemed to read her thoughts.
“And you, young man, will get your present too,” she told Anton. “Later. First I want to get to know you. Otherwise I might’ve bought you something boring you’d toss aside tomorrow.”
Grandma Olya got up late, nearly at lunchtime. Then, unexpectedly, she asked Anton to leave the room and requested ten minutes alone.
Alla peeked inside, closed the door again, and asked her husband:
“What is she doing in there?”
Zhenya cracked the door open and saw his grandmother sitting on the floor in the lotus position with her eyes closed.
“No idea… probably meditating. Or doing yoga.”
Ten minutes later she was ready, grabbed Anton by the hand, and whisked him away for a walk.
That evening, the delighted little boy couldn’t stop talking.
“Grandma Olya is awesome! She bought me so many things!”
“And where exactly did you go?” Alla asked.
“We listened to street musicians, then we went to a haunted museum, and after that we fed ducks at the lake! And she even bought me shashlik!”
“She didn’t take you to an amusement center?”
“Why would she? You already took me there.”
And that was only the beginning.
Anton stopped going to kindergarten — every day he and Grandma came up with a new adventure.
One day he would say:
“We went to the lake again today, but this time outside the city! Grandma taught me how to dive and skip stones across the water! She did it loads of times, but I only managed three!”
Another day:
“We went to a biker rally! One man let me sit on his motorcycle, and then Grandma tried it too! And there was a rock concert!”
And another:
“Grandma made a slingshot, and we were shooting at cans in the park! I even hit one! And she taught me how to whistle like this — look!” Anton stuck his fingers into his mouth and let out a loud whistle.
Every single day brought a fresh adventure.
Alla was stunned, but kept quiet. Zhenya stayed neutral. Anton, meanwhile, was absolutely thrilled.
Before leaving, Grandma Olya gave her great-grandson a telescope, because he had suddenly become fascinated by the stars.
When the family came to see her off, Anton burst into tears. Alla gently led him aside, while Zhenya turned to his grandmother and asked:
“Mom always said she and Dad divorced because of you. Was that true?”
“In part,” Grandma Olya replied calmly. “Yes, we did clash. I loved you very much and let you get away with a little mischief. Your mother didn’t like that.”
“She was the one who filed for divorce first and said I’d never see you again. But later she still sent you to spend the holidays with me. That was when I gave you a slingshot… remember?”
“Vaguely… I think I broke a mirror with it.”
“Exactly. But you still grew into a good man. So perhaps your mother was right about some things. Sorry for leading Anton into a bit of mischief too.”
“It’s all right, Grandma.”
As Grandma Olya stepped into the train car, she turned around, looked at Anton, and gave a loud whistle with her fingers in her mouth.
Anton stopped crying at once…
and whistled right back at her.