З життя
Я пам’ятаю все
Я нічого не забула
― Чого це ти зачастила в лікарню до сестри, кожного дня мчиш туди з повними сумками, ― невдоволено сказав Андрій своїй дружині Анастасії, коли вона вкотре повернулася з лікарні, і вони сіли вечеряти.
― А чому тебе це так дратує? ― здивувалася Настя.
― Та не те, щоб дратує. Я все розумію, вона твоя рідна сестра. Але все ж таки Катя не в тяжкому стані, та й є кому її відвідувати, крім тебе. Чоловік, дочка, син із дружиною… Ти чого туди щодня ходиш? Чи там працює симпатичний лікар, і ти заради нього приходиш кожного дня до сестри?
― Що за дурниця в тебе в голові, Андрію! ― зірвалася на чоловіка Анастасія. ― Як можна таке вигадати. До речі, лікар у Каті – жінка. Тож твоя версія не підходить…
― Ні, Настю, справді, поясни. Яка необхідність щодня після роботи їздити в лікарню до сестри? Ти встаєш тепер о шостій ранку, готуєш морси, бульйони… Потім після роботи мчиш додому, збираєш сумку й біжиш у лікарню до сестри? Це що? Самоістязання якесь, чесно. Ти ж втомилася вже, не висипаєшся. Ось синці під очима…
― Гаразд, я розкажу, бо ти ж не заспокоїшся, ― зітхнула Настя, прибираючи зі столу посуд. ― Зараз закип’ячу чай і поговоримо.
― Давай, ― зрадів чоловік, ― а то я, правду кажучи, нічого не розумію…
***
Сімнадцятирічна Настя Весницька, закінчивши школу, приїхала до великого міста, щоб вступити до університету чи технікуму, як вийде. Народилася та виросла вона в невеликому селищі, де можливості продовжити освіту й отримати професію не було. А Настя дуже хотіла отримати диплом і стати юристом.
Екзамени в університет вона провалила, але їй вдалося вступити до юридичного технікуму, чим вона була неймовірно задоволена. Не хотілося повертатися в селище, де не було жодних перспектив. Працювати продавцем, як її мама, дівчині не хотілося. Та й жити в селищі не хотілося зовсім.
Анастасія твердо вирішила залишитися в місті. Вивчитися, знайти роботу й особисте життя влаштувати. А в селище вона приїжджатиме в гості й батькам допомагатиме, коли сама стане на ноги. І в тому, що так і буде, дівчина не сумнівалася, вона мала дуже далекоглядні плани.
У школі Настя зустрічалася з Віталієм Каличем, однокласником. Але Віталік, на відміну від Насті, не жадав міського життя й нікуди з рідного селища їхати не збирався. Одразу після школи влаштувався на ферму, де працювали його батьки, потім збирався піти в армію й знову продовжити працювати на фермі… Саме таке життя було йому до душі.
Настя ж була в жаху від таких перспектив, тому з Віталієм вона легко розлучилася, розуміючи, що він зовсім не герой її роману. Майбутнього в них немає. Віталій, втім, теж особливо не засмутився, й уже через пів року, як лише йому виповнилося вісімнадцять, одружився з Альоною, яка давно по ньому сохла, і ось, нарешті, він також звернув на неї увагу.
Вступивши до технікуму, Настя отримала місце в гуртожитку й почала звикати до нового життя. Дівчина намагалася добре навчатися, щоб отримувати підвищену стипендію. Батьки щомісяця їй надсилали грошовий переказ, і Настя загалом не бідувала. Не шикарувала, звісно, але голодувати й особливо економити не доводилося.
…Той осінній день Анастасія донині пам’ятає в найдрібніших деталях… Вона їхала в автобусі, поверталася з наукової бібліотеки, де готувалася до семінару з цивільного права. У бібліотеці Настя затрималася до вечора й потрапила в час пік, люди поверталися з роботи, громадський транспорт був переповнений.
