“What do you mean, a psychiatric hospital?! I came to take my daughter-in-law’s child away!”
“Sign the consent form for a psychiatric evaluation, Angelina Terentyevna!”
The doorbell erupted into a rapid, hysterical ringing. Whoever was outside kept their finger pressed against the button as though the building were on fire.
Varvara pushed the keyboard away, minimized the timber-truck loading report on her monitor, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was three in the afternoon. Lyovka had only just come home from the second school shift, dropped his backpack near the door, and was laying his notebooks out on his desk.
“Mom, who’s banging on the door like that?” the boy asked warily, clutching a blue ballpoint pen.
“Stay there and do your homework. I’ll handle it.”
Varvara walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.
Angelina Terentyevna stood on the landing. Her former mother-in-law squared the shoulders of her cranberry-colored wool coat and lifted her chin as though she were inspecting a military parade. Beside her stood an unfamiliar middle-aged woman in a formal jacket, shifting from one foot to the other and holding a clipboard.
Varvara turned the lock and opened the door.
“Open it wider! Stop peeking through the crack!” her mother-in-law commanded sharply, without even bothering to say hello. “The inspection committee is here! Following an official complaint! It’s time to expose you before you completely ruin the child!”
The other woman took a red identification card from her pocket.
“District Administration Department of Guardianship and Custody. Inspector Gavrilovna. Our department received a written complaint from the minor child’s grandmother. The report alleges improper fulfillment of parental responsibilities and the creation of a threat to the child’s health. We are required to inspect the living conditions.”
Everything inside Varvara began to boil, but her voice remained firm.
“What threat? Have you lost your minds?”
“I’m perfectly sane!” Angelina Terentyevna rushed forward, trying to squeeze into the entryway without even removing her dirty outdoor boots. “Just look at her, Gavrilovna! Look at those shameless eyes! She sits at home all day pretending to work while the boy is abandoned to fend for himself! No routine, no hot meals, nothing but dry snacks!”
“Take off your boots,” Varya blocked her path, holding up a hand. “You’re not at a protest rally. Shoes off at the door.”
Her mother-in-law frowned and gave Varvara a scorching glare, but the inspector was already removing her short boots and placing them neatly on the mat.
Angelina Terentyevna had no choice but to bend down and unzip her boots as well.
Lyovka came out of his room. He carefully closed the door behind him and stood next to his mother.
“Hello.”
“Lyovushka, my grandson!” his grandmother tried to reach toward him with her leather-gloved hands. “Look what your mother has done to you! You’re so pale, your cheeks are sunken! And look at those rags you’re wearing!”
“They’re not rags, Grandma,” Lyovka frowned, stepping behind his mother. “They were a birthday present. Mom and I picked them out at a sporting-goods store.”
“Don’t teach your grandmother!” Angelina Terentyevna snapped. “I know better than you what a properly cared-for child is supposed to look like!”
Gavrilovna silently walked down the hallway, carefully examining every corner.
The apartment smelled of freshly washed floors and stewed cabbage. There was no dust anywhere. Books were stacked neatly on the shelves. Two jackets hung in the entryway—one adult-sized and one child-sized.
“Show me the boy’s room,” the inspector requested.
In the children’s room, Lyovka walked over to his desk. A school schedule hung on the wall inside a plastic sleeve, and beside it was a calendar of his training sessions.
The inspector stepped closer and examined the papers pinned to the wall.
“Swimming?”
“Yes, three times a week,” the boy explained. “Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Here’s the pediatrician’s certificate. Everyone had to get checked before joining the advanced group.”
Gavrilovna ran a finger across the wooden surface of the desk and looked at the shelf of schoolbooks.
“The lighting is correct, coming from the left. Show me where he sleeps.”
The bed was covered with a checked bedspread, the pillow had been fluffed, and neatly ironed school trousers were hanging over the back of a chair.
“It’s all for show!” Angelina Terentyevna refused to give up, pacing beside the windowsill. “She knew I was coming! She cleaned everything specially for the inspection! Look inside the drawers! Look in her refrigerator! The child complains that he goes for weeks without seeing meat!”
Lyovka glared angrily at his grandmother.
“When did I ever complain? I haven’t even called you for two months!”
