It was a typical Wednesday evening when Lisa showed up unexpectedly, laden with oversized bags and her five-year-old son, Kostya, beaming with happiness.
“Natasha!” she exclaimed, embracing her sister-in-law as if she were a lifeline. “Is it alright if I stay for a week? Mom’s unbearable!”
Maxim glanced up from the television, curiosity piqued. “What happened?”
“She wakes up at five in the morning!” Lisa exclaimed, frustration evident. “She starts cooking and cleaning, then drags me to the garden to help. She insists that since I’m here, I should pitch in. But I’m on vacation! I want to relax properly!”
Natasha assessed her brother’s sister. Lisa was attractive and well-groomed, clearly having come from Moscow for a break.
“Of course, you can stay,” said Maxim. “Right, Natasha?”
“Definitely,” Natasha nodded, as she had little choice.
The arrangement required rearranging the children’s room. Artem’s sofa was pushed to one side to make space for a fold-out bed. Lisa spread her belongings across every available surface—cosmetics on the windowsill, clothes on a chair, and Kostya’s toys scattered all over the floor.
“You have so much space!” she declared, marveling at the three-room apartment. “In Moscow, a place this big costs a fortune. Here, it’s paradise!”
Kostya wasted no time exploring his cousin’s toys. Artem, being six, was already adept at negotiating. The boys quickly found a common ground for play.
“We’re not picky at all,” Lisa reassured them, lounging on the couch with her phone. “Whatever you eat is fine for us. We are guests, no need to fuss.”
“Guests. For a week,” Natasha mused internally. This implied extra food shopping, more laundry, and cooking for five instead of three.
“Don’t worry,” Lisa added, sensing Natasha’s contemplation. “We’re quiet. Kostya’s well-behaved, he won’t be a troublemaker.”
At that moment, Kostya dumped his box of building blocks, creating a cacophony as pieces clattered across the floor.
“Kostya, be careful!” Lisa scolded, still glued to her phone screen.
Natasha began picking up the blocks in silence, knowing she’d have to vacuum the next day to gather the small pieces that would surely be under the sofa.
The initial days were fairly uneventful. Lisa slept until eleven—after all, she was on vacation! Then, she would enjoy coffee, scroll through the internet, and chat with friends back in Moscow. Kostya and Artem frolicked together noisily, filled with laughter and energy throughout the apartment.
“They’re just great!” Lisa cooed as she watched the boys play. “Like brothers!”
Natasha prepared soup in a large pot, picking up two loaves of bread instead of one. She did laundry—Kostya’s wardrobe was extensive, yet he managed to dirty half of it in just three days.
“Sorry for the trouble,” Lisa said, as she watched Natasha hang up the laundry. “Kostya is still little, he gets things dirty quickly.”
“It’s alright,” Natasha replied.
“In Moscow, we have a better washing machine—one that washes and dries. It’s so convenient.”
“We have one too.”
“Sure, but without a dryer. Having one is much more practical.”
Natasha nodded; a washing machine with a dryer cost twice as much. In Moscow, that might be minor, but here it was a significant expense.
Four days in, their mother-in-law, Lyubov Andreyevna, arrived unexpectedly.
“Lisa!” she exclaimed, embracing her daughter warmly. “How I’ve missed you! And where’s my grandson? Kostya, come here!”
She hadn’t come empty-handed; she was returning from the dacha, having spent the days tending to the vegetable garden. She had dropped by to see the children.
“Natasha, how about some tea?” she requested, removing her muddy boots. “I’m so tired from the trip.”
Natasha set the kettle on, grabbed biscuits, and cut bread with butter, clearing the table of children’s drawings and remnants of play dough.
“What a wonderful hostess!” Lyubov Andreyevna praised. “Look at how well your brother married, Lisa!”
Lisa nodded, engrossed in a phone conversation with a friend.
“No, I’m still at Max’s,” she said into the receiver. “I’ve extended my vacation. It’s peaceful here; no one pressures me.”
Her mother-in-law spent the evening playing with her grandchildren, sharing news about the dacha, and complaining about neighbors. She left, satisfied.
“I’ll drop by again tomorrow,” she promised. “I need to bring Kostya a gift. It wouldn’t be fair to only bring something for Artem.”
And she indeed returned. With a bag full of toys and a box of sweets.
