Choosing to Vacation Alone at the Beach

Advertisements

— You’re going to the beach soon, right? To your… boarding house? — Marina babbled. — You’re going alone, if I remember correctly?

— Alone, — I confirmed, a chill of unease creeping up my spine. I had waited so long for this vacation. Not just waited—I had earned it by saving every penny from my librarian’s salary at the regional archive, denying myself small indulgences. Two weeks of silence, salty air, and no demands from anyone—this was my dream, my personal Everest that I had climbed all year.

— Olya, please, take my kids with you! Pasha and Lenka. Huh? It would be so good for them! Doctors say the sea is the best remedy for their immune system. And we can’t make it this year, you know how it is with Vitya’s job being overwhelming, and I can’t handle them alone, — Marina rushed out in one breath.

I fell silent, gazing out the window at the gray wall of the neighboring building. I envisioned this ‘vacation.’ Endless cries of “Aunt Olya, can I have that?” “Pasha covered me in sand!” “I don’t want this porridge!” “When are we going on the rides?” Instead of the soothing sound of waves, there would be shrieks and arguments. Instead of reading my book on a sunbed, I would be vigilantly supervising two uncontrollable forces in the water. Rather than peaceful dinners, I would be struggling to feed two picky eaters.

— No, — I said quietly but firmly.

— What do you mean, ‘no’? — confusion pierced Marina’s voice. — Olya, you’re misunderstanding. I’m not asking you to pay for them! We’ll cover everything—the tickets and spending money. All you have to do is keep an eye on them. You’re going to be alone anyway; it’ll be fun!

“Fun,” — I repeated mentally. In Marina’s terms, that meant chaos, destruction, and a complete loss of personal space.

— Marina, I’m going to relax. Alone. I want to be alone. So I won’t take the kids.

There was a deafening silence on the line. I could almost physically feel the shift of emotions on my sister-in-law’s face from confusion to hurt, and then to indignant anger.

— So you’re just refusing your own niece and nephew? Your family? — Marina’s voice trembled. — I thought we were close. I’m asking you to help from the bottom of my heart, and you… I’m not sending them to the ends of the earth! Olya, are you even hearing yourself? This is pure selfishness! You don’t have kids, so you can’t understand what it’s like!

Her last remark struck below the belt, familiar and thus no less painful. Yes, my husband Igor and I didn’t have children. Years of trying, doctors, hopes, and disappointments had left a huge void in my soul, which I had learned to cover with calmness and work. And my in-laws, especially Marina and my mother-in-law, consistently poked at this sore spot, testing if it had healed.

— Marina, my decision is final. I’m going to the beach alone, and you don’t need to impose your kids on me. I’m sorry, I have a lot of work. — I pressed the hang-up button before another wave of accusations could come through.

My heart raced. My hands trembled slightly. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm within. I knew this was just the beginning. The phone call was merely the first shot in a war that had just been declared.

In the evening, when Igor came home from work, I already knew he was aware of what happened. He entered the kitchen looking as if he carried a heavy load of universal sorrow. Igor was an engineer, a solid and calm man who absolutely despised conflicts, especially family ones. He’d do anything to maintain peace at home.

— Mom called, — he said instead of greeting me, sitting down at the table.

I silently placed a plate of buckwheat and meatballs in front of him. I didn’t ask what Mom said; I knew already.

— Olya, maybe you overreacted? — he started cautiously, poking at his plate with a fork. — It’s just kids… family. Marina says they dreamed of going to the sea.

— Igor, we’ve been through this before, — I replied wearily, sitting down opposite him. — Remember last New Year? “Oh, Olya, just sit with them for an hour while we visit some friends.” And where were you? Came home at four in the morning. I spent the night trying to separate Pasha and Lenka while cleaning juice off the carpet and listening to their tantrums. And what about the May holidays? “Olya, take them to the dacha for some fresh air.” And what did that end with? A broken apple tree, originally planted by your father, and complaints from neighbors that they trampled all their tulips.

Igor fell silent, looking guilty. All of it was true. His nephews were energetic children whom their parents, Marina and Viktor, could neither care for nor discipline, pushing this responsibility onto anyone who happened to be nearby. And that was usually the ever-obliging Aunt Olya.

— But it’s just a vacation… — he mumbled. — Two weeks. They might be calmer at the beach?

— Igor, I saved up for this vacation for a year. A YEAR! I want to lie on the beach and listen to the sea, not to cries. I want to sleep until noon instead of jumping up at seven to take someone for breakfast. I want to go on an excursion in the mountains, not to a dolphinarium for the tenth time. This is my vacation. Mine. Not ours with your nephews. Why can’t anyone understand this?

