“You’ve Done Pretty Well for Yourself by Marrying My Brother,” My Sister-in-Law Said. I Calmly Explained Who Had Bought the Apartment and Paid Off His Debts
“Oksana, don’t take this the wrong way, but Mom has decided to leave the country house to Roma.”
Svetlana said this in the entryway while Oksana was trying to pull off her boot without stepping onto the wet mat in her tights. She spoke in a low voice, wearing that particular smile she usually used before saying something unpleasant. Then she immediately turned toward the mirror and began fixing her hair.
“Am I supposed to be offended?” Oksana asked.
“You never know. Everyone is so sensitive these days.”
Tamara Ivanovna’s voice came from the other room.
“Are you going to be much longer? The duck is getting cold!”
Svetlana picked up her handbag and headed to the table first. Oksana remained in the entryway for several seconds, holding her other boot in one hand. Roman was already sitting beside his mother, loudly describing how he had visited three stores that morning before finding a decent cake.
He had not told Oksana anything about the country house.
“Mom, I told you I’d bring a good one,” Roman said as he cut through the cake box with a knife. “You were worried I’d buy some kind of rubbish.”
“I wasn’t worried. I know you,” Tamara Ivanovna replied. “Whenever you take responsibility for something, you always do it properly.”
Svetlana nodded as though that statement applied not only to the cake but to her brother’s entire life.
Oksana sat down beside Roman. He pushed a plate toward her, brushed her arm with his elbow, and quietly asked:
“What took you so long?”
“My boot wouldn’t come off.”
“You should have called me.”
She looked at him, but he had already turned toward his mother and suggested opening the champagne.
They did not discuss the country house immediately. First, they talked about Tamara Ivanovna’s health, the new head doctor at her clinic, and the upstairs neighbor who had started smoking in the stairwell again. Svetlana spoke louder than everyone else, interrupted her mother, and several times began searching her phone for photographs of the renovations she planned to do in the spring.
Roman ate heartily and kept putting more duck on Oksana’s plate, although she told him twice that she did not want any more.
“Why are you so quiet today?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Good.”
He said it with relief, as though he had checked an indicator light and made sure it was still working.
After the main course, Tamara Ivanovna moved the salad bowls to the edge of the table and took a blue folder from the cabinet. She placed it in front of herself, smoothed the cover with her palm, and, for some reason, adjusted the tablecloth.
“I didn’t invite all of you here today for no reason,” she said. “A birthday is a birthday, but there are some things we need to settle in advance.”
Roman stopped chewing. Svetlana immediately straightened and looked at Oksana.
“Mom, maybe we could discuss this later?” Roman asked.
“Why later? You’re both here, and Sveta is here. I’m not planning to die tomorrow, so don’t look at me like that. I simply want to make sure nobody argues afterward.”
Tamara Ivanovna opened the folder. Oksana saw a copy of the ownership certificate for the country house, an old plan of the property, and several pages covered in her mother-in-law’s handwriting.
“I’ve decided to transfer the country house to Roma,” she said. “Sveta inherited the apartment from her father, so she already has a place of her own. Roma is a man, he likes taking care of property, and he keeps everything in order.”
“Mom, why are you bringing this up now?” Roman reached toward the folder, but his mother pressed her hand against it.
“Because that’s what I’ve decided. You’re dependable, Roma. You bought your own apartment, replaced your car, and provide for your wife. I’ll feel reassured knowing the country house won’t fall into neglect.”
Oksana turned toward her husband. He stared at his plate, scraping the roasted crust with his fork.
Svetlana noticed her expression.
“What?” she asked. “I think it’s perfectly fair. Roma has always known how to manage money. You were able to buy such a nice apartment thanks to him!”
“Thanks to him?” Oksana repeated, nearly choking.
Roman quickly pushed the breadbasket toward her.
“Oksana, have some bread.”
She did not touch it.
“Sveta, why do you think it was thanks to him?”
“Because he saved the down payment. You had only just started your new job at the time. Or am I remembering it incorrectly?”
Svetlana turned toward her brother, expecting confirmation. Roman picked up his glass of water, took a sip, and placed it back too close to the edge of the table.
