З життя
Майже півроку після весілля: Наша перша зустріч з батьками.
Вирішили ми відвідати батьків майже через півроку після весілля. Я знав, що це буде випробування, але навіть не уявляв, наскільки. Ще з порога мати зустріла нас холодними очима і словами, від яких кров стигла в жилах: “Тут працюють, а не розважаються”. В її голосі була загроза, наче ми приїхали не в рідний дім, а на службу.
Моя Оксана, з її ніжними руками і міською витонченістю, здавалася мені раптом крихкою, немов квітка серед бур’янів. Я бачив, як вона стискає мою руку, коли мати доручила їй чистити рибу. “Василь, це ж твоя дружина, а не прислуга!” — хотілося кричати, але я мовчав. Мовчав, бо знав: кожен протест лише підсилить полум’я.
Теплі літні дні в селі стали кошмаром. Оксана працювала до пізньої ночі, її пальці тремтіли від холоду, коли вона мила посуд у криничній воді. Я бачив, як вона прикушує губу, щоб не заплакати, коли мати знову і знову звинувачувала її в лінощах. “Ти ніколи не будеш гідною моєї уваги до мого сина!” — звучало в голові, мов прокляття. А я стояв осторонь, ніби прикований невидимими ланцюгами до своєї землі.
Наші вечері складалися з вареної картоплі та риби, яку Оксана готувала, але мати навіть не сідала з нами. Вона спостерігала з кутка, немов тінь, що чекає помилки. Коли ми нарешті лягали спати, я чув, як Оксана тихо плаче в подушку. “Пробач… Пробач мені за все це…” — шепотів я, але слова зникали у темряві.
Повернувшись назад, я наважився сказати матері: “Не ображай більше мою дружину”. Але вона лише глузувала. “Ти згадав, хто тебе виростив? Хто годував тебе, коли ти страждав від голоду?” Її слова в’язалися, мов шипи, у душі.
Коли ми знову поїхали в село, я був готовий стати на захист. Батько травмував ногу, і я мусив випасати корів. Оксану вдягли в гумові чоботи, що терли ноги до крові. Дощ залив поле, перетворивши його на болото. Вона йшла за мною, спотикаючись, а я мовчав, знаючи, що кожна моя спроба турботи викличе нову хвилю знущань.
А потім — баранина. Оксана не витримувала її запаху, але мати навмисно готувала її щодня. “Їж, якщо хочеш бути частиною цієї родини!” — яріла вона, коли Оксана відсувала тарілку. Я взяв виделку, розірвав шматок і кинув його на підлогу. “Більше ніколи”, — тихо сказав я, але це був лише початок нашої битви.
Тепер, коли Оксана вагітна нашою донькою, я більше не можу ризикувати. “Їдь сам, якщо хочеш, — кажу матері телефоном, — але вона залишиться тут”. В її мовчанні — океан образи, але моє серце нарешті спокійне. Я обіймаю Оксану, і її теплі руки нагадують мені: іноді родину треба захищати навіть від тих, хто дав тобі життя.
P.S. Наступного разу, коли мати зателефонувала, я вимкнув телефон. Нам обом було боляче. Але іноді біль — це єдиний спосіб прозріти.
My Mother-in-Law Decided to Move into My Flat and Gave Her Own Home to Her Daughter: Now My Husband Expects Me to Welcome His Mum into the Home I Bought Myself
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You Steal from My Son—He Can’t Even Afford a Lightbulb! On Sunday morning, I was tucked under a blanket on the sofa. My husband had gone to visit his mum to “change the lightbulbs,” but of course, the real reason for calling her darling son over was something else entirely: “Son, did you forget that Igor’s birthday is today?” My husband is a real spendthrift. His salary barely lasts a few days. Thankfully, he gives me enough to cover the bills and groceries, but the rest goes on the latest video games and everything that goes with them. I don’t mind, really—I’d rather let him enjoy his hobbies than have him drinking in the shed or disappearing off to nightclubs. Besides, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for a man. But I’m not telling you all this for sympathy. I’m explaining why my husband’s pockets are always empty! I don’t have those problems; I even manage to save a little, and often lend my husband money when he’s desperate—but never for his mum, his nieces, or his sister. Of course, I remembered Igor’s birthday, so I bought him a present a week ago. Before my husband headed over to the family, I handed him the gift and settled down to watch a film. I didn’t go—there’s no love lost between me and the in-laws. They think I don’t love him because I won’t let him spend our money on them or babysit his sister’s kids. Once, I agreed to watch his sister’s little ones for an hour, but they picked them up half a day later! I was late for work, and when I dared to complain, his mum and sister called me shameless and rude. After that, I refused every request for babysitting, though I never minded my husband spending time with the kids—honestly, I liked playing with them too. Not long after my husband left, the whole family turned up at our house, nieces in tow. His mum marched straight in and declared: “We’ve decided that since it’s Igor’s birthday, we’ll give him a tablet he picked out himself—worth £400. You owe me £200 for your share. So, pay up.” I might buy the boy a tablet, but never such an expensive one. Naturally, I refused to hand over any money. Even my husband started having a go at me for being greedy. So, I opened the laptop, called Igor over, and within five minutes, we’d chosen a gadget together that he really liked. He raced off to his mother, who was still sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law always seems to have sticky fingers—something valuable tends to “stick” to them. My mother-in-law, needless to say, wasn’t impressed and immediately kicked off: “No one asked you to do that! You were supposed to give us the money. My son can’t even buy a lightbulb for himself—give me £200 now! You know that’s my son’s money.” She even tried rummaging through my handbag, which was on the nightstand. I shot my husband a look and hissed, “You have three minutes to get them out of this house!” So my husband dragged his mother out the door—three minutes was all he needed. And honestly, I’d much rather my husband spends his money on games than have his mum pocket the lot. Better he spends it on what makes him happy, than let those freeloaders nick it from him. Sitting here now, I think—maybe I should have married an orphan!
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