З життя
6 годин роздумів: Чому невістка була такою ворожою до нас?
6 років мене мучило питання: Чому невістка була такою ворожою до нас?
Я не спілкувалася з сином Тарасом шість років. Навіть не була запрошена на його весілля. Я знала, що в цьому винна моя невістка Софія. Не розуміла чому, але через неї страждала дуже.
З чоловіком у нас троє синів, а в нього є ще син від першого шлюбу. Звісно, я люблю всіх своїх дітей, але Тарас, найстарший, був настільки бажаним, що залишився моєю гордістю.
Шість років тому Тарас зустрів майбутню дружину. З самого початку все пішло не так. Перше враження від неї було скоріше позитивним. Перший її візит до нашого дому пройшов без проблем. Проблеми почалися з другого візиту. Ми сиділи за столом, коли вона раптово сказала Тарасові: «Ти так погано вдягаєшся. Я подарую тобі гарний одяг». Він відповів: «Не потрібно нічого мені дарувати, у кожного свій смак». Я стала на його сторону. Софія насупилася, але промовчала.
Наступного дня Тарас поцілував мене на прощання, а Софія навіть не підійшла. Я не усвідомила, що саме сталося. Лише пізніше зрозуміла, що одним коментарем накликала на себе невдоволення невістки.
Навіть на весілля мене не запросили
Через кілька місяців незвичної тиші Тарас запросив нас на день народження в Львів – вона була з того міста. Ми з чоловіком вирішили зупинитися в готелі, щоб залишити молодятам простір, але Тарас наполягав на тому, щоб ми залишилися в домі Софії, попередивши, що, ймовірно, її не побачимо, бо вона зайнята в магазині батьків.
На обід ми мали зустрітися в ресторані, але вона не прийшла. Через кілька днів Тарас сказав: «Мамо, я одружуюся з Софією». Потім додав, що не хоче великого весілля, лише невеличке святкування. Я це підтримала, сказала, що рада за нього.
Через тиждень він зателефонував і сказав, що Софія не хоче, щоб я була на весіллі. Запрошення отримав тільки мій чоловік. Брати теж не були запрошені. У мене не було слів, щоб описати, що я пережила в цей момент. Я передала слухавку чоловікові, і він сказав Тарасові, що не піде на весілля без мене і дітей. Тарас з роздратуванням кинув слухавку.
Наступні дні невістка намагалася вийти на зв’язок зі мною, але завжди потрапляла на мого чоловіка. Нарешті вона зателефонувала мені і з неприємним тоном сказала: «О, нарешті!» Я накопичила стільки гніву, що не витримала і сказала їй: «Знаєш, я не хочу більше про тебе чути!» Це була наша остання розмова.
Незабаром після цього вони поїхали за кордон. Протягом двох років ми нічого про них не знали. Моя сестра написала їм, і Софія відповіла: «Тарас тепер має нову сім’ю». Власне, син підтримував зв’язок тільки з братом Василем, з яким зрідка бачився, але більше до нас не приходив. Ось так минуло шість років.
Я намагалася вийти на зв’язок з Тарасом кілька місяців тому, бо дуже за ним сумувала. Написала два листи із вибаченнями – один для Тараса, інший для Софії. Жодної відповіді.
Коли моя мама померла три роки тому, Тарас не приїхав на похорон. Він не з’явився також, коли я втратила старшу сестру. За останні шість років ми отримали від нього лише одне повідомлення на день народження мого чоловіка. І з того часу – тиша.
Я відчуваю, ніби частина мене померла. Випадково дізналася, що вони переїхали в інше місто, але навіть не знаю, яке це місто. Щодня думаю про Тараса. Найгірше, що я навіть не розумію, як ми дійшли до цього. Довго думала, що Софія його маніпулює, що хоче його тільки для себе. Питала себе: чому вона була такою ворожою до нас? Не знаю, адже вона так і не захотіла мені про це сказати. Можливо, я сама припустилася помилки з самого початку. Як мені хотілося б, щоб усе пішло інакше!
Два місяці тому ми з чоловіком вирушили на коротку подорож до Західної Європи – виграли її в лотерею. Коли ми гуляли по одній із вуличок чергового містечка на маршруті, зупинилися на дитячому майданчику. Задивилися і почали мріяти про онуків… Одне миле хлопча підійшло до нас, ганяючи м’яч. Воно так нагадувало мого сина в дитинстві! Я усміхнулася, чоловік підкинув м’ячик малюкові, а той повернув – так і розігралися… За хвилину хтось покликав дитину: «Еміль!»
Я не могла повірити в таку випадковість – назустріч йшли мій син і Софія! Після того, як ми обійнялися, пішов потік слів, у якому ми всі, ніби, загубилися. І вони, і ми так були закриті в собі, що перестали намагатися спілкуватися… Так, зізнаюся, якби хтось мені сказав «не хочу більше чути про тебе», навряд чи я б намагалася. Але я усвідомила це тільки після довгої розлуки з сином і його сім’єю. Вони теж пройшли складний етап. Але питання нашого онука «де дідусь і бабуся» змусило їх передумати. Очевидно, всі ми стали мудрішими і хотіли забути минуле.
