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Віра вже наближалася до кафе, коли почула знайомі голоси:

— Та ну його, цей ювілей, — тихо промовив Ігор на вухо найкращій Віріній подрузі, — ходімо до тебе. Ну, або до мене. Віра ж не повернеться, — він задоволено хихикнув.

— Звісно, — з сумнівом у голосі відповіла Катя, — зараз до тебе, а коли вона повернеться, куди? В вікно стрибати.

— Та навіщо ж у вікно, — впевнено обійняв Катю за талію Ігор, — якщо погодишся, я Вірі вкажу на вихід.

Чекати, що буде далі, Віра не стала. Вона добре знала Катю з її вільними поглядами. Але от Ігор… Вони разом вже три роки. Віра весь цей час чекала офіційної пропозиції. Вони вже рік живуть у новій квартирі Ігоря, яку він придбав у кредит і зараз ремонтує. Витрати великі, тож всі побутові видатки на Вірі. Вона думала, що РАЦС — це лише формальність.

Немов пелена спала з очей. Все обман, все неправда. У них ніколи не буде сім’ї. Для цієї ролі він підбере когось іншого. А вона просто зручна подружка на час фінансових труднощів.

Півроку тому у Віри померла мати. Вже тоді її здивувала черствість Ігоря. Він не поїхав з нею на похорон, не допоміг з організацією. Спокійно і холодно сказав:

— Продавуй там щось. Знаєш же, у мене кредит, ремонт. Може, рідня в борг дасть. А коли будинок продамо, розплатишся. — Він так і сказав: розплатишся, наче не має до неї жодного стосунку.

Це вираз Віру тоді сильно порізало. Але потім вона виправдала його. Помилився. Не те сказав. Ігор взагалі не був словоохочим співрозмовником. Ця похмурість і небагатослівність Вірі подобалася. «Все в собі тримає, — хизувалася вона друзям, — цей не зрадить і не образить. Для зради потрібні здібності, дівчину треба умовити», — друзі сміялися. Разом з усіма сміялася і Катя. Незнаючи, що робити далі, Віра почала махати всім силам проїжджаючому таксі. Машина зупинилася, вона сіла якомога непомітніше, наче за нею стежили. Побила водія по плечу:

— Швидше, швидше.

Віра ще не встигла від’їхати, як яскравий світ телефону вимагав відповіді. Дзвонив Ігор:

— Де ти? Я тут один як ідіот, всі про тебе питають. Ти мала вже приїхати, щось сталося? – Віра виключила телефон і викинула його у вікно. Потім розплакалася, як маленька дитина, у якої відібрали улюблену іграшку. Плакала довго, гірко і з причитаннями.

Увесь цей час машина їхала. Віра стала приходити до тями і раптом згадала, що адресу водієві не сказала.

— Куди ми їдемо? – обережно запитала вона.

— Додому, — відповів водій. А Віра бачила, що машина мчить просілковою дорогою.

— Куди додому?

— Тобі назвати адресу? – Водій відповів грубо і нахабно, як їй здалося.

— Зупиніть негайно, зупиніть, – закричала Віра.

— Посеред поля? – водій усміхався, — що ти тут робитимеш?

— Я зараз у поліцію подзвоню, — Віра сказала перше, що спало на думку. Вона стала приходити до тями, згадала, що телефон викинула і подзвонити тепер не може. Що все розповіла чужій людині і що він тепер знає, що нікого у неї немає. Залишить зараз десь у лісі, ніхто і не шукатиме.

Віра хотіла вискочити на ходу і навіть двері спробувала відчинити, але в темряві і трясучимися руками не змогла знайти ручку. Вона опустила руки і знову заплакала, тільки тепер вже тихо і приречено. Хай буде все, як є. Вб’є її маніяк і більше не буде страждань і зрад. Видно, так їй суджено.

Машина різко загальмувала. Водій мовчки підійшов до дверей.

— Виходь.

— Не піду, — Вірі раптом сильно захотілося жити, і вона вирішила, що просто так не здасться, боротися буде.

— Не дурій, Вірунь, — спокійно сказав водій, приїхали. Віра підняла голову і вперше глянула на стоячого поруч водія.

— Сергій? – Тихо запитала вона.

— А ти думала хто? – Віра дивилася на свого однокласника, наче вперше його бачила. У голові проносилися уривкові спогади, що він після школи кудись поїхав, що начебто зробив кар’єру.

— Ти що таксист? – з недовірою запитала вона.

Сергій засміявся знайомим і рідним сміхом:

— Який таксист?

— А чому ти мене підвіз?

— Та ти так махала, я думав, що кинешся під колеса.

— А я…., — Віра хотіла виправдатися.

— Я все знаю, — Сергій обійняв її за плечі, — дуже корисна поїздка. Ти ніколи не була такою відвертою. – Віра засміялася, на душі стало легко і спокійно. Вона стояла на порозі свого дому.

— А я через тебе приїхав, — він перебираючи її маленькі пальчики своєю великою рукою, — Як добре, що ти не вийшла заміж.

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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. 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