З життя
Моя свекруха виховала ідеального сина, але не ідеального чоловіка.
Prостіть, але, незважаючи на всі мої зусилля, я не можу називати свою свекруху мамою. Коли я виходила заміж, я точно цього хотіла, і була така щаслива, коли Олексій зробив мені пропозицію, але тоді я геть по-іншому уявляла собі наше життя. Я дуже хотіла вийти заміж, любити і бути коханою. Із заздрістю дивилася на щасливі шлюби своїх подруг, слухала їхні історії про те, як добре їхнім сім’ям у стосунках, сповнених любові та взаємної турботи.
Я мріяла про сім’ю, в якій чоловік буде моєю опорою, захисником, а наші діти виростатимуть в щасливому домі, сповненому любові. Я дуже хотіла бути ніжною, люблячою дружиною і віддати своєму чоловіку все, що в моїх силах.
Коли я вперше побачила його ставлення до свекрухи, подумала, що вона виховала його саме таким, яким я його собі уявляла. Під час нашої розмови, яка відбулася незадовго до весілля, мама мого чоловіка сказала фразу, яка назавжди залишиться в моїй пам’яті: «Моя дорога, у житті мого сина завжди була лише одна жінка. Пам’ятай, ніколи не буде важливішої за мене». Тоді до кінця не зрозуміла сенсу її слів, але з часом, на жаль, усвідомила, що вона мала на увазі.
На початку нашого подружнього життя, мені не заважало, що мій чоловік піклується про маму, навіть захоплювало, як добре він вихований і яка сильна у нього з нею зв’язок. З часом мене почало дратувати, що він ніколи не відмовляв мамі. Він виконував її найнеймовірніші прохання: вставав о п’ятій ранку, коли вона хотіла свіжого пиріжка, або бігав по всьому місту, шукаючи дешевші замінники ліків, аби мама не витратила зайві гривні. Якщо дзвонила, що скриплять двері, він одягався і йшов, навіть не сказавши мені слова. У нас вдома двері також вимагали ремонту, але це не цікавило мого чоловіка; важлива була лише мама, я для нього була невидима.
Одного разу, коли Олексій приїхав по мене після робочого дня, вона зателефонувала зі звинуваченнями, що я бездушна і лінива дівчина. Я використовую свого чоловіка, замість того, щоб дати йому відпочити. Звичайно, я могла б повернутися додому потягом чи автобусом, але не бачила в цьому нічого поганого. Адже Олексій — мій чоловік, і це я повинна бути для нього найважливішою жінкою у житті.
Наступного дня я хотіла поговорити з ним про ситуацію, що склалася, але, як завжди, він не бачив проблеми. Відразу після нашої розмови дзвонила свекруха, яка хотіла поїхати на дачу вдихнути свіжого повітря, мій коханий лише сказав, що це його мама, і він не може їй відмовити.
Олексій — чудовий син, але ніколи не повинен бути чоловіком жодної жінки, адже ніхто не витримає такого ставлення. Мама Олексія не соромилася дзвонити вночі, ділячись своїми нездоров’ями та безсонням; їй було байдуже, що нам потрібно було виспатись і зранку йти на роботу. Що ж зробив мій чоловік? Викликав таксі, адже випив увечері кілька напоїв, і поїхав перевірити, чому мамі не спиться. Замість подяки, вона вилаяла його, щоб не дозволяв собі вечірнього випивання, якщо мати може в будь-який момент потребувати допомоги.
Звичайно, він міг би утриматись від усього, не лише від алкоголю, але ж чи мій чоловік не має права на нормальне життя лише тому, що він син такої вимогливої жінки? Моя свекруха руйнує наш шлюб, вважаючи, що її син досі є її власністю, а я лише дружина, хоча повинна бути для нього номером один.