Дівчині тяжко вдалося втиснутися в набитий пасажирами автобус, але чекати наступного не хотілося. Та й не факт, що він приїде не таким переповненим… Так можна і не одну годину простояти на зупинці, чого втомленій Анастасії зовсім не хотілося.
Вийшовши з автобуса, де вона почувалася, як оселедець у бочці, Настя з полегшенням зітхнула й у цей момент з жахом виявила, що її сумка порізана… Дівчину пробрав холодний піт, коли вона зрозуміла, що у неї вкрали гаманець…
Це було зовсім не рідкісне явище, крадії таке прокручували постійно, користуючись тиснявою в громадському транспорті й неуважністю пасажирів… А знайти того, хто це зробив, було практично неможливо.
Але найстрашніше було те, що Настя саме сьогодні отримала стипендію, а вчора грошовий переказ від батьків, і всі ці гроші були в гаманці. Вона не встигла сховати їх під матрац у своєму ліжку, як зазвичай робила. І ось тепер гаманець украдений, а вона залишилася без копійки…
Ситуацію ускладнювало ще й те, що нещодавно Анастасія дзвонила до батьків, і мама розповіла, що татові затримують зарплату, тому попросила її бути економнішою, розтягувати гроші, так як невідомо, коли в наступний раз зможуть їй надіслати.
Сказати, що Настя була шокована, нічого не сказати. Сльози градом лились із її очей, вона сварила себе за те, що вчасно не переклала гроші й за те, що в автобусі була недостатньо уважною. Адже чула про такі випадки. Її одногрупницю нещодавно так само обшукали в тролейбусі. І ось тепер Настя сама стала жертвою крадія…
Звертатися до поліції не мало жодного сенсу. Що вона там розкаже? Вона не запам’ятала обличчя жодного з тих людей, з ким їхала поряд в автобусі. І знайти злодія – це навіть не іголку в стозі сіна шукати, бо просто нереально знайти того, хто вкрав її гаманець.
Цей дешевий китайський гаманець, найімовірніше, вже валяється в якомусь смітнику чи в канаві, а гроші з нього крадій забрав собі… Всі її гроші… І на що їй тепер жити? Що буде їсти? З продуктів залишилися тільки пачка маргарину, дві цибулини, чай, трохи гречки й макаронів. На місяць цих запасів, звісно, не вистачить.
― Чого ревеш? ― запитала Юля, сусідка по кімнаті, побачивши заплакану Настю.
Дівчина розповіла про неприємність, що сталася з нею.
― Так… – протягнула Юля. – Не щастить тобі. Але ти сама винна. Хто ж усі гроші з собою тягне? І в автобусі треба було сумку до себе притискати мертвою хваткою, або взагалі гроші в білизну чи в бюстгальтер засунути. Зараз час такий, потрібно постійно бути на чеку й дивитись в обидва… Нестямка ти, Настя… Навчаєшся на відмінно, а в інших справах ведеш себе, як, прости, дурна курка…
Настя сама все це прекрасно розуміла й від слів Юльки їй не ставало легше… Вона навіть не образилася на те, що сусідка по кімнаті назвала її дурною куркою. Саме такою вона себе зараз і почувала… Але час назад не відмотати й нічого вже не можна виправити. Грошей не повернеш, а жити якось треба.
Від думки піти в телефонну кабінку й подзвонити батькам Настя відмовилася. Їй було соромно зізнатися мамі й татові в тому, що вона така нездара. У них зараз і так труднощі з грошима, татові затримують зарплату, і вони живуть на те, що заробляє мама в магазині. А вона майже всю свою зарплату бере продуктами. Їсти-то треба, до того ж, окрім Насті, є ще молодша дочка Катя…
Мабуть, доведеться влаштовуватися на роботу, подумала Настя. Це можна, але ось тільки хто їй одразу заплатить? Спочатку треба буде відпрацювати місяць чи хоча б два тижні, щоби отримати аванс… Хоча аванс, здається, не дають тим, хто тільки влаштувався… Що ж робити? Якась безвихідна ситуація…
― Хочеш, я тебе з багатим чоловіком познайомлю? ― неочікувано запропонувала Юлька.
