З життя
Чоловік повернувся додому і був вражений… Півроку тому йому подарували маленьке кошеня
На порозі свого будинку чоловік мало не знепритомнів… Півроку тому йому подарували маленького кошеня, якого назвали Кулем. Його племінниця, яка час від часу навідувалась із сім’єю, знайшла це маля на вулиці і, передаючи його, сказала:
— Ти живеш сам, ніяк собі пари не знайдеш. Робота у тебе нервова – водій маршрутки. Прийдеш додому, а тут тобі раді. Коти створюють затишок і спокій…
Ото як! Він і повірив: може, й справді так. Прийдеш додому, втомлений від пасажирів та водіїв, яким не хочеться поступатись дорогою, а тут – диванчик, на ньому муркоче котик. Радіє, лізе на руки, гладити себе хоче.
Ну, ви й самі розумієте, пані і панове, це він через своє невігластво так думав. Кіт не виправдав сподівань і перетворився на підлітка-непосидька. Сидіти на руках він недолюблював, а от пустувати? Залюбки!
За своє невігластво чоловік придбав мухобійку, якою ляскав мух. Маленьких вертких або величезних, яких із невідомої причини називали гнойовими. Куль уважно стежив за чоловіком, що лупцює мух, напевно, інформацію набирав. І одного дня вирішив порадувати свого господаря. І порадував…
Тож повернемось до моменту, з якого почали.
***
Чоловік увійшов до хати і мало не закляк. Нічого! Рівним рахунком нічого не лежало й не стояло в його домівці. Розгардіяш такий, що можна було подумати, ніби дві банди гангстерів влаштували розбірки прямо в його оселі і орудували вони… битами!
Стільці були перевернуті. Вази, склянки та взагалі усе, що стояло або лежало на столі, підвіконнях і тумбочках, тепер покривало підлогу, рівномірно розподіливши скалки скла, глини і пластмаси…
Штори нагадували смужки спідниці якоїсь модниці, а на кухні… Кетчуп змішався з соленими помідорами і варенням. Поруч купками лежали сіль, цукор, перець. Вилки і ложки валялись розсіяними групками. Штори на кухні були відірвані разом із карнизами і валялись у всій тій розкоші, а на зовсім порожньому обідньому столі…
Сидів дуже задоволений Куль, а перед ним була муха. Величезна, як літак. Куль дивився на свого господаря поглядом переможця і задоволено муркотів.
Наразі! Наразі його похвалять. Цілий день, не шкодуючи лап і зусиль, він ганявся по квартирі за цим нахабним шкідником. Втомився страшенно, але зловив! І тепер може продемонструвати свою здобич і отримати заслужену нагороду.
Від таких приємних думок Куль аж почав переминатися лапками. Чоловік підняв стілець і сів на нього. Він не знав, із чого почати: прибирати, вечеряти чи лаяти Куля. Але незабаром дзвінок у двері розв’язав усі його сумніви. Пройшовши до передпокою, він відчинив двері, і здивування його посилилося ще більше.
У коридорі стояли троє поліцейських, а за ними зібралась десятка сусідів. Поліцейські тримали руки на рукоятках пістолетів.
— До нас надійшов дзвінок… — почав один із них.
— Багато дзвінків, — додав інший. — Сказали, що у вас у квартирі коїться щось недобре: меблі падають, тарілки розбиті, нічого, окрім жахливого шуму і виття. Не могли б ви дозволити нам увійти та переконатися, що все в безпеці, а також… будь ласка, підніміть руки, схрестіть їх на голові і відійдіть у дальній куток кімнати.
Сусіди дивились на чоловіка з острахом і осудом.
— Ось як, — сказав чоловік. І продовжив: — Прошу, заходьте!
Він відійшов у дальній куток і схрестив руки на голові. Поліцейські обійшли всі кімнати, спостерігаючи страшний розгром, і щось шукали.
— Що шукаєте? — поцікавився чоловік.
— Тіло, — відповів один із поліцейських. — І ваше пояснення цього хаосу.
— Ага, тіло! Тіло я вам покажу, — погодився чоловік.
Поліцейські миттєво насторожились, опустивши руки на пістолети. Обережно, рухаючись уздовж стінки і намагаючись не робити різких рухів, чоловік пройшов на кухню і, відчинивши двері, зробив широкий жест.
— Будь ласка! — сказав він. — Ось тіло.
Поліцейські, відштовхнувши його вбік, увірвались на кухню. Витріщене тіло сиділо на столі й нахабно усміхалося, демонструючи свою увагу. А перед ним лежала муха. Декілька секунд кімната була в тиші, поки поліцейські приходили до тями. Врешті-решт, перше засміявся той, хто завів розмову, а потім за ним зареготали і всі інші.