На щастя, у нас немає дітей, бо вони б одразу зрозуміли, що не можуть розраховувати на тата, бо бабуся має першість. Після багатьох років принижень і того, що я була “другою”, я впала в депресію, але навіть у такій ситуації не могла розраховувати на підтримку та турботу від чоловіка. Найбільше співчуття мені подарувала моя подруга, розуміючи, наскільки це підступна хвороба. У той час я так сильно розраховувала на хоч кілька слів підтримки від чоловіка, але натомість він вкотре викинувся в роботу в саду матері.
Так, я визнаю, що програла, не змогла стати для нього тим, чим була для нього мати, хоча дуже старалася. Шкода, що весь мій труд залишився непоміченим Олексієм. Він справді закоханий в одну жінку — у свою матір. Ці слова любові, які він вимовляв до мене, були звичайною формальністю в договорі між нареченим і нареченою.
Я ніколи не хотіла ідеалу, бо вони не існують, я прагнула справжнього чуття. Хороший чоловік не повинен, як Олексій, укладати одяг в шафі за лінійкою, у необхідному кольоровому співвідношенні. Може піти з друзями на пиво і повернутися додому після півночі, але не мій чоловік; його виховали як ідеального сина.
Я дуже рада, що нарешті зрозуміла, що мій чоловік ніколи не буде тим, яким я мріяла його бачити. У нас немає дітей, бо він боявся, що домашні обов’язки його поглинуть і в нього не буде достатньо часу для мами.
Олексій піклувався про матір, як про нікого іншого у світі, я прийняла факт, що ніколи не переможу. Я вирішила, що матиму чоловіка, якого любитиму всім серцем, і для якого я також буду найважливішою. Я завагітніла і чекаю на свого маленького принца, для якого я буду цілим світом, якого він любитиме і потребуватиме.
Я пообіцяла собі, що виховаю свого сина справжньою, відповідальною людиною, яка колись створить власну сім’ю і зробить свою дружину щасливою.
“We’ll Stay at Your Place for a While Since We Can’t Afford to Rent a Flat!” – My Friend Announced At 65, I’m a lively woman, never letting age stop me from exploring new places or meeting fascinating people. I look back at my youth with both joy and a touch of sadness. Back then, you could holiday anywhere you fancied! From seaside trips to camping adventures with friends, even sailing down any river you chose—all for just a little money. Sadly, those days are behind me now. I always loved meeting new people—on the beach, at the theatre, anywhere really. Many of those acquaintances became lifelong friends. One summer, I met Sara while staying at the same B&B. We parted as friends, keeping in touch with the occasional letter over the years. Then one day, I received an unsigned telegram: “The train arrives at 3 a.m. Please meet me!” Puzzled about who had sent it, my husband and I stayed put. But at four in the morning, our doorbell rang. To my shock, there stood Sara with two teenage girls, a grandmother, and a man, all surrounded by heaps of luggage. My husband and I were baffled but let these unexpected guests in. Sara exclaimed: – “Why didn’t you meet us? I sent you a telegram! Besides, that’s not cheap! – Sorry, we didn’t know who sent it! – Well, you gave me your address. So here we are. – I thought we’d stick to letters, nothing more!” Sara explained that one of the girls had just left school and decided to go to university, so the whole family came to support her. – “We’ll be living with you! We can’t afford to rent a flat or stay in a hotel!” I was stunned. We weren’t even related—why should we let them stay? We had to feed them three times a day; although they brought a bit of food, they cooked nothing and ate ours. I was left to serve everyone. After three exhausting days, I asked Sara and her family to leave—I didn’t care where to. That sparked a row. Sara smashed crockery and screamed hysterically. I was appalled. As they packed, they even managed to steal my dressing gown, a few towels, and somehow my large cooking pot vanished too—no idea how! That was the end of our friendship—and thank heavens! I’ve never heard from her since. How could anyone be so cheeky?! Now, I’m much more wary when I meet new people.
Well be staying at yours for a while. We dont have any money to rent a flat!my friend declared. I...