“Sveta, let’s not start doing the accounting,” he said. “It’s Mom’s birthday.”
“What’s wrong with what I said? I’m praising my brother!”
“Who told you about the down payment?” Oksana asked sharply.
Svetlana shrugged.
“Roma did. A long time ago.”
Roman abruptly pushed his plate away.
“That isn’t what I said.”
“What did you say?” Oksana asked.
“I don’t remember. It was ages ago.”
“Five years.”
“You see? You remember, and I don’t.”
He tried to smile, but nobody joined him. Tamara Ivanovna kept her fingers on the open folder and looked first at her son, then at Oksana.
“What is wrong with the down payment?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong, Mom,” Roman said quickly. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I only asked.”
Svetlana rolled her eyes and picked up her glass.
“My goodness, now everyone is going to turn an ordinary remark into a tragedy. What difference does it make who contributed what? They’re a family.”
“Then why did you just say Roma bought the apartment?” Oksana asked.
“Because he handled the mortgage. He ran around to the banks, negotiated everything, and collected the documents.”
“I handled the mortgage!”
“Perhaps you did it together.”
“Svetlana, how do you know any of this?”
“Know what?”
“That I had supposedly only just started a new job, that Roman supposedly saved the down payment, and that he ran around to the banks?”
Svetlana looked at her brother, and that brief glance was enough for Oksana.
Roman reached for the bottle, misjudged the movement, and knocked his glass. Water spilled across the tablecloth and ran toward the folder. Tamara Ivanovna cried out and snatched up the papers while Svetlana began soaking up the water with napkins.
“There we go,” Roman said irritably. “We couldn’t simply have a peaceful meal.”
“Did you tell her all of this yourself?” Oksana asked.
“Tell her what?”
“That you bought the apartment?”
“I never said that!”
“You did,” Svetlana interrupted. “You said you had carried the entire burden yourself and that Oksana was barely earning anything at the time.”
Roman looked at his sister as though she had suddenly betrayed him.
“I never said she wasn’t earning anything.”
“Roma, you said you had to manage everything alone. I remember Mom being worried because you had taken out such a large mortgage.”
“That never happened.”
“It did,” Tamara Ivanovna said quietly. “You told me Oksana was still getting settled into her new job, so you would be making the payments yourself.”
Oksana ran a finger along the edge of the table where some water remained. Roman grabbed a napkin and began wiping a spot that was already dry.
“I may have phrased something badly,” he said. “I was in a terrible state at the time. I didn’t have a proper job.”
“You were unemployed for four months,” Oksana replied. “We bought the apartment a year later.”
“So what now? Have you decided to check all the dates?”
“I’m trying to understand how long you were telling them this story.”
“I wasn’t telling anyone anything. I said something to my mother once, and she misunderstood.”
Tamara Ivanovna placed the rescued pages on the windowsill.
“I understood perfectly well, Roma. You said you were buying the apartment yourself and that Oksana was helping however she could.”
“Mom, don’t you start too.”
“What am I doing?” Her voice became quieter. “I tell all my friends what a wonderful son I have.”
Svetlana threw the wet napkins onto an empty plate.
“Why is everyone attacking him? So a man told his mother that he was managing. What was he supposed to say—that his wife was paying for him?”
“For him?” Oksana turned toward her. “Why does it have to be for him?”
“Because it sounds normal when a man provides for his family. Not when his wife later pulls out a calculator in front of everyone.”
“I haven’t pulled out anything yet!”
“Exactly,” Roman said. “So let’s end this.”
He reached for the folder and began gathering the papers as though his mother’s decision already required his immediate involvement. Oksana placed her hand over one of the pages.
“Wait.”
“What now?”
“Did you buy the car yourself too?”
Roman jerked his hand away.
“What does the car have to do with this?”
“Last summer at the country house, Sveta said you had finally treated yourself to a good car. At the time, I thought she had simply worded it strangely. Now I understand everything.”
“So he treated himself,” Svetlana said. “You live together!”
“The money was mine!”
“Here we go again.” Roman leaned back in his chair. “Mine, yours. You’ve always said everything belongs to both of us.”
“It does.”
“Then what difference does it make?”
