Grandson Not Wanted — Mum thinks Irina is fragile, — my husband finally managed to say. — She says she needs more help because she hasn’t got a husband. And with us, well, everything’s supposedly stable… — Stable? — Vera shot back, turning around. — Slava, I’ve put on fifteen kilos since giving birth. My back won’t straighten, my knees are cracking. The doctor said it’s either I start looking after my health or in a year I won’t even be able to lift Pavlik. I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, an hour and a half. You’re always at work, your shifts are all over the place. Who am I supposed to ask to watch our son? Your mother clearly doesn’t want a grandson—she’s got a granddaughter already! Slava said nothing. And really, who is there? Vera leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane, watching as her mother-in-law’s old Nissan slowly pulled away from the flat. The red taillights flickered a goodbye and disappeared round the bend. The kitchen clock read exactly seven in the evening. Nadezhda Petrovna had stayed exactly forty-five minutes. In the lounge, Slava tried to entertain their one-year-old son. Little Pavlik played with the wheel of a plastic dump truck, now and then glancing at the door, behind which his grandmother had just disappeared. — Has she gone? — Slava poked his head into the kitchen, rubbing his stiff neck. — Flown off, — Vera corrected, not turning around. — She said Pavlushka was getting “fussy from tiredness” and she didn’t want to mess with his routine. — Well, he did squeak a bit when she picked him up, — Slava tried to smile, though it came out crooked. — He squeaked because he barely knows her. We haven’t seen her for three weeks. Three! Vera turned sharply from the window and began stacking dirty cups in the sink. — Come on, Vera, — Slava approached from behind, trying to hug her around the waist, but she slipped away, reaching for the sponge. — Mum’s just… she’s used to Lizzie. She’s bigger now, four, it’s easier for her. — It’s not easier, Slava. It’s just more interesting for your mum. Lizzie was Irina’s daughter. And Irina—the favourite daughter. And us? Well… just spare parts. Last Friday played out pretty much the same way. Nadezhda Petrovna popped in “just for a minute”, brought Pavlik a cheap plastic rattle, and promptly began glancing at the door. Slava barely managed to suggest that he had a job site to visit Saturday and it would be really helpful if Mum could watch her grandson for a couple of hours so Vera could run to the pharmacy and the shops. — Oh, Slavik, I really can’t! — Nadezhda Petrovna threw up her hands. — Lizzie and I are going to the puppet theatre, and then Irina’s asked me to have her for the whole weekend. Poor girl works so hard and needs a bit of time to sort out her personal life. Slava’s sister was a single mum, but “single” was a bit of a stretch. While Irina “found herself” and cycled through boyfriends, Lizzie lived with Grandma for weeks on end. Gran picked her up from nursery, took her to dance class, bought her expensive onesies, and knew the name of every doll in the children’s bedroom. — Did you see what she posted? — Vera nodded towards her phone on the table. — Go ahead, have a look at what your mum put up. Reluctantly, Slava took the phone and flicked through the screen. Photos flashed by: Lizzie with ice cream, Grandma pushing her on the swings, together making something out of Play-Doh on Saturday night. Caption: “My greatest joy, my happiness.” — She spent the entire weekend with them, — Vera bit her lip to keep from crying. — She popped in here for ten minutes! Over there—it’s all perfect. Slava, Pavlik is only a year old. He’s her grandson. Your son. Why treat him like this? Slava was silent—he had nothing to say. He suddenly remembered last month, when his mother called in the middle of the night because “the pipe burst and the flat’s flooding,” so he’d dropped everything and crossed town to stop the leak. He remembered closing out a loan for his mother so she could buy Irina a new phone for her birthday. He remembered slogging away on her allotment every weekend in May while his sister and her daughter sunbathed on deckchairs. — Let’s ask Mum one more time, — Slava suggested uncertainly. — I’ll talk to her, explain it’s about health, not just some whim. Vera said nothing. She knew nothing good would come of it. *** The conversation happened Tuesday evening. Slava put the phone on speaker so Vera could hear everything. — Mum, hi. So, about something… Vera’s been told by the doctor she needs to go to the gym. Her back is pretty bad… — Oh, Slavik, the gym? — Nadezhda Petrovna’s voice was chipper on speaker, Lizzie’s laughter in the background. — She can do it at home. If she cut out the pastries, her back wouldn’t hurt. — Mum, this isn’t negotiable. The doctor prescribed a course of exercise and physio. Would you be able to watch Pavlik Tuesdays and Thursdays, six till eight? I can pick you up. There was a pause. — Slava, you know my routine. I pick up Lizzie from nursery at five. Then we have after-school clubs, and then a walk in the park. Irina works late, she depends on me. I can’t just drop everything so your Vera can bounce around the gym! — Mum, Pasha is also your grandson. He needs your