— Mom, you know yourself that things aren’t easy right now. We’re paying the mortgage, the car loan, and on top of that we’ve enrolled Dani in football training. There’s barely anything left at the end of each month.
But you have your pension, and that arrives regularly. You’ll somehow manage with that — Igor said without once lifting his eyes from his phone.
Nina Pavlovna stood by the stove, slowly stirring the soup whose aroma filled the small kitchen. She did not want to complain, nor did she want anyone to feel sorry for her. She simply wanted to ask for a little help.
The doctor had prescribed a new medication for her blood pressure because during the past few months she had been feeling dizzy more and more often, and the episodes of feeling unwell had become increasingly frequent.
The medicine cost almost two thousand rubles, which was a very serious expense considering her nineteen-thousand-ruble pension.
— Igor, it’s not a big thing. I just need some help paying for this one medication.
— Mom, ask at the pharmacy. There is probably a cheaper substitute. There is always a less expensive version of everything.
Nina did not answer immediately. She turned off the gas, moved the pot aside, and silently continued setting the table. Outwardly she looked calm, but inside something tightened painfully.
When Igor finished his lunch, he quickly stood up, kissed his mother on the forehead, and hurried away. A few minutes later, only the sounds coming from the stairwell reminded her that he had been there at all.
The apartment became quiet once again.
Nina sat down at the table, placed her hands in front of her, and stared at the worn oilcloth tablecloth for a long time.
She had two children.
Her older son, Igor, was thirty-eight years old, a family man with his own apartment, a car, and a stable job. Her daughter, Larisa, at thirty-four, was also living comfortably with her husband and their twin children.
Photos of new furniture, restaurant dinners, vacations, and shopping trips regularly appeared on social media.
A few weeks earlier, Larisa had posed in an expensive mink coat in a family photo and cheerfully written in the family group chat that she felt like a queen.
Nina had simply replied with a smiling emoji.
She did not write that at that very moment she was wondering whether her money would last until the end of the month.
Yet she had sacrificed most of her life for her children.
Her husband had left the family when Larisa was barely two years old. One morning he simply packed his things and said that he could not live this way anymore. He did not explain, did not argue, and did not justify himself. He simply left.
Nina was left alone with two small children.
During the day she worked at a sewing factory, and in the evenings she took on extra work at home. She repaired clothes, altered trousers, and adjusted coats. Often she sat at her sewing machine until dawn so that her children would never have to go without.
Exhaustion became her constant companion, but she never complained.
The children attended extracurricular activities, went to school in clean clothes, and there was always food on the table.
She herself, however, wore the same coat for years and often saved money even on her own meals.
When she finally retired, she believed the hardest years were behind her.
At first it truly seemed that everything would be all right. The children helped from time to time, brought groceries, and occasionally left some money for her.
Then, slowly, everything changed.
At first they simply helped less often. Later they remembered only around holidays. Eventually it became completely natural for them to assume that their mother could manage on her own.
One thing, however, never changed.
They continued to leave the grandchildren with her regularly.
Larisa often called on Friday evenings.
— Mom, Oleg and I are going shopping tomorrow. Can we bring the twins over for the whole day?
Nina always agreed.
She loved the children.
Especially Ksyusha and Maxim.
The little girl was quiet and dreamy and could spend hours drawing in one place. Maxim, however, seemed to possess the energy of three children combined.
Whenever he was around, something was always happening.
A shelf would fall, a toy would break, or something important would disappear.
By the time everyone went home in the evening, Nina was completely exhausted.
Her back ached, her legs throbbed, and her blood pressure usually soared.
Yet she kept agreeing again and again.
She did not want to lose her connection with her family.
The turning point arrived on an ordinary gray weekday.
She was standing at the pharmacy counter with her prescription in hand.
When she heard the price, she could not move for several seconds.
Slowly she opened her wallet.
There were two thousand-ruble banknotes and a handful of small change inside.
She knew perfectly well that if she bought the medication, she would have almost no money left for the next five days.
Still, she paid for it.
After leaving the pharmacy, she sat down on a nearby bench.
Children’s laughter drifted from the playground.
The sunlight glimmered on the metal railings of the slide.
Suddenly Nina thought about how, in just a few days, the grandchildren would once again be at her apartment, and she would cook for them, care for them, and feed them with her own money.
