My husband’s relatives invited us as guests, but welcomed us as suppliers. They clearly didn’t expect the return visit.
I prefer to love my husband’s relatives from a safe distance.
I am an accountant. I am used to ordering, strict numbers, and cold facts. My husband Igor is the same way. We live peacefully, but any attempt to climb onto our necks is stopped quickly and permanently.
Igor’s cousin, Lyudmila, had recently acquired a country plot. She is a loud woman who imagines herself to be a generous lady of the manor. True, her incredible hospitality somehow always seems to be paid for from other people’s wallets.
The call came on Friday.
“Marinochka!” my sister-in-law boomed into the phone. “Vadik and I finished building the veranda, and we bought a grill. We’re waiting for you tomorrow! We’ll have a magnificent feast. I’ll feed you so well you’ll lick your fingers!”
I am not used to visiting people empty-handed.
In the morning, my husband and I stopped by the market. We bought three kilograms of excellent pork neck, a bucket of ready-made marinade, fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, herbs, and fruit.
At the store, we added three kinds of cheese, sweets, and expensive alcohol to this abundance. The bags turned out heavy. I reasoned logically: we would have a hearty lunch, and the generous leftovers would be useful to the hosts for the evening.
Lyudmila met us at the plot. She stood by the gate, hands on her hips, looking as if she expected applause.
“Oh, why did you bring so much?” she chirped.
And immediately snatched the heaviest bag from my husband’s hands with practiced ease.
“Come to the table!”
We went up onto the brand-new veranda.
On the large wooden table, three lonely lettuce leaves and a tiny bunch of dill were lying sadly. There was absolutely nothing else there.
Vadim, Lyudmila’s husband, did not even say hello. He briskly grabbed our meat, lit the coals, and began threading the pieces onto skewers. He behaved as if he had personally hunted down that boar in the forest.
During lunch, Lyudmila praised herself nonstop for her wonderful reception.
“Eat, guys, eat!” she said condescendingly, sliding a plate of our own cheese platter toward Igor. “Receiving guests takes talent. You city bookkeepers are always buried in papers. At least here I’ll feed you like normal people!”
I speared a piece of the cucumber we had bought with my fork.
“You’re right, Lyuda. You truly are a genius organizer. Putting together a luxurious table entirely from other people’s bags is a rare gift.”
Lyudmila grimaced unhappily, but chose to keep silent.
After the feast, plenty of food remained. Half the meat, an entire package of sliced cheese and meat, almost all the fruit, and most of the expensive alcohol.
I calmly began putting some of the untouched products back into my bag. The calculation was simple: we would leave half for the hosts as thanks for their trouble at the grill, and take the rest home. After all, we had paid for the entire banquet.
Lyudmila shot toward the table like a hawk. Her voice broke into a shriek.
“Marina, what do you think you’re doing?! You’re taking food back? We don’t do that!”
“What exactly is it that you don’t do?” I clarified calmly.
“We’re taking these leftovers to the neighbor!” my sister-in-law declared categorically, blocking the table with her chest. “She sometimes gives us zucchini, so we need to return the favor like good neighbors. Vadik, take everything inside, now!”
Vadim displayed miracles of agility. He grabbed the trays with shashlik, the cheese, and the fruit, then quickly disappeared behind the door. He did not even bother to ask whether we might want to take at least a small portion of the provisions we had paid for.
I stood up from the table and followed him.
I opened the door of the old refrigerator. Methodically, I took out the unopened sliced food, the fruit, the box of sweets, and a bottle. I honestly left half of the cooked meat on the shelf.
“What kind of pettiness is this?!” hissed Lyudmila, who had rushed after me. “You came to our place! We showed you the new veranda, seated you at the table! And you’re counting pieces? How stingy can you be?”
I carefully placed the bottle into my bag.
“Thank you very much for the company. But so far, all the rest of your hospitality fits into one bunch of dill. If you want to please your neighbor, do it at your own expense.”
I looked her straight in the eyes.