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He Hated His Wife. Hated Her… They Spent 15 Years Together, Fifteen Mornings Waking Up Side by Side—But Only in the Last Year Did Her Habits Begin to Drive Him Mad, Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Sleepily Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” What Seemed a Simple Phrase, Her Slim Arms, Her Sleepy Face, Now Filled Him with Disgust. She’d Rise, Walk Past the Window, Gaze Out for a While, Then Slip off Her Nightdress and Head to the Bathroom. Early in Marriage, He’d Adored Her Body, Its Natural Confidence That Seemed Almost Indecent—But Now, Though She Was Still Beautiful, Her Nakedness Made Him Angry. Once, He Even Considered Pushing Her to Hurry Her Morning Routine but Only Managed a Gruff: “Get a Move On—I’ve Had Enough!” She Refused to Rush or Let His Affectionless Hostility Change Her Pace—She Knew About His Affair, Even Recognized the Young Woman He’d Been Seeing for Three Years. Time Dulles the Sharp Sting of Pride, Leaving Only a Lingering Sense of Uselessness. She Forgave Him—the Aggression, the Neglect, His Need to Relive His Youth—But She Wouldn’t Let Him Rob Her of Living Mindfully, Cherishing Each Moment. She’d Made Up Her Mind When She Learned She Was Ill. The Disease Was Slowly Consuming Her; It Would Win Soon. Her First Urge Was to Confess to Everyone—To Lessen the Brutal Truth by Sharing the Burden with Loved Ones. Yet She Endured the Hardest Day Alone, Accepting Her Fate, and Then Resolved to Remain Silent. Life Slipped Away, Yet Each Day She Gained the Wisdom of a True Observer. She Found Solace in a Quiet English Countryside Library, a Ninety-Minute Walk Each Way. Every Day, She’d Hide in the Narrow Aisles Marked “Life & Death’s Secrets” by the Elderly Librarian and Lose Herself in Books She Hoped Contained Every Answer. He’d Go to His Lover’s Flat, Where Everything Felt Warm, Bright, Familiar. Their Love Affair Had Grown Wild—Three Years of Passion, Jealousy, Heartache, and Asphyxiating Desire. Today He Came With a Decision: Divorce. Why Torment All Three of Them? He Didn’t Love His Wife—No, He Hated Her—and Here, He Could Start Fresh, Find Happiness. He Tried to Recall His Feelings for His Wife, but There Was Nothing—He Couldn’t Even Remember Caring for Her on That First Day. He Pulled Out a Photo of Her from His Wallet, Tore It Into Pieces—Determined to End It. They Arranged to Meet at the Restaurant Where, Six Months Earlier, They’d Celebrated Fifteen Years as Husband and Wife. She Arrived First. He Stopped Home to Find the Divorce Papers, Ransacking Drawers in a Panic Until He Spotted a Dark Blue Folder He’d Never Seen Before. He Ripped Off the Seal, Expecting Dirty Secrets—But Found Only Medical Reports, Official Documents. His Wife’s Name on Every Page. Realisation Struck Like Lightning; She Was Ill. He Googled the Diagnosis: “6–18 Months Life Expectancy.” Six Months Had Already Passed. He Remembered Little of What Happened Next—Only the Words “6–18 Months” Looping Relentlessly in His Mind. She Waited for Forty Minutes. No Answer from His Phone. She Paid the Bill and Went Outside. The Autumn Weather Was Glorious—The Sun Gentle, Comforting. “Life Is Beautiful, the World So Wonderful, So Warm.” For the First Time Since Her Diagnosis, She Felt Sorry for Herself. She’d Found the Strength to Hide Her Secret from Everyone, Sparing Them the Pain at the Cost of Her Own Crumbling Life. After This Year, She Would Be Nothing but a Memory. She Wandered Down the Street, Watching Bright Faces Filled With Hope Of Winters and Springs Yet to Come—As If the Future Were Theirs To Shape. She Would Never Know That Feeling Again. Bitterness Swelled and Burst Forth as Tears She Couldn’t Stop… He Paced the Room. For the First Time, He Felt The Swift Passage of Life as a Physical Ache. He Remembered His Wife Young, Full of Hope When They First Met—He’d Loved Her Then. In That Moment, Fifteen Years Vanished: Happiness, Youth, and Life Still Ahead. In Her Final Weeks, He Became Devoted, At Her Side Every Hour, Overcome by a Joy He’d Never Known. He Was Terrified She’d Leave—He