— Get out of my house immediately! — Tamara Petrovna, with a single motion, knocked my favorite vase off the counter. The porcelain shattered across the kitchen with a horrible, metallic crash. — I said: get out!
I froze in place, holding a cup of coffee in my hands. The hot liquid spilled over my fingers, burning my skin, but I didn’t even flinch. The pain was nothing compared to what was happening in front of me.
— Tamara Petrovna… have you gone mad? — my voice trembled, betraying the emotions I was trying to hide. — This is my apartment.
— Yours?! — she snorted with laughter. Malicious, husky, full of contempt. — If it weren’t for my Andrusiek, you’d still be rotting in a dorm with cockroaches! He earned this! Not you, you beggar!
I slowly set the cup down on the table. Inside, everything in me boiled.
— Andrei? He earned it? — I smiled crookedly, trying to keep my cold irony. — Tamara Petrovna, for three years of marriage, your son hasn’t paid a single penny toward the mortgage.
The apartment was a gift from my parents, before the wedding. Do you want me to show you the deed? Her face immediately turned red. Red spots appeared on her neck, as if her own blood reminded her of the truth.
— You’re lying! — she screamed. — Andrusiek told me he bought it! That he’s the owner! And you’re just a stray! Pack your things immediately before I call the police!
Right. My husband turned out to be a storyteller, and I became the main character in his pathetic farce. Andrei was supposed to return from work in an hour. I decided not to make a scene right away. Let Tamara Petrovna live in her illusion a little longer.
Without a word, I left the kitchen, locked myself in the bedroom, and called my husband.
— Hi, darling. Your mother just smashed my vase and is trying to kick me out of the apartment. She claims it’s yours. Maybe you want to explain?
There was silence on the line. Thick, sticky, suffocating.
— Masia… you know… — he stammered. — I didn’t want to upset her. I said we bought it together… that I’m the main provider. It made her calmer.
— Calmer?! — I hissed. — She’s trying to throw me onto the street! Andrei, are you sane? You lied to your own mother for three years?!
— Don’t exaggerate… I just… embellished a little. I’ll come, we’ll talk. Hang on for another hour.
An hour. I’m supposed to endure a strange woman destroying my apartment because her son is a coward and a liar?
I left the bedroom. Tamara Petrovna was already “making herself at home” in the living room, taking down my curtains and crushing the delicate tulle.
— What are you doing?! — I watched her destroy my things.
— Dust collectors! — she growled. — I’m allergic. Tomorrow we’ll hang new, proper ones. And this sofa has to go too, too hard. Andrusiek will buy a better one.
— Please put the curtains back immediately. — I took a step toward her.
— You won’t tell me what to do! I’m the mother of the owner! And you are nothing!
She swung a cloth at me. I grabbed her hand.
— Tamara Petrovna, listen to me very carefully — I said in a cold, calm voice. — This is my apartment. Andrei is only temporarily registered here. If you don’t stop this circus immediately, I will call the police, and they will escort you out.
She pulled away, freeing her hand.
— Lies! My son could never lie to me! He’s a businessman! He has a company!
— A company? — I laughed bitterly. — A one-person computer repair business that closed a year ago, with debts. Now he drives a taxi.
Her face froze.
— How… a taxi? He’s a director…
— Director of steering wheels and pedals. — I sighed. — Please, sit down.
She sank onto the sofa, the same “too hard” one. She looked completely lost.
— It’s impossible… Andrusiek sent me money… for medicine, for the sanatorium…
— From my salary — I added calmly. — He took it from me “for business growth,” but in reality, he was sponsoring his mother so she could look good.
At that moment, the door clicked. The “director” returned. Andrei entered with a grin from ear to ear, holding a cake.
— Girls, don’t fight! I brought something sweet!
He fell silent when he saw his mother’s face and mine.
— Andrusiu… — whispered Tamara Petrovna. — Is it true? This apartment… isn’t yours?
He nervously looked around. He set the cake down, took off his jacket.
— Mom, what difference does it make? We’re family. Everything is shared. Masia just…
— Masia has had enough of your lies! — I exploded. — Tell her the truth. Now.
He hesitated.
— Well… technically, yes, the apartment belongs to Masia. But we live together! I did the renovation! I hung the wallpaper!
— Two days! — I shouted. — And then you complained for a month about your back! I bought the materials! The furniture — me! You just lay on the couch and dreamed of a “big business”!
Tamara Petrovna slowly stood and approached her son, slapping him hard across the face.
— Shame! — she hissed. — I told all my friends what a success my son is! He bought the apartment, supports his wife! And you… parasite!
Andrei grabbed his cheek.
