З життя
Маленьке село, скоріше хутір.
В селищі, яке розкинулося на пагорбі серед мохів і журавлини, всього чотири подвір’я з сірими від дощів стріхами, покритими дранкою, ютились під могутніми дубами. Тому й називали його Дубки.
Жило в тих Дубках лише одинадцять душ. Весь край підтримувався за рахунок господарства, полювання та риболовлі.
Найбільш заможним був Іван Трохимович, чоловік скупий і роботящий. Йому під шістдесят, але ще кремезний і міцний. У ту осінь наскріб журавлини пудів п’ятнадцять, звісно, не сам, а з Петрусем, своїм сином. Петрусеві вісімнадцять. Два старші сини вже три роки жили в Києві й рідко навідувались додому. Петрусь хоч і не рветься до міста, але до сільської роботи прихильності не має. Одного разу прийшов на світанку додому і сказав батькові: – Заважайте сватів до Озерок. – До кого ж? – насупився Іван. – До Дем’янових, до їхньої Поліни, – додав, знаючи круту вдачу батька, – якщо не пошлеш сватів, утечу з нею до міста, до братів. Немає радості Івану від молодшого. Не в нього він – легковажний та вітряний. Господар ніякий, але ж останній. Якщо піде до міста, доведеться один вести господарство. Марфа, дружина Івана, зовсім стала немічною, хвороба виснажила її. Василь Дем’янов сам п’яниця і лінюх, зате донька в нього красуня, Іван бачив її влітку на косовиці. Висока, ставна, русява коса до пояса, у великих сірих очах – омути. І що ж вона знайшла в Петрусі? Така дівчина прикрасить будь-яку оселю, а Марфі давно потрібна помічниця. Довго чи коротко, але на Покрову справили весілля.
А через місяць до Дубків приїхав уповноважений і забрав Петруся в солдати. На проводах Поліна плакала за Петрусиком, як за небіжчиком. З від’їздом Петруся життя Поліни в Дубках стало нестерпним. Свекр перестав давати їй проходу. Спершу, ніби жартуючи, ущипне чи спробує обійняти, коли вона доїть корову. А коли мила підлогу в кімнаті, нахабно поліз під спідницю. Вона не могла нічого сказати, соромилася перед свекрухою, що лежала за завісою. Якось, коли набирала сіно на сіниці, Іван підкрався до Поліни ззаду, повалив на сіно й почав цілувати, дихнувши на неї часниково-самогонним перегаром. Колюча, кудлата борода закрила все обличчя, не даючи крикнути. Поліна стала задихатися, а свекр уже нишпорив у неї під спідницею. Як вона вибралася з-під важкого Івана, не пам’ятає, але, визволившись, схопила вила, наставила їх на груди свекра і, важко дихаючи, прошипіла: “Заколю! Стерво старе! Прости мене, Господи!”
З цього дня свекр більше не чіплявся, але почав докоряти за кожну дрібницю: то не так, і це не так. У цілому, життя дівчини стало зовсім нестерпним. Поліна плакала і сумувала, ходила в Озерки до матері жалітися, а що мати? Пожалкувала, поплакала і відправила назад: “Терпи, – сказала. – Прийде Петрусь, все налагодиться”. Перед поверненням у Дубки Поліна зайшла в сільмаг купити сірників, приправ для кухні. Взяла лаврове листя, червоний перець, порошок гірчичний – свекр наказував. З великим небажанням рушила до Дубків. Поліна йшла, риплячи валянками по снігу, й задумувалась над своєю нелегкою долею. Уже третій місяць минає, як Петрусь поїхав.