― З ким? ― не відразу зрозуміла Настя.
― Ой, ти що від життя відстала? З багатим чоловіком, який буде тебе утримувати в обмін на… ну ти розумієш, мабуть. Чи теж треба пояснювати?
― Не треба, розумію…
― Добре, що розумієш. Ну а що, зовнішність у тебе гарна, тож охочих побути з тобою виявиться чимало… І будеш ти у повному шоколаді.
Пропозиція Юлі Анастасії була зовсім не до душі. Від однієї думки про те, щоб стати коханкою якогось престарілого багатія, продавати себе за гроші, Насті стало не по собі… Вона знала, що її сусідка цим не гребує й тому у неї немає матеріальних труднощів, але Насті ця думка була глибоко огидна…
― Ну так що, познайомити? ― знову запропонувала Юля.
― Ні, ― похитала головою Настя й трохи подумавши, запитала. ― Юль, а ти не можеш позичити мені трохи грошей? До стипендії. У мене ж нічого немає зовсім.
― Вибач, але позичити не можу. Все на одяг і косметику витратила, залишилося трохи на їжу. Але моя пропозиція про знайомство в силі, якщо що. Тож подумай. Хоча я на твоєму місці б і не розмірковувала. Знаєш, коли їсти нічого, про свої моральні принципи якось менше всього хочеться згадувати.
Настя нічого не відповіла Юлі, вона повернулася до стіни й знову тихенько заплакала. А невдовзі непомітно для самої себе заснула…
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IS IT REALLY THE ORCHID’S FAULT? “Polly, take this orchid or I’ll bin it,” Kate muttered, scooping the transparent pot off the windowsill and thrusting it into my hands. “Thanks, mate! But what did this orchid ever do to upset you?” I was puzzled. There were still three gorgeous, pampered orchids on her windowsill. “That flower was a wedding gift for my son. And, well, you know how that turned out…” Kate sighed heavily. “I know your Dennis and Tanya divorced before their first anniversary. I won’t ask why—it must have been serious. Dennis absolutely adored Tanya.” I didn’t want to reopen an old wound. “Someday I’ll tell you the whole story, Polly. For now, it’s too much to remember,” Kate mused, dabbing her eyes. I brought the “rejected” and “banished” orchid home. My husband looked at the pitiful specimen and said, “Why bother with that runt? Even I can see there’s no life left in it. Don’t waste your time.” “I’m going to revive her,” I insisted. “A bit of love and care, and you’ll see—she’ll be in bloom again.” He winked: “Who can refuse love?” A week later, Kate rang: “Polly, can I come round? I can’t keep this burden inside. I want to tell you everything about Dennis’ disastrous marriage.” “Come right over, Kate. I’m here.” I couldn’t turn her down. She’d been my rock through my first painful divorce—and when things were rocky with my second husband too. We’d been friends forever. Kate arrived an hour later. She settled in the kitchen, and over a glass of dry wine, a cup of strong coffee, and some dark chocolate, the story spilled out. “I never imagined my ex-daughter-in-law was capable of such a thing. Dennis and Tanya were together for seven years before marrying. Dennis left Annie for Tanya—and I loved Annie, so homely and warm, I called her daughter. Then this dazzling beauty Tanya swept in. Dennis was besotted—hovering around her like a bee around a blossom. Love at first sight, absolutely scorching. He pushed Annie aside in a heartbeat. “Yes, Tanya had model looks. Dennis loved when his mates gawped and passers-by turned heads. Yet, no child in seven years. I thought maybe Dennis wanted everything proper—wedded first, then kids. He’s private, never confided much, and we didn’t meddle. “One day he just told us: “‘Mum, Dad, I’m marrying Tanya. We’ve given notice at the registry office. No expense spared—a wedding to remember.’ “We were thrilled—Dennis was thirty, finally settling down. But the wedding date shifted—he was unwell, then I got held up at work. I got a bad feeling, but I saw his happiness and kept silent. “Dennis even wanted a church blessing, but the priest was away. Nothing was going right. Everything was a sign… “Still, we had a big, noisy wedding. Look—here’s the photo. See that orchid? Blooming, magnificent. Its leaves stood tall. Now, they’re just limp rags. “Dennis and Tanya planned a Paris honeymoon, but there was a hitch—Tanya wasn’t allowed to leave the country. Some massive unpaid fine. They were turned away at the airport. Dennis ignored the strings of bad luck, lost in dreams of family life. “But then he got seriously ill—hospitalised. The doctors had little hope. Tanya stuck around for a week, then said: “‘I’m sorry, but I can’t cope with a disabled husband. I’m filing for divorce.’ “Imagine, Polly, what Dennis felt lying there? Still, he replied: “‘I understand, Tanya. I won’t stand in your way.’ “So, they divorced. “But Dennis recovered. We found him a brilliant doctor, who pulled him through in half a year—said Dennis was young enough to bounce back. Our family grew close to the doctor, Peter, who had a lovely twenty-year-old daughter, Masha. Dennis barely paid attention to her: “‘She’s tiny. Not even pretty.’ “‘Give her a chance, son. Looks aren’t everything. You’ve tried the model wife—now, perhaps, try joy over glamour.’ “He couldn’t forget Tanya’s betrayal, yet Masha adored Dennis from the start—she followed him everywhere, phoned him constantly. “We tried matchmaking with a trip in the countryside. Dennis sulked the whole time, nothing cheered him up—campfire, barbeque, our laughter—nothing. Masha followed him with puppy eyes, but he barely glanced at her. “‘It’s hopeless,’ I sighed to my husband. ‘Dennis still loves Tanya. She’s a splinter in his heart.’ “A few months later, Dennis showed up at the door with the infamous orchid: “‘Here, Mum—the last relic of past happiness. Do what you want with it. I don’t want this exotic reminder.’ “I begrudgingly accepted the orchid and took a dislike to it—almost as if I blamed it for my son’s pain. I shoved it out of sight, neglected it. “Then I ran into a neighbour: “‘Kate, I saw your Dennis with a pixie-like girl. His first wife was far more striking, though…’ “I didn’t believe it—could Dennis really be dating Masha? “‘Meet my wife, Masha,’ Dennis introduced her, cradling her hand. “My husband and I exchanged glances. “‘But what about a wedding? Guests?’ “‘No need for a fuss—we’ve done all that. Registered at the town hall, quiet and simple. Father Peter gave us a church blessing. Masha and I are forever.’ “I pulled Dennis aside: “‘Do you actually love her? Please don’t hurt Masha—or marry just to spite Tanya.’ “‘No, Mum, I’m not taking revenge. I’m over that woman,’ he said—he’d stopped calling Tanya by name. ‘As for love… Masha and I just fit perfectly together.’ “That’s my story, Polly.” Kate finally unburdened her heart. …After this heartfelt chat, two years rushed by, life got busy. But the orchid revived and bloomed—they really do respond to love. When I met Kate again, it was at the maternity ward: “Hey, mate, what are you doing here?” “Masha’s had twins. They’re being discharged today,” Kate grinned. At the entrance stood Dennis and Kate’s husband, Dennis clutching a bouquet of red roses. Out came a tired but glowing Masha, followed by the nurse gently carrying two tiny, sleeping bundles. My own daughter was there, snuggling her newborn. Tanya is now begging Dennis for forgiveness and to try again… But you can glue a broken cup, though you’ll never drink from it the same way again…
IS THE ORCHID TO BLAME? Polly, take this orchid away or Ill chuck it out, Kate announced, carelessly lifting the...
