З життя
– Я подаю на розлучення, – повідомила жінка.
– Я подаю на розлучення, – оголосила Оксана.
Сергій у цей час захоплено дивився футбол і… зовсім не відреагував на слова дружини.
Оксана підійшла і вимкнула телевізор.
– Що ти робиш?! З розуму зійшла?! – загорлав Сергій, потім опанував себе, зробив зусилля і миролюбиво мовив:
– Вибач. Просто там такий важливий момент.
– Впевнена: не важливіший за те, що я сказала.
– А що ти сказала? – зніяковів чоловік, зрозумівши, що, як завжди, пропустив слова дружини повз вуха.
– Я подаю на розлучення.
Сергій витріщив очі:
– Як це «на розлучення»? Чому? Мені здавалося, у нас все добре.
– Тобі здавалося.
– Почекай… Вчора ми були в театрі, позавчора я приніс квіти, минулого тижня ходили в кіно. Все, як ти любиш…
– Так, але все це було вперше за сім років шлюбу. І я навіть знаю, чому.
– І чому ж?! – Сергій починав злитися.
– Тому що я віддала дітей у садок, влаштувалась на роботу, почала ходити в спортзал, у салон краси, змінила імідж, знайшла нових друзів.
– Причому тут це?
– А ось при тому! Ти раптом побачив, що я стала комусь цікава, що чоловіки звертають на мене увагу, що я вже не потребую тебе, як раніше.
– Нісенітниця яка…
– Ні, Сергію, це не нісенітниця. Інакше ти б не злякався, не став би пильнувати мене, догоджати, квітами обдаровувати. Я вже не кажу про кіно і театр. Це з твоєї сторони – просто подвиг!
– Я старався… Хотів зробити приємно… Зачекай, я так і не зрозумів: ти через це вирішила розлучитися?
– Так. Я більше не хочу так жити. Ти зараз вдаєш з себе люблячого чоловіка, а де ти був, коли я вагітна ходила, коли дітей народжувала, коли ночі не спала? Ти ж жодного разу в нічому мені не допоміг! Був у нашому житті символічно. Приходив, їв, спав. Можу порахувати, скільки разів ти дітей на руки брав!
– Я, взагалі, працював! – Сергій навіть підскочив від обурення, – щоб вас забезпечити!
– Працював, не сперечаюсь. Але ж не нас одних забезпечував – себе теж. І вихідні мав, тільки волів проводити їх з друзями.
– Маю право!
– У мене – вихідних не було, – продовжила Оксана, не звернувши на репліку чоловіка жодної уваги, – хоча діти… вони й твої теж. Але тебе це цікавило в останню чергу. Так і чую твої слова: я тобі гроші віддав, чого ти ще хочеш? А я хотіла… Хотіла, щоб поруч був надійний, рідний чоловік. Щоб підтримав. І не лише матеріально, а й морально. Щоб пожалів нарешті.
Але тобі було не до того. Ти жив своїм життям, у якому не було ні мене, ні наших дітей…
– Не перебільшуй.
– Я і не перебільшую. Ти хоч знаєш, у який садок вони ходять? Ми, між іншим, добираємося до нього хвилин сорок. Вранці! У транспорті! А ти на роботу один в машині їдеш, як пан. І доїжджаєш за двадцять хвилин. Проте, жодного разу не запропонував відвезти дітей у садок.
– Ти не просила, – пробубонів Сергій.
– А чому я повинна просити? Є речі, про які люблячого чоловіка й батька не просять. Це ‒ само собою зрозуміле. Правда, не в твоєму випадку, оскільки про любов мова не йде. Ніколи не йшла…
– Ти прямо монстра з мене зробила…
– Ні, Сергію, ти не монстр. Ти просто геть чужа для мене людина. Став чужим… Або був таким завжди.
– Це тобі, а дітям? Що ти їм скажеш? Як поясниш?
– Ой, бережіть мене семеро! – розсміялася Оксана, – та вони зовсім недавно стали тебе на вулиці впізнавати! Так що з цим у мене точно проблем не буде.
