З життя
Почему я не сказала мужу о своих доходах, и что из этого вышло?
Я решила скрыть от мужа, что стала зарабатывать больше. Он обиделся, собрал вещи и уехал к маме.
Мне было непросто принять это решение. Не из жадности или злости — просто устала. От вечных качелей: неделя гулянок, а потом месяц на гречке. От его безответственности. От легкомыслия, которое мой муж, Дмитрий, перенял у своей матери.
Мы познакомились на дне рождения у общих друзей. Меня покорила его легкость, обаяние, умение не зацикливаться на трудностях. А я — полная противоположность: всё контролирую, за всё переживаю, каждый рубль на счету. Тогда подумала: «Может, такой человек мне и нужен — чтобы жизнь казалась проще».
Но после свадьбы всё стало ясно. Его «лёгкость» оказалась инфантильностью. Зарплата — и сразу гуляем: рестораны, подарки его маме, друзьям, всем подряд. А через пару дней — «денег нет». Месяц сидим на хлебе и воде, а он только успокаивает: «Всё наладится».
Дмитрий получает неплохо, но деньги тают, как снег весной. Особенно когда вмешивается его мать — женщина эмоциональная, капризная, такая же несерьёзная. Только потратит пенсию — сразу звонит сыну: «Мне грустно, я устала от нищеты». И он, конечно, мчится её спасать.
— Это же мама. Я не могу её бросить, — оправдывался он.
— А как мы будем жить? — спрашивала я.
— Как-нибудь справимся, — отмахивался он.
А тем временем наша квартира медленно разваливалась. Обои отклеивались, трубы подтекали, холодильник дребезжал, словно трактор. Я заклеивала, подправляла, молча злилась. Пыталась говорить с Димой, он кивал — и продолжал жить, будто в одиночку.
А потом мне дали прибавку. Значительную. Это была победа: месяцы переработок, нервов, борьбы за доверие начальства. Я пришла домой с горящими глазами — и… промолчала. Просто не смогла сказать.
Я представила, как он с мамой снова начнут «праздновать»: купят кучу ненужного, сорвутся в отпуск, а потом мы будем считать копейки. Нет, я решила хранить тайну. Эти деньги — на ремонт, на машину, на нормальный отдых. На что-то важное.
Я купила новый ноутбук — старый уже едва работал. Сказала Диме, что выдали на работе. Оплатила его лечение у зубного — соврала, что по страховке. Всё ради спокойствия. Ради будущего. Ради нас.
Всё шло хорошо, пока на корпоративе мой начальник не проболтался при Диме:
— Да с такими темпами тебя ещё выше продвинем! Ты же уже полгода в руководящей должности…
Дмитрий замер.
— Какая должность? О чём он? — спросил он, когда мы вышли.
Я поняла — скрывать бесполезно. Призналась, что меня повысили.
— А зарплата? — его взгляд стал ледяным.
— Пока без изменений, — снова солгала я.
Но дома он не отступил. Прямо спросил:
— Почему ты молчала? Или тебе стыдно, КАК ты эту должность получила?
Меня будто ножом полоснули по сердцу. Стало горько, обидно, мерзко. Я не сдержалась. Высказала всё. Про деньги. Про усталость. Про его мать. Про то, как он транжирит каждый рубль. Про страх за завтрашний день. Что хотела хоть немного стабильности.
Он молча выслушал. Потом ушёл в спальню. Через час вышел с сумкой.
— Поеду к маме. Мне нужно подумать.
Третий день — тишина. Ни звонка, ни сообщения. Зато звонила его мать. Кричала, обвиняла, требовала. Я положила трубку. Больше не стану её слушать. Её слова — корБольше я не буду молчать о том, что для меня важно, даже если правда ранит — ведь только так можно спасти то, что действительно дорого.**
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