His grandmother gasped at such insolence. Red blotches spread across her face.
“Be quiet when adults are speaking! Your mother has turned you against your relatives, that’s why you’re lying! Gavrilovna, write this down: the child is intimidated! He’s afraid to tell the truth in front of his mother!”
“I’m not intimidated,” Lyovka muttered. “You just yell all the time.”
The inspector quickly wrote something on her clipboard and turned toward Varvara.
“Let’s go to the kitchen.”
The kitchen was perfectly orderly.
An enamel pot stood on the stove. Gavrilovna lifted the lid. Inside was freshly cooked borscht with large pieces of beef.
Then she opened the refrigerator. The shelves held containers of cottage cheese, a packet of butter, a glass jar of milk, a carton of eggs, and apples and carrots in the lower compartment.
“The food supply is adequate and balanced,” the official stated aloud as she made another note. “No signs of unsanitary conditions have been found.”
“She bought all of this because she knew you were coming!” her mother-in-law shrieked, shaking her fist. “She probably went into debt just to fill those shelves! And where does she get the money, I’d like to know?! She sits at home wearing out her trousers in front of a computer! No employment record, no stable salary!”
Varvara interlocked her fingers, feeling a cold fury rising inside her.
“I have an official contract with a transportation company. I’m registered as self-employed, I pay taxes, and I handle dispatch records for their routes. My income is one and a half times higher than your son’s, who is still searching for his true calling in life.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Vladik!” Angelina Terentyevna screamed. “My son is a qualified professional! He is temporarily searching for a position worthy of him! And you grabbed a two-room apartment for yourself and now live comfortably on his child support!”
Varya couldn’t help herself and laughed—briefly and bitterly.
“Whose child support? Those few pennies he transferred in July after the bailiffs put a lien on his used foreign car? Do you even know how much a winter jacket and boots cost for a ten-year-old boy? Your Vladik hasn’t even sent his son a box of chocolates for New Year’s in two years!”
“Because you destroyed him!” her mother-in-law advanced toward her, spitting as she spoke. “You drove him out of his lawful home! My grandson is entitled to a quarter of this apartment! Vladik nobly gave it up, and you’re taking advantage of his kindness! But the free ride is over, sweetheart!”
Gavrilovna raised a hand, cutting off the shouting.
“Citizens, stop this marketplace argument. We are here to inspect the living conditions of a minor, not divide your property. Based on the inspection, the child’s living conditions are considered completely satisfactory. The guardianship department sees no grounds for taking any action.”
“What do you mean, no grounds?!” Angelina Terentyevna grabbed the inspector by the sleeve. “Have you lost your mind?! I demand that you remove the boy immediately! Yesterday I submitted a counter-application asking for custody to be transferred to me! I’m his biological grandmother, I have a three-room apartment and forty years of work experience! I’ll raise the child properly, and this tramp should be stripped of her parental rights!”
Gavrilovna slowly freed her arm from the old woman’s gripping fingers. The inspector’s expression hardened.
“Citizen, what removal are you talking about? Termination of parental rights is possible only by court decision when systematic violence, alcoholism, or other serious grounds are proven. There isn’t even the slightest indication of anything like that here. The mother works, the child is well cared for, properly dressed, well fed, and participates in sports.”
“Then arrange temporary guardianship for me!” her mother-in-law reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper folded into quarters. “Here’s a copy of my application! I demand that the child be handed over to me today! And we’ll have this apartment sealed by the court until Lev comes of age so she can never set foot in here again!”
Varvara stared at her mother-in-law and finally understood the true value of this sudden concern for the child.
The two-room apartment in a good residential district had been haunting both her former mother-in-law and her ex-husband.
Throw Varvara out under the pretext of protecting the child’s rights, have the apartment sealed, and then quietly move Vladik—with all his endless debts—into the place.
That was the whole clever plan.
Inspector Gavrilovna turned a page on her clipboard, took a printed form stamped with a blue seal from an inside pocket, and placed it on the kitchen table.
“Your application has been officially registered, citizen,” Gavrilovna said evenly. “However, the law makes no exceptions for relatives. Any citizen applying to become a child’s guardian must undergo a complete state background assessment to determine whether they meet all safety requirements.”
“What safety requirements?” her mother-in-law asked suspiciously. “I’m a respected person!”
