I heard that sound already in the hallway — the dull click of the handbag clasp. It was like the crack of a starter pistol before a marathon I was the one who had to run.
In the small purse, in the tiny pocket meant for coins, lay an old, expired discount card from a hardware store, which an hour earlier I had carefully colored over with a black marker so that in dim light it would look like a bank card.
The real card — that particular “gold” card with the money we had set aside for my mother-in-law’s vision correction surgery and our son’s dental treatment — was safely hidden on the top kitchen shelf inside a box of buckwheat.
— Kata, are you coming? The taxi’s waiting downstairs, we’re running out of time! — Vadim’s voice trembled.
I stepped into the hallway. My husband was standing in front of the mirror, nervously adjusting his tie. Sweat glistened on his forehead, even though the apartment was cool.
Vadim always behaved like a frightened schoolboy when he had to appear in front of Inga. Today his sister turned thirty-five and decided to throw a big party, one our family simply couldn’t afford.
— You’re pale — I noted as I put on my coat. — Maybe you should take something to calm down?
— Calm down with what, Kata? — he snapped sharply. — Inga booked “Versailles.” Did you see the menu? One salad costs as much as my boots. And she invited fifteen people. Fifteen!
— Then her husband will pay. Oleg has a business, doesn’t he?
Vadim looked away and angrily began polishing his already clean shoes with a sponge.
— Oleg is having temporary difficulties. Inga asked… well, for me to guarantee it. It’s a jubilee. I can’t embarrass her. I’m the older brother.
“Guarantee,” in Inga’s language, meant: “pay for everything and forget about getting it back.”
I kept silent. I knew arguing was useless. Vadim had been programmed by his parents: “Inga is the baby, Inga deserves the best, you’re a man, you must.”
Inga was thirty-five, had two children, a businessman husband (with constant “gaps”), and an appetite like a small oil company.
The taxi smelled of cheap pine air freshener and tobacco. Vadim kept fiddling with the door handle. I watched the city pass by in the night and thought only one thing: “Just don’t let it explode. Just don’t let him check the wallet now.”
The “Versailles” restaurant greeted us with the heavy scent of lilies, the clinking of crystal, and the superior glances of hostesses. Inga was already enthroned at the table.
She wore a fuchsia dress with a plunging neckline deep enough to sink a small boat in. Beside her sat Oleg, her husband, staring sadly at his empty plate.
— Vadi! — my sister-in-law shouted as we approached. She didn’t stand up, just extended her hand as if she were someone important. — Finally you’re here! I thought you were coming on foot to save on the taxi!
The guests — a mixed group of “necessary” girlfriends and distant relatives — chuckled politely.
— Happy birthday, Inga — Vadim handed her a huge bouquet of roses. — You look wonderful.
— Oh, roses… A bit boring, but they’ll do — she tossed the flowers carelessly onto a nearby chair. — Hi, Kata. Isn’t that the dress you wore to the corporate party three years ago? Vintage? Admirable. Brave.
It stung, but I smiled.
— Classics never go out of style, Inga. Unlike trends.
My sister-in-law narrowed her eyes but said nothing. She wasn’t focused on me — she was focused on the show.
— Waiter! — she snapped her fingers. A young guy appeared instantly. — Bring the best of everything. Oysters, rib veal, and that dry red I pointed out. Five… no, seven bottles.
Vadim sat down, shoulders hunched. He pulled out his phone and under the table opened the banking app. I knew what he saw: 320,000 rubles. Everything we had saved over a year.
— Inga, maybe we should be more moderate with the drinks? — Oleg suggested quietly. — The prices…
— Shut up! — she snapped at her husband, then immediately smiled at the guests. — My husband is in a “Scrooge McDuck” mood today.
But no worries! I have my favorite brother! Vadi, you won’t let your sister drink cheap alcohol on her jubilee, will you?
Everyone turned toward my husband. Vadim blushed, almost blending into the burgundy curtains.
— Of course not, Inga. We’ll pay. It’s on me.
— See! Learn from him, men! — Inga laughed loudly. — Blood is thicker than water! A brother for his sister!
The feast began. I chewed lettuce that tasted like paper. Vadim drank water, glass after glass. He didn’t touch the food. Every ten minutes he wiped his damp forehead with a napkin.
— Remember, Vadi, when you gave me your scholarship money? — Inga chirped, waving her fork. — Mom always said: “Vadim is hardworking, but Inga was born for love.” That’s how we live!
— Yes — Vadim replied hoarsely. — I remember.
Late into the evening the guests grew tired. The table was covered with half-eaten delicacies. The music quieted. The moment of truth arrived.
The waiter placed a leather folder on the table. Inga didn’t even glance at the bill. With a lazy gesture she motioned toward her brother.
— Give it to the gentleman.
Vadim picked up the folder. Opened it. His eyes froze for a second, then ran over the lines as if searching for a mistake.
— How much? — Inga’s friend asked lazily.
— One hundred ninety-eight thousand… — Vadim forced out. His voice cracked.
Silence fell. Almost two hundred thousand. In our city, that was a huge sum.
— Wow — a man whistled. — We had a good time.
— Well, little brother, your turn! — Inga snapped. — Show everyone you’re cool! Pay, and then karaoke — I haven’t sung enough yet!
