Julia adjusted the strap of her emerald dress in front of the mirror, looked at her reflection critically, and nodded with satisfaction. Forty years.
A number that might scare some, but for Julia, it meant freedom, money, and finally the ability to say no firmly.
— Jul, the taxi’s waiting — her husband Boris stuck his head out from the hallway. He looked at his wife with unhidden admiration. — You look amazing today. Are you sure you don’t want to call anyone?
— Bori, we’ve already discussed this — Julia picked up her clutch. — No guests. No cooking. No “cut a little salad” and “where are my slippers.”
Just you, me, an expensive restaurant, and silence. I want to eat my steak without listening to your mother’s advice on how to chew properly.
Boris laughed. He knew that Julia’s relationship with Larissa Semyonovna resembled the Cold War, where icy silence was occasionally interrupted by artillery attacks in the form of unsolicited advice.
— Agreed. Your day — your rules.
The “Golden Peacock” restaurant was chosen for a reason. It was flashy, unnecessarily expensive, with stuccoes, velvet curtains, and prices that would give an average person a nervous twitch.
Exactly what was needed to make someone feel like the queen of the evening.
They entered the dining room, expecting a cozy window-side table. The administrator led them in with a wide smile. But not to the window.
— Your table is ready — she chirped, pointing to the center of the room.
Julia froze. Instead of a table for two, there was a twelve-person “landing strip” set up in the middle of the room. And it was not empty.
At the head of the table, like an exiled empress, sat Larissa Semyonovna in a lurex dress. Next to her, Uncle Viktor, a distant relative Julia saw once every five years, greedily scooped caviar straight into his mouth.
On the other side, her sister-in-law Galya wiped her younger child’s mouth with a napkin while the older one, a seven-year-old little thief, was already scraping the antique chair upholstery with his fork.
— Surpriise! — Larissa Semyonovna bellowed when she saw the frozen couple. Her voice had been honed by years of work at the registry office.
The whole restaurant turned to look. Boris paled and glanced at his wife. Julia stayed silent, but a sinister light flashed in her eyes, the kind that usually meant someone was about to experience pain. Mentally.
— Mom? — Boris croaked. — What are you doing here?
— What do you mean, what? — her mother clapped her hands, almost knocking over a wine glass. — It’s my beloved daughter-in-law’s birthday!
You didn’t think we’d leave the poor girl alone on such a day, did you? We are family! Come, sit down! We’ve already started a bit while waiting for you.
Julia slowly approached the table. The table was overloaded. Sturgeon, meat delicacies, a whole row of expensive cognacs, oysters that Uncle Viktor eyed suspiciously but ate with the enthusiasm of an excavator.
— Larissa Semyonovna — Julia’s voice was as straight as a dead heart monitor. — We booked a table for two.
— Oh, don’t be so grumpy! — Galya waved while pouring herself wine. — Mom called the administrator, said the reservation was mistaken, there would be more guests.
Of course, she fussed a bit, but look how nicely they seated us! Julka, why are you dressed up like this? The dress has an open back, at forty you should be more modest, the skin is not peach anymore.
— Galya, there’s mayonnaise on your chin — Julia remarked with an icy smile. — And I see your son is about to spill the sauce on the eighteenth-century carpet.
The crashing confirmed her words. Galya’s son knocked over a flower vase from the table.
— No problem! — Larissa Semyonovna shouted over the crash. — A broken dish brings luck! Waiter! Clean it up, and bring more of that crab salad, it was divine! And the main course too!
Julia sat down. Boris squeezed next to her, trying to shrink to atomic size. He knew this look. It was the sniper gaze calculating the wind.
— So you wanted a surprise — said Julia, spreading her napkin.
— Naturally! — Larissa Semyonovna was already reaching for her third piece of sturgeon.
— We know you always save money, want to do everything yourself. But today is a celebration! The family gathered! Uncle Viktor came all the way from the county, even asked off from work.
— I’m a loader, my back gave out, I need rest — Viktor mumbled while munching. — But the cognac here is good, Julka. Not like that stuff you put out on New Year’s.
The audacity of the guests grew exponentially. Galya loudly began to lecture that Julia should have children,
“because the clock doesn’t tick, it cuckoos,” and that careers are for men, but a woman should make borscht. Larissa Semyonovna nodded while ordering the most expensive items from the menu one by one.
— I’ll have lobster — she announced to the waiter. — Never had it. Galya too. And for the kids, dessert, the biggest one!
— Mom, it’s very expensive — Boris whispered.
— Shh! — her mother waved. — It’s your wife’s jubilee, you have the right to open your wallet for your mother and sister. Not every day we celebrate.
The climax came an hour later. Larissa Semyonovna, flushed from alcohol, stood to toast. She tapped her glass with a fork to quiet everyone.
— Well, Juliska — she began in a honeyed voice that contained more venom than a cobra bite. — You turned forty. You know, a woman’s time is short.