And then, for the first time, she admitted to herself a thought she had been desperately trying to avoid.
Her children were taking advantage of her.
Perhaps not out of malice.
Perhaps not consciously.
But it was happening nonetheless.
They had become accustomed to the fact that their mother was always available.
They had become accustomed to the fact that she never said no.
They had become accustomed to the fact that she always adjusted her life to fit theirs.
That Saturday, when Larisa called about the twins, Nina made a different decision for the first time.
— I can’t take them today.
A long silence followed on the other end of the line.
— What do you mean you can’t?
— I want to rest.
— But we already have plans!
— I have plans too. For once, I would like to have a day for myself.
Larisa’s voice became offended.
She did not understand.
She simply could not understand.
But for the first time, Nina did not back down.
She remained firm.
Not long afterward, Igor called as well.
The conversation was tense at first, but gradually became more honest.
Nina told him everything.
She spoke about the medication.
She spoke about the lack of money.
She spoke about what it felt like to sit with only two hundred rubles left in her wallet while waiting for the next pension payment.
And she spoke about how painful it was that her own children had not noticed her situation.
Igor remained silent for a long time.
Perhaps for the first time, he saw the entire picture clearly.
The following week passed unusually quietly.
No phone calls came.
No visitors arrived.
Yet Nina did not feel as bad as she had expected.
She went to the doctor.
She took walks in the park.
She joined a handicraft club.
There she met Tamara, a retired teacher who was cheerful, energetic, and outspoken.
The two women quickly became friends.
One afternoon they were chatting over tea.
— You know — Tamara said — people often begin to appreciate help only when they stop receiving it.
Nina thought about that sentence for a very long time.
Perhaps it was true.
A few days later, Larisa appeared unexpectedly.
She came alone.
She carried two large grocery bags.
Without saying a word, she began filling the refrigerator.
Meat, dairy products, vegetables, fruit, tea, coffee, and countless other necessities emerged from the bags.
When she finished, she turned toward her mother with tears in her eyes.
— Mom, I’m ashamed of myself.
Nina said nothing.
Larisa took a deep breath.
— Oleg told me that while we spend fifteen thousand rubles on a single restaurant dinner, you’re sitting here wondering how you’re going to buy your medicine. And he’s right. We should never have allowed this to happen.
Nina slowly sat down beside her.
Her daughter continued.
— I spoke with Igor too. We decided that we’ll help you every month. Not as a gift. Not as a favor. Simply because it’s the right thing to do.
Tears filled the woman’s eyes once again.
— Please forgive us.
For a long time Nina looked at her daughter.
She saw the little girl whose hair she used to braid and whom she once led by the hand to kindergarten.
— I forgive you — she finally said quietly.
They talked for hours that day.
Not about money.
Not about problems.
But about each other.
About the things they had left unsaid for years.
The following week Igor called as well.
He transferred the first payment.
There was genuine guilt in his voice.
— Mom, I’m sorry.
Something inside Nina finally felt lighter.
The next Saturday the entire family gathered together.
The small apartment filled with life.
Children’s laughter echoed through the rooms.
Pizza boxes covered the kitchen table.
Someone brought dessert, someone else prepared a salad.
The children competed to see who could help more.
This time Maxim did not break anything.
Ksyusha made a drawing for her grandmother.
The picture showed a little house surrounded by flowers.
In front of the house stood a smiling elderly woman.
— That’s you, Grandma — the little girl explained proudly. — And everyone is here with you.
Nina looked at the drawing and then glanced around the room.
Her children were talking.
Her grandchildren were laughing.
The apartment was the same as before.
The family was the same as before.
Yet somehow everything felt different.
Because at last she was no longer sitting among them as an invisible servant.
No longer as a source of help that everyone took for granted.
But as a mother.
As a grandmother.
As a human being.
That evening, after everyone had gone home, she hung the drawing on the refrigerator.
For a long time she looked at the colorful house and the smiling figures.
Then she looked down at her old, worn-out slippers.
She smiled.
The next morning she went to the store.
She bought herself a new pair of soft, warm slippers that she had wanted for a very long time.
Not because she had suddenly become wealthy.
Not because the world had changed.
But because her children had finally noticed what she had been carrying alone for so many years.
That a mother is not endlessly tireless.
Not endlessly strong.
And not simply someone who is always giving.
But a person who needs attention, care, and love just as much as anyone else in this world.