Сергій не знайшов що відповісти. Частково Оксана була права, але й його можна зрозуміти: він – чоловік, вона – жінка і має своє місце знати, домом займатись повинна, і дітьми. Батько Сергія завжди так говорив. І мама погоджувалася. А Оксана чомусь незадоволена…
– І як ти збираєшся жити на одну зарплату з двома дітьми? – пішов Сергій в атаку, – що стосується мене – то я ні копійки не дам!
– Даси, – спокійно відповіла Оксана, – аліменти ніхто не скасував. І майно, яке нажили за сім років, ми через суд поділимо. Хоча там і ділити нічого особливо, але все ж таки. Холодильник, як не крути, нам з дітьми потрібніший. А, знаючи тебе, я впевнена: саме за нього ти вчепишся, щоб болючіше зробити. Тому все – тільки через суд. На щастя, квартири у нас немає. До речі, ти можеш у цій залишитися. А нам з дітьми я іншу зніму (вимовляючи останню фразу, Оксана зробила невелику паузу, в глибині душі сподіваючись: Сергій не погодиться, скаже, що іншу квартиру зніме саме він, що дружина і діти можуть жити там, де звикли… Але Сергій нічого такого не сказав), – … я вже пригледіла підходящу неподалік від садка.
– Ну і йдіть! – Сергій більше не міг спокійно слухати Оксану, – думаєш, цаца! Все продумала?! Нічого не забула?! А машина? Її я тобі не віддам!
– А я і не прошу, – посміхнулася Оксана, – вона мені не потрібна.
– З чого це ти така щедра?! – Сергій вже не міг зупинитися, – машина їй не потрібна! Мабуть, вже на іншій катаєшся?! Ну, признайся: давно у мене роги виросли?! Щось ти надто смілива стала!
– Не здивував, – Оксана була абсолютно спокійна, – я знала, що почую щось подібне.
– Так зрозумій ти, нарешті, – Сергій підлетів до дружини, схопив за плечі, став трясти, – кому ти потрібна з двома дітьми?! А давай… забудемо все, що ти тут наговорила? Будемо жити разом, як раніше. Я виправлюсь, чесне слово!
– Як раніше? Ні вже, – твердо відповіла Оксана, – ніяк не вийде.
– Але чому?! – Сергій навіть не кричав, він волав на весь голос.
– Тому що я більше не люблю тебе…
Сергій розгубився, внутрішньо запанікував і раптом, ніби відчуваючи, що подальші розмови безглузді, погодився:
– Раз так – подавай на розлучення.
Їх розвели через півроку. Все відбулося так, як планувала Оксана.
Тепер вона з дітьми живе неподалік від дитячого садка і ранок у будні дня у неї проходить набагато спокійніше.
А на вихідні – вона взагалі вільна жінка! А все тому, що колишній чоловік забирає дітей до себе! Водить по місту, сидить з ними у себе вдома, у різні ігри з ними грає. Навіть сам готує!
І хто зрозуміє цих чоловіків?
Поки одружений – ні дружина, ні діти не потрібні. Сприймає як само собою зрозуміле.
