Oleg hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but Marina noticed.
— She says she wants to meet you. To see the girl who conquered her son.
The word “conquered” sounded strange. Not “made him fall in love,” not “made him happy,” but specifically “conquered.” As if Marina were a conqueror, and Oleg a fortress she had taken by storm.
The introduction took place on a Sunday, at his parents’ apartment on Central Avenue. Oleg picked Marina up in his car, and she was nervous the whole way. It was silly, of course. She was a grown, independent woman, what did she have to fear from some mother-in-law?
The apartment was stunning from the first glance. Huge, five rooms, with towering ceilings and stucco molding. Antique furniture, crystal chandeliers, paintings in heavy frames. Marina had grown up in an ordinary two-room apartment in Dnipro and had only seen such luxury in movies.
— Like it? — Oleg asked, noticing her gaze. — Impressive. This was my grandmother’s apartment. Mom adores it, takes care of every little detail.
Tamara Nikolaevna came out to meet them from the living room. A tall, stately woman in her mid-fifties with a perfect hairstyle, wearing an elegant dress and a string of pearls. She looked at Marina the way one looks at an expensive item in a store: appraisingly, considering whether it was worth buying.
— So this is you! — she said instead of a greeting. — Oleg has told me so much about you. I was starting to think you were a painted beauty.
Marina was taken aback. Was that a backhanded compliment? An insult wrapped in a polite package?
— Mom, what are you saying? — Oleg put his arm around his mother’s shoulders. — Marina is very beautiful.
— Beautiful, beautiful, — Tamara Nikolaevna agreed, in a tone that said, “well, if you think so.” — Come in, lunch is getting cold.
At the table, the mother-in-law subjected Marina to a real interrogation. Where she was born, where she grew up, who her parents were, where she studied, where she worked. Every answer was accompanied by a slight raise of an eyebrow or a barely perceptible pursing of the lips.
— So, your father is a foreman at a factory? I see. And your mother is a nurse? I see that too. So no one in the family has a higher education?
— I have a specialized secondary education, — Marina replied, feeling irritation bubble up inside her. — And I plan to enroll in a correspondence course.
— You plan to? — Tamara Nikolaevna smiled condescendingly. — Well, well, plans are a good thing. The main thing is that they come to fruition.
— They will, — Marina looked her mother-in-law straight in the eye. — I’m used to getting what I want.
For a second, something like surprise flickered in Tamara Nikolaevna’s eyes. She clearly hadn’t expected resistance, but she quickly composed herself and changed the subject.
After lunch, Oleg went out to smoke on the balcony, and Marina was left alone with her mother-in-law. Tamara Nikolaevna was pouring tea from an expensive porcelain set, her hands moving with practiced grace.
— Marina, — she began, without looking up from the cups. — I see you’re not a stupid girl. So I’ll be blunt. Oleg is my only son. I raised him alone, without a father, and I’ve invested everything in him. He is my life, my pride, my everything. And I won’t let just anyone take him away from me.
— I’m not planning on taking anyone away from anyone, — Marina replied calmly. — I’m planning on being with the man I love.
— Love? — Tamara Nikolaevna finally looked up. There was something cold, serpentine in her eyes. — Girl, don’t make me laugh. What love? You saw a well-off man and decided you’d hit the jackpot? That’s not love. That’s calculation.
Marina slowly put her cup down on the table. Her hands weren’t shaking; she was proud of herself for that.
— You don’t know me, — she said in an even voice, — and you have no right to judge. I love your son. I love him, not his money, not his apartment, not his car. If you can’t understand that, I feel sorry for you.
— Sorry? — the mother-in-law raised an eyebrow. — For me?
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