Irina stood at the stove cooking borscht. Again. For the third time this week. Because once again, her husband’s relatives showed up unannounced.
“Ir, where’s the sour cream?” shouted Volodya, Igor’s brother, from the table. “And we’re out of bread.”
“I’ll bring it in a minute,” she replied wearily.
Four people sat at the table. Volodya and his wife Sveta, their son Denis, and Igor’s niece Katya. They had arrived at two in the afternoon, without calling or warning. As always. And they’d already been there for four hours.
“Remember, Igoryok, when we went fishing as kids?” Volodya roared with laughter. “You fell right into the river back then!”
Igor laughed, poured vodka, sliced sausage. The picture of a good host. Welcoming. Only it wasn’t him doing the cooking. And he wouldn’t be the one to clean up afterward.
Irina brought the sour cream, set a fresh loaf of bread on the table.
“Irishka, don’t you have any cake?” asked Sveta. “You always have something tasty hidden away.”
“No cake.”
“Oh, at least some cookies then? Or maybe some jam with tea?”
Irina glanced at her. Sveta lounged on her chair, fresh manicure, new hairstyle. Yet she knew full well their own fridge was empty at home—Igor had told her. Volodya was out of work again.
“I’ll see what we’ve got.”
She went to the kitchen and took out a jar of jam. The last one. She’d wanted to save it for the grandkids when they visited on the weekend. But what could she do?
“Denis, elbows off the table,” she told the boy.
“Why?” he grumbled.
“Because it doesn’t look nice.”
“Come on, Ir,” Igor chimed in. “He’s one of us.”
One of us. Of course. They’re all family here. But what about her? She’d been married for twenty-eight years and still felt like an outsider?
“Igor, help me take the dishes out.”
“In a minute. Let me finish this conversation.”
But he didn’t help. As usual. He just sat with his relatives, reminiscing about old times. And she hauled the dishes, washed up, wiped the table.
“So what are we cooking for Mom’s birthday?” Katya asked. “The party’s next week.”
“Seventy years!” Sveta exclaimed. “We’ve got to make it big!”
“And who’s going to do all the cooking?” Irina asked innocently.
Everyone stared at her. Like she was crazy.
“Well… we always get together at your place,” Volodya said hesitantly.
“You cook so deliciously,” Katya added. “Better than anyone in the family.”
Family. That word again. Where was this family when it was her own birthday? They called, congratulated her by phone, and that was it. And when Igor was in the hospital two years ago? Did anyone visit? Help out? Of course not. All the work, the worries—all hers.
“Maybe we should celebrate at a restaurant?” Irina suggested.
“Why?” Igor looked surprised. “It’s cozier at home. And cheaper.”
Cheaper. Sure, for her. Three days of cooking, then a week cleaning up after. They’d come, eat, drink, and head back to their own homes.
“Igor, we need to talk,” she said to her husband once the relatives finally left.
“About what?”
“These visits. I’m tired of it.”
“Oh, come on! They’re family.”
“Family should at least give notice. Ask if it’s convenient. Offer to help the hostess.”
“They do help. Volodya fixed the faucet yesterday.”
Yesterday. That was a month ago. And he’d only broken it in the first place when he got drunk at New Year’s.
“Igor, I’m exhausted. Every week someone drops by without calling. They sit at the table waiting to be served. And I’m just a machine—cook, serve, clean up.”
“Ir, you’re exaggerating.”
— Am I exaggerating? Count how many times your relatives have been here this month.
Igor was silent. He didn’t want to count. It would be awkward.
— They’re used to it, he finally said. — My mom always had an open house.
— Your mother had a different life. And she had more energy. But I’m fifty-seven, Igor. I work, run the house, look after the grandkids. When am I supposed to rest?
— You can rest when you retire.
Irina looked at him. Retirement. Eight more years putting up with this chaos?
— What if I ask them to let us know in advance before coming over?
— They’ll get offended. They’ll think we’re getting above ourselves.
— Let them think that.
— Ira, let’s not start fights. Family is more important.
Family. It was always about family. But isn’t she family too? Doesn’t her opinion matter?
The next day, Sveta called.
— Ira, we’re stopping by tomorrow. Volodya wants to introduce you to Seryozha’s new wife. Remember his younger brother?
— What new wife?
— You didn’t know? He divorced recently. Now he’s married a young woman. She’s gorgeous! Used to be a model.
Irina closed her eyes. Seryozha — another one of Igor’s brothers. The very same one who borrowed fifty thousand from them just two months ago and still hasn’t paid it back.
