“Honestly, love, Im not a carer!” Nastya hissed through gritted teeth. “As much as I respect Olga Timofeevna, shes not my mothershe has her own children! Three of them!”
“Nastya, come on,” Gennady said, taken aback. “We wont manage Mums care if we approach it like this. The doctor said a lot depends on us now.”
“Depends on *you*,” Nastya shot back. “Not me!”
She listened uneasily to her husbands voice as he spoke to his sister on the phone. She was in the kitchen chopping salad while he paced the living room with his earpiece in. Something about his tone rubbed her the wrong wayor was she just overthinking?
No, her instincts were right. A minute later, he appeared in the doorway, pale and shaking.
“Whats wrong?” she gasped, rushing to him.
“Mums had an episode,” Gennady said. “They rushed her to hospitalmight need surgery. Thats what Nina said, anyway. Shes hysterical, barely making sense.”
“I get it,” Nastya murmured, remembering her own panic last year when her mother had heart trouble. The doctor ordered bed rest, and she and her sister had taken turns caring for her.
She offered to drive Gennady to the hospital, but he refusedsaid his sister would pick him up tomorrow.
Olga Timofeevna spent a week in hospital under observation. Gennady and his older sister Nina visited daily; his brother Anatoly and wife Svetlana dropped by too.
Nastya cooked for her. Hospital food didnt sit right with Olga Timofeevnashe wanted clear homemade broth, steamed chicken cutlets, something fresh. So after work, Nastya stopped at the market for ripe tomatoes to make her a salad.
She sometimes went to the hospital with Gennady but never crowded the ward.
“Theyre discharging Mum soon,” he said one evening. “Finally.”
“Thank goodness,” Nastya sighed. “But shell need long-term care.”
“Shouldnt be a problem,” Gennady shrugged. “I told Nina you could prep meals in the evenings, pop by before and after work. Bathing, meds, feedingyoull figure it out.”
He said it so casually Nastya almost missed the implication. A few seconds later, it hit her: hed just dumped his mothers entire care onto her.
“Gennady,” she said quietly, “I *work*. She needs round-the-clock help. You realise that means visiting her *daily*, right? At least twice?”
“Of course!” he said brightly, as if pleased with his brilliant solution.
Nastya shot up and paced, nerves fraying. She hated conflictbut she wasnt about to let herself be trampled.
“Darling, when *my* mum was ill last year,” she reminded him, “my sister and I took shifts. Cooking, washing, massagesits exhausting!”
“I know, love,” he said warmly. “Thats why Im sure youll manage. I told Nina and Anatolymy wifes a treasure, practically a professional carer!”
The “compliment” enraged her. So thats how he saw her? And his siblings had happily agreed?
“No, darling, Im *not* a carer!” she snapped. “I respect Olga Timofeevna, but shes *your* motheryours, Ninas, and Anatolys. And Anatoly has a *wife*!”
“Nastya, seriously,” Gennady scoffed. “We wont manage Mums care with this attitude. The doctor said”
“that it depends on *you*,” she cut in. “Not me!”
He shook his head. “I never thought my own wife could be so heartless! Ninas got a ten-year-oldhomework, meals, *her* job. Anatoly and Svetlana have kids too.”
“So do *I*,” Nastya said pointedly. “In case you forgot Zhenya exists.”
Gennady scowled. He didnt like her logicbut it *would* be convenient if she took over.
To guilt her, he reminded her his mother had stomach issuesno instant noodles. She needed fresh chicken soup, porridge
“Nina and Svetlana can handle soup and porridge,” Nastya said. “Ill print you recipes.”
She was furious. When *her* mother came home from hospital, she and her sister hadnt arguedtheyd just stepped up. Why couldnt his family do the same?
Gennady eventually gave up arguing. “Weve already discussed this with my siblings. No objectionsuntil *you* ruined everything!”
“Sorry to wreck your plans,” she said coolly, “but you didnt discuss them with *me*.”
“Theyve got kids and jobsthey *cant*,” he snapped. “Besides, youve got leave next month!”
Her heart sank. Shed planned that two-week break for Zhenyaa trip to the Lake District, maybe her mums cottage.
“The Lake District? A *cottage*?” Gennady sneered. “Mums *life* is at stake, and youre thinking about *holidays*?”
Nastyas breath caught. The sheer *audacity*caring for his siblings convenience but dismissing her entirely.
“Talk to Nina and Anatoly yourself,” Gennady muttered, turning to his phone.
Part of her wanted to refuse outrightbut she *did* care for Olga Timofeevna. So she made a decision.
With tact, she spoke to each in-law, noting their work schedules. Nina even admitted shed booked a seaside tripand wasnt cancelling.
An hour later, Nastya had a colour-coded rota printed.
Gennady glared. “Whats this?”
“Your mothers care schedule. Mornings, evenings, bathing slotsall covered.”
“My *names* here! And Anatolysand *Svetlanas*?”
“Shes not *your* mothers daughter either,” Nastya said pointedly. “Yet you expected *me* to do it all. Funny, that.”
“Nina wont follow this,” he grumbled. “Shes got plansa *holiday*.”
“Then shell have to cancel,” Nastya shrugged. “Its not five daysits a *month*.”
Gennady was speechless. The rota was *fair*even included herself for cooking and occasional visits. But he hated it.
His last hope was Nina. Shed sort this.
Nastya created a group chat, shared the rotaand chaos erupted.
“Im not dancing to *your* tune!” Nina spat. “Ive got a *kid*, a *job*why am *I* on this list?”
“Dance to your own,” Nastya said calmly. “But this is the only way to share your mums care. Dont like it? Handle it yourselves. Heres the diet plan.”
The in-laws revolted. Gennady even threatened divorceuntil he realised *someone* had to cook his mums broth.
They rejected the rota, insulted Nastya. Nina swore shed never speak to her again.
All theyd done was make things harder for themselves.
Nastyas hands itched to helpbut she held firm. Give an inch, and Gennady and his family would take a mile.
Sodid she do the right thing? Whos in the wrong here? Drop your thoughts below!
