З життя
Оглушительный шок: он сбежал, узнав о моей беременности!
Шок оказался всепоглощающим: он узнал о моей беременности и сбежал, словно жалкий заяц!
Меня зовут Анастасия Волкова, мне 20 лет, и живу я в Вышнем Волочке, где Тверские просторы прячут унылые дни под свинцовым небом и шепотом сосновых лесов. Долго не решалась написать, но, прочтя истории других, решила излить душу. Моя жизнь — незаживающая ссадина, чёрная тень, отравляющая каждый вздох.
Всё началось в пятнадцать. Влюбилась в парня — Артёма. Казалось, он сошёл с обложки журнала: статный, с глазами, как два озера, и улыбкой, от которой девчонки теряли голову. Когда подруга сказала, что он хочет встретиться, я онемела: «Правда?» — выдохнула, чувствуя, как сердце колотится, будто белка в колесе. На первом свидании он вручил алую гвоздику — до сих пор храню её в потрёпанном томике Пушкина. Тот вечер стал началом конца: его слова, прикосновения — я тонула, не замечая, как меня затягивает в омут.
Отдалась ему — роковой шаг. Вскоре узнала, что беременна. Мир рассыпался. Родители смотрели на меня, будто на прокажённую: отец стиснул зубы, мать рыдала, словно на похоронах. Артём же, мой «рыцарь», струсил. Услышав новость, побледнел, пробормотал: «Разберёшься» — и испарился. Осталась одна с комом страха в горле.
Дома воцарилась гробовая тишина. В итоге мама отвела меня в клинику. Аборт стал пыткой — физической и душевной. После этого закрылась, как ракушка. Шок парализовал: годами не могла смотреть на мужчин. Любовь превратилась в синоним боли, близость — в ночной кошмар. Страх новой беременности сковал душу ледяными оковами.
Потеряла себя. Душа — будто порванная балалайка, играющая одни фальшивые ноты. Живу в вечном ненастье, где смех — чужая речь. Солнце померкло, тень стала единственной подругой. На улицах Вышнего Волочка вижу пары, держащиеся за руки, и внутри вскипает: «Почему не я?» Артём украл мою веру, оставив взамен фантомную боль. Его лицо — красивая маска трусости — преследует даже во сне.
Родители давно махнули рукой, но я не могу простить себя за глупую доверчивость. Засушенный цветок в книге — как нож в ране. Подруги зовут в кафе, но я прячусь в четырёх стенах, где эхом звучат старые ошибки. Мне всего двадцать, а чувствую себя разбитой старухой. Как снова научиться дышать? Как растопить лёд в груди? Хочу верить, что где-то есть свет, но пока вижу лишь туман. Может, вы подскажете, как перестать быть призраком в собственной жизни?
Why Does It Matter Who Looked After Gran? By Law, That Flat Should Be Mine! — My Mum Argues With Me Over My Grandmother’s Home My Own Mother is Threatening to Sue Me — All Because My Gran’s Flat Went Not to Her, or Even to Me, But to My Daughter. Mum Claims It’s Unfair, Insists the Flat Should Be Hers. But Gran Made a Different Choice. Why? Perhaps Because My Husband and I Lived With Her and Cared for Her Those Last Five Years. You Could Easily Call My Mum Selfish — Her Needs Were Always Far More Important Than Anyone Else’s. Mum’s Been Married Three Times, But Only Had Two Daughters: My Younger Sister and Me. We Get On Brilliantly, But Neither of Us Has a Great Relationship With Mum. I Don’t Even Remember My Dad — He Split From Mum When I Was Two. Up Until I Was Six, I Lived With Mum at Gran’s. For Some Reason, I Thought Gran Was Awful — Probably Because Mum Was Always Crying. Only When I Grew Up Did I Understand: Gran Was Good, She Just Wanted to Help Her Daughter Make a Better Life. Later, Mum Married Again and We All Moved In With My Stepfather. That’s When My Sister Was Born. But After Seven Years, Mum Got Divorced Again. This Time, We Didn’t Go Back to Gran’s. Stepfather Went Off to Work and Let Us Stay in His Flat for a Bit. Three Years Later, Mum Married Husband Number Three and We Moved In With Him. He Wasn’t Pleased Mum Had Children, Though He Never Hurt Us — He Just Ignored Us. So Did Mum. She Was Obsessed With Her New Husband, Always Jealous, Always Causing Rows and Breaking Crockery. Once a Month Mum Would Start Packing, But Stepfather Always Talked Her Round. My Sister and I Got Used to It and Stopped Noticing. I Ended Up Looking After My Sister — Mum Didn’t Have the Time. Thank Goodness for Our Grandmothers, Who Helped Us So Much. Eventually, I Left for University, and My Sister Moved In With Gran. Our Dad Always Supported Her; Mum Would Call Us Only at Christmas. I Accepted Mum For Who She Was and Stopped Expecting Her to Care, But My Sister Never Did. She Was Always Hurt, Especially When Mum Skipped Her School Leavers’ Party. We Grew Up. My Sister Got Married and Moved Away. I Was Living With My Long-Term Boyfriend; We Visited Gran Often and Stayed Close, Though I Tried Not to Be a Nuisance. When Gran Fell Ill and Went Into Hospital, I Visited Every Day: Shopping, Cooking, Cleaning, Chatting, Making Sure She Took Her Medicine. Sometimes My Boyfriend Helped Out Too. After Six Months, Gran Suggested We Move In to Save for Our Own Place, So We Did. Six Months Later, I Was Pregnant. We Got Married, Had a Simple Family Do — Mum Didn’t Come, Not Even a Phone Call. When My Daughter Was Two Months Old, Gran Broke Her Leg. Caring for Both Was Hard and I Desperately Needed Mum’s Help, But She Refused, Saying She Wasn’t Well and Would Come Later. She Never Did. Six Months On, Gran Had a Stroke and Was Bedridden. If Not for My Husband, I Don’t Know How I’d Have Coped. Gran Slowly Improved, She Even Got to See Her Great-Granddaughter Take Her First Steps, and Lived Another Two-and-a-Half Years. She Passed Away Peacefully in Her Sleep. My Husband and I Were Devastated By Her Loss. Mum Only Came for the Funeral. A Month Later, She Tried to Evict Me So She Could Have the Flat. Mum Hadn’t Realised Gran Had Left It to My Daughter Right After She Was Born. Naturally Mum Was Furious, Demanding I Give Up the Flat or She’d Sue Me. “Look How Deceitful You Are! You Duped the Old Woman, Took Her Flat, And Now You Live In It Yourself! You Won’t Get Away With This! It Doesn’t Matter Who Looked After Gran — That Flat Should Be Mine!” But Mum Won’t Get That Flat, I Know That for Certain. I’ve Spoken to a Solicitor and a Notary. We’ll Stay in the Home Gran Gave Us, and If Our Second Child Is a Girl, She’ll Be Named After Gran.
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