— Mom says you’re distancing yourself from the family, — Igor sighed. — That since we… well… — he hesitated, — you should help those who have kids.

I felt a simmering fury building again within me. Again, that reproach wrapped in false concern.

— And why doesn’t your mom ask why Marina, who has two kids, has never offered to help me? When I had pneumonia, who brought me broth? My colleague, pensioner Anna Lvovna. And where was your caring sister? She called to ask if I could check Pasha’s homework via Skype because she was “too busy.” When our car broke down and we needed money for repairs, who lent us? My father. And your brother Viktor said they had “a mortgage and it’s tough right now.” They remember we’re family only when they need something from me. And I’m exhausted by that, Igor. Dead tired.

I spoke softly, almost emotionlessly, but every word was loaded with bitterness built over years. Igor lifted his eyes to meet mine. They held not anger but confusion. He loved me, but he was also a product of his family, where “to concede,” “to be understanding,” and “not to cause trouble” were held as supreme virtues.

— I understand, — he said finally. — You’re right. It’s just… it’s going to cause a scandal.

— Let it be, — I cut him off. — I don’t want to live to make everyone comfortable but myself.

The phone on the nightstand in the hallway rang again. Judging by the insistence, it was my mother-in-law, Svetlana Ivanovna, who had shifted into full attack mode. Igor flinched. I stood, walked to the phone, and simply unplugged it from the wall.

— Today we’re taking a break from relatives, — I announced and returned to the table. — Eat while it’s still warm.

Igor looked at his wife, at her drawn, determined face, and for the first time in a long while, he saw not the quiet, compliant Olya but a strong, unfamiliar woman. And strangely, he liked this version much better.

The next few days turned into a positional war. Marina stopped calling but began posting photos of her ‘poor pale children’ who were ‘deprived of summer health’ in the family chat. Svetlana Ivanovna, realizing her direct calls were being ignored, switched to surprise visits.

She showed up at my door on Saturday morning, unannounced. She carried a bag of jam—a traditional piece of her “polite visits,” which always ended in a moral scolding.

— Olesya, I happened to be passing by and thought I’d pop in, — she chirped while walking into the apartment. — Is Igor working? Well, good, we need to have a woman-to-woman talk.

I silently led her to the kitchen, knowing a conversation was unavoidable.

— I brought you some raspberry jam, good for colds, — my mother-in-law began, placing the jar on the table. — Since the sea is off the table for you, at least you can stock up on vitamins.

The jab was too obvious to react to. I merely set the kettle on.

— Olya, I don’t understand your stubbornness, — Svetlana Ivanovna began without any further preamble, shifting her tone from syrupy to stern. — What pride are you showing? Marina is your husband’s sister. Her children are your blood, you could say. How can you refuse them something so small?

— Svetlana Ivanovna, to me this is not small, — I replied calmly, getting out cups. — To me, this is the only vacation I’ve had in years that I want to spend in peace.

— Peace! — scoffed my mother-in-law. — You’ve found quite a value, haven’t you? You have peace already. This entire apartment echoes with silence. No children, no worries. Live and rejoice. Others your age are already babysitting grandchildren, and you’re turning your nose up at your own nephews. That’s not good, Olya. It’s selfish. God sees everything. He doesn’t give children to those like you because you have no heart.

I froze with the kettle in my hand. The air in the kitchen thickened. That last phrase hit hard, knocking the ground out from beneath me. It was an outstanding, monstrous cruelty delivered with the demeanor of a preacher instructing a wayward soul toward the righteous path.

Slowly, I placed the kettle down. Turning to my mother-in-law, my face was pale, but my eyes were steady and cold.

— Please leave, — I said very softly.

— What? — Svetlana Ivanovna was taken aback, not expecting such a reaction. She was used to me crying or withdrawing after her moral lectures.

— Leave. My home. Right now.

— How dare you! — my mother-in-law shot back, her cheeks flushing crimson. — You’re kicking me, your husband’s mother, out of your house?! I…

— You came into my house and insulted me in the lowest possible way, — my voice began to grow stronger. — You have been hurting me for years, masked as care for family. I tolerated it. But there’s a limit. My limit has been reached. Take your jam and leave. And do not come back without an invitation.

Svetlana Ivanovna stood frozen, mouth agape, looking at me as if I were a ghost. She had never seen me like this. In her worldview, a quiet, guilty daughter-in-law could not speak so boldly.

