— Arina is complaining about her husband again. He earns so little, and your sister is really struggling. I didn’t sleep all night; I was so upset after she arrived,” Mom said as she began to sob into the phone once more.
“— Mom, I understand, but no one dragged her into this marriage on a leash or forced her to have two children. She did it all on her own,” I replied. “Come on, don’t be upset. I have to run to work.”
After saying goodbye to Mom, I quickly touched up my makeup—applying a bit of eye shadow and a gentle pink lipstick—and dashed off to the office. I worked as a programmer. This passion had been with me since school, and soon I realized that a hobby could indeed be successfully monetized. My father always said that I was extremely resourceful when it came to earning money. Perhaps he was right. At first, I helped fix computers for acquaintances and friends of friends; then, after finishing my studies, I got a job at a fairly large company that needed programmers.
I enjoyed the work. I was always fascinated by tinkering with that mysterious hardware that has become the cornerstone of our lives—something we can no longer live without. Our service was nationwide, so in a big company the pay was decent. The fact that my colleagues were mostly pale young men with eyes burning from lack of sleep didn’t bother me in the least.
Yes, it’s true that men usually have a better grasp of technology, but that didn’t stop me. Our boss always emphasized that I was the only woman on the team and demanded that I be treated with respect. At first, the guys tried to tease me in a friendly way, but soon they came to respect me, and all the jokes naturally ceased.
By the time I turned thirty, I had earned enough for a spacious two-room apartment with a large balcony, which I insulated, turning it into my little conservatory. I grew flowers there, set up a small sofa and a wicker table, so that I could work remotely and relax in the evenings with a cup of aromatic cocoa made with oat milk.
In my family, I was quite simple but loving and close-knit. My dad worked his whole life as an electrician at a factory, where he was valued for his vast experience and “golden hands.” Mom was a biology teacher. There were two of us in the family—me and my younger sister Tanya. Tanya was born six years after me, and she was both eagerly awaited and wanted.
I was born soon after Mom and Dad got married, by chance, but I was adored by both my parents and my grandparents. Initially, both Tanya and I were eagerly awaited. Who would have known that she would become a restless child who grew teeth in such a way that the entire entrance hall would be on edge from her cries? But childhood worries and sleepless nights passed, and my sister grew up. She readily ate her porridge, grew stronger, went to kindergarten, and then to school.
The first teacher—with whom first I and then Tanya took lessons—praised my sister.
“A talented, capable girl,” said Oksana Gennadyevna, “though she’s not one to sit still at all; she doesn’t want to do anything and is lazy.”
Perhaps the words of that elementary school teacher could describe my sister at any age. Tanya never really wanted to study. The upper grades were especially difficult. At that time, Mom insisted that the girl absolutely needed a higher education, and Tanya was literally forced into the tenth and eleventh grades. In my opinion, she should have gone to college after ninth grade and then, if she wished, enrolled in a university. In the end, Tanya did very poorly in the upper grades, barely passed her Unified State Exam, and ended up in the paid journalism program. She did, however, always manage to write well.
In her youth, she even attended meetings of literary clubs and wrote articles for local newspapers. But her studies didn’t take off either. My sister found it more interesting to have fun with her friends, hang out with boys—whom she changed like gloves—and then, eventually, she fell in love. The boy was completely unsuitable for the family, and everyone understood that, including me.
I, unlike my sister, studied well and was in no hurry to get married. I didn’t buy into all that romantic notion of “a woman must realize herself.” I had already realized myself quite well in my own spacious home, and I had a good job and a man for pleasant meetings, but marriage was simply out of the question.
Tanya, on the other hand, hurried to legalize her relationship with Pavel when she found out she was expecting a child. Being an honest man, he got married. He, too, was very creative—a painter. Communicating with him, being more of a tech person, was impossible for me—it brought on an old Russian melancholy. Pavel went on at length about lofty things: about poetry, about the power of brush and canvas, about how fame awaited him and was racing to meet him.
Some of the paintings by my sister’s husband sold for mere pennies; such a highly “artistic” man, of course, couldn’t really work, but the family was still holding together thanks to a little son and the enormous love between his parents. Two years later, Tanya announced joyful news to the family—she was pregnant again. And two years after that, she gave birth to a third daughter. Mom and I sighed, and Dad shook his head, but there was simply no point in trying to reason with Tanya.
Even taking into account the benefits for three children, the young family was barely making ends meet. In the end, Pavel got a job at some shabby newspaper as a proofreader and illustrator, but they paid such pennies that it was impossible to live on. Meanwhile, the children demanded constant investments—in clothing, food, entertainment, and education. Even at kindergarten, classes had long been paid. Of course, as a large family, they did have some “perks,” but they didn’t save them. Tanya was always poor, unhappy, and overwhelmed by the kids.
In such circumstances, love gradually began to fade; my sister came to her senses, and it turned out that her husband was not the man with whom she wanted to build a happy future. However, with three children, you simply can’t change your life drastically— all three are still very young. The youngest is only a year and three months old; she doesn’t even go to kindergarten yet, being too attached to Mom. Moreover, due to constant lack of sleep, having children, and eating cheap, overly caloric food, my sister’s health deteriorated significantly—she gained weight, her hair was no longer as thick and shiny as in her youth, and she even began losing teeth.
Our parents always loved Tanya and me equally, but I didn’t need family help—I was firmly standing on my own in this world and didn’t cause any trouble. However, our parents pitied Tanya, regularly sending her money for her and the children. I, too, helped out with my nieces and nephews, understanding that it was very hard for Tanya with three kids.
