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— Оксанко, побачимося через три дні! І не забудь приготувати свій фірмовий м’ясний пиріг. Він такий смачнющий… — весело щебетала у слухавку свекруха Тетяна Іванівна.
Проте Оксані було не до сміху. Дівчина закінчила розмову і тяжко опустилася на стілець. Через кілька днів мала настати Великдень. І всі родичі з боку чоловіка Віктора збиралися у них.
— У вас така простора квартира, місця всім вистачить. Ми раніше тулилися по наших невеличких кімнатках. А тут є де розвернутися! Буде місце для зустрічей нашої великої родини. — винесла два роки тому вердикт свекруха.
Тепер Оксана починала ненавидіти свою велику та простору трійку, за яку ще дуже довго потрібно виплачувати кредит. Тільки через квартиру вся зграя родичів приїжджала до Оксани додому, влаштовувала безлад і заважала спати.
На кухню зайшов Віктор і поцілував дружину на маківку.
— Все з мамою обговорили? — запитав він.
— Так, святкувати знову будемо у нас. Вітю, — благала вона, — може ти поговориш з мамою?
Віктор нахмурився.
— Оксано, ми ж це вже обговорювали. Ти дуже подобаєшся мамі, вона обожнює твою кухню! Як можу я їй сказати, щоб вона не приїжджала? Тим більше, мама вже на пенсії. Ти ж не змусиш її готувати на всіх? У неї вже немає стільки сил. Вона виховала четверо дітей, треба віддати їй належне. І вона заслужила відпочинок.
Кожного разу Оксана піддавалася на вмовляння чоловіка. Але подумки думала: «А хто подбає про мене? Чому я у свято маю годувати і обслуговувати цілу купу людей?»
Проте скаржитися було марно. Дівчині не хотілося сваритися з чоловіком і руйнувати сімейне щастя. Тому Оксана наступного дня рушила закупитися продуктами. А у день перед Великоднем зайнялася приготуванням. До пізньої ночі Оксана готувала на всіх. У гості мали прийти всі діти свекрухи з родинами. А це більше десяти людей!
— Чому я одна працюю? Невже ніхто не може прийти допомогти? Ладно, не твоя мама, але може хтось з дружин братів? Чи всі теж на заслуженому відпочинку? — запитала вона чоловіка, замішуючи тісто для пирога.
Віктор здивовано подивився на дружину.
— Ти ж знаєш, що брати готувати не вміють, як і я. А невістки… Вони зайняті, у одних діти, у інших – робота. Я не можу просто так їх витягнути з місця, Оксано. Це неправильно.
— А мене можна? Я теж працюю. Ну і що, що з дому. Від цього я не втомлююсь менше, Вітю.
— Не сердься, — чоловік обняв Оксану за талію. — Усе буде гаразд. Ми зберемося всі разом, відсвяткуємо Великдень, всі будуть нахвалювати твою їжу. І у тебе настрій підніметься.
І Оксана знову поступилася. Уже вночі, впавши в ліжко, вона від втоми не могла зімкнути очей. Здавалося, після такого насиченого дня вона повинна була заснути за лічені секунди. Але сон не приходив. І Оксана думала, аналізувала, переймалася.
«І навіщо мені їх похвала? Я також хотіла би прийти на все готове, не витрачаючи на це ні часу, ні грошей, ні сил».
Рано-вранці, коли Оксана тільки міцно заснула, її розбудив дзвінок телефону. Свекруха вирішила привітати сім’ю старшого сина першою. А потім Тетяна Іванівна повідомила:
— Через годину ми всі будемо у тебе. Я ще вчора всім дітям повідомила, тож починай накривати на стіл, — голос свекрухи був бадьорий і веселий.
Оксана не могла встати з ліжка. У неї просто не вистачало сил, щоб почати цей день. Вона вже прокручувала в голові, як сервірує стіл, сто разів бігає на кухню, щоб подати і принести тарілки, а потім все це прибирає.
— Не хочу, — простогнала вона в подушку.
— Оксано, чому ти ще в ліжку? Мама скоро приїде! І гості. — у дверях стояв Віктор і незадоволено дивився на дружину.
— Вже йду, — неохоче відповіла Оксана і сіла. “Ти зможеш, впораєшся зі всім, ти сильна”. – прошепотіла вона собі і потяглася у ванну вмиватися.
Дівчина всіляко підбадьорювала себе. Вона встигла все накрити і розігріти.
…За столом було гамірно. Сім’ї ділилися враженнями, планами, розповідали історії. Поруч з Оксаною сиділа свекруха. І вона не втомлювалась голосно хвалити Оксану:
— Як же наша Оксаночка добре куховарить! Все так смачно вийшло, доню. Я сама ніколи б такий стіл не накрила, — свекруха широко усміхалася, стискала руку невістки і схвально дивилася в очі.
Оксана неохоче приймала вітання, але часто відлучалась з-за столу. Вона виходила на балкон, щоб сховатися від гамору і галасу, від запитань про дітей. Вона з Віктором вирішили трохи почекати, щоб стати на ноги. Але родичів це мало хвилювало.