Подобався їй цей веселий, бешкетний хлопець. Хоч у селі й були хлопці привабливіші. Але всі грубі, хамовиті, а цей лагідний, грубого слова не почуєш. Навіть не встигли як слід полюбитися. А тепер свекр намагається потішитися замість сина. “Не буде цього! Треба відвадити старого наклепника! Але як це зробити?” Поглиблена в свої думки, Поля й не помітила, як дісталася до Дубків. Свекр зустрів її з наріканнями, що довго була відсутня та купила не те. Попивши молока, Поліна пішла в свою кімнату і зачинила двері на засув. Наступного дня топили лазню. Лазня стояла окремо від дому, біля маленького ставочка. Поліна натягла води, розтопила піч. Потім, займаючись господарством, поклала в кишеню фартуха пакетик з червоним перцем. Вирішивши, що цього замало, додала гірчиці. Через певний час, прибираючись у лазні, натерла полок перцем і гірчицею, щедро насипала “пекельної” суміші в ковш з гарячим березовим віником. Від запаху перцю й гірчиці защипало в носі. Поліна чхнула й вибігла з лазні. Вибігла якраз вчасно, бо вже йшов свекор із вузлом білизни під пахвою. – “Чому лазню студиш, стерво?” – накричав він на неї. Відступивши зі стежки в сніг, Поліна мовчки пропустила свекра й побігла в хату. Зачинивши за собою двері, вона притулилася до стіни, серце її готове було вирватися з грудей. “Що буде?” І страшно Поліні і смішно на душі, що зважилася покарати злодія. “Зараз тобі, старий звідник, буде жарко”. “Ось стерво” – подумав Іван. Напевно, погано провітрила лазню? Або ще тліє головня в печі”. Поподчесав гиркою в топці та залив водою тліюче вугілля, Іван заліз на полок і з насолодою простягнувся на ньому. Полок був гарячий і трохи обпалював шкіру. Іван поерзав спиною й сідницями, звикаючи до жару, але жар переходив у печіння.
Нічого не розуміючи, Іван сів на полок. Пошарив рукою по дошках полка. Нічого не знайшов. Інстинктивно почухав тією ж рукою своє “господарство” й мало не звалився на підлогу. Відчуття були такі, ніби його вжалив передній осик, а ззаду напекло кропивою. Заревівши від болю, наче поранений ведмідь, Іван вискочив голяком з лазні й плюхнувся в сніг. Печіння трохи вщухло, але сидіти в снігу стало холодно, й він побіг назад у лазню. У хаті, катуляючись від ледве стримуваного сміху, повзала Поліна. Із свого кутка вилізла Марфа й здивовано витріщилася на Поліну, від якої з дня проводів Петруся не чула сміху.
Марфа давно помітила, що чоловік чіпляється до невістки, але заступитися за неї сил не мала, а тепер Поліна, нехтуючи, так і сказала свекрусі, що натворила і як покарала старого. Спочатку Марфа нахмурила білесенькі брови – стало шкода чоловіка, а потім засміялася і сказала: “Так йому, кобелю, і треба”. Зайшовши знову в лазню, Іван почав міркувати, що ж це з ним трапилось. Може, на полок щось попало? Набирав в ковш гарячої води, щедро сполоснув полок і знову сів на нього. Ніби нічого не опікало. Піддав у кам’янку, Іван взяв з ковша віник і почав бити ним по спині та стегнах, але тут у нього защипало в носі й очах, тіло знову запалало огнем, а в заднику засвербіло так, наче він сів у муравейник.
Спустившись з полка на підлогу, повзком дотягнувся до дверей і, мало не вибивши її, повалився з лазні в знайомий сніг. Додому Іван прийшов мовчки, коли вже стемніло, вечеряти не став, відразу ляг спати, але заснути йому не вдалося. Все тіло палало. Він крутився на скрипучій кроваті, як виють на сковороді, мало не виучи від болю, насилу стримуючи стогін. Коли стало невистерпно, відкрив вікно, спустив кальсони й висунув горячу задницю на мороз. Стало легше, але Івану здавалось, що від його задниці можна прикурити самокрутку. Слава Богу ніч, якщо б хто побачив цю картину: Іван – мовчазний гордець, сидить на підвіконні з голою дупою, як ворон на сучку, важко сказати, що б про нього подумали.
По-своєму оцінив те, що відбувалося, вірний пес Боско, чия буда стояла під цим вікном. Пес встав на задні лапи й лизнув господаря за… Від несподіваної ласки в Івана в грудях похолоділо, і він зомлілий звалився на підлогу. Від шуму підвелася Марфа, вийшла з кімнати Поліна зі свічкою в руці. Малюнок, який вони побачили, викликав і сльози, і сміх: з голою задницею, без свідомості, на підлозі лежав Іван, а в відкрите вікно заглядала кудлата морда Боска.
З того дня Іван перестав чіплятися до Поліни, нічого їй не сказавши. А згодом Поліна отримала від Петра листа і поїхала до нього, де він служив.