“And where is Aunt Galya?” Lisa inquired.
“She’s at home. But I’ll take her with me tomorrow—she hasn’t seen Kostya yet!”
Natasha inwardly sighed; it seemed they would have even more guests the next day.
The week came to an end on Sunday. Lisa didn’t pack her belongings or even mention leaving.
“Liz,” Maxim asked gingerly during dinner, “are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” she was surprised. “Why would I?”
“Well… a week has passed.”
“Oh come on!” Lisa brushed him off. “I still have vacation left. I will stay a bit longer.”
“How much longer?” Natasha pressed.
“I don’t really know. Maybe two or three weeks. Perhaps a month. Until I’m a bother.”
“A month!” Natasha nearly choked on her tea.
“But what about work?” Maxim inquired.
“What about work? I’m on vacation!” Lisa laughed. “I hardly come home.”
Maxim nodded in understanding; it made sense. His sister was on leave and wanted to spend time with her family.
Natasha remained silent, but her insides twisted. Another month cooking for five, doing laundry, and shopping for groceries to feed the expanded household.
The second week began with another visit from Lyubov Andreyevna, this time accompanied by Aunt Galya.
“Oh my, Lisa’s at home!” Aunt Galya exclaimed. “I wondered if you had changed! Kostya, go to your aunt! Look how big you’ve gotten!”
The house filled with voices. Aunt Galya brought more gifts—drums, sand toys, and Kinder Eggs. The children ran around, excitedly throwing their new toys everywhere.
“Natasha, are we having lunch?” Lyubov Andreyevna asked. “Gala and I have been on our feet since morning.”
“Certainly,” Natasha replied.
She prepared borscht, fried cutlets, and made a salad to serve five adults and two children. Aunt Galya complimented the dishes, while Lyubov Andreyevna shared news from the dacha.
“We’ll come again tomorrow,” Lyubov Andreyevna promised. “Gala’s grandchild is sick, and she’s worried. She wants to compare how Kostya is growing.”
On the following day, they returned again. The day after that. Lyubov Andreyevna was relishing her time—her daughter was home, grandchildren nearby, and there were people to talk to.
“We’re not staying long,” she assured each time. “Just popping in for tea.”
Tea stretched into half the day. Natasha cooked meals, washed the dishes, and entertained her guests. Lisa participated in the chit-chat and played with the children but offered no help around the house.
“I’m a guest here,” she explained when Natasha suggested they wash the dishes together. “It feels awkward.”
Lyubov Andreyevna would add, “Lisa is on vacation! Let her rest. She works in Moscow.”
Natasha found herself buying more groceries. Meat, vegetables, fruits, milk, bread—at checkout, the total reached four or five thousand each time. The family budget was stretched thin.
- “Maybe you could chip in for groceries?” Natasha asked Lisa at the end of the second week.
“Why would I?” Lisa was taken aback. “You’re already cooking. Is it really that hard to fry an extra cutlet?”
“It’s not hard, but I have to buy more food,” Natasha replied.
“Oh come on! We’re not gluttons; Kostya hardly eats at all.”
Kostya was devouring his third sausage sandwich at that very moment, his appetite quite impressive.
“Liz, I’m not being stingy,” Natasha explained. “I just don’t have enough money.”
“Natasha, don’t be silly!” Lisa waved it off. “We’re family! It’s awkward to be counting money.”
“Family? Is it awkward for Natasha to be spending her last money on your food?”
By the end of the second week, only scraps remained in the fridge—a sliver of cheese, a bit of sausage, and some expired yogurt.
“Is there going to be dinner?” Lyubov Andreyevna asked during yet another visit with Aunt Galya.
“Yes, there will,” Natasha replied, though she was unsure what to prepare.
“How about we order a pizza?” Lisa suggested. “We often do in Moscow; it’s convenient.”
“Too expensive,” Natasha countered.
“Oh come on! One pizza won’t break the bank.”
A pizza for seven would cost three thousand. Their last money on the card.
“I’ll pay for it,” Natasha said.
“Good for you!” Aunt Galya approved. “Such a great hostess!”
Lisa chewed her pizza happily, sharing stories of Moscow restaurants, while Natasha mentally calculated the days left until payday. Four days left, and zero rubles on her card.
The third week kicked off with chaos. Kostya had a tummy ache—he cried throughout the night, waking everyone up.