— Sveta, maybe another time? I have laundry and cleaning tomorrow…
— Oh, come on! Just a couple of hours. Seryozha really insisted!
— Then please let me know in advance what time you’ll be here.
— Oh, we’ll see! Sometime after lunch.
After lunch. Which could mean any time between two and seven. Just have to sit and wait.
They arrived at four. Seryozha, Volodya with Sveta, and the new wife — a girl around twenty-five. A blonde with fake lashes and duck lips.
— This is Alina! — Seryozha announced proudly.
Alina gave the house a look of disdain.
— So… this is vintage, right? — she drawled.
— What do you mean, vintage? — Irina didn’t understand.
— You know, that cute old stuff. Soviet style.
Irina felt a squeeze in her chest. Old stuff? The furniture she and Igor carefully collected? The china set they got as a wedding gift?
— Please, have a seat at the table, — she said dryly.
She set the table quickly. Whatever was on hand — some sausage, cheese, yesterday’s salad.
— Is there nothing hot? — Alina asked. — Like borscht or a soup?
— No.
— That’s odd. I thought a hostess always kept something hot ready.
Hostesses. Keeping things ready. For whom? For uninvited guests?
— Alina’s just not used to it yet, — Seryozha laughed. — She used to eat at restaurants all the time.
— I’m not picky! — the girl waved her hands. — It’s just that at home we have a chef who always cooks fresh.
A chef. They have a chef. But they come here looking for handouts.
— Igor, can I talk to you? — Irina called her husband to the kitchen.
— What’s wrong?
— I don’t like how she’s behaving.
— Who?
— That… Alina. Criticizing the house, the food. Who does she think she is?
— Seryozha’s wife. That makes her your sister-in-law.
— Sister-in-law! They just got married a month ago and she’s already acting entitled.
— Ira, don’t pay attention. She’s young.
— So youth gives her a free pass for everything?
Igor shrugged and went back to the guests.
From the living room, they heard:
— Seryozha, why don’t they have a dishwasher? Or air conditioning? How do they even live like this?
— Alina, quiet, — Seryozha hissed.
— I don’t mean any harm! I’m just surprised. I mean, these days…
These days. The girl is twenty-five and already lecturing on how to live. Irina returned to the room.
— Would you like some tea?
“Can I have some coffee?” Alina asked. “But please, not instant. Do you have a coffee machine?”
“No, we don’t.”
“Do you at least have a cezve?”
“No cezve either.”
Alina glanced at her with a look of pity.
“Well, then tea it is. But only if it’s good tea.”
If it’s good tea. Irina’s eye started to twitch. She’s been making tea for forty years, and now this upstart is doubting its quality.
“So, what are we getting Mom for her birthday?” Volodya asked.
“I already bought a gift,” Seryozha said. “Alina picked it out. It’s a beautiful scarf.”
“How much was it?” Sveta asked.
“Three thousand.”
Three thousand. Yet he borrowed fifty from her and still hasn’t paid her back. Spending money on scarves instead.
“What will you be giving?” Alina turned to Irina.
“We haven’t decided yet.”
“It should be something special. It’s her seventieth, after all! Maybe a trip to a sanatorium? Or some jewelry?”
Easy for her to say. Jewelry. And who will pay for that? Her and Igor again?
“We’ll see,” Irina muttered.
The guests stayed until ten in the evening. The whole time, Alina kept criticizing everything: the wallpaper was old, the TV was too small, the plants on the windowsill looked sickly. And Seryozha just nodded along, apologizing for his poor relatives.
When they finally left, Irina exploded.
“That’s it! Enough! I don’t want to see that rude girl ever again!”
“Oh come on,” Igor waved her off. “She’s just a bit spoiled.”
“Spoiled! She criticized the whole house! She humiliated me!”
“She didn’t humiliate you. She just didn’t think before she spoke.”
“Igor, do you hear yourself? You’re defending another woman instead of your wife!”
“What do you mean another woman? She’s our daughter-in-law.”
Daughter-in-law. She’s only been in the family for a month and already acts like she has a say. Meanwhile, Irina has been with them for twenty-eight years and her opinion doesn’t matter.
“I don’t want to see them at the birthday party,” Irina said firmly.
“We can’t just not invite them. They’ll be hurt.”
“Let them be offended!”
“Irina, think it over. It’s not worth fighting about such little things…”
Little things. To him, everything is little things. Meanwhile, she was on the verge of tears from hurt and exhaustion.