Хоч бабця Дар’я й назвала невістку Поліною, але я думаю, що це вона про себе. Схожа на неї, хоч їй і за вісімдесят, а в очах, досі зблискують іскри сатанинські…
“We’ll Stay at Your Place for a While Since We Can’t Afford to Rent a Flat!” – My Friend Announced At 65, I’m a lively woman, never letting age stop me from exploring new places or meeting fascinating people. I look back at my youth with both joy and a touch of sadness. Back then, you could holiday anywhere you fancied! From seaside trips to camping adventures with friends, even sailing down any river you chose—all for just a little money. Sadly, those days are behind me now. I always loved meeting new people—on the beach, at the theatre, anywhere really. Many of those acquaintances became lifelong friends. One summer, I met Sara while staying at the same B&B. We parted as friends, keeping in touch with the occasional letter over the years. Then one day, I received an unsigned telegram: “The train arrives at 3 a.m. Please meet me!” Puzzled about who had sent it, my husband and I stayed put. But at four in the morning, our doorbell rang. To my shock, there stood Sara with two teenage girls, a grandmother, and a man, all surrounded by heaps of luggage. My husband and I were baffled but let these unexpected guests in. Sara exclaimed: – “Why didn’t you meet us? I sent you a telegram! Besides, that’s not cheap! – Sorry, we didn’t know who sent it! – Well, you gave me your address. So here we are. – I thought we’d stick to letters, nothing more!” Sara explained that one of the girls had just left school and decided to go to university, so the whole family came to support her. – “We’ll be living with you! We can’t afford to rent a flat or stay in a hotel!” I was stunned. We weren’t even related—why should we let them stay? We had to feed them three times a day; although they brought a bit of food, they cooked nothing and ate ours. I was left to serve everyone. After three exhausting days, I asked Sara and her family to leave—I didn’t care where to. That sparked a row. Sara smashed crockery and screamed hysterically. I was appalled. As they packed, they even managed to steal my dressing gown, a few towels, and somehow my large cooking pot vanished too—no idea how! That was the end of our friendship—and thank heavens! I’ve never heard from her since. How could anyone be so cheeky?! Now, I’m much more wary when I meet new people.
Well be staying at yours for a while. We dont have any money to rent a flat!my friend declared. I...
A Christmas Eve Miracle: How Forgetting a Gift, a Stray Kitten, and a Chance Encounter Turned the Holidays Around for Peter, Anna, and Little Masha in London
Miracle on New Year’s Eve Tom, seriously, how could you forget? Emily said, exasperated, glaring at her husband from across...
He Hated His Wife. Hated Her… They Spent 15 Years Together, Fifteen Mornings Waking Up Side by Side—But Only in the Last Year Did Her Habits Begin to Drive Him Mad, Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Sleepily Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” What Seemed a Simple Phrase, Her Slim Arms, Her Sleepy Face, Now Filled Him with Disgust. She’d Rise, Walk Past the Window, Gaze Out for a While, Then Slip off Her Nightdress and Head to the Bathroom. Early in Marriage, He’d Adored Her Body, Its Natural Confidence That Seemed Almost Indecent—But Now, Though She Was Still Beautiful, Her Nakedness Made Him Angry. Once, He Even Considered Pushing Her to Hurry Her Morning Routine but Only Managed a Gruff: “Get a Move On—I’ve Had Enough!” She Refused to Rush or Let His Affectionless Hostility Change Her Pace—She Knew About His Affair, Even Recognized the Young Woman He’d Been Seeing for Three Years. Time Dulles the Sharp Sting of Pride, Leaving Only a Lingering Sense of Uselessness. She Forgave Him—the Aggression, the Neglect, His Need to Relive His Youth—But She Wouldn’t Let Him Rob Her of Living Mindfully, Cherishing Each Moment. She’d Made Up Her Mind When She Learned She Was Ill. The Disease Was Slowly Consuming Her; It Would Win Soon. Her