— Mom, come on… it hasn’t worked out yet, but I’m trying…
— Trying… — she looked at me. — Masia… I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He told me such stories…
I exhaled. My anger slowly subsided. Only emptiness remained. And clarity: this was no longer my marriage.
— Fine. Forget it. But please put the curtains back.
It sounded like a happy ending, like a period at the end of a sentence. Only it was a pencil mark, easy to erase. In the evening, we drank tea. No cake — I couldn’t swallow anything. The silence was thick and suffocating. And then Andrei started whining.
— Masia… why did you tell everything to mom? She has a weak heart. We could’ve played along together.
— Played along?! — I almost choked. — She was throwing me out of the house . She broke my vase. Tore down the curtains. And I was supposed to smile and clap?
— But she’s an older woman… She likes to think her son succeeded. Did it bother you that much?
— Yes, Andrei. It did. It bothers me my mental health . And the money you — as it turns out — took from our budget to impress your mother.
— I didn’t take it! I borrowed! I’ll return it!
— When? When will you make a million driving a taxi? — He sulked and went to sleep on the couch. I realized it was just the warm-up.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of burnt food. I ran to the kitchen. Tamara Petrovna, because of course she stayed the night, was frying pancakes. In smoke. On my new nonstick pan, scraping it with a fork.
— Tamara Petrovna! — I groaned. — You can’t use a fork on Teflon! You’ve ruined it!
— Oh, stop — she waved her hand. — One scratch won’t destroy the world. But the pancakes are delicious. Sit, eat.
I looked at the pan. The bottom scratched like after a war. Three thousand rubles — wasted.
— I’m not eating this. And you’ll buy me a new pan.
— You’re so picky, Masia — she snorted. — Andrei! Come eat! Mom made an effort!
Andrei came, sleepy and disheveled.
— Oh, pancakes! Great! Masia, why so sour?
— Your mom destroyed my kitchen. And she thinks it’s normal.
— Masia, we’ll buy you a new pan! From my first paycheck! — he said, shoving a pancake into his mouth.
— What paycheck? You haven’t even paid for the car rental yet.
He choked.
— You’re counting my money?
— I’m counting our losses . Andrei, I’ve had enough.
Then Tamara Petrovna casually said:
— By the way, kids. I was thinking… since the apartment is so big, I could stay with you for a month. The neighbors are renovating, unbearable noise. It’s quiet here, comfortable.
I froze.
— No.
— What do you mean “no”? — she planted her hands on her hips.
— I mean you will not live here. Not for a month, not for a week. Guests are for three days. Three days are over. You leave today.
— Andrei! — she squealed. — Your wife is kicking me out again!
Andrei stopped chewing and looked at me pleadingly.
— Masia… come on… there’s plenty of space…
— Andrei. Either she leaves today, or you leave with her.
Silence fell. Only the sound of water dripping from the faucet.
— Are you blackmailing me? — he asked quietly.
— I’m setting boundaries. I didn’t sign up to be your mother’s caretaker. Nor a supporting actress in your theater of lies.
He got up.
— Fine. If that’s how it is… Mom, pack. We’re leaving.
— Where?! — groaned Tamara Petrovna. — To your place? That shoebox you rent?
— Mom, I don’t rent. I live here. And if I go… I’ll come to you.
— To me?! — she jumped. — One-room apartment! Cats! Where will you fit both of us?!
— Then I’ll go alone. Without Masia.
She looked at him. Then at me.
— You know what, sonny — she removed her apron. — Deal with it yourselves. I’m going home. Cats are more important than your dramas. And I don’t want to live with you. You snore.
She packed in ten minutes and left. She didn’t even finish her tea.
We were left alone. Andrei sat with his head down.
— You’re really kicking me out?
— Yes.
— Because of Mom?
— Because of everything. Because of the lies. Because of the money you took from our budget. Because you’re not a man, Andrei. You’re a boy who wants to look important, but inside there’s emptiness.
He packed without a word. Clothes. Laptop.
— I love you, Masia.
— I know. But it’s not enough.
He left. I was alone. In my apartment. With a broken vase, a ruined pan, and silence that hurt.
But you know what? I felt lighter. As if someone removed a huge boulder from my shoulders. I cleaned the floor. Threw away the pan. Bought a new vase.
A week later, Andrei called.
— Masia, I found a real job. Manager. Maybe we can try again?
I looked at my phone. At the clean, peaceful apartment. At my own breath.
— No, Andrei.
— Why?
— Because I don’t want to be a decoration in your theater anymore.
I hung up. I blocked his number.
Tamara Petrovna also called. She apologized. Asked for money “for her teeth.” I told her I had a mortgage I didn’t have, and husband debts I didn’t have either. She complained a bit and disappeared.
And I live. For myself. And in my house, there will no longer be parasites, nor their crazy mothers.
