З життя
«Да, я такой»: у него были другие женщины, но семью бросать не планировал
**Дневник. Запись от 12 октября.**
Все вокруг твердили Ольге, что она сошла с ума. И она знала это. Но даже осознание не помогало что-то изменить. Чувства к мужу угасли давно, растворились между детскими пелёнками, ужинами, бессонными ночами и вечной работой. Раньше она летела домой счастливой, а теперь шла, как в тумане — уставшая, опустошённая, с пустым взглядом. В свои сорок Ольга выглядела на все пятьдесят, и это была правда, а не преувеличение.
Единственный, кто её искренне жалел — свекровь. Татьяна Ивановна. Женщина с тяжёлым характером, но с доброй душой. Она переехала в Москву из маленького Ельца — лечиться, потому что в их городе таких врачей не было. Жила в детской, помогала с восьмилетней внучкой Настей. Ребёнка нельзя было оставлять одного, а Ольга пропадала на работе с утра до ночи.
Муж… Ах, Серёжа. Будто бес вселился в него с возрастом. Задерживался, приходил под утро, пахнул чужими духами. Витийствовал про «новый парфюм», хотя весь двор уже знал, что у него есть любовницы. И даже не одна.
Он путался в именах. То назовёт Ольгу Ирой, то Леной, то Катькой. И каждый раз — с наглой ухмылкой, будто говорил: «Ну и что?» Он даже не скрывался. Более того — будто гордился. «Да, я такой», — читалось в его глазах.
Так бы и продолжалось, если бы однажды ночью не зазвонил телефон. Очередная пассия искала своего «котика» и с хамством орала: «Где он?! Почему не берёт трубку?!» Ольгу поразило не это, а то, как легко та женщина ворвалась в её дом, в её ночь, в её жизнь.
Когда Сергей приполз под утро с перегаром, Ольга не выдержала. Его вещи полетели в коридор с такой силой, что даже кот Барсик шмыгнул под кровать. Он лепетал оправдания:
— Да, у меня есть другая. Но я не уйду из семьи! У нас дети! Мать больная! Мы семья!
Но Татьяна Ивановна вышла из комнаты и впервые за годы повысила голос:
— Хочешь к другой — иди. Только не здесь. Я найду, где жить. Мне осталось немного долечиться. А у ребёнка уроки. Хватит ему диванов. Мы все заслуживаем нормальной жизни!
Ольга попыталась возразить, но свекровь твёрдо сказала:
— Я не лезу, но пока живу здесь — не позволю делать из квартиры похабщину. Пусть забирает вещи. А я до конца недели найду комнату. Дальше — ваше дело.
Под взглядом сына Сергей, бурча, запихивал рубашки в сумку. Унизительно. Но справедливо.
После его ухода в квартире стало тихо. По-настоящему. Никто не орал, не звонил ночью, не требовал еды. Свекровь приезжала раз в неделю, привозила внучке пряники и новости. А Ольга вдруг поняла: она просыпается без тяжёлого камня в груди. Даже в зеркале выглядела иначе.
И вот, когда лечение Татьяны Ивановны закончилось и она собралась уезжать, на пороге появился Сергей. С розами. С виноватой рожей. С фразой, от которой у Ольги оборвалось сердце:
— Прости. Она меня бросила. Я всё понял. Давай попробуем снова?
Татьяна Ивановна, уже в пальто, посмотрела на невестку:
— Решай сама. Не мне учить. Но пора думать не о других, а о себе.
И, взяв Настю за руку, ушла на кухню.
А Ольга стояла в прихожей и смотрела на человека, который предал её не раз. На того, кто был семьёй. А теперь — просто чужой. И ей предстояло решить. Самой.
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