“Here is the standard list,” Gavrilovna tapped the form with her fingernail. “Proof of income, a certificate confirming the absence of a criminal record, an inspection of your living conditions, and most importantly—this section here. Consent for an interdepartmental request to the district psychoneurological clinic.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Outside the window, the faint sound of a street-washing vehicle could be heard passing by.
Angelina Terentyevna froze.
Her shoulders, which until that moment had been squared like those of a general, suddenly sagged. The hand she had been raising toward her glasses stopped in midair.
“What…?” she forced out through a dry mouth. “What clinic?”
“The ordinary one on Osipenko Street,” the inspector explained calmly. “Before transferring a minor into someone’s guardianship, the state is required to verify that the prospective guardian is not registered as suffering from severe chronic psychiatric disorders and does not pose a danger to others. Sign here, on the bottom line. Without your personal consent, we cannot request your archived medical record. And without it, your guardianship application will be canceled within three business days.”
The color drained from the mother-in-law’s round cheeks, leaving them gray and ashen.
Her fingers began trembling.
“Are you… are you out of your mind?!” Angelina Terentyevna’s voice rose into a shriek. “Why would you write to them?! What right do you have to dig through my records?! I worked in a management position at the trust for forty years! I have an impeccable employment record!”
“You are trying to obtain custody of a child whose mother is alive and perfectly capable of caring for him,” Gavrilovna said sharply, looking directly into the older woman’s widened pupils. “If there are no contraindications, signing the consent form is a simple formality. What exactly are you so frightened of?”
Her mother-in-law stepped backward and struck the corner of the dining table with her hip.
Varvara remained beside the stove, never taking her eyes off her.
Fragments of old conversations with Vlad began surfacing in her mind.
His constant, almost panicked fear of contradicting his mother in any way.
Angelina Terentyevna’s sudden nighttime fits of uncontrollable rage, when an unwashed plate could make her smash an entire dinner service on the floor and spend days howling behind a locked door.
Throughout eight years of marriage, Vladik had repeated the same memorized phrase:
“Mom has severe hypertension. She mustn’t get upset. Don’t argue with her or she’ll have a hypertensive crisis.”
It turned out blood pressure had never been the real issue.
“I withdraw my application!” Angelina Terentyevna shouted, hiding her hands inside the pockets of her coat. “Do you hear me?! I’m not signing anything! Take your papers away! I’ve changed my mind!”
“That is your right,” the inspector said, putting the unsigned form back on her clipboard. “Your guardianship application will be canceled immediately at your personal request. However, your accusation against the boy’s mother has now been officially documented as a false report. Today’s inspection report will become part of the family’s official file. And if you continue harassing the child or try to cause a scene at his school, we will send a request to Osipenko ourselves. The commission has more than enough authority to do that.”
“You’re all in this together!” her mother-in-law backed down the hallway, becoming tangled in the hem of her own coat. “She bribed you, and now you’re working together! I’ll file complaints against all of you! I’ll go all the way to the ministry! Every one of you will lose your jobs!”
She shoved her feet into her boots without even fully fastening the zippers, threw open the front door, and rushed onto the landing.
A moment later, the hurried shuffle of her footsteps could be heard disappearing down the stairs.
The entryway became empty and silent.
Varvara leaned her back against the doorframe, feeling the tension slowly leave her shoulders.
Gavrilovna calmly gathered her papers, fastened the clipboard, and looked at Varvara.
“Well, that’s the end of the circus.”
“Gavrilovna…” Varya caught her breath. “How did you know about her? You didn’t pull out that form for no reason, did you?”
The inspector gave the faintest smile.
“I’ve worked in guardianship in this district for thirty years, dear. I remember your mother-in-law’s surname from her old building on Zarechnaya Street. It happened about fifteen years ago. She poured diesel fuel all over her neighbors’ hallway rugs because she imagined they were sending poisonous rays through the electrical outlets. The whole district heard about it. She was taken away for two months of compulsory treatment. Her late husband practically wore out every doorstep afterward, collecting certificates and begging them to transfer her to outpatient treatment at home. The old woman must have thought her file had rotted away in some archive and nobody would remember it. But the database is electronic now. The moment we entered her surname while registering the application, the warning flag appeared.”