“He ate something bad,” Lisa speculated in the morning. “But what did we have for dinner yesterday?”
“Pasta with sausages,” Natasha reported.
“Odd. Kostya loves pasta. Perhaps the sausages were off?”
There was nothing wrong with the sausages; the child simply had devoured half a kilo of candy from Aunt Galya before bed.
“Today, let’s make something light,” Lisa suggested. “A diet soup. Surely, we can buy a homegrown chicken somewhere.”
“I don’t have such chicken,” Natasha replied sheepishly. “Money has run out.”
“What do you mean it’s run out?”
“Only four days to payday.”
Lisa pondered for a moment.
“Can’t you borrow some?”
“From who?”
“Well… from Max.”
“Max also has no money until payday.”
“Then… ” Lisa scratched her head. “I could lend you some. But I only have large notes—five thousand rubles.”
Five-thousand rubles! Natasha’s jaw dropped. So Lisa did have money. Serious money.
“Please lend it to me,” Natasha implored. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course!” Lisa agreed generously. “Just change it somewhere first. They might not accept large notes in the store.”
Natasha took the bill and went to the store. She bought groceries for two thousand—found a homegrown chicken for the broth for Kostya, meat, vegetables, and bread. She returned the change to Lisa.
“Thank you,” she said, counting the money. “Can you start the soup?”
“Sure.”
“And did you buy fresh bread?”
“Fresh.”
“Good. Yesterday’s bread isn’t good for Kostya.”
Natasha stirred the soup silently. Lisa had given her money, but it sounded as if she was doing a favor. Yet, she had been eating off others’ plates for three weeks!
Lyubov Andreyevna arrived for lunch, alone—Aunt Galya was unwell.
“How’s our sick one?” she asked, kissing Kostya.
“He’s better now,” Lisa replied. “Natasha made diet soup.”
“Well done, Natasha!” praised her mother-in-law. “What are you planning for dinner?”
Natasha opened the fridge. There were leftovers of yesterday’s salad and a small piece of cheese.
“Seems a bit scarce,” Lyubov Andreyevna commented, peeking over her shoulder. “Should we go to the store?”
“I don’t have any money,” Natasha whispered.
“What about Lisa?”
“Lisa has money. But she’s a guest.”
“What do you mean, a guest?” her mother-in-law didn’t grasp the situation.
“She says it’s inappropriate to spend.”
Lyubov Andreyevna frowned.
“That’s odd. How long has Lisa been here?”
“Three weeks now.”
“Three? I thought just two weeks.”
“No. It’s been twenty days.”
“And you’ve been feeding everyone this time?”
“Yes.”
“And she hasn’t contributed?”
“Today was the first time she gave me money.”
Lyubov Andreyevna contemplated this. Then she sighed.
“I see.”
That evening, she left without a word, skipping dinner.
The next day, Lisa slept until noon. Natasha had already taken Artem to school, done laundry, and prepared breakfast.
“Good morning!” Lisa yawned. “What’s for breakfast?”
“An omelet is ready.”
“And bread? We finished it yesterday.”
“Yes, we finished it yesterday.”
“So, do I have to go to the store again?”
“Or you could go.”
“But that feels inconvenient; I’m a guest.”
Natasha stared at her sister-in-law. Being a guest for three weeks felt awkward, yet eating someone else’s food seemed just fine.
“Lisa,” she said slowly, “do you realize I’m buying groceries for everyone?”
“I do. And I’m very grateful.”
“I’m paying with my salary.”
“Of course. You’re the hostess.”
“Can’t you help out?”
“I told you—it feels awkward.”
“Why is it awkward?”
“Well… we’re guests; it’s obvious.”
“Three weeks as guests.”
“Time flies so fast!” Lisa laughed carefree.
Natasha stood up and opened the fridge.
“Is it so difficult for you to make an extra pot of soup?” Lisa huffed, peeking into the refrigerator.
Natasha slowly closed the door. She turned to face her sister-in-law and locked eyes with her.
“Lisa, when do you plan to leave?”
“Leave? When did I say I’d leave?” she stammered. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“So, you could potentially live here for another month?”
“Well… theoretically, yes. Why?”
“Because I am not a restaurant.”
“What restaurant? What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that you’re eating at my expense. Sleeping in my home. And then complaining that I cook too little.”