“Saltykov-Shchedrin has very precise lines about people who confuse their homeland with someone else’s loaf of bread. Right now, that is exactly who you are. Don’t confuse generosity of spirit with someone else’s wallet.”
“Are you comparing me to a thief?!” my sister-in-law protested. “You’ve become too clever!”
“She is fair,” Igor intervened, firmly standing beside me. “Inviting people at their own expense and then deciding what to do with their things is low. Get ready, Marina. We’re leaving.”
We left earlier than planned.
For the entire following week, Lyudmila called mutual acquaintances, complaining about my unimaginable greed. However, she did not receive the sympathy she had expected. The relatives quickly found out that the offended hostess had not spent a single ruble on organizing the feast.
Ten days later, another call came.
Lyudmila called Igor as if the previous conflict had never happened.
“Igorek, Vadik and I are running around the city on errands. We’ll stop by your place this evening! We’re hungry, so cook something meaty, and make plenty of it. Wait for us!”
I took the smartphone from my husband’s hands.
“We’ll be waiting, Lyudmila. Only there won’t be a full dinner. Come for dessert. We’ll sit and have sweets.”
She snorted, letting my words go in one ear and out the other. Apparently, she decided that out of politeness, I would rush to the stove to roast meat and chop salads.
That evening, the doorbell rang.
The relatives did not arrive empty-handed. Lyudmila solemnly handed me five withered sprigs of dill from her garden. Vadim modestly held an impressive stack of plastic containers.
The man was clearly counting on us packing them a generous food parcel after a hearty dinner.
We went into the kitchen.
Boiling water steamed in beautiful mugs on the table. In the center stood the very same box of sweets that I had successfully taken away from the country house that day. There was nothing else on the tablecloth.
I poured water into a clear glass and carefully placed Lyuda’s dill inside.
“What beauty. The main decoration of our table,” I said, sitting down on a chair.
Lyudmila looked over the empty tabletop. Her face stretched with disappointment.
“And when will you serve the hot food? Vadik is hungry from the road. He needs proper food!”
I calmly took a sip from my mug.
“I clearly warned you that I was inviting you exclusively for sweets. If Vadim needed a filling dinner, you could have brought it with you. Exactly the same way we recently brought provisions to your place.”
Vadim loudly clattered his empty containers onto the table.
“You simply have an empty refrigerator! Has poverty swallowed you whole?” he mocked sarcastically.
Without a word, Igor stood up, walked over to our refrigerator, and opened the door wide.
Inside, in neat rows, stood a pot of rich broth, homemade sliced meat, cheeses, fresh vegetables, and fruit.
“There is food,” my husband said sharply. “It was simply bought for the owners of this apartment. Not for those who are used to showing up at someone else’s home with empty containers ready.”
Lyudmila turned crimson with unconcealed anger.
“We’re your own people!” she spat. “You begrudge close relatives normal food! You’re obligated to share!”
I smirked.
“Precisely because we are close, we left you half the shashlik last time. But we will no longer allow you to turn family ties into a free delivery service.”
I pushed my mug aside.
“If you want to feast at someone else’s expense, look for other donors. The free cafeteria is officially closed.”
The visit ended quickly.
Vadim carried away his plastic containers completely empty, slamming the front door loudly. And the lonely bunch of dill remained standing in the clear glass.
The conclusion of this story is very simple.
Other people’s audacity grows exactly as long as you keep feeding it. Do not be afraid to offend with a firm refusal those who are not afraid for even a second to use you for their own benefit.
Later, my sister-in-law tried once again to gather us all out of town. But this time, I stated categorically: we would come only on the condition that everyone paid their share in advance according to the receipt, and the leftovers would be divided strictly equally.
Lyudmila no longer tried to play the generous soul at our expense. Now she has to treat her neighbor exclusively with what grows in her own garden beds.
I did not start a years-long feud over a piece of pork. I simply established a strict rule: whoever wants to control the banquet must take out their own wallet.
Igor and I spend our weekends wonderfully, while those who like living off freebies now chew their own dill. Justice is not when everyone makes peace. Justice is when everyone pays for themselves.
