“My father was never a drunk. He died of lung cancer after years in a dangerous factory job, when I was twelve years old. And I will not let anyone spit on his memory.”
Then she turned to her husband.
Derek stood there with his head lowered, looking less like a grown man than a schoolboy waiting to be scolded.
“And you?” Marina asked quietly. “Are you going to say anything? She just insulted my parents. My family. Me. Are you going to stand there and accept it? Is that your choice? To take her side?”
Derek lifted his eyes. There was such misery in them that, for one brief second, Marina almost felt sorry for him.
Only for one second.
“Marina, come on, you know how Mom is,” he muttered. “She didn’t mean it like that. She got carried away, that’s all. She’s old. Why are you acting like a child over a few words? She said something stupid. People do that.”
“Something stupid,” Marina repeated.
Her voice had gone flat.
“She has been tearing me down, piece by piece, for years, and to you that’s ‘something stupid.’ She sits behind my back and discusses how to spend money I earned, and you call that ‘people do that.’ She drags my parents through the mud, and you want me not to take it personally.”
“What do you want from me, then?” Derek suddenly shouted. The outburst sounded less like anger than panic. “You want me to fight her? Throw her out? She’s my mother, do you understand? My mother!”
“And I’m your wife,” Marina said. “I have been your family for twelve years. But apparently that never really occurred to you.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
In the bedroom, she pulled a small overnight bag down from the top shelf of the closet and began putting clothes into it. Her hands shook so badly that sweaters slipped through her fingers and fell onto the bed.
A minute later, Derek appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asked, frightened now.
“Packing. I’ll stay with Vicky for a while.”
“Marina, don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to leave over a normal argument? What is this, are you trying to prove a point? Mom regrets it already, I’m sure she does.”
Nancy’s voice rang out from the hallway.
“Let her go! Let her run wherever she wants! We’ll find Derek another bride in no time, and better than this one. What a princess she thinks she is!”
Marina gave a short laugh and tossed her makeup bag into the suitcase.
“Did you hear that?” she asked her husband. “Your mother isn’t sorry. She doesn’t care. And, apparently, neither do you. All that matters to you is that things go back to the way they were. She comes whenever she likes, wipes her feet on me, and you pretend nothing is happening. I keep quiet, smile politely, and continue paying for everything.”
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” Derek said, reaching for the bag. “You’re emotional right now. You’ll say things you don’t mean, and then you’ll regret it.”
Marina yanked the zipper shut so sharply that she nearly caught his fingers in it.
“Twelve years,” she said, looking him straight in the face. “For twelve years, I kept hoping for something. And all that time, you just sat back and waited for your mother and me to sort it out between ourselves. You’re not a husband. You’re a tenant. You’re a man who shares my living space and benefits from my paycheck.”
“That’s not true!” he cried. “I love you. You know I love you.”
“Love me?” Marina repeated as she pulled on her coat. “Then why have you never once told your mother, ‘Stop. This is my wife, and I’m grateful to her’? Why didn’t you tell her that I’m the one paying the mortgage while you sit on your salary? Why didn’t you mention that I’m the one who drives her to doctors, the one who buys her expensive prescriptions when her retirement check isn’t enough? Why did you let her call me a hustler and an upstart every single time, while you were asking me for gas money?”
Derek said nothing.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish left gasping on dry land.
“Exactly,” Marina said. “You have no answer.”
She grabbed the bag and headed for the front door.
At the threshold, she paused and looked back at her mother-in-law. Nancy stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded across her chest, wearing a look of open triumph.
“Well?” Nancy sneered. “Still leaving? Good riddance. Just remember one thing: this apartment is ours. If you come back, you’ll live by our rules.”
Marina studied her for a long moment. Then her gaze shifted to Derek.
“You know, Derek,” she said, calm now, almost conversational, “I really am leaving. But not for a few days. I’m filing for divorce. And don’t worry, I’m not going to claim your apartment. Thankfully, I have one of my own. The same one I bought last year while the two of you were busy deciding how to squeeze more out of me.”
The color drained from Nancy’s face. She clearly had not prepared herself for that.
“What apartment?” she demanded sharply. “What other apartment?”