Four rooms, a bright kitchen and a living room the size of a dance floor – Sasha led Alyona around the new apartment like a tour guide at a museum of his own achievements.
– Look at the scope! – He waved his hand around the living room. – Now all the relatives will fit, and there will be room left over. Mom says she’s been dreaming about this for a long time – to gather everyone together.
Alyona listened and nodded. A twenty-year mortgage was, of course, serious. But at least it was her own, not rented, not her parents’. After five years in a one-room apartment, where the kitchen was the size of a closet, this seemed like a real palace.
The first months were spent on repairs and arrangements. Sasha enthusiastically chose wallpaper, argued with the builders and drew furniture layout plans. He enthusiastically showed the results to his friends, who dropped by with a bottle one after another to celebrate the housewarming.
Alena was quietly happy with the new equipment in the kitchen – now she could cook dinner twice as fast.
“Can you imagine the kind of feasts we can have now?” the husband repeated over and over again. “In our family, everyone loves to get together! Mom loves big family gatherings.”
Alyona imagined. Her mother-in-law Svetlana Pavlovna had always liked to drop in for an inspection – to see how her beloved son was doing. But what would happen now?
The housewarming was celebrated modestly – Sasha wanted a big celebration, but Alena insisted on settling in first.
“We’ll have time,” she said. “Let’s unpack all the boxes first. We’ll put everything away until the end.”
This conversation happened on Friday. And on Sunday morning the phone rang.
“Sasha, we decided to drop in on you and see how you’ve settled in,” the mother-in-law’s voice sounded so innocent that it was immediately clear that they were getting ready for a full-fledged visit.
“Who is this ‘we’?” Alena tensed up.
“Mom and Natasha. They won’t be long,” Sasha waved it off. “Just for tea.”
“Not for long” stretched out over the entire day. Svetlana Pavlovna began to command from the doorway:
– Alena, put the kettle on. What do you have for tea today? Nothing? Okay, I brought something.
She settled into the chair as if it were a throne and took a box of cakes out of her bag.
“I don’t eat those store-bought ones,” she said. “But I bought them for you.”
Natasha, Sasha’s sister, immediately went on a tour of the apartment.
“What interesting wallpaper,” she commented in the bedroom. “Well, an unusual choice.”
Alena ignored it. The wallpaper was just wallpaper, a neutral gray with a light pattern.
– What kind of tiles do you have in your kitchen? I certainly wouldn’t choose those, – Natasha ran her finger along the countertop. – Is white really practical?
By evening, when the guests had finally left, Alena felt like a squeezed lemon. She put away the cups, washed the cake plates and said to Sasha:
– Next time let them warn me in advance, okay? I would at least comb my hair like a human being.
Sasha just laughed:
– Come on, this is my family. What ceremonies?
The next visit was not long in coming. A week later, Kolya, Sasha’s brother, appeared on the doorstep with his wife Irina and two children.
– Hi, hi! Mom said you’ve got a great place here, – Kolya slapped Sasha on the shoulder and stumbled into the apartment, not even wiping his feet on the rug.
The children immediately scattered into their rooms, and Irina sat down on the sofa, looking around with curiosity.
“We’re just here for an hour,” she said. “Just to have a look.”
“The hour” stretched out until late evening. The children rushed around the apartment like two small hurricanes. One of them knocked over a vase of flowers, and water flooded the new carpet. Alyona rushed to wipe it up, and Irina just waved her hand:
– Oh, come on, it will dry out! It’s just water! There won’t be anything left! Children will be children.
By ten o’clock in the evening, when the guests were finally getting ready to go home, Alena felt a strong desire to lock the door with all the locks and never open it again.
“We had a great time,” Sasha yawned when the door closed behind the guests. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“Somehow,” Alena echoed, looking at the stain on the carpet.
But “somehow” came a week later. And another week later. And then another and another.
Gradually, Sunday visits turned into a tradition. Sometimes the mother-in-law came with Natasha, sometimes Kolya with his family, and sometimes all together. And every time, Alyona found herself at the stove.