“A huge difference, if you told your family that you did everything alone. That isn’t true.”
“I never told them that!”
“Roma,” his mother interrupted. “You told me you sold your old car for a good price, added your savings, and bought the new one.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Mom, I wasn’t giving you a financial report about where the money came from.”
“But you did give her a report,” Oksana said quietly. “You simply lied.”
“Why was it a lie? The car belongs to the family. I drive it. What difference does it make who transferred the money?”
“Then why didn’t you say it was my money?”
Roman opened his mouth, but Svetlana answered instead.
“Because it’s humiliating.”
Tamara Ivanovna turned toward her daughter.
“What is humiliating?”
“When a man has no money and his wife pays for everything. Why are all of you pretending you don’t understand?”
Oksana looked at Roman. He did not object to his sister’s words. Instead, he picked up his glass again, although almost no water remained in it.
“So that was humiliating,” Oksana said. “But telling everyone that I lived at your expense like a dependent wasn’t humiliating?”
“Nobody said you lived at my expense!”
“Your mother just said you provided for me.”
“That was Mom.”
“Because that’s what you told her!”
“Oksana, stop going around in circles. I already said I may have worded it incorrectly.”
“How many times? Tell me.”
He stood abruptly. The chair struck the wall, making Tamara Ivanovna flinch.
“How should I know how many times?” Roman said. “What do you want to hear now? That I’m a villain? That I stole your apartment from you?”
“I want to hear why you did it. Why?”
“I didn’t do anything deliberately!”
“Then correct them now.”
Roman froze with one hand resting on the back of the chair.
“Correct what?”
“Everything. Tell your mother who paid the down payment, who paid off your loan, and who bought the car.”
“Are you seriously going to sit here and list all of that at my mother’s birthday dinner?”
“I wasn’t the one who started listing your achievements.”
Svetlana straightened.
“Now everything is clear! You were simply waiting for an opportunity to humiliate him.”
“Sveta, stay out of this,” Roman said.
“No, I’m going to say it. Mom wants to transfer the country house to him, and suddenly all of this begins. The apartment is mine, the car is mine, the money is mine. Very convenient timing!”
Oksana stared at her for several seconds, struggling to comprehend what she had heard.
“You think this is about the country house?”
“What else could this performance be about? You kept quiet for five years, then you saw the documents and suddenly started talking.”
“What documents?” Oksana gave a brief, humorless laugh. “I don’t need your country house.”
“Everyone says that at first.”
“Svetlana, be quiet already!” Tamara Ivanovna snapped.
Her daughter turned toward her with an offended expression.
“Mom, I’m protecting you. You’ll transfer the property now, and then it will turn out Oksana wants part of it too, because she’s the important one here and supports everybody.”
“I’m not claiming anything,” Oksana said. “You can transfer the country house tomorrow for all I care.”
“How noble of you.”
“Sveta, I said that’s enough!” Roman raised his voice and struck the back of the chair with his palm. “Why did you bring that into this?”
“I brought it into this? She’s sitting there dragging you through the mud!”
“I’m asking him questions,” Oksana said.
“In front of his mother. On her birthday.”
“Because he lied in front of his mother!”
Svetlana jumped to her feet.
“A proper wife would never humiliate her husband like this!”
Oksana looked at Roman. He stood between the table and the window, his face red and the top button of his shirt undone.
“Would a proper husband spend years telling people his wife was living off him? Is that normal to all of you?”
“I never said that!” he shouted again.
“Show us,” Tamara Ivanovna said.
Everyone turned toward her.
“Show you what?” Roman asked.
“Who paid. If you can’t hear each other now, show it on paper and put an end to this.”
“Mom, have you lost your mind? We’re not in court.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Roma.”
Tamara Ivanovna looked at Oksana. There was no accusation in her voice, only the confusion of someone desperate to discover a simple misunderstanding and return the conversation to a world in which her son was still reliable and always did everything properly.
Oksana took out her phone.
“There,” Roman said with a bitter smirk. “Wonderful. Now we’re getting a full report.”
She did not answer. She opened her banking app, scrolled through the saved statements, and found the transaction history from the apartment purchase. The amount of the down payment filled almost the entire line.
