З життя
Отвернувшийся сын: позорный юбилейный инцидент
Меня зовут Валентина. Я живу в маленьком городке под Воронежем, где все друг друга знают, а сплетни расползаются быстрее, чем тает снег весной. С мужем мы живём душа в душу уже тридцать лет, вырастили двоих детей — сына и дочку. Муж всегда был добытчиком, а я посвятила себя семье: дому, детям, теплу домашнего очага. Это было моим счастьем, и я ни о чём не жалею.
Дети давно выпорхнули из гнезда. Дочь, Анастасия, вышла замуж и уехала в Италию, греется под южным солнцем. Мы часто болтаем по телефону, и я рада, что у неё всё хорошо. А сын, Дмитрий, остался поближе — в Ростове-на-Дону. У него крепкая семья, солидная должность, уважение в коллективе. Я всегда им гордилась.
Мы с мужем на пенсии, но живём в достатке. Никогда не просили у детей помощи, наоборот, всегда старались быть их опорой. Поэтому, когда Дима позвал нас на празднование 15-летия совместной жизни с женой, я обрадовалась. Банкет был в шикарном ресторане в центре города, и я предвкушала душевный вечер.
Зал был полон гостей — друзья, коллеги, родня. Всё шло хорошо: тосты, поздравления, смех. Потом начали вспоминать забавные случаи из прошлого. Дмитрий, сияя, попросил меня рассказать что-нибудь весёлое из его детства. Я растрогалась — сын хочет, чтобы я поделилась чем-то сокровенным.
Я вспомнила, как в детстве он любил наряжаться в платья сестры, забирался в её шкаф и с важным видом объявлял, что теперь он «фея». Мы с мужем всегда улыбались этой детской шалости. Рассказала историю с теплотой — гости засмеялись, некоторые даже умилённо кивали. Мне казалось, я сделала вечер ещё теплее.
Но через пару минут ко мне подошёл Дмитрий, и его лицо пылало от злости. «Мать, как ты могла? Ты выставила меня идиотом перед всеми!» — прошипел он. Я онемела. Мои слова, полные любви, стали для него ножом в спину. Пыталась объяснить, что не хотела обидеть, что это просто милое воспоминание, но он лишь махнул рукой и ушёл. Весь вечер он избегал меня, а у меня внутри всё сжималось от боли.
Прошло две недели, а рана только глубже. Дмитрий не звонил, не отвечал на сообщения. Когда я набирала его номер, он сбрасывал — будто я чужой человек. В отчаянии я поехала к нему домой. Но встреча добила меня. «Не хочу тебя видеть, мать, — холодно бросил он. — Ты опозорила меня перед друзьями и коллегами. Как я теперь им в глаза смотреть буду?» Его слова резали, как стекло. Я пыталась оправдаться, но он лишь повторил: «Просто уходи».
Два месяца мы не общаемся. Мой сын, которого я растила, любила, защищала, отвернулся от меня из-за невинной истории. Я не сплю ночами, снова и снова прокручиваю тот вечер. Почему он так воспринял? Может, я и правда не понимаю его мир…
Я всё ещё надеюсь, что время лечит. Может, Дима остынет и поймёт, что я не хотела ему зла. Но сейчас сердце рвётся от боли. Поделилась с Анастасией — та в ярости: «Как он мог так поступить?» Её поддержка греет, но боль не уходит. Неужели я потеряла сына из-за глупой детской шалости? Как теперь с этим жить?
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