Як розлучиться – і час на дітей знаходить, і ледь не найкращим у світі татом стає…
Is the Orchid Really to Blame? “Polly, take this orchid or I’m throwing it out,” Kate said, carelessly picking up the clear pot from the windowsill and handing it to me. “Thanks, Kate! But what’s wrong with this orchid?” I was surprised. After all, three more gorgeous, well-tended orchids stood in her window. “It was a wedding gift for my son. And you know how that all ended,” Kate sighed heavily. “I know your Denis got divorced before their first anniversary. I won’t ask why—I bet it was a serious reason. Denis adored Tanya,” I said gently, not wanting to reopen a fresh wound. “I’ll tell you the full story one day, Polly. For now, it’s just too much,” Kate said, getting a bit teary. I brought the “banished” and “rejected” orchid home. My husband looked sympathetically at the wilting plant. “Why do you want that poor thing? There’s no life in it. Even I can see that. Don’t waste your time,” he insisted. “I want to revive it. Give it some love and care. You’ll see—soon you’ll be impressed by this orchid!” I replied, determined to breathe life back into the drooping flower. He winked playfully: “Who ever turns down a bit of love?” A week later, Kate called: “Polly, can I come over? I can’t keep this bottled up anymore. I want to tell you everything about Denis’s failed marriage.” “Of course, Kate. I’m here whenever you need me,” I assured her—remembering how she’d supported me through two rocky marriages of my own… After all, we’d been friends for years. Kate arrived within the hour, settled in the kitchen, and for hours, over a glass of dry wine, a mug of coffee, and some dark chocolate, she shared the whole, tangled tale. “I never imagined my ex-daughter-in-law was capable of such things. Denis and Tanya were together for seven years. Denis left Annie—who I adored, by the way—for Tanya, who was just stunning. He was absolutely besotted, following her around like a lovesick puppy. Tanya looked like a model—men couldn’t help but stare. But for all those years, they never had a child. I figured Denis wanted everything by the book—get married, then have kids. Denis is private, and we never pried. Finally, Denis told us: ‘Mum, Dad, I’m marrying Tanya. We’ve booked the registry office. I’m throwing a huge wedding—no expense spared.’ He was thirty. We were thrilled that he’d finally settle down. But, Polly, the wedding date had to be postponed twice—once Denis got sick, then I was held up at work. It felt odd, but Denis was glowing with happiness—I didn’t say anything. Denis even wanted to have a church wedding with Father Christopher, but the priest was called back to his home parish. Nothing was going smoothly. It seemed like the world was warning us… The wedding was spectacular, noisy, extravagant. Here—look at the wedding photo. You see that orchid? Glorious, in full bloom. Its leaves stood tall like soldiers. And now? Just limp rags remain of it. …Denis and Tanya planned their honeymoon in Paris, but right at the airport, Tanya was barred from leaving the country—something about an unpaid fine. Denis swatted away these troubles like flies. …But then Denis got seriously ill. Ended up in hospital, things looked grim. Doctors were at a loss. Tanya visited for a week, then bluntly told him: ‘Sorry, but I can’t handle being married to an invalid. I’m filing for divorce.’ Polly, imagine my son—bedridden—hearing that. But he only said: ‘I understand, Tanya. I won’t fight you.’ So they divorced. But Denis got better—thanks to a wonderful doctor named Peter. And Peter had a lovely 20-year-old daughter, Mary. At first, Denis turned up his nose: ‘She’s just a slip of a girl—not even pretty.’ ‘Give her a chance, son. Looks aren’t everything. You’ve already had a model for a wife…Better to be happy drinking water together than sipping honey in sorrow.’ …Time passed. Mary totally fell for Denis—called all the time, trailed after him everywhere. So we tried nudging them together—day at the park, barbecue, campfire. Denis looked miserable, barely noticing Mary’s devotion. I told my husband: ‘It’s hopeless. Denis is still obsessed with Tanya. She’s a thorn in his heart.’ …Three or four months later—ding dong! It’s Denis, holding that infamous orchid. ‘Here you go, Mum—remnants of past happiness. Do as you like with it—I’m done with it.’ I took it reluctantly and basically ignored it, blaming the poor flower for my son’s heartbreak. One day, a neighbour says: ‘Kate, I saw Denis with that petite girl. His ex-wife was more glamorous, for sure.’ But then Denis announced, hand-in-hand with Mary: ‘Meet my wife—Mary. We got married quietly at the registry office, then Father Christopher married us in church. Mum, Dad, no big fuss this time! It’s forever now.’ I pulled him aside: ‘Denis, are you sure you love her? Is this for revenge against Tanya?’ ‘No, Mum. I’m over it. That woman is my past—I’m done even saying her name. Mary and I are right for each other.’ And that’s the tale, Polly. Kate finished her story, right down to the last detail. …Two years passed. Life swept us along. But the orchid? It flourished again—blooming beautifully after care and love. Flowers know how to say thank you. I met Kate at the hospital maternity ward: ‘Hi, mate! What brings you here?’ ‘Mary just had twins—being discharged today!’ Kate beamed. Denis and his dad hovered nearby, Denis clutching red roses. Out came exhausted but glowing Mary, with two sleeping bundles in tow. Then came my daughter, holding my own new granddaughter. Meanwhile, Tanya was begging Denis for forgiveness and a fresh start. …But glue a broken teacup, and no one really wants to drink from it…
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