Вони не могли зупинитися від сміху, а Куль дивився на них і на чоловіка впевненим поглядом, ніби говорячи: «Бачиш? Усі задоволені. Значить, не дарма старався!».
Після цього ще пів години поліцейські фотографувалися з мухою і Кулем на руках на фоні влаштованого безладу. Всі сміялися і були дуже задоволені. Найбільше задоволеним був кіт. Ще б пак! Усі гідно оцінили його зусилля.
***
Коли поліція і сусіди розійшлися, чоловік знову сів на стілець.
— Я вам допоможу, — почувся голос, і чоловік обернувся.
Поруч стояла жінка з першого поверху.
— Сьогодні вихідний, — усміхнулася вона. — Ви самі до ночі провозитесь, а разом ми швидше впораємось.
— Мені незручно вас турбувати, — трохи засоромився чоловік.
— Що ви! — усміхнулася жінка у відповідь. — Все добре. Все одно мені нема чим зайнятися. Я сама. Нікого у мене нема. Тільки мама неподалік живе. А ви будете сварити цього пустуна, ну, або хоч трохи лаяти? — запитала вона, кивнувши на Куля.
Той сидів на столі в кухні і гнав лапою жирну муху.
— Хіба сварити… — зітхнув чоловік. — Зараз посварю…
Він піднявся і, підходячи до Куля, взяв його на руки:
— Ти ж такий неслухай! Хіба можна так? Ні, не можна.
Куль переберав лапками — тато сварив його. Причому так гарно і лагідно, що втриматися було неможливо, і він, потягнувшись вгору, лизнув свого господаря у ліву щоку, а чоловік… Поцілував його у носик.
— Ну і добре. Значить, ти все правильно зрозумів. Щоб більше так не робив.
І опустив кота на підлогу. Куль задер хвіст і почав тертися об ноги жінки. Вона сміялась.
— Як ви його гарно насварили, — усміхнулася вона. — А чому я вас раніше не помічала?
— Не знаю, — відповів чоловік. — Може, тому, що я раніше нещасним був, а тепер, як Куль у мене з’явився, одразу щастя додалося.
І рукою вказав на безлад, що вчинив кіт.
Жінка набрала номер знайомого майстра, і наступного дня чоловікові встановили міцну дрібну сітку на всі вікна. І Куль тепер міг спокійно лежати на підвіконні і спостерігати за пташками і великими жирними мухами.
А жінка і чоловік прибрали весь безлад, винесли і викинули весь розбитий посуд, помили підлогу, зняли порвані штори. Вони поїхали в магазин вибирати нові. Повернулися вони під вечір, чоловік накупив різної закуски і смачний тортик. І пляшку шампанського. Ну, ви розумієте, пані і панове, аби відсвяткувати в новій-старій оселі разом із жінкою.
Вони сиділи за кухонним столом, їли, пили та розмовляли. І їм було добре, а особливо добре було Кулю. Він лежав на колінах у жінки і задумав… нову допомогу татові.
***
Зрештою, все закінчилося чудово. І Куль, звісно, відчайдушно допомагає обом. Татові та новій мамі. Яка прийшла в їхню оселю лише тому, що знайшла його, Куля. І визнала в ньому свого рідного котика.
І тепер тато з мамою разом усувають наслідки його «допомоги». А що ви собі думаєте? А як інакше? Інакше ніяк.
