Help your son with the business!

The retired engineer sat at the kitchen table, slowly stirring his cooling tea with a spoon. Victor, his son, nervously sorted through a stack of papers with the logo of his carpentry workshop, 'Victor His wife, Hanna, paced the room, tightly coiled with discontent, like a spring. Her heels tapped out an irritated rhythm on the linoleum. By the window, trying to remain inconspicuous, sat Victor's sister Lene, watching the brewing storm with concern.- Nicholas, Hanna began, enunciating each word. - Are you thinking about the loan from the commercial bank? About your securities? - The daughter-in-law contemptuously waved her hand towards the old sideboard, where indeed a bundle of old Soviet bonds was kept by the man as a memento. - Don't you want to help us? More specifically, help your son?- Hanna, please don't do that. Dad has already helped, investing his savings in the purchase of that imported machine.

 Victor sighed, not taking his eyes off the bills. - The one that broke in three months! - Jeanne retorted, her cheeks flushed with anger. - And what now? The order payment has been compromised, and the client is threatening to sue! We have no money to pay the rent for the workshop! And us? We're in a two-bedroom with your sister and a child in our arms! Nicholas raised his eyes to his daughter-in-law. In them, one could read exhaustion and deep resentment for what he had heard. - Jeanne, I'm not a magician. My pension is only twenty-two thousand. The money I invested was my last savings for a rainy day, which has come. I have nothing else. Do you understand? Nothing... I even sold the dacha for your business... - A rainy day? - Jeanne scoffed contemptuously. - A rainy day is when your son, your blood, is drowning in huge debts, and you stand on the shore watching it with complete calmness! You have this apartment... a three-room one... - And what do you want from me? - Nicholas frowned. - There are plenty of things that can be done - rent out one of the rooms,

"Take a loan against the property, finally sell it!" the woman replied in a businesslike tone. "Hanna, Dad lived here his whole life! This is his home..." Lene intervened in the conversation. "And our home?" the daughter-in-law interrupted her, turning around. "Our life? Our future? Did you think about that? How will we live? Come on, we will sell the two-room apartment, take a one-room apartment for ourselves, and you will move out?" Her voice broke into a scream. Nicholas suddenly stood up, banging his cup on the saucer. "Enough! Stop yelling! This is my house! I live here! I am not obligated to sell it or mortgage it! You are not the mistress here, so don’t you dare tell me how to manage my property!" Hanna stepped toward her father-in-law, her face twisted with anger. "Not obligated? Who is? Who, Nicholas? Who should help your son with the business if not you?!" – she shouted the last phrase as if throwing an accusation. – "Do you even see how hard he works? Do you see how exhausted he is? And what does he get instead of support – just your excuses?!" Victor covered his face.

With his hands in shame. He felt uncomfortable about his wife's words. Lene jumped up, already ready to stand up for her father. - Help your son with his business! – Hanna repeated this phrase, already quieter, but with icy fury, pointing a finger at Victor, who seemed broken. – It is your duty as a father, or do you only think about yourself until the grave? Nicholas turned pale. He looked not at Hanna, but at his son. At his hunched back, at the gray hair appearing at his temples far too early. Victor did not look at anyone. - My duty... - Nicholas quietly said, his voice lacking anger and resentment, only infinite exhaustion and bitterness. - My duty was to raise him, educate him, and teach him to work honestly. I managed all of this perfectly. I helped him when I could, but I am not an ATM, Hanna, and not an insurance fund for all his... failures... I cannot constantly raise him from his knees. He is already mature beyond his years and should handle all problems on his own, rather than running to his elderly father.

Which perhaps has only a couple of weeks left to live. The man slowly walked to the sideboard, opened it, took out a stack of those "valuable papers." - Here are my savings. My safety cushion. The father tossed the stack on the table in front of Victor. The papers were scattered. - Sell them to collectors. Maybe it'll cover a few days of rent for your workshop. Hanna looked at the documents in surprise, then at Nicholas. Nicholas's disappointment flickered in her eyes, but her usual demanding nature immediately replaced it. - This is ridiculous, Nicholas. We need real money and substantial amounts, not this... - the woman spread her hands. - I don't have it! - The older man's voice trembled. - No! Do you understand? Only this apartment, and I... I'm not ready to lose it. After these words, Victor finally looked up. His eyes were red. - Dad... I... I didn't ask you to sell your apartment. I don't know what Hanna... - he looked confusedly at his wife. - What was I supposed to do? - Hanna hissed, but already without her previous strength. - Watch as everything is falling apart. I thought I could reach out to your father, but I see there’s no point. Lene cautiously approached the table, deciding to intervene in the tense conversation. - Dad, Victor... Maybe there are other options to find money? I can give a part of my salary... A small amount, but I can. Or... or I can talk to the school principal?

They are planning to renovate the gym, maybe they need carpentry work? After all, it will bring in some money. - Thank you, Lene. This... this is at least something... – Victor weakly smiled at his sister in gratitude. - If you could say a word for me, I would be very grateful. Hanna fell silent, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze darted from her husband to her father-in-law, to those pitiful pieces of paper on the table, to Lene. At that moment, Nicholas's cellphone rang. He answered the call, and his face brightened. - Good, good, thank you! - The man said with a satisfied smile. After hanging up, he looked at Victor with joy, then cleared his throat and said in a steady voice: - I have...My former neighbor from the country just called me, asking if you could help him and make a fence for him. - But you said I could? - The man perked up instantly. - I can make a picket fence. - Of course, I'll send him your number, he’ll call you, - Nicholas fussed, pleased with how everything turned out. With the help of relatives and their orders, Victor managed to stabilize his financial situation somehow. However, Hanna was still dissatisfied that Nicholas did not sell his three-room apartment. - He could have helped. Why does he need such accommodation? He lives alone anyway, - she grumbled. - Hanna, don't start! - Victor sharply snapped at her in such moments, irritated by his wife's boldness. The woman rolled her eyes and sulked for several days because he didn’t support her.