— I’ll tell Igor everything! — she finally found her voice, grabbing her bag from the table. — He’ll find out how you treat his mother! We’ll see what he says!

— Please tell him everything, — I nodded, opening the front door for her. — Just be sure to mention why I asked you to leave. Goodbye, Svetlana Ivanovna.

When the door slammed shut behind my mother-in-law, I trembled. I slid down the wall in the hallway, silently crying. These were not tears of hurt. They were tears of liberation. I had broken the dam that had held back my feelings for years, and now let the flood come. I no longer cared.

Igor came home looking stormy. The conversation with his mother had obviously happened, and it had been intense. I waited for him in the kitchen, bracing myself for the worst. I mentally ran through scenarios: he would demand apologies, take his mother’s side, or say that I was destroying the family.

He entered, dropped his keys on the nightstand, and walked into the kitchen. He sat across from me and stared without speaking, fixed to one spot.

— Mom said you kicked her out, — he finally spoke in a dull tone.

— I asked her to leave, — I corrected him. — After she said that God doesn’t give me children because I have no heart.

Igor flinched, looking up at me. His eyes were filled with pain.

— She… really said that?

— Word for word, — I confirmed. — And it wasn’t in the heat of the argument. It was said coldly, like a diagnosis. Like a sentence. And you know what’s the scariest thing, Igor? I think she really believes that. And so does Marina. They all think I’m some kind of defective, flawed person. And now since I haven’t fulfilled my “main female duty,” I’m obligated to cater to their needs. To be a free babysitter, an ATM, a shoulder for tears. But I can’t have my own opinions or desires.

I was speaking, and the words I had feared to voice even to myself flowed freely. I could see Igor’s expression change. Confusion turned to shame, and then to anger. But this anger was directed not at me.

— I will talk to them, — he said firmly, clenching his fists. — I’ll go to them tomorrow. To both Mom and Marina.

— Don’t, Igor. It won’t change anything. They won’t understand. They’ll just decide that I’ve turned you against them.

— Let them think what they want! — He slammed his palm on the table. — But they don’t have the right to talk to you like that! Nobody has that right! I… I should have done this sooner. Long ago. I’ve been trying to be good for everyone. A good son, a good brother. And in the end, I’m a bad husband. I’m sorry, Olya.

He stood, walked to me, and embraced me tightly, as if afraid I might fall apart. And I realized that this scandal, this storm I had stirred, was not only necessary for me. It was needed for him too. To finally wake up and see what was happening to our lives, to our family.

The next day, Igor actually went to visit his family. I had no idea what he said. When he returned, he looked tired but calm.

— I told them that if they didn’t stop, they wouldn’t be part of our family anymore, — he reported briefly. — And that you’re going to the sea alone. And it’s not up for discussion.

The phone was silent. The family chat fell quiet as well. A deafening, tense silence descended.

A week before the vacation, something I didn’t expect happened. Viktor, Marina’s husband, called. His voice was sheepish and somehow hunted.

— Olya, hello. I’m sorry to bother you, — he began. — We need to talk with you both—Marina and you. It’s important.

We met at a café. Marina sat with a stone face, staring into her cup of cold coffee. Viktor looked terrible. He was pale, shadows under his eyes.

— In short, — he began without looking up. — The thing is not just about the vacation. In fact, it’s not about it at all. I have big problems.

And he told us. He recounted how a few months earlier, he had gotten involved with some dubious people, investing a large sum of money into a “high-profit project” that turned out to be a regular Ponzi scheme. He not only lost all their savings but also accrued enormous debts at high interest. And now these people were demanding their money back. With threats.

— Marina wanted to send the kids to you for a reason, — he continued in a dull voice. — We were scared. We’re afraid for them. We thought at least they would be safe. And about the money for their tickets… we wanted to take it from what was left, just to create the appearance that everything was okay.

Marina sat silently. There was no trace of her usual arrogance on her face. Only fear and despair.

— Why didn’t you say so sooner? — Igor asked.

— I was ashamed, — Viktor forced out. — I thought I could manage it on my own. Didn’t work. They gave me a deadline—two weeks. If I don’t return the money, they promised… well, you understand.

I looked at them and felt no schadenfreude. I felt a strange, cold emptiness. All this beach talk, all their manipulations, and insults had merely been smoke screens covering someone else’s foolishness and lies.

— And how much do you need? — I asked.

Viktor named a sum. I was mentally flabbergasted. It was three times the cost of my vacation. All the money Igor and I had saved for a “rainy day” over the years.