Fate on a Hospital Bed – “Young Lady, You Look After Him! I’m Too Scared to Even Feed Him with a Spoon,” She Snapped, Tossing Grocery Bags onto the Bed Where Her Sick Husband Lay. “Please Don’t Worry! Your Husband Will Recover. He Needs Careful Nursing Now. I’ll Help Dmitry Get Back on His Feet,” I, as the nurse, had to reassure the tuberculosis patient’s wife yet again. Dmitry arrived in critical condition, but his will to live gave him good odds. Sadly, his wife Alla didn’t believe in medicine. It seemed she’d given up on him already… Years later, the same fate befell their son Yura. Alla gave up on him too – but Yura survived. Despite his diagnosis, Dmitry joked and laughed, eager to leave the TB ward. His village lacked any specialist hospital, so Alla rarely visited. I felt sorry for him – so unkempt, so abandoned… “Dima, do you mind if I bring you some things? I see you don’t even have slippers,” I teased. “Violetta, I’d swallow poison from you if you said it was medicine. But no, just let me get well first…” My heart fluttered. Was I falling for a married man? I tried not to. But you can’t command the heart… I visited Dima more often. Our talks grew deep; we switched to first names. He had a five-year-old son. “My Yura takes after his beautiful mum… I loved Alla – but she only loves herself. It eats you up… now it’s you caring for me, a stranger,” he sighed. I tried to make excuses for Alla. He shook his head. “A wife can find time for her lovers a hundred miles away—but not for me.” After a fight, Alla vanished. A month passed. Dima told me quietly, “We’re divorcing.” When he was discharged, he asked shyly to stay with me, and I agreed—if he’d accept my child too. He did—and so began our life together. Years passed. We had two children together. His son Yura visits often. My own daughter lives far away; I never regretted being a single mother. As for Alla: she remarried many times, had another son who suffered from mental illness. She remained cold and distant, and when she died, her son was sent to a care home. Now Dima and I are old, but love each other more than ever, grateful for every day together.
FATE ON A HOSPITAL BED Tuesday Ill never get used to certain moments in the ward. Today, Mrs. Parker burst...
I’ve Never Taken What Belongs to Someone Else Once, while still at school, Martha both despised and envied Nastya. She looked down on Nastya because her parents were hopelessly alcoholic, scraping by on odd jobs and living hand-to-mouth. Nastya always wore shabby clothes, seemed half-starved and downtrodden. Her father often hit her—sometimes for drinking too little, sometimes for drinking too much, sometimes for no clear reason at all. Nastya’s mother never stood up for her, too afraid of her husband’s heavy hand. Only her devoted grandmother brought any light to Nastya’s world. Once a month, from her modest pension, Grandma would give her beloved granddaughter a “salary” for good behaviour. Even if Nastya misbehaved, Grandma would always pretend not to notice and hand over her pay anyway—five roubles! For Nastya, that was the happiest day of the month. She’d rush to the shop and buy ice cream (one for herself, one for Grandma), halvah, and a few sweets. Every time, Nastya tried to make the treats last all month—but after two days, they’d always be gone. Then, as if on cue, Grandma would get her own ice cream from the fridge and say, “Here, sweetheart, eat this. My throat is sore today.” “How odd,” Nastya thought, “Grandma’s throat always seems to start hurting the day my sweets run out…” She secretly always hoped to get a share of Grandma’s portion. Martha’s family was the complete opposite. Their home was overflowing with comfort. Her parents earned good money and pampered their only daughter. Martha was always dressed in the latest fashions, and her classmates sometimes borrowed her things. She was never denied anything—well-fed, well-dressed, and shod in the best shoes. Yet Martha envied her classmate’s enchanting beauty, the warmth that radiated from Nastya, and her natural ability to get along with everyone. Martha, however, considered herself above even talking to Nastya. Whenever they crossed paths, Martha would glare at her so coldly, it felt to Nastya as if she’d been doused in ice water. Once, Martha insulted her in front of everyone: “You’re pathetic!” Nastya ran home in tears