“Natasha, that’s not fair!” Lisa waved her hands. “I’m not demanding anything special!”
“You are expecting me to feed you for free.”
“But we’re relatives!”
“Being relatives doesn’t mean being freeloaders.”
“Freeloaders?!” Lisa was offended. “We’re not staying forever!”
“How long then?”
“Until I find a job.”
“What job? You’re on leave!”
Lisa hesitated.
“Well… actually…,” she dropped her gaze. “I got laid off.”
“Laid off?!” Natasha couldn’t believe her ears. “Lisa, it’s August!”
“Yes…”
“You’ve been without a job for two months?”
“Um… yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It felt awkward. I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” Natasha almost choked with outrage. “And living off others isn’t embarrassing?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Lisa wailed. “I just wanted to rest first. And then I got comfortable. It’s peaceful and nice here…”
“Nice for you at my expense!”
“Natasha, I’m sorry! I’ll fix it!”
“How will you fix it?”
“I’ll start looking for a job! I’ll contribute money!”
“When will you start looking?”
“Tomorrow! I promise I’ll start right away!”
“Lisa,” Natasha said quietly, “just leave.”
“Leave? Where to?”
“Go back to Mom. Or to Moscow. I really don’t mind.”
“I have nowhere to go!”
“Nowhere to go to Mom?”
“It’s inconvenient there… difficult routine…”
“And what about me? Feeding you for three weeks? Cleaning up after you?”
“Natasha, please give me a little more time!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you deceived me. You lied about your vacation. You’ve been living off me and even complained!”
“I won’t do it again!”
“You won’t, because you’re leaving.”
Lisa wept loudly.
“You’re cruel!”
“Perhaps,” Natasha agreed. “But in my own home, I have the right to be tough.”
That evening, Maxim asked, “What happened? Lisa is packing her things.”
“I asked her to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because she lied. She doesn’t have any vacation; she got laid off two months ago.”
“Sounds serious!”
“Yes. She’s been living with us because she has no job.”
“But what if she doesn’t find another?!”
“Not my problem. I offered her a roof for a week, not long-term.”
“A week? But she’s my sister!”
“Your sister. Her problems are your problems.”
“Natasha, you can’t just throw her out!”
“I’m not throwing her out! I’m asking her to go to her mother.”
“It’s inconvenient there.”
“And for me? Spending my last money on her food?”
Maxim fell silent.
“Maybe just another week?” he pleaded. “Until she figures something out.”
“No,” Natasha said firmly. “That’s enough.”
The next day, Lisa packed her suitcase slowly, sighing with each item, making it obvious.
“Mom will come pick me up,” she informed Maxim. “Since we’re just inconveniencing you.”
“You’re not inconveniencing us,” he protested. “But… ”
“But your wife is calculating and stingy,” Lisa cut him off.
Maxim was silent.
Lyubov Andreyevna arrived later that evening, looking serious and quiet.
<p“What’s going on?” she asked her son.
“Natasha asked Lisa to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s expensive to maintain her.”
Lyubov Andreyevna shook her head.
“Didn’t Lisa tell you she lost her job?”
“Yes, and it turns out she was laid off two months ago.”
“And this entire time, she’s been lying about her vacation?”
“It looks that way.”
Lyubov Andreyevna sighed heavily.
“Alright. Let’s go, Lisa.”
They left quietly, not even saying goodbye.
Three days later, Maxim received a phone call.
“Maxim, Lisa has gone to Moscow.”
“Gone? Why?”
“She says my routines don’t suit her. I’ve worn her down. I wake up early and have too many chores, while she’s used to sleeping in until eleven.”
“Did she find work?”
“It seems there were offers. She just refused them because she wanted to relax.”
“So she could have worked?”
“Absolutely. But chose to live off her relatives for free.”
Maxim remained silent.
“Natasha was right,” his mother added quietly. “Three weeks on someone else’s expense is too much.”
“Mom…”
“And I visited often. I didn’t consider how hard it was on Natasha. Please apologize to her from me.”
Maxim hung up. He watched Natasha, who quietly prepared dinner. For three. Just like before.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
“For what?”
“For not understanding sooner.”
Natasha shrugged.
“Now you understand. That’s what matters.”
That evening, when Artem fell asleep, the house finally settled into quiet. Peaceful. Natasha sat in the kitchen with tea, gazing out the window.