“You wouldn’t offer your guests an empty table, would you?” Sasha was surprised when she tried to object. “That’s indecent. Cook something up. You know now that we’ll most likely have guests coming over on Sunday – buy some groceries for everyone.”
On the tenth Sunday, Alena learned to get up an hour earlier to have time to cook dinner BEFORE the guests arrived. On the twentieth, she stopped planning anything for the weekend. On the thirtieth, she began to count the days until the next visit with melancholy, as if until an inevitable catastrophe.
Sasha frankly enjoyed these gatherings. He beamed with pride when his mother praised the dinner prepared by Alyona, or when Kolya looked around the spacious living room with admiration and envy.
“We’re like a good restaurant now!” he boasted. “There’s always a set table, nice music, and enough room for everyone.”
—————————————–
Alyona only smiled through her fatigue. At the college where she taught literature, she was considered patient and gentle. Students loved her lectures, colleagues appreciated her calm. No one saw how on Sundays she turned into a driven horse, pulling and pulling an endless load of responsibilities that she did not want to pull at all.
By the end of the first year, she stopped asking questions. She would simply spend half of Friday evening thinking up a menu. She would simply buy groceries on Saturday, get up on Sunday with the first rays of the sun and go to the kitchen to cook. By the end of the second year, she had learned to smile so that no one would notice the falseness. By the end of the third, she had almost resigned herself to the fact that her house had become a walk-through yard, and she herself a silent appendage to the kitchen stove.
Three years. One hundred and fifty-six Sundays. Thousands of hours spent cooking, serving, cleaning. Alyona counted this time as one counts the days until release.
The mother-in-law gradually began to take these visits for granted. She no longer asked if she could come – she simply showed up with a box of chocolates or a cake from the supermarket. She could come on Saturday, she could come on Sunday.
“I was passing by,” she said, walking into the kitchen. “And I thought, let me look in on the kids.”
Each time, Alena mentally went through the contents of the refrigerator, figuring out what she could quickly cook from the available products. Even if her mother-in-law arrived without warning, there always had to be food in the house – such an unspoken rule had been established over the years. And if suddenly Alena did not have time to cook something before their arrival, Sasha would always remind her about it later, when the guests left.
“Mom loves your casserole so much,” he said reproachfully. “And you didn’t even bother to cook something decent. They don’t come every day. Only on weekends.”
“They come every Sunday, Sasha. And often without warning,” Alena tried to object.
“This is my family,” he snapped. “And I want them to feel at home with us.”
And Alena increasingly asked herself the question: where in this house could she feel at home?
Alena knew. She knew too much about this family’s preferences. She knew that her mother-in-law didn’t eat spicy food, Natasha didn’t like onions, Kolya didn’t accept any salads except Olivier, and his children turned up their noses at anything that didn’t resemble fast food.
On weekdays, life was calmer. Alena worked at college, Sasha worked in his office, and their son Denis went to school. They met in the evening, had dinner together, watched movies. Sometimes Alena even managed to read. But as soon as the weekend came, the usual order collapsed, and the house was filled with strangers’ voices, requests, and demands.
She tried to talk to Sasha about it.
“Maybe we should meet less often?” she suggested cautiously. “Once a month, for example.”
– What? – He was genuinely surprised. – Why? Mom likes to come to us.
– But this is every week, Sasha. I’m tired.
– From what? – He stared at her in confusion. – You cook every day anyway.
– Just compare – cooking a simple dinner for three or a whole feast for ten! – Alyona could not resist. – Your mother has one demand, Natasha has another, Kolya wants a third course, and his children don’t eat anything at all. And it’s not just cooking – it’s a whole day of stress, when I can’t rest, read, or even stand in peace in the shower.
Sasha frowned, as if this thought had never occurred to him before.
“Mama says that in a normal family a woman should be able to receive guests,” he said slowly. “That’s the sign of a good housewife. You don’t want her to think that you’re…”
– What am I? – Alena interrupted him. – A bad housewife? Or a bad wife? Or even a person who has her own needs and desires?
“Don’t exaggerate,” he winced. “I just want us to have a normal, friendly family. For my mother and relatives to feel good with us.”
– What about me feeling good? Is that part of your understanding of a normal family?