and told her grandmother. Grandma sat her down, stroked her hair and said, “Don’t cry, Nastya. Tomorrow, tell her, ‘You’re right—I belong to God!’” Nastya felt better right away. Martha was beautiful herself, but her beauty came with an air of coldness and distance. Then there was Max, the class heartthrob—carefree, always joking, not bothered by failing grades or scoldings from teachers. His outlook was sunny, and his optimism infectious; even the teachers liked him, despite his troublemaking ways. In their final years at school, Max began escorting Martha home after lessons and waiting for her at the school gate in the morning. Their classmates teased: “Here come the bride and groom!” Even the teachers noticed the blossoming romance between Max and Martha. Eventually, the final bell rang, prom night passed, and the classmates went their separate ways. Max and Martha married in a hurry—the “evidence of love” couldn’t be concealed, not even by Martha’s elaborate wedding dress. Within five months, she gave birth to a daughter, Sofia. After school, Nastya was forced to get a job. Her beloved grandmother had passed away, and now her parents depended on Nastya’s income. She had plenty of admirers, but none touched her soul, and she was ashamed of her alcoholic family. A decade slipped by… One day, in the waiting room at the addiction clinic, there were two pairs: Nastya with her mum, Max with Martha. Nastya immediately recognized Max—he was now an impressive man, but Martha was nearly unrecognizable: gaunt, hands shaking, dead-eyed, only 28 but looking much older. Max greeted Nastya, embarrassed. “Hello, classmate,” he said, not wanting Nastya to witness his family’s misery. “Hello, Max. Looks like trouble at home. Has it been going on for long?” Nastya asked quickly. “A while,” he confessed, awkwardly. “A woman who drinks—it’s a disaster. I know from my mum. My father literally drank himself to death,” Nastya sympathized. After the appointments, Max and Nastya exchanged numbers for support. Misery loves company, and Max started visiting Nastya for advice. She shared her hard-earned wisdom about living with alcoholics, what treatments worked, and what absolutely didn’t. She knew, as so many drowned in the bottle, it wasn’t always obvious from the surface… Max confided that he and his daughter Sofia had long lived alone—Martha had returned to her parents’ home. Max had shielded Sofia from her unpredictable mother. The breaking point was when Max came home to find Martha drunk on the floor and three-year-old Sofia teetering on the windowsill, poised to fall from the fifth floor. After that, Max took no more chances. Martha refused help, convinced she could stop anytime. She was drawn to the abyss—and wanted to fall as far as possible. Their marriage ended. Later, Max invited Nastya to a restaurant and confessed: he’d loved her since their schooldays, but was too afraid of rejection, then Martha had become pregnant… Life tumbled on. Meeting at the clinic had seemed like fate. Chatting with Nastya was like a soothing balm. Max proposed marriage, and after all these years, Nastya was finally ready to accept his love—especially now that Martha was out of the picture. Nastya and Max married quietly, and she moved in with him. At first, Sofia was wary of sharing her father’s love, but Nastya’s kindness soon melted her heart, and before long, Sofia started calling her “mum.” A few years later, Sofia gained a little sister, Molly. One day, their doorbell rang. Nastya opened it to find—Martha, utterly changed, reeked of alcohol, a living warning. “You snake! You stole my husband, my daughter! No wonder I’ve hated you all my life!” Martha hissed. Nastya stood calm, confident, beautiful. “I have never taken what was not mine. You gave up your family by choice, never understanding why. I have never uttered a bad word about you. I truly pity you, Martha…” With that, Nastya closed the door on her uninvited guest.
NEVER TOOK WHAT WASNT MINE Even back in school, Martha looked down on Nancy yet couldnt help but envy her....
Like a Bird Drawn to the Call – A Tale of Love, Loyalty, and Life’s Twists: From My Grandmother’s Wisdom and Parents’ Lifelong Marriage, to Broken Trust, Forbidden Affairs, and a Second Chance Family with My True Soulmate
LIKE A BIRD TO A CALL Girls, you only marry once, and it must be for life. You stay with...