I Will Always Be With You, Mum: A Heartfelt Story You Can Believe Grandma Valerie couldn’t wait for evening to come. Her neighbour Natalie, a single woman approaching fifty, had just confided something so astonishing that Valerie’s head was spinning. To prove her point, Natalie had even invited her round later to show her something remarkable. The story began quite simply. That morning, Natalie had dropped by as she was on her way to the shop: “Is there anything you need, Valerie? I’m popping to the corner shop to pick up bits for a pie and a few other things.” Valerie smiled. “You’ve always been so good and caring, Natalie. I remember you as a little girl. It’s a shame things haven’t worked out for you—but you never seem sad or complain, not like some.” Natalie laughed. “What’s there to complain about? I do have a man I love, it’s just we can’t be together for now. Would you like to hear the reason? I’ve never told anyone else, but I want to tell you. Well, partly because you probably wouldn’t be believed if you repeated it!” She grinned. “Just let me know if you need anything from the shop. I’ll pop in on my way back, and over a cup of tea, I’ll tell you all about my life. Maybe then you’ll be happy for me and stop worrying.” Valerie didn’t really need anything, but asked Natalie to fetch a loaf of bread and some sweets for tea, her curiosity well and truly piqued. Later, as they sat together over tea and cake, Natalie began: “Valerie, you remember that thing that happened to me twenty years ago? I was nearly thirty. Met a bloke—nice enough, so I thought I’d marry him even if I didn’t love him. At least I’d have a family. He moved in and I got pregnant. When the baby came, a little girl, she lived just two days and passed away. I thought I’d go mad with grief. My husband and I split up soon after. A couple of months later, once I’d stopped crying, something happened. It’s hard to explain, Valerie. I’d got everything ready for my daughter—the cot, bedding, toys, the lot. They say it’s bad luck to buy these things early, but I didn’t believe that. Then one night I was woken by the sound of a baby crying. I thought I was imagining it, but the crying came again. I went to the cot—and there she was. My little girl. I picked her up, my heart nearly bursting with happiness. She looked up at me and then drifted peacefully to sleep. And from then on, almost every night, she would come to me. I even bought formula and a bottle, but she hardly ever fed—just smiled, closed her eyes and slept in my arms. Is that even possible?” Valerie leaned forward, utterly enthralled. “I know it sounds mad, but it’s true,” Natalie insisted. “It just went on—we got used to those nightly visits. I knew my little girl was living in another world, with her own mum and dad, but she never forgot me. She would visit, and one night she said to me: ‘I will always be with you, Mum. We are bound by an invisible thread, and nothing can ever break it.’ Sometimes I wonder if it’s a dream, but she even brings me gifts from her world. They don’t last long here though—they fade away like snow in spring.” That evening, Valerie finally visited Natalie’s flat. No one else was home—just the two of them. Suddenly, a gentle light shimmered in the air and a sweet young woman appeared: “Hello, Mummy! I’ve had such a good day, I want to share it with you. And here’s a present for you.” She placed a small bouquet on the table. Turning to see Valerie, she smiled again. “Oh, hello! Mum said you wanted to meet me. I’m Marianne.” After chatting a while, Marianne faded away like morning mist. Valerie sat silent, absolutely stunned. “Well, I never… that really happens!” she whispered. “Your daughter’s a beauty, Natalie, just like you. I’m so happy for you. You really are a lucky woman—maybe luckier than anyone I know. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Thank you for opening my eyes. The world is so much bigger than I thought; life goes on everywhere. I’m not afraid anymore.” The flowers on the table became paler and then vanished altogether. But Natalie smiled, full of hope. Tomorrow would be a wonderful new day. She was going to meet Arkady, the man she loved and who loved her back—she just knew it. And someday soon, she’d introduce him to the two people she loved most in the world: Marianne and Arkady.
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No One Left to Talk To: A Story “Mum, what are you saying? How can you say you’ve got no one to talk to? I call you twice a day,” her daughter asked wearily. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant,” Nina Anderson sighed sadly. “I just don’t have any friends or acquaintances left who are my age. From my time.” “Mum, don’t talk nonsense. You still have your school friend Irene. And honestly, you’re so modern and you look much younger than you are. Oh, Mum, what’s wrong?” her daughter fretted. “You know Irene has asthma; when she talks on the phone she starts coughing. And she lives all the way on the other side of the city. There were three of us friends, remember I told you? But Mary’s been gone for a long time. Yesterday, Tanya from the flat next door popped in. I made her a cuppa—she’s a lovely woman, often drops by. She even brought over some buns she’d baked for her family. She told me about her children and grandchildren. 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. Come on, let’s have tea. Nina, you look younger somehow—come on, tell me!” “I don’t know—my fifth youth!” Nina laughed as she sliced the tart. “Yesterday I rang Simon Mallory by accident… remember your crush in Year Eleven? We got to reminiscing—I’d forgotten half of it. What’s up, Irene? Not another asthma attack?” Irene sat pale and silent, then whispered: “Nina, you didn’t know? Simon passed away a year ago. He lived in another part of town—he moved from that old place ages ago.” “You must be joking! How? Who was I talking to? He remembered everything about our school days. My mood was terrible before talking to him. But after we spoke, I felt life was carrying on—that I still had strength, and joy for living… How could it be?” Nina couldn’t believe Simon was gone. “But I heard his voice. He said such beautiful things: ‘The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!’” Irene shook her head, sceptical of her friend’s story. Then she surprised Nina by saying: “Nina, I don’t know how, but it really does sound like it was him. His words, his style. Simon loved you. I think he wanted to support you… from the other side. And it looks like he did. I haven’t seen you so happy and full of energy for ages. One day, someone will piece your tattered heart back together. And you’ll finally remember—what it feels like to be… simply happy.”
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