З життя
«Відмовившись від сина заради кар’єри, а я стала для нього новою матір’ю»
Ольга народила раптово — на восьмому місяці, передчасно. Лікарі швидко врятували ситуацію, і вже за кілька годин вона тримала на руках крихітну донечку. Малу відразу поклали у кувез — вона була занадто слабка, щоб дихати сама. В очах Ольги стояли сльози, а в сердці — тривога, яку нічим було заглушити. Вона вірила, шептала крізь сльози: «Моя мала виживе… Ми обов’язково поїдемо додому разом…»
Дні в лікарні тяглися повільно. Ольга майже не спала, що години підходила до кувеза, дивилася на дитину, молилася, намагалася не втрачати надію. Одного разу, виходячи з палати, вона випадково почула розмову двох медпрацівників. У їхніх голосах не було співчуття — лише втома й гіркота.
— Оця з сьомої палати… — сказав один із лікарів. — Відмовилася годувати. Каже, фігуру боиться зіпсувати.
— Гарна, звісно. Тільки що в голові — незрозуміло, — зітхнула медсестра.
Ольга насторожилася. Мова йшла про жінку, яка народила хлопчика кількома днями раніше. Та не тільки відмовилася годувати дитину — вона ще й написала офіційну відмову. Мовляв, «не в її планах бути матір’ю, вона хоче жити для себе».
Чоловік, що приходив до лікарні, був тим, хто колись розбив Ользі серце. Він приходив до сина, стояв біля кувеза, гладив крихітну долоню крізь рукавички. Коли він побачив, як Ольга ніжно годує хлопчика, усміхається йому, у його очах спалахнуло щось більше за вдячність — надія.
Мати хлопчика в цей час була зайнята собою. Новий манікюр, укладка, запис до косметолога та примірка сукні на випису. У її голові не було місця для плачу голодної дитини чи думок про безсонні ночі. Вона щиро вважала, що чинить правильно. «Я ще надто молода, щоб сидіти з дитиною. У мене все життя попереду», — казала вона подругам по телефону.
Ольга приходила до хлопчика щодня. Вона не забувала й про свою донечку, кожну секунду мріючи, щоб мала знайшла сили вижити. Але, на жаль… Через кілька днів лікар повідомив їй страшну новину: дівчинка померла. Серце Ольги стислося. Світ потемнів. У грудях — пустота.
Вона сиділа на ліжку, не в змозі ні говорити, ні плакати. Лише обіймала себе за плечі, наче намагаючись зібрати розбите серце. Раптом у двері постукали. Це був він — той самий чоловік. У руках — квіти та кульки. Він підійшов, опустився на коліна й простягнув до неї руки:
— Поїхали додому… разом.
Ольга збентежилася. Вона не розуміла. Тоді він обережно поклав їй на руки немовля. Того самого хлопчика, якого вона годувала, до якого прив’язалася, як до рідного. Чоловік ухвалив рішення — він усиновлює сина сам. Але не сам. З Ольгою. Бо тільки вона стала для цієї дитини справжньою матір’ю.
Того дня вони разом покинули лікарню. Ольга — не одна. Поруч був чоловік, поруч була дитина. У серці — біль від втрати й світло надії.
А та, інша… Наталка, колишня дружина чоловіка, стояла біля вікна у виписній сукні. Побачивши, як його зустрічає не вона, а Ольга, як квіти й кульки дістаються іншій жінці, вона поблідла. Спочатку нічого не зрозуміла. Потім кинулася коридором, зриваючись на крик:
— Що це ще таке?! Де мій чоловік?! Де мій син?!
На ресепшені її зустріла та сама медсестра, яка бачила її байдужість усі ці дні.
— Заспокойтеся, Наталко, — сказала вона втомлено. — Все гаразд. Тепер ви можете спокійно займатися собою та своєю красою. У вашого сина тепер є справжня мати.
Ольга з хлопчиком зникли з лікарні. Їх більше ніхто не бачив. Вони переїхали до іншого міста. Почали все з нуля. З чистої сторінки. З любов’ю і довірою.
А Наталка так і залишилася на порозі — у виписній сукні, з ідеальною зачіскою, але без нікого…
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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! They had a huge fight and didn’t speak for half a year—until Lida confessed to Svetka her romance with Edward Boris. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course, he’d never leave his wife—not that type! So for now, she’d remain his lover. — So you’re shacking up with him while his wife is dying in the next room? — her friend was appalled. — Do you even see how vile that is? Or are you that blinded by his money—if he’s even got it? — Trust you to never say a kind word, — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but she barely felt guilty—well, perhaps just a bit. She cared for Tamara with real diligence, and since her affair with Edward Boris began, she took on all the housework too. After all, a man needs more than just a woman in his bed—he wants a good meal, crisp shirts, a clean flat. Lida thought her lover was very content, and she was enjoying her life too. She barely noticed Edward had stopped paying her for caring for his wife. Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! Don’t listen! — the widower protested. — Well, well, I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them — Tamila’s stare was fierce. — Now it all makes sense. And you, my dear son-in-law, don’t forget who owns this flat? Edward froze. — So, I want you out of here within the week. No—within three days. Tamila turned to leave, then paused at Lida. — And you, standing there like you expect a prize? Get out! Lida bolted from the flat, realising there’d be no money for her—not now. Back to the market again; there’d always be work there… **The Carer’s Devotion: Betrayal Behind Closed Doors in Suburban England**
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