The Crocodile Bag
Saturday was quiet. Outside, a fine drizzle fell in irregular streamers through the window, and inside the apartment, the air smelled of freshly brewed tea and that special Saturday silence, when you can finally relax after a hard week of work. Nika settled into the old armchair—the same one they had inherited from her grandmother, with its worn seat and faded armrests—and hugged her favorite mug. The ceramic warmed her palms.
This is it, happiness, she thought, inhaling the scent of the tea. No one else, no talk of work, money, or “it’s about time”… Just her, hot tea, and a new TV show on her tablet.
In recent months, these quiet hours had become her salvation. Roma, her husband, had been out of work for three months, and home had become a battleground for unspoken grievances. He spent entire days in front of the computer, sometimes playing shooter, sometimes watching soccer, sometimes supposedly looking for a job, although most of the time, the screen displayed websites that had nothing to do with employment.
“Honey!” Roma’s voice burst into the silence like a firecracker. “You won’t believe this! Mom chose her own anniversary present!”
He burst into the room, beaming with joy like a schoolboy who’d just gotten an A. Nika slowly looked away from the screen and at her husband. Something in his tone unsettled her.
“A crocodile-skin handbag!” Roma continued, oblivious to her apprehension. “I’ve been dreaming about it for so long!”
Nika carefully placed the cup on the table and narrowed her eyes.
A crocodile-skin handbag? Did she decide on her own, or was it suggested to her? And, by the way, didn’t she think the nature activists would be outraged?
Her sarcasm went unnoticed by Roma, as if she were talking to a deaf person.
“That’s my mom! She deserved it!”
“Deserved it?” Nika felt a tightness in her gut. “Come on, tell me, what exactly did she do to deserve that? I’m not denying that she raised you. But I’m not on that list; I have my own parents. And how much did that gift cost?”
Roma coughed awkwardly and looked away.
“Oh, it’s nothing really… About five of your salaries.”
Nika felt the floor slip beneath her feet.
“Five of my salaries?” she repeated, grimacing.
“Well, yes, it’s Nile crocodile skin, not some kind of synthetic leather,” Roma explained as if nothing had happened.
“Then why are you telling me this? I’m not interested at all.”
Roma shifted uneasily and looked away completely:
“Well, I… I asked for a loan for the bag.”
“A loan?” Nika’s voice became dangerously calm.
Yes. Thank you so much to my sister Lenka; she helped me. She works at the bank and arranged everything very quickly…
“And whose name is the loan in?”
Nika was beginning to realize something terrible.
“Well, whose name is it?… Yours, of course. I just took your documents…”
Nika stood up silently and slowly approached her husband. For some reason, she suddenly felt like killing him. Or at least hitting him with something heavy.
“So, Roma, you’ve been out of work for three months. You decided to buy your mother a gift, but I have to pay for it?”
Roma involuntarily took a step back, realizing the situation was heating up:
“Nika, well, it just happened… You’re the only one in the family who works…
I’m working! And instead of looking for a job, instead of supporting the family like normal husbands do, you stay home like a schoolboy on vacation, thinking I don’t have enough problems without your loan.”
“Nika, don’t worry! It’s just a loan, nothing serious…”
At that moment, the mother-in-law, Nadezhda Ivanovna, entered the room on one of her regular visits. She came, as always, “to visit the children,” but in reality, she always brought a lot of complaints and comments.
“What’s all this noise?” she asked, entering with the air of the lady of the house.
“Oh, nothing, everything’s fine, Mom. Nika’s just a little upset about the loan,” Roma complained.
“Well, why are you so angry?” “What do you mean?” asked the mother-in-law, sitting in the armchair, crossing her arms. “It’s a family matter, and it’s a mutual duty.”
“What do you mean? Please explain it to me,” asked Nika.
“Your duty is to choose expensive gifts for you, and mine is to pay for them?”
“What’s wrong with that? You work and have a good salary,” said the mother-in-law calmly.
I understand perfectly. Great. And what about Roma? What does he do?
Roma is my son and, by the way, your husband. And you should support him.”
“Husband?” laughed Nika. “Is that what you call a husband? A man who takes out a loan in his wife’s name because he can’t and won’t do anything? He’s taking advantage of me like a parasite!”
“Nika!” tried to object Roma. “But that’s not right! Why are you humiliating me? After all, we’re family!”
“Well,” Nika said, pursing her lips, “I’ll take care of it myself tomorrow. And
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