They celebrated the birthday at home. Everyone came: Volodya and Sveta, Seryozha and Alina, Katya with her husband, plus some cousins and their wives. About fifteen people in total.
Irina cooked for three days. Salads, appetizers, main dishes. Igor only set up the extendable table and bought vodka. She did all the cooking alone.
“Mom, the table looks beautiful!” her mother-in-law exclaimed.
Mom. At least someone noticed.
“Thank you, Nina Petrovna.”
“Irina really went all out!” Volodya chimed in. “She’s a master at preparing feasts.”
Master at preparing feasts. As if that’s an actual profession.
They sat down at the table. There were toasts, clinking glasses, and food. Alina started criticizing things again.
“Why is there no shrimp in the olivier?” she whispered to Seryozha. “And there’s no red caviar either.”
No shrimp. No caviar. Well, if she wants them, she can bring them herself next time.
“Mom, tell us how you used to celebrate holidays!” Katya asked.
Her mother-in-law perked up and began to remember her younger years, the war, and raising children.
“It was hard,” she sighed. “But we made it through. We helped each other.”
“Oh come on, Mom!” Volodya waved her off. “What hardships? The state gave everyone everything for free.”
“What do you mean for free?” Nina Petrovna protested. “We worked from dawn to dusk!”
“Well, sure you worked. But at least apartments were free, and healthcare was free.”
“And what about now? Is it any harder?” Seryozha chimed in. “You can earn as much as you want these days!”
“If you know how,” Alina added acidly.
The message was clear: If you can’t earn money, that’s why you’re struggling financially.
“What does that mean?” my mother-in-law asked.
“It’s nothing, Mom,” Sergei said quickly. “Alina just…”
“No, let her explain,” Nina Petrovna insisted. “What did she mean by that?”
Alina blushed. She realized she had said too much.
“That’s not what I meant to say…”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Well… that everyone is responsible for their own life.”
“Oh, so does that mean there’s no need to help family?”
“Of course, we should help, but…”
“But what?” Volodya chimed in. “We do help! We visit, we check in.”
“Yes, you do come by,” the mother-in-law agreed dryly. “Quite often. Mostly to see Irina.”
Everyone went silent. There was something uneasy in her tone.
“What’s wrong with that?” Igor asked, surprised. “Families should spend time together.”
“Families should,” Nina Petrovna nodded. “But not every day. And not barging in unannounced.”
“Mom, what’s with this ‘barging in’ talk?” Sergei said, feeling hurt.
“It’s about calling ahead. Asking if it’s a good time. Not just showing up with the whole gang.”
“But we’re family!” Volodya objected. “Why all the formalities?”
“Being family doesn’t mean being disrespectful. Irina gets tired. She works, cooks, cleans. And all you do is eat and criticize.”
Irina nearly choked. Was her mother-in-law defending her? Had Nina Petrovna noticed everything?
“But we don’t criticize!” Sveta protested.
“Oh really? Then what was your sister-in-law saying yesterday about the old furniture?”
Everyone looked at Alina. She turned as red as a beet.
“I didn’t mean anything bad…”
“Then what did you mean?” the mother-in-law snapped. “You’ve only been part of this family for a month, and you’re already telling everyone how to live!”
“Mom, please stop,” Sergei tried to reason with her.
“No, I won’t! I’ve had enough of your visits. Every week, someone shows up. Irina gets no peace!”
“Mom, what’s going on?” Igor muttered in confusion. “We’re family…”
“Family!” Nina Petrovna snorted. “Where was this ‘family’ when Irina had the flu? Who helped her? Who made soup?”
Silence. Everyone remembered. Two months ago, Irina was sick with a fever for a week. She was alone. Igor was always at work, and the family never showed up.
“And when was her birthday? Who came to say congratulations? Everyone just called on the phone!”
“But she doesn’t like big celebrations,” Katya mumbled.
“Doesn’t like them? Or was it just too much effort for you to buy a cake or pick out a gift?”
Katya fell silent. In truth, no one got Irina a birthday gift that year. Just an envelope with some cash. Five hundred rubles.
“And another thing,” the mother-in-law continued, “who pays for all these get-togethers? Irina cooks everything with her own money. Do any of you bring anything?”
“Sometimes we do,” Volodya said uncertainly.
“Sometimes? A bottle once a month? Who buys the meat? Who makes the salads?”
Volodya didn’t answer. The truth was, he rarely brought even a bottle. Everything else fell to the hosts.
“I’m ashamed of you,” Nina Petrovna said firmly. “You’ve lost all sense of decency. You’re taking advantage of her.”
