My stepdad always made a big deal of calling himself the ‘head of the family’, but when his ‘special gift’ for my mum’s birthday turned out to be a packet of toilet paper, I knew it was time to return the favour. And, let’s just say, that gift soon came in handy for him.
My stepfather, Oleg, loved to remind us all that he was the breadwinner in the house throughout our childhood. Every time he sat down to dinner, he would start with his usual phrase:
You’re all lucky I keep a roof over your head,’ he would say and chuckle. He also often said this while reclining in his old armchair. It was his favourite thing to do.
My mum, Elena, always nodded in response. She was the kind of woman who avoided conflict at all costs. She didn’t grow up in the fifties, but her upbringing was very different from ours. She made silence almost an art form.
As her children, we – my siblings, Anya, Lisa and Anton – saw her wanting to say something, but she kept quiet. At the same time, we certainly didn’t think Oleg was the ‘king of the castle’ or a ‘real man,’ as he called himself.
Yes, he paid all the bills while we were growing up, and we were grateful for that. But that didn’t give him the right to treat our mum like a servant and think he was above the rest of us.
We tried for years to get our mum to leave him, but to no avail.
Eventually we all moved away when we reached adulthood, but my sisters and I continued to visit Mum often. Anton lived on the other side of the country, but he called every couple of days.
And yet we were worried about her.
I felt that our visits were not enough to really understand what was going on in the house. I often sat alone in my flat and wondered if Mum would ever be able to leave this man, and what would have to happen for her to finally break free of her conditioned chains.
And so, this year was the turning point. This time Oleg had gone too far. A few days before his mum’s birthday, he wouldn’t stop bragging about his ‘special gift’.
This gift will blow her away,’ he said at dinner, grinning smugly.
I wanted to believe that this time he’d decided to be respectful to Mom. But I knew in my heart that Oleg was still Oleg, and people like that don’t change.
Mum’s birthday came, and, of course, my sisters and I came and sat in the living room. Oleg was literally glowing, and mum was looking at him with hope in her eyes.
When she opened our presents, Oleg handed her a huge, beautifully wrapped box. He smiled, and Mum’s face lit up with joy as she carefully untied the ribbon.
‘Oleg, you shouldn’t have…’ she said quietly.
Yes, I did. Come on, open it,’ he insisted, leaning forward in his chair.
She slowly unwrapped the package, savouring the moment… until she saw what was inside was toilet paper. A 12-roll package. Four-ply. Family size.
Mum blinked in confusion.
She’s so soft. Like you! – Oleg declared, slapping himself on the knee and laughing loudly. – And look, four layers, like your four kids. It’s perfect, isn’t it?
Mum laughed awkwardly, but I noticed her eyes moisten. My sisters and I looked at each other. This wasn’t just a bad gift – it was cruel.
We couldn’t take it anymore. We had to do something.
Two days later, our plan began to materialise. Oleg loved two things: being ‘in charge’ and free food. So we invited him to a ‘family dinner’ at a Chinese restaurant, which he always spoke admiringly about.
Anya, my younger sister, suggested the idea.
We’ll do it at his favourite place. He won’t suspect a thing,’ she said, grinning.
Lisa, the oldest of us and the most practical, raised an eyebrow.
And then what happens?
Don’t worry, we’ll sort everything out,’ Anya replied with a mysterious smile.
We chose the date and made sure that Oleg would not miss the dinner.
The dinner is on us,’ Anya said in a sweet voice.
Oleg stuck out his chest.
Well, finally someone decided to pay for me. I’m glad your adult life has opened your eyes to how lucky you are to have me!
We rolled our eyes to ourselves.
The restaurant was full that night. Shiny red lanterns hung above the ceiling, creating a cosy illumination.
The food on the neighbouring tables looked appetising, and I noticed how hungry Oleg was already as we sat down at our table.
When are your mum and Lisa coming? – he asked, wrinkling his nose toward the front door.
Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon. In the meantime, we can order something,’ I suggested, nodding to Anya.
She agreed and started listing the dishes we had specifically planned to order: Szechuan beef, chicken in gunbao sauce, and the spiciest mapo tofu on the menu.
Oleg made his usual order, but we knew our plan would work.
Each dish looked like a masterpiece – rich red and brown hues, fresh herbs and enough chilli peppers to bring a grown man to tears.
Anya’s eyes lit up as the waiter finished arranging the dishes on the table.