З життя
Чоловік придбав два маленькі квартири: для нас і для молодшої сестри, замість однієї двокімнатної для нас.
Замість купити двокімнатну квартиру для нас, чоловік вирішив придбати дві менші квартири — для нас і для своєї молодшої сестри. Я мріяла про двокімнатну квартиру і вже уявляла, як її облаштую. Нещодавно я зрозуміла, що мої плани, на жаль, не здійсняться…
Ми з чоловіком одружені вже 5 років, і весь цей час збирали гроші на власне житло. Насправді, саме мій чоловік працював і накопичував гроші, оскільки я займалася домом. Я мріяла про простору двокімнатну квартиру площею сімдесят квадратних метрів з великою кухнею і просторою вітальнею. Я вже уявляла, як ми зробимо ремонт і купимо нові меблі. Проте нещодавно я зрозуміла, що мої мрії не збулися. Замість купувати для нас двокімнатну квартиру, чоловік вибрав два менші житла — для нас і для своєї молодшої сестри.
Олексій думає, що я нічого не знаю про його плани і поки мовчить. Але я не є ні глухою, ні сліпою. Знала, що рано чи пізно так станеться. Досі я не втручалася. Я знала, що коли він їде до матері, це не лише для чаювання з пирогами, а розмова про його плани.
У його телефоні я знайшла закладки з переглянутими сайтами та пошукові запити. Були дзвінки, на які він не відповідав, але перетелефоновував, щойно виходив з дому. Коли настав час покупки, Олексій сказав, що збирається купити два менші житла і не може вчинити інакше.
Я не зовсім розуміла, чому чоловік вважав, що має борг перед родиною. Єдине, чим родина його забезпечила — це гарною освітою. З початку навчання він підробляв, а потім, коли почав заробляти більше, відкладав гроші на рахунок.
Після одруження ми орендували житло, тому що чоловік накопичував на покупку власного житла. Тепер, коли нарешті вдалося зібрати повну суму, ми маємо ділитися цим з його сестрою? Чому?
Олексій пояснив так: «Сестра має свої потреби. Ми дуже різні. Я заощадливий, відповідальний, цілеспрямований. А вона легковажна. Спочатку жила з одним хлопцем, потім з іншим. Не має власного кута, немає де виховувати дітей. Жінка в 26 років хоче мати своє місце, де буде створювати сім’ю та власне гніздо. Я почав відкладати гроші давно, знав, що витрачати їх на клуби та розваги — марно. Я обіцяв сестрі купити квартиру ще до нашого весілля.
Після розриву з партнером, вона переїхала до матері і також почала заощаджувати. Мама теж продала частину своїх прикрас і додала кілька тисяч. Спільними зусиллями зібрали на маленьку квартиру в новому будинку. Так справедливо. Я не міг би відпочивати з тобою на святах і жити в двокімнатній квартирі, знаючи, що моя сестра не має де жити. Не варто ображатися чи переживати. Я люблю тебе і зможу забезпечити нам життя. Трохи перепочинемо і будемо думати про придбання квартир для наших дітей».
Не знаю, що думати після слів чоловіка. З одного боку, він витратив наші спільні гроші на свою родину, з іншого — хотів допомогти сестрі. Це дає мені надію на те, що й мене він не покине в скрутній ситуації…
A Sold Friend: Grandad’s Tale And He Understood Me! It Was No Fun – I Realized What a Foolish Idea It Was. I Sold Him. He Thought It Was a Game, Until He Realized I’d Truly Sold Him. Times, After All, Are Different for Everyone. For Some, All-Inclusive Isn’t All That Generous, While Others Just Dream of Fresh Bread and Sausage. That’s how we lived – each in our own way, with all sorts of ups and downs. I was little back then. My uncle – Uncle George – gave me a shepherd puppy, and I was over the moon. The pup bonded with me, understood me at a glance, looked into my eyes and waited, waited for my signal. “Lie down,” I would say after a pause, and he would lie, gazing up at me loyally as though ready to die for me. “Serve,” I commanded, and the puppy would clamber up on chubby legs and freeze, swallowing anxiously, waiting for a reward – a tasty treat. But I had nothing to spoil him with. We were barely managing ourselves. Times were tough. My uncle, Uncle George, my mum’s brother who had given me the puppy, once said to me: “Don’t be upset, lad. Look how loyal he is! Sell him, then call for him, and he’ll run back to you. No one will see. You’ll have some money for a treat for you and your mum, and for him too. Trust me, I’m telling you something useful.” The idea sounded good to me. I didn’t realize then how wrong it was – an adult suggested it, and besides, it’d just be a joke, and I could get a treat. I whispered into Loyal’s warm, furry ear that I’d give him away, then call him back, so he should come to me and escape from strangers. And he understood me! He barked, as if to agree. The next day, I put on his lead and walked him to the station. Everyone sold things there – flowers, cucumbers, apples. The crowd poured off the train, and people began buying, haggling. I stepped forward a little, pulling my dog closer. But no one approached. Almost everyone had gone when a man with a stern face came over. “You there, lad, waiting for someone, or maybe you want to sell your dog? Good, strong pup – I’ll take him,” and he pressed some money into my palm. I handed him the lead. Loyal looked around and sneezed happily. “Go on, Loyal, go with him, my friend,” I whispered, “I’ll call you, come to me.” And he went off with the man. Hiding, I watched where they went. That evening, I brought home bread, sausage, and sweets. Mum asked sternly: “Did you steal this from someone?” “No, Mum, I helped carry some things at the station, and they paid me.” “Well done, son. Now eat and let’s go to bed – I’m exhausted.” She didn’t even ask about Loyal; she didn’t care. Uncle George came by in the morning. I was getting ready for school, but all I wanted was to go call for Loyal. “So,” he chuckled, “sold your friend?” and ruffled my hair. I pulled away, refusing to answer. I hadn’t slept all night, and couldn’t eat my bread and sausage for the lump in my throat. It wasn’t fun – I realized what a stupid idea it had been. No wonder Mum never liked Uncle George. “He’s daft, don’t listen to him,” she’d always say. I grabbed my schoolbag and dashed from the house. It was three blocks to that man’s house, and I ran the whole way. Loyal sat behind a tall fence, tied up with a thick rope. I called him, but he looked at me sadly, head on his paws, tail wagging, trying to bark though his voice broke. I’d sold him. He thought it was a game, but then realized I had truly sold him. The owner came out, scolded Loyal, and he tucked in his tail. I knew then it was hopeless. That evening I worked at the station carrying bags. They paid little, but it was enough. Scared, I went to the gate and knocked. The man opened the door. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want?” “Sir, I changed my mind,” I stammered, handing him the money he’d given me for Loyal. He squinted at me, took the money, and untied Loyal. “Here, lad. Take him. He’s been pining, not cut out for a guard dog – but mind, he may never forgive you.” Loyal looked at me mournfully. Our game had become a trial for us both. Then he walked over, licked my hand and pressed his nose into my stomach. Years have passed since then, but I know now: you never sell a friend, not even as a joke. And Mum was so glad: “I was exhausted yesterday, then remembered – where’s our dog? I’m used to that boy, he’s part of the family, our Loyal!” After that, Uncle George hardly ever visited. We didn’t find his jokes funny anymore.
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