Sasha didn’t answer, he just waved his hand and left the room. The conversation was over before it even began. Like many conversations before it.
She resigned herself. Or almost resigned herself. Outwardly, yes. She no longer argued, did not object, habitually got up early on Sundays and cooked for the whole gang. But inside, irritation and misunderstanding accumulated and accumulated.
“You’ve been acting strange lately,” Sasha once remarked. “Quiet and silent.”
“I’m always quiet,” she replied.
“No, you used to be… different,” he tried to find the words. “More fun, perhaps.”
Alyona remained silent. What can you say if they don’t want to listen to you anyway? That from the constant tension and endless work for the public, there is no longer any strength left even for a smile? That fatigue accumulates like a snowball, and presses, presses, presses…
On that fateful Sunday, nothing foreshadowed changes. An ordinary day, ordinary guests, ordinary conversations at the table. The mother-in-law arrived early – “to help”, which in her language meant sitting in the kitchen and giving advice. Natasha brought another box of chocolates, which they immediately opened and began to devour, washing down with tea. Kolya with his wife and children arrived for dinner.
Alyona felt a vague irritation in the morning. Not anger, not rage – just fatigue, dull and endless, like a toothache.
“Alyonochka, why are you so gloomy?” asked her mother-in-law, watching her chop vegetables. “Didn’t get enough sleep?”
“Everything’s fine,” Alena answered without looking at her.
– What kind of salad are you going to make? With mayonnaise? You know I’m on a diet.
— The refueling is separate, I remember.
— Will you bake or fry the chicken?
– I’ll bake it.
– Mmmm. I like fried better.
Alena silently opened the refrigerator and took out the second chicken. So, she would have to cook it both ways. Okay, not the first time.
By one o’clock the table was set. Baked chicken, fried chicken, potatoes, two types of salad, sauces, bread, drinks. Alena called everyone to the table.
– Oh, how beautiful! – Natasha admired, sitting down. – You are, as always, at your best.
Alena smiled weakly and remained standing at the stove – she needed to take the pie out of the oven.
– Alyona, where is the salt? – Sasha called out to her.
– On the table.
– I don’t see.
Alena came up and silently placed the salt shaker right in front of him.
– Alyonochka, – the mother-in-law immediately intervened, – do you have any sauce for the chicken? It seems to be a bit dry.
“Right in front of you,” Alena nodded towards the gravy boat.
– And this one with garlic? You remember, I get heartburn from garlic.
Alena returned to the kitchen and made another sauce, without garlic. Not once today, not once in these three years.
Returning to the living room, she found everyone already tucked into dinner, talking loudly. Her place at the table was occupied by her mother-in-law’s bag.
“Oh, sorry,” she pretended to come to her senses, noticing Alyona’s gaze. “I put my things here. I’ll put them away now.”
Alyona put the sauce on the table and sat on the edge of the chair. She didn’t want to eat. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and have everyone disappear. For silence to reign.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Sasha asked with his mouth full. “It’ll get cold.”
“Later,” she shook her head.
The conversation at the table went on as usual. They discussed someone’s wedding, then the rise in prices, then the children’s successes at school. Alyona heard only fragments of phrases, as if through cotton wool.
– Alena, where is that wonderful mustard of yours? – Kolya suddenly asked. – Remember, last time it was so hot, finger-licking good.
“I’ll bring it now,” she stood up and went to the kitchen.
There was no mustard in the fridge. Apparently it had run out and she had forgotten to buy it. Or maybe she hadn’t forgotten, but simply hadn’t noticed – in the endless series of purchases and cooking, it’s easy to miss something.
“There’s no mustard,” she said when she returned.
– How come? – Kolya threw up his hands theatrically. – And what about me without mustard? Oh, you didn’t respect the guests!
It was a joke. She knew it was a joke. But something inside her trembled, stretched to the limit, like a string about to snap.
– Alyona, – Sasha wiped his lips with a napkin, – there’s still some compote in the fridge. Bring it, will you?
She silently brought the compote. Poured it into glasses. Returned to her place.
“And just a little bit for me,” the mother-in-law said capriciously. “I’ll get diabetes from sweets.”
