З життя
Моя сестра без жалю викинула мене на вулицю.
Моя сестра без жалю вигнала мене на вулицю.
Моя сестра Оксана завжди була для мене найважливішою людиною на цьому світі. Після смерті наших батьків ми пообіцяли собі, що завжди будемо одне одного підтримувати і допомагати.
Коли мій син став дорослим, він переїхав до Києва, а я залишилася в Львові. Потім ми з чоловіком розлучилися, і я втратила своє житло.
У той момент моя сестра дозволила мені пожити у неї, вона рідко бувала вдома, бо часто виїжджала за кордон.
Оскільки я працювала в компанії колишнього чоловіка, я залишилася не лише без житла, але й без роботи. Було нелегко, спочатку довелося жити на заощадження, а потім знайшла роботу в домогосподарці. Тоді я мешкала у Оксани понад два роки.
Нарешті настав день, коли сестра сказала, що мені потрібно покинути її квартиру, бо вона вирішила її здавати і вже говорила з агентом.
Я не знала, що їй сказати, і змогла лише відповісти: “Добре”. У той момент я так розхвилювалася, що ледве дихала. Мені потрібно було заспокоїтися і подумати, що робити далі, куди йти – це була справжня проблема.
Коли Оксана увійшла до квартири, вона щебетала щось про рахунки за комунальні послуги і про агента, з яким мала зустрітись. Я навіть не могла зосередитися на її словах. Того ж вечора вона полетіла на Мальту на чотири місяці, була така щаслива. Я завжди раділа, коли бачила її в такому стані, але не цього разу.
Єдина думка, яка не виходила з голови, де мені знайти місце для життя, бо оренда маленької квартири у Львові коштує дорого, а моя зарплатня вистачає лише на сарай на околиці. Я перебирала в умі різні варіанти, але нічого пристойного не могла придумати.
Через місяць до дверей подзвонили.
Зайшла якась дівчина і сказала, що вона агент моєї сестри, а потім попросила мене негайно покинути квартиру, бо орендарі мали заселитися тієї ж ночі. Я намагалася пояснити їй, що мені нікуди йти, що сестра нічого не сказала. Але вона навіть не хотіла мене слухати. Я намагалася подзвонити Оксані, але ми були в різних часових поясах, і на Мальті вже була глибока ніч.
Я зібрала свої речі і вийшла на вулицю. Цю ніч я провела на дитячому майданчику. Вранці отримала повідомлення від сестри: “Дорога, вибач, що так сталося. Думаю, ти вже знайшла собі новий дім”.
Її слова розірвали моє серце на тисячі уламків. Як вона могла так вчинити? Це ж була моя рідна сестра!
Я розуміла, що їй потрібні гроші, але не могла осягнути, чому вона поставила мене перед фактом.
Була дуже засмучена, що гроші стали важливішими за найближчу родину. Мені вдалося орендувати малу кімнату в старому будинку на окраїні міста. Через деякий час знайшла кращу роботу, і мені стало трохи легше.
Тепер сиджу у своєму маленькому куточку, як мишка, і намагаюся нікому не заважати, аби знову не втратити своє житло.
Мене дуже засмучує, що Оксана так і не вибачилася за цей інцидент. Потім вона почала дзвонити і цікавитися, як у мене справи. Але тепер у моєму серці немає для неї місця, і я відповідаю, що в мене все добре, як у всіх інших.
Ось листа, який ми отримали від читачки, що живе у Львові. У ньому немає злості на сестру, а лише заклик цінувати тих, хто дорогий нашому серцю. Зрозуміло, що у неї є образа, але людина, якщо її щиро попросити, може пробачити все.
Подумайте над цим, можливо, ви когось випадково образили, і зараз саме час попросити в цієї людини вибачення.
I Did a DNA Test and Instantly Regretted It I Had to Marry My Girlfriend After Finding Out She Was Pregnant. After Our Wedding, We Moved in With My Parents Because We Couldn’t Afford Our Own Place. Time Went By and I Became the Dad of a Wonderful Little Boy. Soon After, We Decided to Get a Mortgage and Start Our Own Family Home. After a While, My Wife Told Me She Was Pregnant Again, and That’s How Our Princess Anna Was Born. The Kids Grew Up Quickly, and Each Year I Noticed They Didn’t Look Like Me at All—not even a little. In Fact, Neither My Son nor My Daughter Looked Like Their Mum Either. Both Were Ginger with Freckles—Where Did That Come From in Our Family? The Thought Crossed My Mind to Take a Paternity Test. Maybe It Wasn’t the Brightest Idea, But I Needed to Be Sure the Kids Were Mine. I Took the Test. I Had to Wait Two Weeks for the Results. As Soon As They Called, I Rushed to the Lab. Thank God—It Turned Out I Was Their Dad. I Went Home and Hid the Documents So My Wife Wouldn’t Find Them. But Why Didn’t I Just Throw Them Away? I Paid for That Mistake. Just a Few Days Later, My Wife Threw Those Papers in My Face. She Caused Such an Uproar the Whole House Trembled. I Understand Why, But Surely There Was a More Peaceful Way to Handle It. She Couldn’t Forgive Me, and Now I’m Alone. Five Years Have Passed Since That Day, and She Still Won’t Let Me See the Kids. That’s How Simple Curiosity Stole the Most Precious Thing I Had—My Family. I Hope One Day She Can Forgive Me…
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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. Come on, let’s have tea. Nina, you look younger somehow—come on, tell me!” “I don’t know—my fifth youth!” Nina laughed as she sliced the tart. “Yesterday I rang Simon Mallory by accident… remember your crush in Year Eleven? We got to reminiscing—I’d forgotten half of it. What’s up, Irene? Not another asthma attack?” Irene sat pale and silent, then whispered: “Nina, you didn’t know? Simon passed away a year ago. He lived in another part of town—he moved from that old place ages ago.” “You must be joking! How? Who was I talking to? He remembered everything about our school days. My mood was terrible before talking to him. But after we spoke, I felt life was carrying on—that I still had strength, and joy for living… How could it be?” Nina couldn’t believe Simon was gone. “But I heard his voice. He said such beautiful things: ‘The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!’” Irene shook her head, sceptical of her friend’s story. Then she surprised Nina by saying: “Nina, I don’t know how, but it really does sound like it was him. His words, his style. Simon loved you. I think he wanted to support you… from the other side. And it looks like he did. I haven’t seen you so happy and full of energy for ages. One day, someone will piece your tattered heart back together. And you’ll finally remember—what it feels like to be… simply happy.”
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