I wish for you to finally think of others, not just yourself. Look at Galya — three kids, her husband drinks, but at least her own, a household. And you? Offices, gyms.
You are selfish, Julia. But we still love you because we are generous. For the family!
— For the family! — roared Uncle Viktor.
Galya giggled. Boris clenched his fist, about to say something, but Julia put her hand over his.
Slowly, she stood. Silence fell over the room. Julia smiled, but the kind of smile that made the nearby waiter instinctively step back.
— Thank you, Larissa Semyonovna — Julia said loudly and clearly.
— You’ve opened my eyes. I was really selfish. I thought my birthday was my celebration. But it showed me that the most important thing is family.
Her mother nodded, taking it as capitulation.
— And since we’re talking about generosity and surprises… — Julia paused. — Waiter!
The young man immediately appeared.
— Please, bring the bill.
— Already? — Galya was surprised, eating her second portion of lobster. — We haven’t even had dessert!
— Eat, my dears, eat — Julia said kindly.
The waiter brought a leather folder. Julia opened it, ran her eyes over the bill. The amount was considerable — enough for a used foreign car. In two hours, the relatives had eaten and drunk a small African country’s annual budget.
— Wow — Larissa Semyonovna leaned over the bill, whistling. — Bori, take out the card. If we celebrate, let’s celebrate properly!
Julia closed the folder and handed it back to the waiter.
— Young man — she said loudly so the neighboring tables could hear.
— My husband and I have a separate budget from this group. Please, make it separate: two Caesar salads, two ribeye steaks, and a bottle of mineral water. That is our order.
There was a deathly silence at the table. One could hear a fly buzzing over the jelly-like meat.
— What do you mean? — Larissa Semyonovna’s face turned red and blotchy. — Julia, you’re joking, right?
— Nothing joking — Julia took out her card and tapped it on the terminal the smart waiter held up. — Beep. Paid.
— You can’t do this! — Galya screamed. — It’s your birthday! You invited us!
— Me? — Julia raised an eyebrow. — I didn’t invite you. You said: “Surprise!”
She stood, adjusted her dress, and looked down on her mother.
— You barged in on my celebration without an invitation. Ordered foods I didn’t choose.
You humiliated and offended me on my own birthday. Well, darlings. Surprise is a wonderful thing. But remember the rule: the one who organizes the surprise pays.
— Bori! — Larissa Semyonovna screamed, clutching her heart (a trick she had practiced for years). — Your wife has gone mad! She leaves her mother in debt! Do something! My blood pressure’s up!
Boris slowly stood. He looked at his mother, Viktor, who tried to hide his half-drunk cognac under the table, and at his sister with the messy kids.
— Mom — he said calmly. — Julia is right. You wanted a celebration — you organized it. Enjoy it. We are leaving. It seems we still have plans for the evening.
He linked arms with Julia.
— Ungrateful beasts! — the mother-in-law yelled, forgetting her blood pressure. — I curse you all! May you never have money! Galya, call the police!
— No need to call the police — the approaching administrator intervened, a commanding man with a headset. Behind him stood two strong security guards. — But the bill must be paid. In full. Immediately.
Julia and Boris walked out amid shouting and arguing.
— I don’t have that much money! — Galya screamed. — Viktor, you ate the most!
— Me?! — Viktor protested. — I only tasted a little salad! This was all your mother’s order!
— Who’s your mom?! — Larissa Semyonovna shouted.
Out in the cool night air, Julia breathed deeply.
— You okay? — Boris asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.
— You know — Julia smiled, this time genuinely. — That was the best birthday gift. Like dropping a backpack filled with bricks I’ve carried for ten years.
— They won’t forgive this — Boris noted with a half-smile.
— I hope not — Julia replied. — At least now they know a “surprise” can backfire.
Larissa Semyonovna’s phone was blacklisted, but the news reached her through mutual acquaintances. The “guests” were immediately and ruthlessly struck by retribution. Naturally, they had no money. The scandal lasted two hours.
The administrator proved principled. In the end, Uncle Viktor had to leave his gold watch (a family heirloom he was proud of) as collateral and sign a promissory note.
Galya had to call her husband, who arrived furiously in the parking lot when he learned the debt. It turned out the money had been saved for winter tires and a transmission repair. Now Galya faced long, joyless, strict thriftiness.
And Larissa Semyonovna? The mother-in-law tried to feign a heart attack, but the paramedics called by the restaurant only diagnosed acute alcohol poisoning and overeating.
She had to empty her “small piggy bank,” which she had saved for a new fur coat.
But the sweetest part wasn’t even that. The sweetest part was that the relatives turned on each other. Galya blamed her mother for instigating everyone. The mother blamed Viktor for drinking too much.
Viktor demanded his watch back. The “coalition against Julia” fell apart, devouring itself.
Julia sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading a book. Quietly. The phone was silent. No one demanded money, scolded, or required love.
Justice is a dish best served cold. And preferably — with a separate bill.
