З життя9 години ago
Grandson Not Wanted
— Mum thinks Irina is fragile, — my husband finally blurted out. — She believes she needs more help because she doesn’t have a husband.
But with us, everything seems… stable…
— Stable? — Vera spun around. — Slava, I gained fifteen kilos after giving birth.
My back is killing me, my knees are cracking.
The doctor said: either I start looking after my health, or next year I won’t even be able to pick up Pavlik.
I need to go to the gym. Twice a week, an hour and a half each time.
You’re always at work, your schedule is all over the place. Who am I supposed to ask to look after our son?
Your mother doesn’t want a grandson—she already has a granddaughter!
Slava stayed silent.
And really, who is there?
Vera pressed her forehead against the cool window pane, watching as the tatty old Ford Fiesta pulled away from their drive.
The red rear lights flickered a final goodbye and disappeared around the corner.
The kitchen clock struck exactly seven o’clock.
Nadya, his mum, had spent exactly forty-five minutes at theirs.
In the living room, Slava tried to amuse their one-year-old son.
Little Pavlik busily spun the plastic truck’s wheel, occasionally glancing at the door, where his grandma had just left.
— Has she gone? — Slava poked his head into the kitchen, rubbing his aching neck.
— Flown off, — Vera corrected, still not turning. — She said Pavlik was “getting fussy from tiredness”, and she didn’t want to mess up his routine.
— He did whimper a bit when she picked him up, — Slava tried to smile, but it came out all wrong.
— Of course he whimpered, he barely knows her. We haven’t seen her in three weeks. Three!
Vera abruptly turned from the window and started piling dirty mugs in the sink.
— Come on, Vera, — Slava stepped behind her, tried to hug her waist, but she deftly dodged, reaching for the sponge. — Mum’s just… she’s used to Lizzie.
Lizzie’s older, four now, she’s easier.
— Not easier, Slava. She’s just more interesting for your mum.
Lizzie—Irina’s daughter. Irina—the favourite child.
And us… we’re just… the spare parts family.
Last Friday, the same scene all over again.
Nadya popped in “for a minute”, brought a cheap plastic rattle for Pavlik, and then kept glancing at the door.
Slava barely managed to say he’d be on site Saturday and it would be great if Mum could watch Pav for a couple of hours while Vera popped to the chemist and shops.
— Oh, Slava, I can’t possibly! — Nadya flapped her hands. — Lizzie and I are off to the puppet theatre, then Irina wants me to have her for the whole weekend.
Poor girl is so tired from work, she needs to get her private life sorted.
Slava’s sister raised her child “by herself,” but “by herself” was a rather loose term.
While Irina “found herself” and rotated through boyfriends, Lizzie would spend weeks with Granny.
Granny picked her up from nursery, took her to ballet, bought designer snowsuits, and knew all the dolls’ names in her bedroom.
— Did you see her post? — Vera nodded toward the phone on the table. — Have a look at what your mum uploaded.
Slava reluctantly picked it up, scrolled.
Photos scrolled by: Lizzie eating ice cream, Granny pushing her on the swing, them together playing with Play-Doh on Saturday night.
Caption: “My greatest joy, my darling girl.”
— She spent the entire weekend with them, — Vera bit her lip, fighting back tears. — With us—ten minutes! With them—bliss!
Slava, Pavlik’s only a year old. He’s her grandson. Your son. Why does she treat them so differently?
Slava said nothing—he didn’t know what to say.
He suddenly remembered how his mum rang last month, almost in tears: “The tap’s burst and the whole place is flooding!” He dashed across town in the night to fix it.
He remembered covering a payday loan for his mum, who’d taken it to buy Irina a new phone for her birthday.
Remembered slogging every weekend in May digging Granny’s garden, while his sister and niece sunbathed on loungers.
— Let’s ask Mum one more time, — Slava suggested uncertainly. — I’ll speak to her, explain it’s about your health, not a whim.
Vera said nothing. She knew nothing good would come of it.
***
The conversation happened Tuesday evening.
Slava put his phone on speaker so Vera could hear everything.
— Hi Mum. Listen, it’s about Vera. She needs to go to the gym, doctor’s orders. Her back is really bad…
— Oh, Slava, what gym? — Nadya’s voice bounced cheerily through the phone, Lizzie’s laughter in the background. — She can do exercises at home.
Eat fewer buns and her back’ll be fine.
— Mum, it’s not up for debate. Doctor’s said: exercise and physio.
Could you watch Pavlik on Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to eight?
I’ll drive you back each time.
Silence on the line.
— Slava, you know my routine. I pick Lizzie up from nursery at five. Then we’ve got classes, then a walk in the park.
Irina works late, she depends on me.
