З життя
Помста байдужості: наслідки помсти
Око за око: розплата за байдужість
У затишному містечку на березі Дніпра Ольга Миколаївна роками намагалася бути ідеальною матір’ю та свекрухою. Вона жертвувала часом, силами та грошима заради щастя свого сина та його дружини. Але їхня байдужість та невдячність розбили їй сердце. Коли невістка в розпачі попросила допомоги, Ольга вперше відмовила, вирішивши, що настала година платити тією ж монетою. Тепер вона запитує себе: чи справедлива її помста, чи це лише початок кінця родинних зв’язків?
Нещодавно задзвонив телефон від невістки, Насті. Її голос тремтів від слабкості: «Ольго Миколаївно, благаю, приїдьте! У мене висока температура, горло розривається від ангіни. Мені так погано! Побудуйте з Софійкою, допоможіть!» Ольга, сидячи у своїй міській квартирі, холодно відповіла: «Вибач, Насте, але я не можу. Я на хуторі, у селі, і повертатися не збираюся». Вона поклала слухавку, відчуваючи, як всередині кипить образа, змішана з гірким задоволенням.
Коли Ольга розповіла про це сусідці Марії, та здивовано розвела руками: «Олю, що ти робиш? Та ж ти в місті, а не на хуторі! Насті й справді важко з дитинкою, їй усього три місяці! Як можна так вчинити?» Ольга насупилася: «Моя онука, так, три місяці. Але Настя це заслужила. П’ять років я намагалася стати їй подругою. На весілля дала їм купу грошей, допомогла з ремонтом, обставила їхню хату. А вони хоч раз сказали «дякую»? Ні! Тільки й знають, що витрачаються на модний одяг, нові телефони та подорожі по курортах!»
Вона продовжила, і її голос задрижав від болю: «Коли Настя була вагітна, я водила її до найкращих лікарів, сама носила її аналізи у поліклініку. Приносила домашню їжу у пологовий будинок, а перед виписом вичистила їхню квартиру до блиску. І що? Ані слова подяки! Вони приймали все як належне, ніби я їм щось винна». Марія зітхнула: «Олю, діти часто так роблять — вважають, що батьки повинні допомагати». Але Ольга похитала головою: «Повинні? А коли я попросила допомоги, вони відвернулися!»
Один-єдиний раз Ольга звернулася до сина, Андрія, по допомогу. Вона поверталася з сусіднього міста, де гостювала у сестри, з важкими сумками. «Андрію, встрінь мене на вокзалі, будь ласка», — попросила вона. Андрій погодився, але за годину подзвонила Настя: «Ольго Миколаївно, беріть таксі. Андрію довелося б відпрашиватися з роботи, а це незручно. Потяг рано вранці, він не виспиться і буде стомленим». Ольга задихнулася від образи. «Вони знайшли час, коли Настю з дитиною треба було везти до лікарні! А для мене не змогли?» — обурювалася вона Марії.
«Настя права, зайвий раз з роботи не відпрасишся, — намагалася заспокоїти сусідка. — Андрій годує сім’ю, йому не можна ризикувати». Але Ольга не погодилася: «Він міг би! Я рідко прошу, а вони навіть не подзвонили, не дізналися, чи доїхала я. Сумки були непідйомні, я сама їх не дотягла. Добре, попутники допомогли винести з вагону, а потім я найняла носильника. Таксист, чужий чоловік, доніс їх до квартири! А рідний син і невістка кинули мене!» Ей очі заповнилися сльозами, але голос став твердішим: «Тоді я вирішила: досить. Більше не буду їм допомагати».
Марія похитала головою: «Олю, та дитинка ж ні в чому не винна». Ольга замовкла, відчуваючи укол сумління, але образа була сильніша. «Вони знущаються, Маро. Я повинна бути на побігушках, а вони мені — нічого? Це несправедливо! Нехай тепер відчують, як це, коли тебе ігнорують». Вона згадувала, як пишалася сином, як мріяла про дружню родину з невісткою. Але кожен її крок зустрічали холодом, а її доброту сприймали як належне. Тепер вона вирішила: якщо вони не цінують її, вона відповість тим самим.
Кожної ночі Ольга лежала без сну, розриваючись між гнівом і тугою. Вона уявляла крихітну Софійку, що плаче у ліжечку, і Настю, що метушиться у гарячці. Серце стискалося, але спогади про зраду Андрія та Насті глушили жалість. «Вони самі обрали такий шлях», — шепотіла вона у темряву, але сльози котилися по щоках. Вона знала, що її рішення може назавжди розірвати зв’язок із сином та онукою, але відступати було пізно. «Справедливість має перемогти», — твердила вона, хоча в глибині душі боялася, що ця справедливість залишить її саму.
Ольга дивилася у вітОльга стиснула кулаки, але в душі вже проростало насіння сумніву — чи варто було так жорстоко доводити свою правоту.
You’re Robbing My Son Blind—He Can’t Even Afford a Light Bulb! On Sunday morning, I was curled up on the sofa with a blanket while my husband drove over to his mother’s to “change some light bulbs.” But of course, the real reason for summoning her darling boy was something else entirely: “Son, have you forgotten it’s Igor’s birthday today?” My husband’s the generous type—his salary barely lasts a week. Thankfully, he still gives me cash for the bills and groceries, but the rest? He blows it all on new video games and whatever gadgets go with them. I don’t mind; better my man enjoys his hobbies than squanders his time (and money) in pubs or nightclubs. Besides, I once read that the first forty years of childhood are the hardest for any man. I’m not telling you this for sympathy, just so you understand why my husband always has empty pockets. I have no such problem—even manage to save. I often lend him money in emergencies, but when it’s for his mum, niece, or sister, I always say no. Naturally, I remembered Igor’s birthday. Last week, I bought his present myself. Before my husband set off, I handed it over and settled down to watch a film. I didn’t go—the mutual animosity between me and my in-laws made sure of that. They think I don’t love him, accuse me of being mean because I refuse to fund their expenses or mind my sister-in-law’s kids. Once, I watched them for an hour, but they picked them up half a day late, making me miss work—when I dared complain, his mum and sister called me shameless and rude. After that, any requests to babysit were met with a firm “no.” Didn’t bother me if my husband watched the kids—he enjoys their company. Not long after my husband left, he returned—with the whole family in tow, nieces and all. His mum barged in, coat still on, and declared: “We’ve decided that, for Igor’s birthday, he’ll get the tablet he wanted—two grand it cost. You owe me a thousand pounds for your share. Pay up.” I might have bought the lad a tablet—but nothing that expensive. Obviously, I refused to hand over any cash. That’s when my husband started guilt-tripping me for being stingy. I turned on the laptop and called Igor over. In five minutes, we picked and ordered a gadget he really wanted—job done. Thrilled, Igor dashed off to his mum, who’d been sulking in the hallway. My sister-in-law always had sticky fingers—nothing in our house was safe. My mother-in-law, meanwhile, ignored my thoughtful gesture and exploded with indignation: “No one asked for your help. You were meant to give money! You’re with my son, and he’s always skint, can’t even buy a lightbulb. Hand me a thousand pounds now—you know full well that money belongs to my boy!” She reached for my handbag on the nightstand. I glared at my husband and hissed, “You’ve got three minutes to get them out of here.” In less than three minutes, he’d grabbed his mother and chucked her and the lot of them out the door. So, yes, I’d rather my husband waste his wages on games than have his mother snatch every penny. At least he spends it on things that make him happy, not on those freeloaders. Sometimes, I genuinely think I’d have been better off marrying an orphan!
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