Alena took her glass and poured half of it back into the decanter.
“Don’t you think you’re a bit nervous today?” Sasha whispered to her, leaning over. “At least smile, we’re guests.”
She forced a smile. The kind that made your lips cramp.
“Well done,” he patted her hand. “You know how I love it when you smile.”
Lunch was coming to an end. Alena began collecting empty plates.
“Leave it, wash it later,” Sasha waved his hand. “Bring the pie.”
She brought the pie. She cut it. She gave everyone a piece.
– Alyona, what about the cream? – Kolya asked immediately. – She always brought cream with the pie!
“And make me some coffee,” Sasha added. “Coffee is better with pie than tea.”
She made coffee. Whipped cream. Passed it around. And sat back down in her chair, feeling her shoulders go numb with fatigue.
– Excellent! – Sasha bit off a piece of pie with pleasure, smearing his lips with cream. – You outdid yourself today.
He reached into the fruit bowl and pulled out a large orange.
– Peel it for me, will you? – he handed the orange to Alyona. – Otherwise, I’ll get my hands dirty, and then I’ll have to wash them again.
She looked at his hands. Clean, well-groomed, even with a neat manicure. She looked at the orange – round, orange, ordinary. She looked again at Sasha, then at her mother-in-law, then at everyone else sitting at the table.
Three years. And this orange. This orange orange.
“No,” she said.
Her voice sounded unexpectedly loud in the silence that followed. She herself was surprised at how clearly this short word sounded.
“What?” Sasha asked again, not believing his ears.
“I said no,” Alena repeated. “I won’t peel your orange.”
There was such silence at the table that you could hear the clock ticking in the far room. The mother-in-law froze with a fork in her hand, a piece of pie halfway to her mouth. Natasha giggled nervously, as if she had heard an indecent joke. Kolya stared into his cup, trying his best to pretend he didn’t notice the awkwardness.
– Are you… kidding? – Sasha tried to smile, but the smile came out crooked and unnatural.
“No, I’m not joking,” Alena replied. Now that the first word had been said, the rest came pouring out. “I won’t peel your orange. And I won’t bring you any more compote. And I won’t put in more. That’s enough.”
– Alena, what’s wrong with you? – the mother-in-law’s voice sounded with notes of righteous indignation. – Are you feeling okay?
“Absolutely normal,” nodded Alena. “For the first time in a long time.”
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Sasha stood up, knocking over his chair. “We need to talk.”
He grabbed her hand and almost forcibly dragged her into the kitchen. There he closed the door tightly and turned to her.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, barely holding back from shouting. “Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the whole family?”
“I’m not embarrassing anyone,” Alena leaned against the refrigerator. “I just said no.”
– But why in front of everyone? Why not later, not alone? You dared to say “no” to me right in front of my mother!
– Yeah. In front of your mom, in front of your brother, in front of your sister. And get used to it.
Sasha looked at her as if she had suddenly spoken a foreign language.
“Are you trying to humiliate me?” he muttered through his teeth. “Is this revenge for something?”
– No, Sasha. I don’t want to humiliate you. And this isn’t revenge, – Alena shook her head. – I’m just tired of being a piece of furniture with hands. I said “no” to you specifically. And to this whole… circus.
– What other circus?
— This one, — she waved her hand around the kitchen. — Every Sunday I get up with the roosters to cook dinner for ten people. I set the table, clear the table, wash the dishes, cook again, set the table again. And all this time you sit, talk, have fun. And I… I serve you. And you are all so used to it that you don’t even notice.
“You’re talking nonsense,” Sasha began to walk nervously around the kitchen. “Nobody’s forcing you…”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Alena agreed. “And that’s even worse. You all think that’s how it should be. That it’s normal to come to someone else’s house and expect to be served like in a restaurant.
– This is not someone else’s house, this is my family’s house!
– And mine too, – Alena said quietly. – But I have a feeling that I don’t live here, I work. And you know what’s most offensive? That all these years I only needed to say one word: “no.” But I didn’t say it. And now I’m saying it.
