Meghan Rose Allen – No One is Going To Steal Your Refrigerator


No One Is Going To Steal Your Refrigerator


I do not have to leave.  I do not have to leave my house if I don’t want to.  It is all a plot to get me out of my house so that the drug addicts and the welfare people can have my house and take my refrigerator with the automatic ice dispenser.

“No one is going to steal your refrigerator Ma,” Kostya sighs. “And speak English so Soo can understand.”

I cannot believe that Kostya has brought the girl with him again. She is awkward and skinny and dwarfed by my beautiful son. She wouldn’t even let me bring the korovai to the wedding or have the dancers.

“Ma, if you start with all the Ukrainian traditions, then Soo’s mom will want to do all the Korean ones.” Kostya had told me before his marriage. “We’re not doing any of it.”

“Maybe your mother would like to bring something with her?” the tiny girl whispers.  Kostya’s wife should be loud and buoyant, not timid like a church mouse. Why is she even here?

“Okay Ma, pick something so we can go.”

Is this the way a son speaks to his mother who raised him by herself and gave up her entire life for him? He speaks to her the way he speaks to a mongrel dog? Ordering his mother around? I thought I had a good and dutiful son.

“I’m here, aren’t I? I came all the way from Edmonton.”

Edmonton is not that far. A good and dutiful son who insists I leave my house and who orders me to take something would know what I wanted to take.

Kostya rolls his eyes. “Here.” He thrusts an disgusting, useless piece of clay at me.

This is what my son thinks I should take with me? I will throw it on the ground where it will shatter and startle them all. It hits the ground and rolls away intact. A shame.

“Mrs Koshowski?” The girl holds something out to me: a paper I put in the drawer with the spoons and the forks so I can see it every time I cook, every time I eat, translucent as a dried leaf. Maybe the girl is not as expendable and as stupid as I first thought.

“Come.” I give the girl her first smile, tripping over my English words, “I will go now.”

Meghan Rose Allen has a PhD in Mathematics and, until recently, was a cog in the military-industrial complex. She now lives in New Brunswick where she focuses on fiction and parenting full-time. She is always available at her website:


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