First Urge Was to Confess to Everyone—To Lessen the Brutal Truth by Sharing the Burden with Loved Ones. Yet She Endured the Hardest Day Alone, Accepting Her Fate, and Then Resolved to Remain Silent. Life Slipped Away, Yet Each Day She Gained the Wisdom of a True Observer. She Found Solace in a Quiet English Countryside Library, a Ninety-Minute Walk Each Way. Every Day, She’d Hide in the Narrow Aisles Marked “Life & Death’s Secrets” by the Elderly Librarian and Lose Herself in Books She Hoped Contained Every Answer. He’d Go to His Lover’s Flat, Where Everything Felt Warm, Bright, Familiar. Their Love Affair Had Grown Wild—Three Years of Passion, Jealousy, Heartache, and Asphyxiating Desire. Today He Came With a Decision: Divorce. Why Torment All Three of Them? He Didn’t Love His Wife—No, He Hated Her—and Here, He Could Start Fresh, Find Happiness. He Tried to Recall His Feelings for His Wife, but There Was Nothing—He Couldn’t Even Remember Caring for Her on That First Day. He Pulled Out a Photo of Her from His Wallet, Tore It Into Pieces—Determined to End It. They Arranged to Meet at the Restaurant Where, Six Months Earlier, They’d Celebrated Fifteen Years as Husband and Wife. She Arrived First. He Stopped Home to Find the Divorce Papers, Ransacking Drawers in a Panic Until He Spotted a Dark Blue Folder He’d Never Seen Before. He Ripped Off the Seal, Expecting Dirty Secrets—But Found Only Medical Reports, Official Documents. His Wife’s Name on Every Page. Realisation Struck Like Lightning; She Was Ill. He Googled the Diagnosis: “6–18 Months Life Expectancy.” Six Months Had Already Passed. He Remembered Little of What Happened Next—Only the Words “6–18 Months” Looping Relentlessly in His Mind. She Waited for Forty Minutes. No Answer from His Phone. She Paid the Bill and Went Outside. The Autumn Weather Was Glorious—The Sun Gentle, Comforting. “Life Is Beautiful, the World So Wonderful, So Warm.” For the First Time Since Her Diagnosis, She Felt Sorry for Herself. She’d Found the Strength to Hide Her Secret from Everyone, Sparing Them the Pain at the Cost of Her Own Crumbling Life. After This Year, She Would Be Nothing but a Memory. She Wandered Down the Street, Watching Bright Faces Filled With Hope Of Winters and Springs Yet to Come—As If the Future Were Theirs To Shape. She Would Never Know That Feeling Again. Bitterness Swelled and Burst Forth as Tears She Couldn’t Stop… He Paced the Room. For the First Time, He Felt The Swift Passage of Life as a Physical Ache. He Remembered His Wife Young, Full of Hope When They First Met—He’d Loved Her Then. In That Moment, Fifteen Years Vanished: Happiness, Youth, and Life Still Ahead. In Her Final Weeks, He Became Devoted, At Her Side Every Hour, Overcome by a Joy He’d Never Known. He Was Terrified She’d Leave—He Would Have Given His Own Life to Save Hers. Had Someone Reminded Him Of His Hatred Just a Month Ago, He’d Have Sworn: “That Wasn’t Me.” He Witnessed Her Battle to Say Goodbye, Weeping Secretly at Night When She Thought He Slept—He Understood No Punishment Was Worse Than Knowing Your Days Are Numbered. He Saw Her Fight for Every Moment, Grasping Even the Smallest Hope. She Died Two Months Later. He Covered the Path from Home to Cemetery in Flowers. He Wept Like a Child as Her Coffin Was Lowered—He Felt Centuries Older. At Home, Beneath Her Pillow, He Found a New Year’s Wish She Had Written: “To Be Happy With Him Until My Last Day.” They Say All New Year’s Wishes Come True—Perhaps They Do, For That Year He Wrote: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got Exactly What, It Seemed, They Had Wished For…
He loathed his wife. Loathed her. Theyd spent fifteen years togetherfifteen whole years in which he saw her each morning,...
My Father-in-Law Was Speechless When He Saw the Shocking Conditions We Were Living In
My father-in-law was speechless when he saw how we were living I met my husband at a wedding of a...
The Grey Mouse Is Happier Than You
Emily, honestly, are you kidding me right now? Jessica stared at her faded cotton dress with a look reserved for...