Would Have Given His Own Life to Save Hers. Had Someone Reminded Him Of His Hatred Just a Month Ago, He’d Have Sworn: “That Wasn’t Me.” He Witnessed Her Battle to Say Goodbye, Weeping Secretly at Night When She Thought He Slept—He Understood No Punishment Was Worse Than Knowing Your Days Are Numbered. He Saw Her Fight for Every Moment, Grasping Even the Smallest Hope. She Died Two Months Later. He Covered the Path from Home to Cemetery in Flowers. He Wept Like a Child as Her Coffin Was Lowered—He Felt Centuries Older. At Home, Beneath Her Pillow, He Found a New Year’s Wish She Had Written: “To Be Happy With Him Until My Last Day.” They Say All New Year’s Wishes Come True—Perhaps They Do, For That Year He Wrote: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got Exactly What, It Seemed, They Had Wished For…
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She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—Yet I’m Furious Because I Didn’t Weed the Vegetable Beds — “What are you doing here?” Standing in the middle of the swan-shaped flower beds, my mother-in-law shouted, “There’s never been such disgrace here before! I had seven children—never a single weed!” Her shriek drew the neighbours, who clung to the fence like crows and immediately dissected everything they heard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law took great pleasure in performing. I stood, speechless, as she went on. At last, worn out from shouting, she drew a breath and said loudly enough for all the neighbours to hear: I didn’t say a word. I walked calmly past my mother-in-law, holding my child even closer. Once inside, I divided up, in a special box, everything my mother-in-law was to take that evening and the next morning. Without folding anything, I tossed my son’s things and mine into a bag. I left without saying a word. Three days later, my mother-in-law called: “What did you do with all those things the professor gave her? I asked the neighbour to buy a few, but she said one jar is very expensive. The ones with foreign labels, well, we don’t use those or exchange them. So what am I to do? You left, offended for some reason, and here I am, about to meet my maker!” I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and took out the SIM card. That’s it. I can’t go on—I have no physical or emotional strength left. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on an icy road. I vaguely remember saying goodbye for the last time, the ambulance taking him away, and waking up the next morning as a new mother… I didn’t care about anything. The world felt empty and pointless without my beloved husband. I nursed and rocked my son like clockwork, because that’s what I was told to do. A phone call snapped me out of my stupor. “Your mother-in-law is in bad shape. Apparently, she won’t last much longer.” I made my decision at once: after settling things, I sold my flat in London. I invested some of the money into building a home, so my son will have something of his own when he grows up. And I went to save my mother-in-law. This past year, I haven’t really lived—I’ve just existed. I had no time for sleep, caring for both my mother-in-law and my baby son. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law required round-the-clock care. At least I had the money. I called in the best specialists from all over the UK; I bought every medication prescribed. Eventually, my mother-in-law returned to normal life. At first, I wheeled her through the house, then around the garden. By the end, she was strong enough to walk—on her own—as if nothing had happened… I don’t want to know her now, or hear from her ever again. Let her work out everything she needs for her recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all the money on her recovery. My son and I moved to our new flat. I never imagined it would end like this. I wanted to be close with my husband’s family, since I am an orphan myself. But now it’s just me. I need to teach my son: not everyone deserves kindness. Some people care more about a tidy vegetable patch.
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