З життя
Між двох вогнів: мама просить допомоги, а чоловік відмовляє
Я між двох вогнів: мама потребує допомоги, а чоловік категорично відмовляється.
Мене звуть Олена, мені двадцять дев’ять років. Шість років я одружена з Іваном, у нас росте чудова донечка Софійка — їй чотири. Ми живемо звичайним життям молодої сім’ї: обоє працюємо, виплачуємо іпотеку, рахуємо витрати, намагаємось все встигати. Останнім часом я працюю віддалено — це дозволяє проводити більше часу з дитиною, і в цьому мені дуже допомагає мама.
Моя мама просто не уявляє життя без онуки. Вона обожнює її, забирає на хутір, гуляє, займається. Для нас це велика підтримка. Софійка теж без розуму відчинених воріт у світ бабусиних пригод — там її чекають гойдалки, город, пісочниця. Але, як і у будь-якої допомоги, тут є інший бік.
Мама — людина енергійна. На пенсії, але сидіти без справи не може. Завжди щось вигадує, розпочинає. Ось цього року, наприклад, вирішила збудувати альтанку на подвір’ї. Самостійно, без обговорень, замовила будматеріали, а потім просто поставила мене перед фактом:
— Лено, скажи Іванові, хай приїде, допоможе розвантажити. Мені одній не впоратися.
Я мовчки кивнула, хоча чудово знала, якою буде відповідь. Вона не змінювалася останні два роки:
— Це хутір твоєї мами, Олено. Нехай вона й мурує. Я туди їхати не збираюся. У мене одне життя і одна вихідна на тиждень. Я лежу на дивані і не хочу нікому нічого доводити. Все!
Я розумію чоловіка. Він і справді багато працює. Інколи навіть у вихідні сидить з ноутбуком, виконує термінові замовлення. Гідна плата за працю — це наша іпотека, зростаюча дитина. Але з іншого боку — це ж моя мама. Вона допомагала нам не раз. Кожного тижня забирає Софійку. Не лізе в наші справи, не вимагає нічого для себе. І раптом — проста просьба розвантажити дошки для альтанки. Але Іван сказав: «ні».
У п’ятницю вранці будматеріали привезли. Мама подзвонила в паніці — їй нікому допомогти. Я кинула все, посадила доньку в машину, і ми поехали. Ми з мамою вдвох розвантажували дошки, цемент, якісь балки. Мовчу вже про те, як це важко. Мама потім навіть розігнутися не могла. Але найбільше її вразило те, що зять навіть не спробував поступитися.
— Олено, він чоловік чи хто? Це як взагалі? Хіба я просила дах перекрити? Просто пару годин допомогти! — вибухнула вона, відтрушуючи пил з рук.
А я стояла і мовчала. Мені було соромно. Соромно перед мамою. Соромно перед собіЯ глянула на Софійку, яка тримала в ручках маленьку гілочку, і зрозуміла — треба знайти спосіб, щоб у її дитинстві не повторився цей болючий розкол.
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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. 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