She handed the phone to Tamara Ivanovna.
“That is the down payment. The date is shown there.”
Her mother-in-law put on her glasses and brought the screen closer to her face.
“Your surname is listed here.”
“Because I made the transfer.”
“Perhaps it came from a joint account,” Svetlana said quickly.
“It came from my personal account. We didn’t have a joint account at the time.”
Oksana took back the phone, opened her photo folder, and found a screenshot of an electronic statement she had saved for the insurance company. The apartment address, registration date, and owners’ names were visible on the screen.
“The apartment is registered in both our names,” she said. “That was our agreement. I have never disputed it.”
She opened the banking app again and showed them the transfer that had paid off Roman’s loan. Then she found the payment for the car, which the bank had recorded as a separate transaction.
The phone lay in front of Tamara Ivanovna. Svetlana craned her neck and tried to enlarge the image with her fingers, but her mother moved the screen away from her.
“Roma,” she said. “Why did you lie to us?”
He sat down again but missed the edge of the chair and had to pull it into place with his hand.
“I didn’t lie. I simply didn’t explain the details.”
“You said you bought the apartment yourself. You’ve said it for years.”
“We’re a family! What difference does it make who made the transfer?”
“Then why didn’t you say it was Oksana’s money?” his mother asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry about what?”
Roman looked at his sister, then at Oksana, and sighed.
“I was having problems at work then. Your blood pressure rose every time the phone rang. Have you forgotten?”
“My blood pressure didn’t rise because of the truth!”
“Mom, please don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. For five years, I’ve been telling everyone that you bought the apartment yourself. It turns out I was lying too.”
“Did I ask you to tell everyone?”
Svetlana moved closer to the table.
“Fine, so he lied once. What should we do now, execute him? He was ashamed. A man lost his job, and his wife was earning more. It’s understandable.”
“It is understandable,” Oksana said. “I understood him at the time.”
“Then you should have continued understanding him. What is the problem now?”
“He found work afterward, but he continued telling everyone he had bought everything himself.”
“Because you allowed him to!”
Roman raised his head sharply.
“Svetlana!”
“What? She kept quiet for five years. Everything suited her until Mom decided to transfer the country house to you.”
Oksana put her phone back into her handbag.
“You’re right about one thing. I did keep quiet.”
“There you go.”
“I kept quiet because I thought all of you had invented the story yourselves. I assumed you were simply accustomed to believing Roma was more successful than he really was. I didn’t know he was feeding you detailed stories.”
“What detailed stories?” Roman asked.
“The story about the old car you supposedly sold. The down payment you supposedly saved. The job I had supposedly only just begun settling into.”
“I may have said it once!”
“Three different stories all at once?”
“My goodness, Oksana, how long are you going to keep this up?”
“I’m also wondering how long this can continue.”
He looked at her and immediately looked away.
Tamara Ivanovna closed the folder containing the country-house documents.
“I’m not transferring anything for the time being.”
“Mom, the country house has nothing to do with this,” Roman said.
“I know. That is why I’m not transferring it.”
She picked up the folder and carried it to the cabinet where old photo albums and a box of Christmas decorations were stored. Svetlana watched her mother, then turned toward Oksana.
“You got what you wanted. Are you happy?”
“Sveta, shut your mouth already!” Roman snapped.
“No, let her answer! She came here, ruined the birthday, upset Mom, and made you look like some kind of fraud. Are you happy now?”
Oksana stood up from the table.
“I didn’t realize the truth about a few bank transfers could destroy so much here.”
“There you go, trying to sound clever again.”
“Sveta, enough,” Tamara Ivanovna said from the other room. “Come and help me clean up.”
“I’m not cleaning anything.”
“Then go home.”
Svetlana went pale.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m not throwing anyone out. I’m simply tired of the shouting.”
“I’m protecting your son!”
“From whom?”
Svetlana looked at her brother. Roman sat with his shoulders slumped, picking at the edge of the tablecloth.
“I understand,” she said. “Everyone is against me.”
She grabbed her handbag, knocked an empty glass with her elbow, and caught it just before it fell from the table. She put it back, muttered a curse under her breath, and headed toward the entryway.
