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Давня історія, передана через покоління
Ця історія сталася дуже давно. Головна героїня, яка розповіла мені її, тепер уже бабуся і виховує двох чарівних онучок. Вона доросла й серйозна жінка, але запевняє, що кожне слово тут — чиста правда…
Дівчинка бігла темним парком, попереду вже виблискувало озеро, а над ним сяяв повний місяць. Вона заплющила очі й без вагань стрибнула у воду з крутого берега. Вода була тепла, лагідна, немов колиска. Міцні руки підхопили її, витягли на суходіл і потрясли: «Що це ти, дитинко, задумала?! Чи з розуму звісилася? Де твої батьки?»
Марічка, відпльовуючись від води, намагалася розплющити очі, але мокрі коси заважали. «Будь ласка, не трясіть мене так», — голос дівчинки тремтів від страху. Хтось посадив її на траву, накинув щось тепле на плечі й обережно відгорнув волосся з обличчя. Марічка розплющила очі й побачила невисокого дідуся з довгою бородою, де вплуталися водяні лілії та рогозові стебла. «Ви хто?»
«Місцевий Водяник. Чого вилупилася? Не віриш? От дожилися — навіть малі діти в дива не вірять. Що трапилося, що на таку дурню наважилася?»
Дівчинка знову гірко заплакала: «Мене мама не любить. Раніше любила, а коли тато пішов, перестала. Тільки кричить і лається. А сьогодні вдарила…»
Водяник погладив її по голові й важко зітхнув: «Мене теж ніхто не любить. Хлопчик з сусіднього під’їзду цілий день кепкує та за коси тягає. А наша прибиральниця тітка Галина лопатою погрожує…»
Водяник сумно посміхнувся: «Ох, лишенько ти моє. Допоможу, як умію. Тримай мушлю — таких тут не знайдеш, із самого Чорного моря. Як почнуть тебе ображати, приклади її до вуха». Мушля була тепла і мерехтіла зсередини.
«Тільки умова: віддаси її потім тому, кому вона більше знадобиться. А тепер біжи додому, дівчинко». Водяник допоміг Марічці підвестись і раптом зник, наче його й не було.
Коли дівчинка прибігла додому, мама знову почала кричати й уже збиралася замахнутися, коли Марічка швидко приклала мушлю до вуха. Вона почула мамин голос: «Що ж я роблю? Це ж моя дитина, рідна кров… Дурна я, дурна, через того негідника…»
Дівчинка обійняла маму: «Мамочка, я тебе теж люблю. Тато повернеться, ось побачиш. Тільки не пий більше й не кричи на мене». Так вони й стояли в обіймах, обидві плачучи.
Наступного дня Марічка пішла гуляти в гарному настрої. Біз під’їзду прибиральниця тітка Галина знову погрожувала лопатою. Дівчинка посміхнулася й приклала мушлю: «Що я на дітей гавкаю? Усе кіт мой Барсик винен. Де він бродить? Хоч би живий був…»
Марічка засміялася: «Тітко Галино, Барсик повернеться. Я його вчора у сусідньому дворі бачила — із кошеням грається. Не хвилюйтесь».
Дівчинка побігла на дитячий майданчик, а стара жінка перехрестила її вслід. Раптом з’явився хлопчина: «Ну що, Плакса-Вакса? Покататися захотіла?»
Знову знадобилася мушля: «Вона гарна. Як же їй сказати? Ось зараз як дам, щоб знала!»
Марічка підійшла ближче: «Мене Марічка звати. А тебе? Допоможи гойдалки розкачати. Люблю високо, а сама не виходить…»
Марічка збиралася до школи, у перший клас. Ранок був метушливий і веселий. Мама прасувала стрічки, пекла млинці й заварювала чай одночасно. Біля під’їзду дівчинку чекав Андрійко. Він узяв її портфель і гордо закрокував поруч. У школі, на перерві, Марічка помітила хлопчика. Він сидів сам у дальньому кутку спортмайданчика й тихо плакав.
«Мене Марічка звати. У тебе щось трапилося?» Хлопчик хотів утекти, але, подивившись у її очі, прошепотів: «У мене немає мами, а тато поїхав на заробітки. Бабуся з дідусем постійно сваряться. Ніхто мене не любить…»
Дівчинка посміхнулася й дістала мушлю…
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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. 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