A chill ran down Varya’s spine.
“And last year Vladik kept insisting that Lyovka spend the entire school vacation with her at the dacha… He kept saying the fresh air would be good for the child.”
“Then be grateful you didn’t let him go,” Gavrilovna concluded firmly as she zipped up her jacket. “I’ll write the inspection report entirely in your favor. You have a wonderful boy—calm, intelligent, well developed. Live peacefully and don’t be afraid of anything. She won’t show her face here again. She’s terrified they’ll put her back under psychiatric supervision.”
“Thank you so much. Truly, thank you.”
The inspector nodded and walked out onto the landing.
Varya locked the door with two turns of the key.
Lyovka stood in the doorway to his room, clutching a ruler to his chest.
“Mom, did Grandma really want to take me away?”
Varya walked over to her son, wrapped her arms around his thin shoulders, and pulled him close.
“She wanted to, son. But who would ever give you to her? Nobody. Ever. Come on, let’s eat. The borscht is getting cold. We’ll have lunch, and afterward I’ll help you with that math problem.”
They had just sat down to eat when the phone on the kitchen cabinet began vibrating with an incoming call.
The name on the screen read: Vlad.
Varvara pressed the speakerphone button and placed the phone in front of her.
“Varya, have you completely lost your mind?!” her ex-husband’s shrill, breaking voice exploded from the speaker. “Mom came running home clutching her heart, drinking drops by the bottle! She says you sicced child services on her and threatened to lock her up in a madhouse! Why did you send government officials after my mother, you filthy—”
“Vlad, shut your mouth,” Varya interrupted calmly. “Your mother brought the inspector here herself. She filed a complaint claiming I was starving Lyovka and demanded that the child be handed over to her.”
There was a pause on the other end.
Heavy, wheezing breathing could be heard.
“She… she went there herself?” Vlad’s voice immediately lost some of its aggression.
“She did. She wanted to get guardianship, have our two-room apartment sealed, and then move you in here using the child’s share as an excuse. But when the inspector put a consent form for a psychiatric records check on Osipenko Street in front of her, she ran so fast she didn’t even zip up her boots. They remembered the incident with the diesel fuel on Zarechnaya Street, Vladik. The one you lied to my face about for eight years while telling me all about her fragile health and blood pressure.”
“Varya… why dig up the past?” her former husband began pleading, losing the last traces of arrogance in his voice. “Okay, something happened when she was younger. She had a nervous breakdown. She didn’t mean any harm. She’s just worried about her grandson…”
“Here’s how it’s going to be, devoted father,” Varvara said sharply. “Listen carefully and remember it the first time. If your mother comes anywhere near my apartment building, Lyovka’s school, or the swimming pool even once more, I will personally go to the prosecutor’s office. I’ll attach today’s report confirming the false complaint, and I’ll obtain her psychiatric records through the court. Then I’ll seek a court order banning her from coming anywhere near my son.”
“Varya, come on, there’s no need to go to court…”
“That’s the first thing,” she interrupted. “Second: if the child support payment, in the fixed amount, is not deposited into the account by the twenty-fifth of every month, I’m filing a lawsuit to recover the entire two-year debt with penalties and to have your driver’s license suspended. Your precious rust bucket will end up at auction soon enough. Do you understand me?”
“I understand, I understand,” Vlad muttered sullenly. “I’ll talk to her. She won’t come again.”
Varya ended the call.
A month passed.
Outside the window, the first wet snow swirled across the ground, covering the yellowing birch trees in the courtyard.
Angelina Terentyevna had disappeared completely.
According to the neighbor from the second floor, Varvara’s former mother-in-law had hurriedly packed her bags and left for a remote dacha near Priozersk—to dig garden beds, prepare the roses for winter, and keep a very low profile beneath the autumn rains.
Vlad transferred the child support payment exactly on the twenty-fourth, adding several thousand more to the usual amount.
Apparently, the prospect of losing both his license and his car had worked perfectly.
Lyovka sat at the table, bent over his sketchbook, carefully painting a wooden model of a brigantine.
On Varvara’s monitor, the evening shift route sheets were being closed one neat line at a time.
The apartment was warm.
It smelled of apple pie.
And nobody knocked on their door anymore.