Roman did not follow her.
A few seconds later, the front door slammed.
Tamara Ivanovna began gathering the plates. She worked quickly, stacking them without checking whether any food remained on them.
“I’ll do it,” Oksana said.
“No.”
“Tamara Ivanovna…”
“No, Oksana. Go home and talk to each other.”
Roman finally stood.
“Mom, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Go.”
She picked up the stack of plates and carried it toward the kitchen. A fork slipped off and fell to the floor, but Tamara Ivanovna did not even turn around.
In the entryway, Roman struggled for a long time to get his arm into the sleeve of his jacket. Oksana stood by the door while he tugged angrily at the fabric and fought with the lining.
“You didn’t have to show her your phone,” he said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Mom would have calmed down.”
“Probably.”
“Do you understand that she doesn’t trust me at all now?”
Oksana opened the door.
Roman walked onto the landing first and pressed the elevator button several times in succession.
In the car, Roman started the engine to warm it up.
“I need to understand what you want from me!”
“Right now, nothing, Roma.”
“You created that scene in front of everyone, and now you want nothing?”
“I asked a question.”
“And pulled out bank statements.”
“Because you continued lying.”
“I panicked!”
“Have you been panicking for five years?”
He struck the steering wheel with his palm.
“I couldn’t tell my mother I was living at your expense!”
Oksana unfastened her seat belt, even though the car had not yet moved.
“Now you’re finally being honest.”
“I was ashamed of myself.”
“So you made me appear helpless in their eyes and told them you were supporting me.”
“It was easier to explain it to them that way!”
He pulled sharply out of the parking space and immediately had to brake in front of a garbage truck.
They drove home in silence. Roman switched on his turn signal too early several times, missed the correct entrance to their courtyard, and had to return through the neighboring street.
Outside their building, Oksana got out first. Her husband caught up with her near the entrance.
“Are you going to tell everyone about this now?”
She held her key against the intercom.
“Who is everyone?”
“Friends. Colleagues. I don’t know.”
“You still think this conversation is about money, Roma?”
“What else is it about?”
The door opened. Oksana held it with one hand.
“It’s about the fact that you needed to make me look as though I lived at your expense so you could feel respectable.”
At home, she removed her earrings and placed them on the shelf in the entryway. A photograph from their housewarming hung on the wall. Roman was holding the apartment keys, Tamara Ivanovna had one arm around his shoulders, and Svetlana stood nearby with a bottle of champagne. Oksana was off to one side, holding a bag from a household-goods store.
Everyone in the photograph looked very happy.
Oksana went into the bedroom, took a small travel bag from the wardrobe, and placed it on the bed.
Roman stopped in the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to stay with Lena for a couple of days.”
“Because of this?”
She opened a drawer and began packing her things.
“Because of five years, Roma.”
“Are we really going to get divorced because I said the wrong thing to my mother? Are you serious?”
“I didn’t say anything about divorce. I simply don’t want to sleep beside you tonight.”
“Let’s not do this. I already apologized.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
She zipped the bag closed.
“For what?”
Roman froze with one hand resting on the wardrobe door.
“For making you feel bad.”
“I didn’t merely feel bad.”
“Then tell me how I’m supposed to say it.”
“Think of something yourself. You’re very good at inventing versions of events.”
He let go of the wardrobe door.
“So now you’re going to use every word against me?”
“Today, I am.”
Oksana picked up her bag and headed toward the entryway. Roman followed her.
“I didn’t mean to humiliate you.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
She put on her coat. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Tamara Ivanovna’s name appeared on the screen, but Oksana rejected the call.
“It’s Mom,” Roman said.
“You call her back.”
“She’s calling you.”
“From now on, she can call you.”
“Are you coming back?”
Oksana opened the door.
“When you can explain all of this without using the word ‘accidentally,’ Roma.”
He did not answer.
Oksana stepped onto the landing and pressed the elevator button. The doors opened almost immediately. Before entering, she took the second set of keys from her pocket, removed the small key to Tamara Ivanovna’s apartment from the ring, and placed it on the cabinet in the entryway.
“Give this back to your mother,” she said, and stepped into the elevator.