Ми залишили екскурсійну групу і залишилися в маленькому містечку, де ніби почали все спочатку – змінені, шукаючи порозуміння.
Тепер ми надолужуємо згаяні роки і насолоджуємося взаємною любов’ю та повагою.
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She’s got grandchildren, even though she’s about fifteen years younger than me. But her childhood, her memories—they’re so different from mine. I just long for a chat with peers, people like me,” Nina Anderson explained, though she realised perfectly well that her daughter wouldn’t understand. She was still young. Her time wasn’t gone—it was just outside the window. She didn’t yet yearn for memories. Sveta was wonderful and caring; it wasn’t about her. “Mum, I got us tickets for a night of classic ballads on Tuesday. Remember you wanted to go? No more sulking—put on your burgundy dress, you look stunning in it!” “All right, darling, everything’s fine. I don’t know what came over me, good night, we’ll speak tomorrow. Go to bed early—you hardly get any sleep,” Nina changed the subject. “Yes, Mum, goodnight. Bye,” and Svetlana hung up. Nina Anderson gazed silently at the glittering evening lights outside… Year Eleven, also spring. So many plans. It seemed so recent. Her friend Irene fancied Simon Mallory from their class. But Simon liked Nina. He’d call her every evening, invite her out. But Nina thought of him as just a friend—why raise his hopes? Later Simon left for the army. He came back, married, lived in Irene’s old house. Back then everyone had a landline. The number… Nina Anderson dialled the number from memory. The tone didn’t come at once—then someone picked up, there was rustling and then a quiet man’s voice: “Hello, I’m listening.” Maybe it’s too late? Why did I call? Maybe Simon doesn’t even remember me, or maybe it’s not him at all! “Good evening,” Nina’s voice rasped a little with nerves. There was more static on the line, then suddenly she heard an astonished voice: “Nina? Is that really you? Of course it is. I’d know your voice anywhere. How did you find me? I’m only here by chance….” “Simon, you recognised me!” A wave of joyful memories swept over Nina Anderson. No one had called her by her name for ages—just “mum”, “granny”, or “Mrs Anderson”. Well, except Irene. But just “Nina” sounded so wonderful, so fresh—as if the years hadn’t passed at all. “Nina, how are you? I’m so glad to hear from you.” Those words made her ridiculously happy. She’d feared he wouldn’t recognise her, or her call would be out of place. “Do you remember Year Eleven? When Simon and Victor took you and Irene out in that rowing boat? He’d blistered his hands on the oars and tried to hide it. Then we ate ice cream on the riverside while the music played,” Simon’s voice was soft and wistful. “Of course I remember!” Nina laughed joyfully, “And that class camping trip? We couldn’t get the tins open, we were so hungry!” “Oh yes,” Simon chuckled, “Then Victor opened them and we sang songs by the campfire. Do you remember? After that, I decided to learn the guitar.” “And did you?” Nina’s voice rang with youthful delight at all these shared memories. It was like Simon was reviving their happy past, recalling detail after detail. “So, how are things now?” Simon asked, but immediately answered himself, “Actually, I can tell from your voice you’re happy. Children, grandchildren? You still writing poems? I remember: ‘To dissolve into the night and be reborn by morning!’ So full of hope! You always were like sunshine, Nina! You bring warmth to everyone, no one could be cold around you. Your family’s so lucky—to have a mum and granny like you is pure gold.” “Oh, come off it, Simon, I’m long past that. My time’s over, I—” He interrupted. “Come on, you give out so much energy I think my phone’s about to melt! Just kidding. I don’t believe you’ve lost your zest for life—not a bit. That means your time isn’t over yet, Nina. So live—and be happy. The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!” “Simon, you’re still such a romantic. What about you? I’m going on and on about myself…” But suddenly there was a crackle and the call cut out. Nina sat there, phone in hand. She wanted to ring back, but it was late—better not. Another time. What a wonderful chat they’d had—so many memories! The sudden ringtone made Nina jump. Her granddaughter. “Yes, Daisy, hello, I’m still up. What did Mum say? No, my mood’s fine. I’m going to a concert with Mum. Are you coming over tomorrow? Wonderful, see you then. Bye.” In an unexpectedly good mood, Nina Anderson went to bed, head full of plans. As she drifted off, she found herself composing lines for a new poem… In the morning, Nina decided to visit Irene. Just a few stops on the tram—she wasn’t a creaky old nag yet. Irene was delighted: “At last! You’ve been promising for ages. Ooh, is that an apricot tart? My favourite! Well, spill, what’s brought this on?” Irene coughed, pressing her hand to her chest, then waved Nina’s concern away. “It’s all right, new inhaler—I’m better. 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