The times may be the same, but people are different.
“Tanya, have you got even a shred of conscience left?” Olga asked her younger sister, her voice trembling.
“Olya, you’re the last person to lecture me about conscience! Mum and I have done our bit—now it’s your turn to take care of her, with Roman. See how it feels to live with an elderly woman under the same roof. We’ve had enough!” Tanya practically spat the last words before slamming the phone down.
A sharp dial tone buzzed in Olga’s ear. She stood there in silence for a moment before whispering under her breath, “The nerve of her… Absolutely shameless.”
Olga and Tanya were sisters. Their parents, Gregory and Helen, had married young, while still at university. A year later, their first child—little Olya—was born. Life was hard in those early years; money was tight, barely enough for essentials.
A few years later, Gregory secured a modest two-bedroom flat through his employer, finally easing their struggles. Helen worked tirelessly too—not just at the local music school, but giving private lessons in the evenings. By the time Olga was ten, another daughter arrived—Tanya.
From the start, their parents doted on their youngest. Every whim, every demand was met without question. Tanya quickly learned to twist things to her advantage.
“Olya, you’re the elder one—let your sister have it!” Helen scolded, as another petty squabble unfolded.
“Mum, why does she need that notebook? I bought it for myself—she’s too young anyway!”
“But I want it!” Tanya wailed, tears streaming down her face.
Within moments, the treasured item was in her hands. Tanya refused to learn to read, refused speech therapy. Everything had to be her way—or there’d be screaming, door-slamming, guilt-tripping.
When Olga turned sixteen and Tanya six, tragedy struck. Gregory collapsed at work, dead from a sudden heart attack. At forty, he’d seemed invincible—now gone in an instant. The loss shattered Helen. Something inside her snapped; she withdrew, barely noticing anyone—even Olga—beyond her youngest daughter. Tanya, after all, was the image of her late father.
“Mum, my jeans are falling apart, and you keep buying Tanya new dresses! Her wardrobe’s bursting!” Olga protested.
“Olya, must you always complain? You’re practically grown—soon you’ll finish school, go to university, get a job. Then you can buy whatever you like! But Tanya… she’s just a little girl who lost her father. And how he adored her…” Helen wiped away a tear.
Olga left for university in another city.
“You know, Olya, I thought I’d miss you terribly. But honestly? It’s a relief. I want to redo Tanya’s room—turn it into a proper princess’s den!” Helen beamed.
“You’re throwing out my bed as soon as I leave? I was planning to visit on weekends…” Olga muttered, stung.
“Of course I am! That old thing? You can sleep on the fold-out when you visit. Tanya deserves her own space—she’s only starting school!”
In September, Olga left. By October, Helen had plunged into renovations.
“Olya, I should’ve sent you off sooner! Tanya’s desperate for her own room—we could’ve finished before term started,” Helen sighed over the phone.
“Mum, why even bother? The room was fine! Speaking of—I need money for Freshers’ Week. Can you transfer some?”
“Olya, if you want extras, earn them yourself! This renovation’s costing a fortune—I took out a loan. Then there’s Tanya’s new wardrobe, cinema trips, ice cream…”
“So she gets everything? Why am I different?”
“You’re an adult now. Time to stand on your own feet!” Helen snapped.
Olga rarely visited. She took weekend shifts, saved up, met Roman. They moved into a rented flat, married modestly, took on a mortgage.
“Sweetheart, I’d help with the mortgage, but you know how things are…” Helen fretted.
“How exactly, Mum?”
“Tanya’s education! Tutors cost a fortune!”
“I managed just fine without them!”
“Times were different then! Tanya wants to study translation—likely paid courses, so I must save. But you and Roman will manage. Think before you borrow next time!”
Olga didn’t argue. She knew—Tanya ruled their mother’s world now.
When Olga’s son, Ollie, was born, she called for help.
“Mum, could you visit, even briefly? Just to help with the baby?”
“Oh, Olya, I can’t possibly leave! Tanya’s revising for her A-levels—she needs meals, support…”
“I did my exams too—right after Dad died.”
“That was years ago! I want Tanya to have every advantage.”
Tanya graduated, married swiftly, moved in with Helen. Two years later, her son, Noah, was born. Helen worshipped him—no gift too extravagant, no wish denied. Olga kept her distance, biting her tongue.
“Mum, did you quit your job?” Olga asked one day.
“Yes. Noah’s at prep school now—someone must take him. And his grammar school’s across town!”
“That’s a twenty-minute bus ride! You’ll wear yourself out! Let me talk to Tanya—”
“No! He’s brilliant, Olya! Our local school’s beneath him. I’ll drive him myself.”
Years passed. Noah grew; Tanya and her husband bought a new house, prepared to leave. The stress broke Helen—she had a heart attack.
“Tanya, Mum needs care. Either take her or stay with her,” Olga demanded.
“Are you mad? We’ve just redecorated—do you know what that cost? Take her yourself!”
“So you’re abandoning her?”
“Abandoning? She’s got her own flat! Your turn now.”
“After everything she did for you?”
“Spare me the lecture!” Tanya hung up.
Helen returned from hospital to an empty home—Tanya’s family had already left.
“Olya, Tanya’s not answering… Are they alright?”
“They’re fine, Mum. Gone to Spain. Don’t fret—it’s bad for your heart.”
Olga and Roman took her in. Bit by bit, Helen saw the truth.
“Olya… I’ve failed you. Pushed you aside your whole life. And look at you—so strong, so kind. I’ll never forgive myself…”
“Mum, stop. What’s done is done! To take your mind off things—why not teach a few pupils again? You’re brilliant at it.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not. We’re glad you’re here.”
A fortnight later, Tanya called. Olga hoped—just maybe—remorse had struck.
“Olya. Is Mum staying with you for good?”
“Yes, Tanya. She’s recovering, even tutoring again—”
“Fine. Then I’ll rent out her flat. Noah’s tutors cost a fortune—”
“Tanya—”
The line went dead.