She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—Yet I’m Furious Because I Didn’t Weed the Vegetable Beds — “What are you doing here?” Standing in the middle of the swan-shaped flower beds, my mother-in-law shouted, “There’s never been such disgrace here before! I had seven children—never a single weed!” Her shriek drew the neighbours, who clung to the fence like crows and immediately dissected everything they heard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law took great pleasure in performing. I stood, speechless, as she went on. At last, worn out from shouting, she drew a breath and said loudly enough for all the neighbours to hear: I didn’t say a word. I walked calmly past my mother-in-law, holding my child even closer. Once inside, I divided up, in a special box, everything my mother-in-law was to take that evening and the next morning. Without folding anything, I tossed my son’s things and mine into a bag. I left without saying a word. Three days later, my mother-in-law called: “What did you do with all those things the professor gave her? I asked the neighbour to buy a few, but she said one jar is very expensive. The ones with foreign labels, well, we don’t use those or exchange them. So what am I to do? You left, offended for some reason, and here I am, about to meet my maker!” I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and took out the SIM card. That’s it. I can’t go on—I have no physical or emotional strength left. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on an icy road. I vaguely remember saying goodbye for the last time, the ambulance taking him away, and waking up the next morning as a new mother… I didn’t care about anything. The world felt empty and pointless without my beloved husband. I nursed and rocked my son like clockwork, because that’s what I was told to do. A phone call snapped me out of my stupor. “Your mother-in-law is in bad shape. Apparently, she won’t last much longer.” I made my decision at once: after settling things, I sold my flat in London. I invested some of the money into building a home, so my son will have something of his own when he grows up. And I went to save my mother-in-law. This past year, I haven’t really lived—I’ve just existed. I had no time for sleep, caring for both my mother-in-law and my baby son. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law required round-the-clock care. At least I had the money. I called in the best specialists from all over the UK; I bought every medication prescribed. Eventually, my mother-in-law returned to normal life. At first, I wheeled her through the house, then around the garden. By the end, she was strong enough to walk—on her own—as if nothing had happened… I don’t want to know her now, or hear from her ever again. Let her work out everything she needs for her recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all the money on her recovery. My son and I moved to our new flat. I never imagined it would end like this. I wanted to be close with my husband’s family, since I am an orphan myself. But now it’s just me. I need to teach my son: not everyone deserves kindness. Some people care more about a tidy vegetable patch.
I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But honestly, Im fuming because I didnt get around to...
For Two Years, Maria Was Just the Carer for Her Mother-in-Law Maria Managed to Marry a Very Distinguished Gentleman: All Her Friends Were Jealous. Her Husband Owned His Own Business, a Gated Luxury Home, Several Cars and a Cottage in the Countryside, All by Thirty-Two. Maria, Having Just Graduated and Worked as a Teacher for a Year, Married Him That Summer. After the Wedding, Her Husband Said There Was No Need for His Wife to Work for Peanuts. He Asked Her to Stay Home and Prepare for Children, and Maria Did Not Object. The First Year of Marriage Felt Like a Fairy Tale: Maria and Her Husband Travelled, Creating Memories and Buying Expensive Things. Yet Maria Had Nowhere to Wear Her New Clothes—Her Friends Were Busy Working and Spending Weekends With Their Families. Her Husband Often Partied Without Ever Inviting Maria. Maria Was Bored. Unable to Have Children, Her Feelings for Her Husband Faded. After Finishing Her Household Tasks, She Roamed Room to Room, Wondering About Her Future. A Year Passed. Her Husband Was Rarely Home, Often Returning in the Evenings, Exhausted and Irritable, Claiming His Business Was Struggling. First, He Told His Wife to Spend Less. Then He Demanded She Account for Every Purchase and Expense, Calculating and Insisting They Could Live Just as Well for Half the Amount. Maria Grew Worried. She Wanted to Work, But Couldn’t Find a Teaching Position. She Decided to Enrol on a Course, But Then Her Mother-in-Law Fell Ill, and Maria Had to Take Care of Her for Two Years. Her Husband Moved His Mother In. Maria Did Everything, Caring for the Sick. Her Husband Came Home Even Less. When Her Mother-in-Law Passed Away, Her Husband Grew Even More Distant—Barely Speaking to Maria, Withdrawn, Spending Most of His Time at Work and Seldom Returning Home. Maria Couldn’t Understand What Had Happened Until She Visited Her Mother-in-Law’s Old Flat, Where She Hadn’t Been for Ages. Behind Closed Doors, She Heard a Child Crying. Surprised, Maria Rang the Bell. A Young Woman Opened the Door—Maria Learned Her Husband Had Started a Second Family Before His Mother’s Illness, and Then Installed Them in His Mother’s Flat. For Maria, It Was a Shock. She Realised She Couldn’t Save Her Marriage. She Left for Another City, to Her Aunt, Practically With Nothing but a Small Bag—Not Wanting Anything Reminding Her of Her Marriage or How Badly Her Life Had Turned Out…
For two years, Emily was nothing more than a nurse to his mother. Emily managed to marry a man who...
My Husband Brought a Colleague to Our Christmas Eve Dinner—So I Asked Them Both to Leave
Where have you put the napkins? I told you to get the ones with the silver pattern; they match the...