Sasha opened his mouth, about to object, but at that moment the kitchen door opened slightly, and his mother-in-law’s head appeared in the opening.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “We finished our tea there…”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Sasha answered without looking at her. “Go, we’ll be there soon.”
The door closed, but the presence of the mother-in-law seemed to remain in the air – invisible, but tangible.
– Listen, – Sasha lowered his voice, – maybe you’re just tired? Are you stressed at work?
Alena laughed. Quietly, but sincerely.
– No, Sasha, – she shook her head. – It’s not fatigue or stress. It’s an epiphany. I suddenly realized that I’m human too. And I have the right to say “no.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen, feeling an unprecedented lightness in her body, as if she had thrown off the heavy backpack she had been carrying for years.
A dead silence reigned in the living room. Everyone pretended to be absorbed in the contents of their plates, but it was clear from their tense poses that everyone heard every word. Alyona approached the table, took an orange from the vase, sat down and began to peel it. Slowly, carefully, peeling the peel in a spiral, just like she did as a child.
Sasha came out of the kitchen and froze in the doorway, not knowing what to do next. Alyona divided the orange into slices, handed one to her son, who had been silently watching the whole time.
“Thank you, Mom,” Denis said quietly, and in his eyes Alyona saw something new – respect.
Sasha sat down in his place, picked up the second orange and began to peel it awkwardly, tearing the peel into uneven pieces. No one said a word. The mother-in-law opened her mouth several times, but said nothing.
“I think it’s time for us to go,” Natasha finally said, standing up. “Thank you for lunch, Alyona.”
“Thank you.” For the first time in three years, Alena heard a word of gratitude from her.
The guests began packing up with astonishing speed. Usually they stayed until late at night, but today everyone suddenly remembered urgent matters. In half an hour the apartment was empty.
Sasha stood by the window, watching his relatives get into their cars.
“Are you happy?” he asked without turning around. “I sent everyone away.”
“I didn’t chase anyone away,” Alena collected the plates from the table. “I just said ‘no.’”
“So what now?” He turned to her. “You won’t cook for my family anymore? You won’t let them come over?”
– No, Sasha. I’m not against your family coming. I’m against being a waitress in your own home. If your family wants to come, let them come. But we’ll cook together. Or order food. Or they’ll bring something with them. Like in a normal family.
– You know, mom can’t cook…
“You could have learned in seventy years,” Alena shrugged. “And then, now there are plenty of delivery services, semi-finished products, ready-made salads. We don’t live in the Stone Age.”
Sasha tiredly sank down onto the sofa and hid his face in his hands.
“I don’t know what’s come over you,” he said dully. “You’ve always been so… accommodating.”
– That’s exactly it, – Alena sat down next to him. – Too accommodating. But you know what? I realized one simple thing: “no” is also a word. And you need to know how to say it, too.
She stood up and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Not because she had to, but because she decided to do so. And that was the fundamental difference.
The following Sunday the phone was silent. And no one came. Sasha walked around gloomy all day, looking at his watch, but by evening he couldn’t stand it and called his mother.
– Mom, you won’t come today?
Alena didn’t hear what her mother-in-law answered, but she could tell from her husband’s face that something had changed.
A week later, my mother-in-law called herself.
– Sashenka, Natasha and I want to come to you. Not for long. I made a salad and baked a pie.
When they arrived, Alena greeted them at the door as if they were regular guests, not as owners who had come to check on their property. Her mother-in-law awkwardly handed her the containers of food.
– Look, I prepared a little… Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you should…
“Thank you,” Alena said sincerely. “It’s a pleasure.”
The four of them sat down at the table – Alena, Sasha, her mother-in-law and Natasha. Alena took out a cake she had bought at the bakery, Sasha made coffee, and her mother-in-law put her salad on plates. All together.
“You know, it’s even nicer this way,” Natasha suddenly said, helping herself to a piece of pie. “Somehow… homey.”
Alyona caught Sasha’s gaze across the table. There was surprise and something else in his eyes – maybe understanding? She smiled at him and for the first time in a long time she felt like a mistress, not a servant. Of her home. Of her life.
No is also a word. And sometimes it is more valuable than a thousand meaningless “yes”.
IS Alyona RIGHT? What do you think?
