З життя
«Свекруха нас вигнала, а тепер злиться, що я уникаю її»
Три роки тому свекруха виставила нас з дитиною на вулицю. А тепер ображається, що я не хочу з нею розмовляти.
Мені тридцять, живу в Києві, виховую сина й намагаюсь будувати нормальне життя. Але досі в середині мене сидить біль, яка не відпускає. Тому що три роки тому жінка, яку я вважала родиною, без жодних вагань викинула нас із малим на холод. А тепер вона не розуміє, чому я з нею не спілкуюсь. Більше того — ще й у гніві.
Ми з Дмитром познайомились на першому курсі університету. Зраділи одне одному щиро — ніяких вечірок, ніяких ігор, відразу все стало серйозним. А потім несподівано я завагітніла. Навіть попри таблетки, тест показав дві смужки. Було страшно, була паніка, сльози — але навіть думки про аборт не було. Дмитро не злякався, не втік — він зробив мені пропозицію, і ми одружились.
Жити нам було ніде. Мої батьки — під Житомиром, а я зі шістнадцяти жила в київському гуртожитку. А Дмитро з п’ятнадцяти років жив сам: його мати, Наталя Олегівна, після другого шлюбу переїхала до нового чоловіка у Львів, а свою двокімнатну квартиру в Дарниці залишила синові. Після весілля вона “ласкаво” дозволила нам там пожити.
Спочатку все було добре. Ми вчились, підробляли, чекали на дитину. Я старалась підтримувати порядок, готувала, прибирала, кожну гривню берегла. Але все змінилось, коли Наталя Олегівна почала навідуватись до нас. Не просто приходити, а влаштовувати оглядини. Вона відчиняла шафи, перевіряла під ліжком, знімала рукавички, щоб провести пальцем по підвіконню. Я в положенні бігала по хаті з ганчіркою, щоб тільки догодити. Та скільки б не старалась — усе було не так.
“Чому рушник висить не по центру?”, “Крихти на килимові!”, “Ти не дружина, а лихо!” — це були її улюблені фрази.
Коли народився наш син Ярослав, стало ще гірше. Я ледве знаходила сили спати та годувати дитину, а свекруха вимагала чистоти, як у лікарні. Тричі на тиждень я мила хату до блиску, їй було замало. І от одного разу вона заявила:
— За тиждень приїду. Якщо побачу хоч одну порошинку — ви звідси за п’ять хвилин!
Я благала Дмитра поговорити з нею. Він спробував. Та Наталя Олегівна була непохитна. І коли вона приїхала й знайшла на балконі свої старі коробки, які я не чіпала, бо вони не мої, — почався скандал.
— Збирай свої речі та їдь до батьків! А Дмитро нехай вирішує — з тобою чи тут!
І Дмитро не зрадив. Він поїхав зі мною до Житомира. Ми оселились у моїх батьків. Кожного ранку він вставав о шостій, їхав на пари, потім на підробіток, повертався вночі. Я намагалась заробляти онлайн — ледве виходило. Грошей не вистачало, ми рахували кожну копійку, їли вареники з картоплею. Лише підтримка моїх батьків допомагала нам вижити. І любов.
Потім усе налагодилось. Ми закінчили університет, знайшли роботу, зняли житло в Києві. Ярослав підріс, ми стали міцною родиною. Тільки образа не минула.
Наталя Олегівна все це час живе сама. Квартира, звідки нас вигнали, стоїть порожня. Вона час від часу дзвонить Дмитру, питає про онука, просить фотки. Він спілкується. Не має зла. А я не можу. Для мене це зрада. Вона зруйнувала наше життя в найуразливіший момент. Викинула нас, коли ми були беззахисні.
— Це ж моя квартира! Я мала право! — каже вона.
Так, право — можливо, і мала. Але совість? Серце? Де вони були, коли ми стояли на вокзалі з дитиною та двома валізами?
Я не злопам’ятна. Але пробачати — не зобов’язана. І до її життя я повертатись не збираюсь.
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