Everyone disapproved of Pavel behind his back, but my sister wasn’t in any hurry to leave him. At least he provided some help as a husband in their misery. Mom and Dad were still working and couldn’t really help with the grandchildren. Pavel’s parents outright stated that the children should not come to them, as they wanted to live for themselves and relax in their old age. So Tanya was left to struggle with her dear husband and three little ones without a break.
One evening, Tanya called me. She cried on the phone for a long time, unable to utter a single word, which really scared me.
“Just say what happened already!” I couldn’t hold back.
“Arina, save me! I simply have no one else to ask. I can’t stand Pasha anymore… He exhausted my soul, ruined my life. We had such a fight—I will never forgive him. Let me live with you for a while with the children. I’ll try to get Mashenka into kindergarten as soon as possible, I’ll go work, and rent somewhere.”
“Phew, I was really scared,” I replied, “Come over, of course.”
Tanya arrived with the little ones in an hour and a half. I helped unload the items from the taxi, took Masha in my arms, and urged the boys to hurry up and get upstairs:
“— Sema, Vitia, it’s cold, hurry up and move your little feet!”
At home, the little ones were showered with toys, sent off to watch cartoons, and put to bed. I had to go to work in the morning, but fortunately, our office didn’t have a strict schedule, so I could easily arrive by eleven o’clock. I calmly talked with my sister, trying to find out what had happened with Pasha this time.
“I was saving up for a fur coat, you know? And he took all that money and blew it on paints and brushes. The amount was enormous…” cried my sister.
I was astounded and blinked in disbelief:
“Paints that cost as much as a fur coat?”
“You have no idea how much all this art stuff costs nowadays! The prices are astronomical.”
“I can’t imagine, alright. But what do you need a fur coat for? You practically have nothing proper to eat besides sausages with macaroni. What fur coat in these circumstances?” I continued to ask.
“I wanted it for my birthday. I saved for a year, secretly setting aside money from the benefits without Pasha knowing. It was a dream!”
I sighed—when someone’s that foolish, you can’t add your own wisdom. Exactly!
“Alright, Tanya. The morning brings more wisdom than the evening. The kids are probably already in their third sleep. Let’s go to bed too. I have work tomorrow.”
A week passed by unnoticed. Tanya took the older boys to kindergarten, so the boys were only at home in the evenings. They turned out to be calm and well-behaved children. Masha also didn’t cause much trouble; sitting in her mother’s arms, she ate, played with some cubes, and quietly babbled. Overall, we got along quite well, and I couldn’t really complain about my sister. While I was working, Tanya cooked and maintained order in the house. I truly didn’t like household chores and even felt happy when I arrived to find everything ready.
It was Saturday, and we all baked a pie together. The kids braided strands out of dough, which they planned to use to decorate the fish pie. Masha was more of a hindrance, but she was given a peeled, crisp carrot, and the little one happily got absorbed in her treat. Tanya quietly hummed as she rolled out the dough. She always baked much better than I did, so once again I entrusted the dough work entirely to her. I took care of the filling. We bought very good, unfrozen cod. I cut it into large cubes after pre-cleaning it and mixed it with grated potatoes. My sister had already finished covering the pie, and the boys decorated it. The dish went into the oven, and while we waited, we decided to have tea with rusks and cookies.
The doorbell rang completely unexpectedly. I went to open the door and was surprised to see Pavel—disheveled and unkempt—standing on the doorstep.
“I’m here for my wife and children,” declared my sister’s husband.
“Tanya, that’s you!” I shouted so that I could be heard from the kitchen.
Tatyana came out and, glaring at me, snapped, “You live alone, and mansions are useless to you. Hand over your apartment to me, and you should live with your parents.”
“So, you want me to hand over my apartment? Why on earth, Tanya? This is my home. You asked to be let in, and I let you in. But I have no intention of giving it to you. Solve your many problems on your own.”
Then a scandal broke out. My sister shouted, accusing me of living only for myself, that I had neither a child nor a kitten, and she boasted about everything. She brought up my undeservedly high salary, the fact that I gave her so little money for the children, and a whole bunch of other things.
“Either you immediately get out of my house, or I’ll call the authorities, and you both will be dealt with differently,” I calmly told my sister and her husband.
Pavel tugged Tatyana by the sleeve.
“Well, live as you wish. My legs will no longer be here, you show-off! Kids, gather up—we’re leaving; Dad has arrived!”
“Dad-dad-dad!” the delighted kids shouted.
When the relatives finally left, I exhaled in relief. After all, I truly love and cherish silence; it’s so hard with strangers in the house.
A few days later, Mom came to visit me. She told me that my sister does nothing but turn our relatives against me. My mother’s brother, Uncle Oleg, immediately said he didn’t trust Tatyana. And his wife readily listened to her niece and shared her opinion about me. To be honest, I didn’t care at all what they thought— I wasn’t going to have children with them. Let them think and talk as they wish.
Tatyana, however, must learn to take responsibility for her actions. No one is obligated to support her with three children, much less to gift her an apartment. Mom and Dad were completely on my side. They reprimanded my sister, telling her not to dare say mean things about me. Tanya was deeply hurt by me—and so was Pasha. Though I really couldn’t understand why.
My sister didn’t call or write to me, and I wasn’t in any hurry to reconcile with her. I immersed myself in work, trying to save money for a vacation. I planned to go to India this winter—at least for a month, paying for it myself. I had been there only once, a long time ago. This exotic country, full of wonders and wisdom, beckoned and called out to me. I stopped thinking about my sister, consumed with the joyful anticipation of my long-awaited trip.