“Mom, you’re exaggerating,” Igor tried to argue.
“Exaggerating? Ask your wife how tired she is. Look at her closely.”
Igor looked at Irina. He saw the tired eyes, the slumped shoulders. When did she become so worn down?
“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” the mother-in-law continued, “from now on you all will warn in advance. At least a day ahead. No surprise visits every week. Once a month is enough.”
“But Mom…”
— No buts! Or I’ll stop having them over altogether. I’m seventy years old, I want some peace. And I want Irena to have peace too.
Alina got up from the table.
— Sergei, let’s go. The atmosphere here is a little strange.
— That’s right, go, — the mother-in-law agreed. — And don’t come without an invitation again.
Sergei looked helplessly from his mother to his wife.
— Mom, are you serious?
— Dead serious. It’s time to learn to respect people.
Sergei and Alina left first, slamming the door. The others quickly followed. Katya mumbled something about urgent business. Volodya and Sveta slipped out, saying they had to get up early the next day.
— Mom, why did you hurt their feelings? — Igor asked when everyone had left.
— I didn’t hurt them, I just told the truth, — Nina Petrovna replied firmly. — I’m tired of your constant, presumptuous visits.
— But they’re family…
— Family should care for each other. Not just take advantage.
The mother-in-law packed up her gifts and said goodbye to Irena.
— Thank you for the celebration. And sorry about those fools. It’s my fault, I spoiled them when they were kids.
When she left, Igor and Irena were alone. The dishes were piled high. The table was a mess. The floor was covered in crumbs.
— So, are you going to help? — Irena asked tiredly.
— Of course.
Igor took a rag and started wiping down the table in silence, lost in thought.
— Irena, was Mom right?
— About what exactly?
— Well… that they come here too often. That it’s too much for you.
Irena stopped, holding some plates in her hands.
— Igor, I’ve been telling you this for a month. You hadn’t been listening.
— I listened. I just thought you were tired, that’s all.
— I am tired. Exhausted, actually.
He looked at her. She really did look tired. And older, somehow. When did that happen?
— So what do we do now?
— We talk to them. Lay down some ground rules.
— What kind of rules?
— Call ahead. Bring something for the table. Help clean up. Basic manners.
Igor nodded. He finally understood.
A week later, Volodya called.
— Igor, can we come by on Sunday? Svetka wants to see Irena.
— Wait, let me ask.
Igor looked at his wife with a questioning glance. Irena nodded.
— Yes, you can. Around three o’clock.
— What should we bring for the table?
— Bring some meat for kebabs. And maybe a salad.
— Okay, we’ll bring it.
They arrived right at three, with meat, a ready-made salad from the store, and even a cake.
— Irena, sorry about last time, — said Sveta. — We really didn’t think it through.
— Oh, don’t worry about it, — Irena waved her hand.
But it felt nice. For the first time in years, she was treated like the hostess instead of the help.
Igor and Volodya handled the kebabs. Sveta helped set the table. After dinner, the men cleaned up the dishes while the women relaxed.
— See how well it works out, — Igor said in the evening.
— Yes. When everyone shows respect.
Sergei didn’t call for a long time. He was clearly offended. Alina kept turning him against the family. But a month later he finally called.
— Igor, can I come over? I need to talk.
— What about Alina?
— She… we got divorced.
— Really?
— She said she didn’t want to deal with poor relatives.
Igor stayed silent. What could he say?
Sergei came alone, bringing cognac and a box of chocolates. He apologized to Irena and promised to pay back the money he owed in a month. And he kept his word.
Katya started visiting every two weeks. She always brought treats and never showed up without calling first. She got the hint.
Nina Petrovna changed too. Now she invites family members over one at a time. She doesn’t leave everything to Irina anymore.
“You know,” she said one day, “I feel calmer now. I used to think I was a bad mother if I didn’t gather everyone at my place every weekend.”
“And now?”
“Now I realize we all need a break sometimes. Others need peace too.”
Irina smiled. She understood perfectly.
That evening, she sat in the kitchen, sipping tea. It was peaceful. No one was calling or asking to visit. Tomorrow was her day off—she could finally sleep in. No need to cook for a crowd.
“What are you thinking about?” Igor asked.
“About how wonderful it feels to be respected.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get it before.”
“What matters is that you understand now.”
He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
“It already is,” Irina smiled.
And it was true. The house felt like home, not just a place people passed through. The family felt like a real family, not a group of freeloaders. And she finally felt like the hostess, not the help.
Exactly what she wanted.