“And the peas? And proper canned meat?”
“Linda, we buy what we actually eat,” Emily said, trying to keep her voice even. “And could you maybe lower your voice a little? It’s Saturday…”
“What does Saturday have to do with anything? Decent people get up early. They don’t lounge around until noon!” Linda shouted toward the hallway. “Peter! Get up! Breakfast time!”
Peter emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear. His bare, hairy stomach hung out as he scratched himself and yawned.
“What’s all the yelling for this early?” he grumbled. “My head’s killing me. Let me sleep.”
“Peter, could you please put something on?” Emily asked, immediately looking away from the unpleasant sight.
“Why should I? I’ll walk around the house however I want. It’s hot.”
“This is not your house.”
“Emily, what kind of tone is that?” Daniel cut in at once. “Sorry, Uncle Peter. She just didn’t sleep well on the couch.”
“Well, she’ll get used to it,” Peter said generously, waving a hand. “So, is there anything to eat?”
By the end of the first week, Emily felt less like she was living in her own apartment and more like she had been trapped in a chaotic dormitory. Katie had practically taken over the bathroom, hanging her clothes everywhere. Peter smoked out on the balcony despite repeated objections. Linda, meanwhile, decided the living room needed “improvement” and shifted the furniture around to match her personal taste.
“Linda, could you please not move everything?” Emily asked carefully.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be silly. It was uncomfortable before. Now the TV is much easier to see, and the couch is in the right place.”
“But the old arrangement worked better for me.”
“You’ll adjust. Young people adapt quickly. It’s harder for us older folks.”
On the eighth day, Emily came home from work and discovered that all her makeup and skincare products had vanished from the bathroom.
“Katie, have you seen my cosmetics?”
“Oh, those?” Katie said with a careless flick of her hand. “I tried your mascara. It’s great. And that cream is awesome too, though there isn’t much left now.”
“Not much left? It was almost full.”
“Yeah, well, I let my friends try it too. Don’t be stingy, Aunt Emily. Beauty requires sacrifice.”
“That was expensive makeup.”
“Then it’s a good thing I appreciated it,” Katie laughed. “Buy more if it’s that nice.”
On the tenth day, Katie brought over her friend Ashley, a dyed blonde in a miniskirt with so much makeup on her face it looked like a mask. The two of them settled into the living room and stayed there until three in the morning, playing music, laughing, and talking as if no one else lived there.
“Katie, girls, please keep it down,” Emily said, coming out to them in her robe. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”
“Aunt Emily, don’t be such a buzzkill,” Ashley giggled, looking the owner of the apartment up and down with open judgment. “We’re young. We’re supposed to have fun. You only live once.”
“She’s just jealous because we’re young and pretty, and she’s already…” Katie whispered loudly, circling a finger near her temple.
“I’m only thirty-two!”
“See? Already at that age,” Katie said with a snort. “After thirty, a woman is basically finished. Ashley, let’s go see Brian downstairs instead. He’s got a better vibe, and there won’t be some fussy old lady whining at us.”
“Is he cute?” Ashley asked with interest.
“He’s okay. Divorced. And the best part—no annoying relatives.”
They flung the door open and left. At three in the morning, they came back drunk, singing at the top of their lungs and clattering through the building in their heels, waking everyone within earshot.
“Daniel, this cannot go on,” Emily said the next morning, catching her husband in the hallway as he was getting ready for work. “They’ve turned our apartment into a public hallway!”
“Just put up with it a little longer. What am I supposed to say? Get out? They’re family. That would be rude.”
“And what’s happening here is polite? Yesterday your aunt ate the cake I bought for my coworker’s birthday. I had to run around at eight at night looking for a bakery!”
“So what? We bought another one. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that you always defend them. And I’m nobody here. I feel like a stranger in my own home.”
“Emily, why are you getting so worked up? They’re relatives. My mother called yesterday asking whether Aunt Linda had settled in all right. What was I supposed to tell her—that we threw them out onto the street?”
At that moment, a tremendous crash came from the kitchen, followed by shouting. They rushed in and found Peter standing beside an overturned pot. A huge batch of borscht had spilled across the floor, red soup spreading in every direction. Broken pieces of a plate lay scattered everywhere.
“Oops,” he muttered, steadying himself against the wall. “Emily, clean that up quick. I’m late for work.”
“Clean up your own mess!”
“How dare you speak to your elders that way?” Linda exclaimed, standing there in a stained bathrobe. “Daniel, your wife has completely forgotten her manners!”
“Emily, apologize to Peter,” Daniel said quietly, but with a firmness that made it worse.
“What? Why should I apologize?”
“For being rude. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Without another word, Emily picked up the mop. Her hands were shaking with anger as she began scrubbing someone else’s mess from her own kitchen floor.
Two days later, another arrival made the situation even more complicated.