Vadim slowly reached into his inner pocket. I squeezed my purse tightly. Now.
He took out his wallet. Opened it. His fingers habitually slid to the card slot.
Empty.
Vadim frowned. Checked the coin compartment. Shook the wallet. A SIM card and a few coins fell onto the tablecloth.
— I don’t understand… — he whispered. — Kata?
— What? — I made the most surprised face I could.
— The card. Where’s the card? I put it here.
— You took it out yesterday when you changed jackets — I said calmly. — You said, “I’ll carry cash,” and left the card on the dresser.
Vadim froze. Real panic showed on his face.
— I… that’s impossible… All the money is on it. I only have five thousand with me.
— What is this delay? — Inga’s voice sharpened. Her smile disappeared, revealing something predatory. — Vadim, don’t drag this out! People are waiting.
— Inga… — Vadim stood up. His legs trembled. — I forgot that card.
— What do you mean “forgot”? — she laughed, but it was a cruel laugh. — Are you joking? You go to a restaurant and forget money?
— It just happened. I thought it was here… It’s here, — he fumbled in his trouser pocket and pulled out the blackened plastic piece I had handed him earlier. — But I don’t remember the PIN… It’s an old credit card.
— Give it to me! — Inga snatched the card and immediately pushed it toward the waiter. — Try it! Contactless, without PIN!
The waiter tapped the card against the terminal. A beep. Red light.
— Card read error. Cannot process or damaged.
— Are you kidding me? — Inga whispered. She stood up, and I saw her neck flush red. — You want to embarrass me on my birthday?!
— Inga, I’ll go home, bring it… — Vadim tried to explain.
— Go where?! It’s one in the morning! You’re pathetic! — she shouted so loudly that even the waiter stepped back. — You did this on purpose! To show I’m wasteful? To humiliate me in front of my friends? You’ve always been jealous!
— Inga, stop…
— Get out! — she screamed. — Get out of here! I hate you! Oleg, pay!
— I don’t have that much… — Oleg replied.
— Then call your partners! Take a loan! And this one — she pointed at Vadim — I don’t want to see him anywhere! Shame!
Vadim stood there, confused, humiliated, crushed. He looked at the sister he had adored for thirty years and saw a hysterical stranger ready to throw him away over roasted meat.
— Let’s go — I stood up and grabbed my husband’s arm. Firmly, decisively. — We have nothing to do here.
We left the hall silently, amid the guests’ murmurs and the birthday girl’s hysterical sobbing.
Outside it was raining. Vadim didn’t call a taxi. He just walked straight through the puddles without choosing the path. I walked beside him, hiding behind my purse.
— She kicked me out… — he muttered. — Like a stranger. She didn’t even ask how I’d get home. Just “get lost.”
— Did you expect anything else? — I asked.
He suddenly stopped and turned to me. His face was wet; the rain mixed with tears he didn’t even try to hide.
— You did it — he said. Not asking. Stating. — The card wasn’t in the jacket. I always carry it in my wallet. You took it.
I held his gaze.
— Yes. I took it.
— Do you know what you did?! — he shouted, grabbing my shoulders. — You set me up! I looked ridiculous! I was humiliated!
— I saved our budget, Vadim! — I shook off his hands.
— I saved your mother’s eyesight and our son’s teeth! Two hundred thousand in one evening to stroke Inga’s ego? And the next day we’d borrow money for bread?
— It’s not your business! I earn, I decide!
— You decide? — I couldn’t hold back anymore. — You decide to be your sister’s wallet? Did you see her face when the payment failed? She didn’t value you. She feared for her status.
You’re just a function. An ATM. Today the ATM broke, and they threw it out the door.
Vadim was silent. Breathing heavily.
— Let’s go home — I said tiredly. — The card is at home, in the buckwheat box. If you want, you can take a taxi back and pay. But if you do, Vadim, I’ll pack my things. I’m tired of coming second to your sister.
We reached home in silence. Vadim went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and sat in the dark. I didn’t turn on the light. I placed the card on the table in front of him. The golden plastic faintly shimmered in the streetlight.
— Here. Decide.
Vadim stared at the card for ten minutes. Then he took out his phone. Fifteen missed calls from Oleg and three voice messages from Inga.
He pressed play.
“…you irresponsible Vadim! We’re writing a statement because of you! When Mom finds out she’ll be furious! May you fail with your greed!” — Inga’s voice shrieked.
Vadim pressed stop. Then slowly, finger by finger, he blocked the contact “Sister.” Then “Oleg.”
— Tomorrow’s Saturday — he said hoarsely, without looking at me. — The clinic is open?
— It is.
— We’re going in the morning. We’ll pay for the dental treatment. The whole course at once.
He stood up, came to me, and pressed his forehead against my shoulder. He was wet, cold, smelling of rain.
— I’m sorry, Kata.
— I’m not angry.
— I am. At myself.
The next day we paid the deposit for our son’s treatment. A week later Vadim’s mother underwent vision correction surgery. Inga didn’t call for half a year. They say she had to sell her car to cover her husband’s debts and the restaurant bill.
Yesterday she tried to add me as a friend on social media. I looked at the request, remembered her face in the restaurant, and declined it. Now Vadim and I have our own budget. And in it, there is no category for “sister-in-law’s whims.”