— We’re selling the car, — Marina spoke quietly for the first time. — But that won’t be enough. And we can’t sell the apartment that quickly… Olya, Igor, I know I’ve acted terribly. I’m sorry. But I’m panicking. I don’t know what to do.

We sat there together, four people connected by kinship and shared suffering. But I felt like an outsider at this gathering of despair. My grudge hadn’t vanished. It had just been overshadowed by a larger catastrophe.

In the evening, Igor and I sat in the kitchen for a long time.

— We need to help them, — he said. — It’s my sister. And the kids… they aren’t at fault.

— We don’t have that kind of money, — I replied. — Well, we do. But it’s all we have. And if we give it away, we will be left with nothing.

— I know. But what else can we do?

I looked out of the window at the night city. My vacation, my hard-earned sea, my two weeks of peace… everything seemed so distant and unimportant in light of the real threat hanging over my husband’s family. But something inside me resisted. The same new, firm conviction that had been born in me on the day of the argument with my mother-in-law.

— Igor, — I said slowly, picking my words. — I understand your desire to help. But let’s look at this soberly. Viktor got himself into this with his stupidity and greed. Marina was covering for him and trying to solve the problem at my expense, manipulating and insulting me. If we hand over all our money to them now, what will happen next? They will think they can always do this. That we are their lifeboat, always at hand.

— But what do you suggest? To leave them?

— No. Not to abandon them. But not to solve all their problems. They’re selling the car. Good. Let them sell. Viktor has a garage passed down from his father. Let him sell that too. Marina has gold jewelry given to her for all occasions. Let her take it to a pawnshop. Yes, they will lose comfort. Yes, they will need to tighten their belts. But this will be their lesson. Harsh but fair.

I spoke, and Igor listened with a frown. He saw the logic in my words but found it difficult to accept.

— And if it’s not enough? — he asked.

— Then, — I paused. — Then we will lend them the missing amount. Not gift it, but lend it. With a written agreement. A clear repayment schedule. Let it be a little at a time, a thousand per month. But they will have to return every penny. So they understand the value of money. And the price of their mistakes.

Igor was silent for a long time. He paced the kitchen from corner to corner. Then he stopped and looked at me.

— What about your vacation? — he asked.

— My vacation will happen, — I said firmly. — I will not touch my money for it. This is not up for discussion. This is mine. And I deserve it.

Viktor and Marina accepted our terms. They were demoralized and humiliated but had no choice. Over the week, they sold everything they could. The car, the garage, Marina’s jewelry. The amount turned out to be substantial, but it still wasn’t enough. Igor and I lent them the remainder, formalizing everything with a notary. When Marina signed the receipt, she didn’t lift her eyes.

On the eve of my departure, I was packing my suitcase. Silence filled the apartment. The phone had been silent for two weeks. My mother-in-law had fallen ill with high blood pressure after learning about her son-in-law’s debts and had stopped all communication. Marina was preoccupied with her problems.

When the suitcase was nearly packed, someone knocked on the door. Standing there was Marina. Alone. She looked thinner and wearier.

— I… I just wanted to say… thank you. And… I’m sorry. For everything. I was foolish.

I looked at her and didn’t know what to say. The word “sorry” had been spoken, yet something held me back from accepting it. Too much had been said and done. The wound was too deep.

— I hope things get better for you, — I said instead. It was polite but detached, a phrase for a stranger.

Marina nodded.

— I hope you have a good vacation, — she said and quickly turned to leave down the stairs.

I shut the door. I felt neither joy nor relief. Only bitterness and fatigue. I understood that nothing would be the same anymore. A rift had opened between us that no amount of apologies could heal. My husband’s family, which had always appeared to me as a singular, monolithic clan, was actually a tangle of contradictions, grievances, and selfishness. And I, Olya, no longer wanted to be a part of that.

The next day, I sat in a train carriage taking me south. Fields, forests, small stations passed by outside the window. I took out a book but didn’t read it. I stared out of the window, lost in thought. I thought about how sometimes, to save yourself, you need to destroy the world around you. Or at least the world that suffocates you.

Two days later, I sent Igor a picture. An empty beach at dawn, turquoise sea, and my bare feet on the wet sand. The caption was short: “It’s peaceful here.”

Igor looked at the picture and smiled. He understood that his wife hadn’t just gone on vacation. She had left to find herself. And he was confident that she would. As for the rest, they would manage together. But on new terms. Her terms. And that felt right.

Leave a Comment Cancel reply