attention too. You see him maybe once a month! — Please, don’t start. Lizzie’s a girl, she wants to be with me, she loves me. And Pasha’s too little, he doesn’t understand. When he gets bigger—we can spend time together. Right now we’re busy, we’ve got drawing to do. Bye now. Slava slowly put the phone on the table. — Did you hear that? My son has to earn her attention? He has to reach a certain level before Grandma will notice him? — Slava, I knew she’d say that… — I knew it! — Vera exploded. — I knew from the day we left the hospital and she was two hours late picking us up—because Lizzie urgently needed new tights! Slava, I’m not bothered about myself. I don’t care if she thinks I’m fat or lazy. It hurts for Pasha. He’ll grow up and ask: “Mum, why’s Grandma always with Lizzie, never with me?” And what can I say? That his aunt is the golden child, and his dad is just Grandma’s wallet and free handyman? Slava got up and paced the length of the kitchen. He paced for ten minutes, then suddenly stopped and declared: — Right then! Remember we talked about redoing her kitchen? Vera nodded. They’d been saving for six months to surprise Nadezhda Petrovna for her birthday. Slava had already picked out a suite, found a builder, secured a discount. Altogether, it was enough for a year-long membership for Vera at the best gym, with a pool and private trainer. — The kitchen refurb is cancelled, — Slava said firmly. — I’ll call the place tomorrow and cancel the order. — Are you serious? — Vera stared at him wide-eyed. — Totally. If my mum only has time and energy for one granddaughter, she can find the energy to deal with her own problems too. Maybe Irina can help. Let her fix the pipes, haul vegetables from the allotment, sort the debts. We’ll hire you a nanny for your gym hours. *** Next morning, Nadezhda Petrovna phoned herself. — Slavochka, I was thinking… Weren’t you planning to come round this week and take a look at my cooker hood? It’s completely on the blink now, smoke all over the flat. And Lizzie’s been asking about you, “Where’s Uncle Slava?” Sitting at his desk, Slava closed his eyes. Normally, he’d be up and planning a trip to the DIY store. But now… — Mum, I’m not coming, — he said calmly. — What do you mean, not coming? — Her voice turned pained at once. — And the extractor? I’ll be suffocated! — Ask Irina. Or her new bloke. I’ve got a lot on. We’ve decided to prioritise Vera’s health, so all my spare time is mapped out. I’ll be with my son. — For this nonsense? — his mother scoffed. — You’re abandoning your own mother for your wife’s whims? — I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m just setting priorities. Like you do. You’ve got Lizzie and Irina as your priority. I have Pasha and Vera. Seems only fair. — Are you being cheeky with me?! — She was breathless with outrage. — I did everything for you! Raised you! Made you into someone! And now you repay me like this?! — What do you mean “everything”, Mum? — Slava replied quietly. — Helping Irina with my money? Letting her have a rest while I slaved in your allotment? Oh, and one more thing… That kitchen set we were going to get you for your birthday… Order cancelled. We’ll use the money for our own needs instead. We need a nanny, since Grandma’s too busy for her own grandson. Three seconds later his mother screamed down the phone: — How dare you! I’m your mother! I gave my life for you! You’ve gone mad because of that Vera woman! Lizzie’s a virtual orphan, she needs my love! And your Pasha—he lives like a king, what does he lack? Why do you think I should even love him? My heart belongs to Lizzie—she’s the dearest soul to me! Ungrateful! Don’t you dare call me again! Don’t ever set foot in my house! Slava silently hung up. His hands shook a little, but inside he felt strangely light. He realised this confrontation was just the start. Soon, Mum would call Irina, and Irina would bombard him and Vera with angry messages, accusing them of being greedy and hard-hearted. There would be tears, curses, emotional blackmail. And so it was. That evening, when he came home, Vera met him at the door. She already knew everything—her mother-in-law had left a furious five-minute voice message for her, with “scheming snake” about the kindest phrase in the lot. — Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? — she asked softly, once they’d put Pavlik to bed and sat down to dinner. — She’s still your mum. — A mum should love all her children and grandchildren, Vera. Not just play favourites and use the rest for convenience. I spent years turning a blind eye to it, thinking “it’s just her way.” But when she said she doesn’t care about your health or Pasha because she’s got “things on with Lizzie”… No. That’s enough. * The fall-out lasted for ages. Both Irina and her mother, deprived of their usual handouts, bombarded Slava and Vera with calls—begging, threatening, appealing to “sonly and brotherly duty.” The couple stood their ground, ignoring calls and messages. And two weeks after the row, Irina turned up at Slava’s door. She started screaming, calling her brother an “ungrateful doormat”, and demanded he pay Mum’s bills and hand over money for food and medicine. Slava simply shut the door in her face. He’d had enough of being the “dutiful son.”