I can’t leave Lizzie on her own so Vera can swan about in the gym!
— Mum, Pasha’s your grandson too. He needs you. You see him once a month!
— Don’t start. Lizzie’s a little girl, she looks up to me, she loves me.
Pasha’s still a baby. He doesn’t notice a thing. When he’s older, we’ll bond.
Right now I’m busy, we’re about to paint.
All right, bye then.
Slava slowly replaced the phone on the table.
— Did you hear that? So my son needs to earn her attention?
He has to reach some level before Grandma notices him?
— Slava, I knew she’d say that…
— Well, I knew! — Vera snapped. — Ever since the day we got out of hospital, and she was two hours late because Lizzie urgently needed new tights!
Slava, I don’t care what she thinks about me. Fat, lazy, whatever.
But I do care for Pashka. One day he’ll ask: “Mum, why is Granny Nadya always with Lizzie, and never with me?”
What am I supposed to say then? That his aunt is the golden child, and his dad’s just a wallet and handyman for his own mum?
Slava began pacing the kitchen. After ten frenzied minutes, he suddenly stopped.
— Remember the kitchen renovation we planned for her?
Vera nodded.
They’d put money aside for six months to surprise Nadya for her big birthday.
Slava had found the cupboards, the workers, brokered a deal on the price.
It was a decent sum—the same as a year’s pass at Vera’s dream gym with personal trainer and pool.
— No renovation, — Slava said squarely. — Tomorrow I’m cancelling the order.
— Are you serious? — Vera stared wide-eyed.
— Dead serious. If my mum only has the time and energy for one grandchild, then she can fix her own problems too.
Let Irina help her sort out the house, fix the taps, haul the potatoes, clear the debts.
We’ll hire you a nanny for your gym sessions.
***
Next morning, Nadya called herself.
— Slava, darling… You said you’d come this week and look at the extractor fan? It’s out again, smoke everywhere! And Lizzie misses you—“Where’s my uncle Slava?” she keeps asking.
Slava, sitting at his desk, closed his eyes.
Once he’d have dropped everything and rushed to B&Q.
Now…
— I’m not coming, Mum, — he said calmly.
— What do you mean, not coming? — instantly the wounded voice. — And the fan? I’ll get smoked out!
— Ask Irina. Or her new boyfriend.
I’m busy now—Vera’s health comes first, so all my free time is booked solid.
I’ll be with my son.
— Over this nonsense? — his mum scoffed. — You’re abandoning your mother because of your wife’s little whims?
— I’m not abandoning anyone. Just setting my priorities. Same as you.
Your priorities: Lizzie and Irina. Mine: Pasha and Vera.
Seems pretty fair.
— Are you being rude to me? — she gasped. — I did everything for you! Raised you! Made you the man you are!
— Did everything, Mum? — Slava said quietly. — Helped Irina with my money?
Gave her time to chill while I broke my back in your garden?
You know what, we were thinking… that kitchen suite we were going to give you for your birthday… I’ve cancelled it.
The money’s going to our family—we need a nanny since Pavlik’s granny is too busy for her own grandson.
Three seconds later, she was screaming down the line:
— How DARE you! I’m your mother! I gave my whole life for you! And now this, because of that Vera of yours!
Lizzie’s the real orphan here, she needs all the love she can get! Your Pasha’s already living the good life!
Why do you think I’m supposed to love him too?
My heart belongs to Lizzie, she’s everything to me!
Ungrateful! Don’t call me again! Don’t you dare set foot in my house!
Slava quietly pressed the red button.
His hands shook, but inside he felt oddly light. He knew this row was just the beginning.
Now his mother would ring Irina, who would bombard them with angry messages about being selfish and cold.
There’d be tears, curses, emotional blackmail.
And there were.
That evening, when he got home, Vera met him at the door. She already knew—his mum had left her a five-minute furious voicemail, “snake in the grass” being the politest phrase.
— Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? — she whispered, when Pavlik was asleep and they sat down for dinner. — She is your mum, after all.
— A real mum loves all her children and grandchildren, Vera. Not just her favourites, while using the others for errands.
I turned a blind eye for too long. Thought, well, “that’s just the way she is.”
But when she said she didn’t care about your health or Pasha because she’s got “Lizzie’s schedule”…
No. Enough.
**
The rows went on.
Irina and Nadya, cut off from handouts, rang Slava and Vera non-stop: shouting, begging, threatening, trying guilt and shaming.
They stood their ground, ignoring calls and messages.
And two weeks after it all blew up, Irina turned up at Slava’s.
Irina stormed in, yelling, called her brother a “spineless ingrate,” and demanded he settle their mum’s bills and hand over money for groceries and medicines.
Slava simply shut the door in her face.
He was done with being the “grateful son.”
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