— Оксаночко! — пролунав голос свекрухи. — Пора десерт подавати. Куди ти втекла?
Двері на балкон відчинилися і в невеликий простір зайшла Тетяна Іванівна.
— Ти палиш? — здивовано запитала вона.
— Що? Ні звісно! – смикнулася від питання Оксана. — Просто вийшла подихати свіжим повітрям. Душно в квартирі.
— Так, так. Діти всередині, вікна не відчинити. А то вже подумала, що ти у нас балуєшся… Дивись, навіть не думай про таке, тобі ще мені внуків народжувати! — свекруха жартома пригрозила пальцем.
Оксана вимучено усміхнулася. Але Тетяна Іванівна цього не помітила.
— Ходімо, потрібно зі столу прибрати і десерт подати.
— Йду…
Коли вони увійшли в залу, Тетяна Іванівна відразу сіла на своє місце. А Оксана залишилася одна. Вона зібрала брудні тарілки, віднесла їх на кухню, потім розставила на столі десерт і поклала перед гостями нові прибори. І все сама.
— Твій торт найсмачніший у світі, — знову похвалила свекруха.
Оксана поспішила зникнути на кухню. Вона почала мити тарілки, щоб зайняти себе чимось. У такі моменти Оксана шкодувала, що ще не придбала посудомийну машину. Її придбання постійно відкладалося.
Через дві години гості почали збиратися.
— Вітенько, відвезеш мене додому? — запитала Тетяна Іванівна.
— Звісно, мамо, тільки ключі візьму.
Коли Оксана залишилася в квартирі сама, вона пройшла до залу і втомлено опустилася на диван. Квартира була в повному хаосі. Купа гостей і кілька дітей зробили своє. Від вчорашнього прибирання не залишилось і сліду.
— Потрібно встати і все доробити, — сказала вона сама собі. — Якщо залишу, то завтра буду лаяти себе ще більше. Ех…
З тихим зітханням Оксана піднялася з ліжка. Вона взялася збирати брудний посуд, скатертину і рушники відправила в прання. Стіл — у свій кут у залі. Спершу вона перемила всі тарілки, прибори і склянки. Залишки їжі поклала в контейнери. Потім Оксана пройшлася пилососом по всіх кімнатах, вимиїла підлогу.
— Я заслужила щось хороше за свою працю…
Оксана набрала ванну, кинула у воду улюблену сольову бомбочку, запустила музику. Гаряча вода приємно розслаблювала її затерплі і втомлені м’язи. Вперше за кілька годин вона взяла у руки телефон. Там її чекало повідомлення від чоловіка:
«Мама запропонувала залишитися. Буду завтра».
— Як завжди… — подумала вона.
Віктор добре знав, що Оксана буде прибирати саме сьогодні. Але він погодився залишитися у мами, замість того щоб допомогти дружині.
— “Як вони до мене, так і я буду. Вистачить!” — вирішила вона для себе.
Цілий місяць пролетів непомітно. Наближався черговий святковий день. Дзвінок від свекрухи не змусив чекати:
— Оксаночко, накривай стіл! Ми приїдемо в п’ятницю святкувати день народження молодшого брата Віктора.
— Звісно, стіл на місці. Тільки готувати доведеться комусь іншому. У мене завал на роботі, викликають в офіс. Не знаю, коли звільнюся, — удавано жалісно зітхнула Оксана. — Я навіть не знаю, чи зможу на святі бути присутньою…
— Що? Як це?..
— Робота, що поробиш.
— Ну, добре, я щось придумаю. Шкода… – зітхнула свекруха.
— На все добре, — Оксана повісила слухавку і усміхнулася.
Святковий вечір вона провела у подруги в гостях. А вранці змусила Віктора все прибрати, усе ж святкували брата, а не її.
Коли наближався ювілей свекрухи, Оксана вирішила взяти відпустку і вирушити до батьків у сусіднє місто. Свій подарунок вона вручила заздалегідь, повідомивши заодно новину.
— А де ж ми будемо святкувати?
— Вітя вас пустить, просто мене вдома не буде.
— А приготування?
— Можете щось замовити. Або ваші інші невістки щось приготують. Ви впораєтеся!
Наступні свята Оксана була вдома. Але стіл обмежувався м’ясною нарізкою і магазинним тортом. Оксана завжди повторювала одне і те ж:
— У мене зовсім не було часу, щоб готувати. Я у запарі по роботі. Можете щось замовити, якщо хочете.
Але ніхто не хотів витрачати гроші. І до Нового року всі родичі зрозуміли, що сидіти на шиї у Оксани вже не вийде. І їх бажання святкувати разом відразу стихло.
Цей Новий рік Оксана і Віктор зустрічали удвох, що цілком влаштовувало дівчину. Її план вдався. І піднімаючи келих з шампанським, вона подумала про себе, що вона молодець, і за це варто випити.
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IS IT REALLY THE ORCHID’S FAULT? “Polly, take this orchid or I’ll bin it,” Kate muttered, scooping the transparent pot off the windowsill and thrusting it into my hands. “Thanks, mate! But what did this orchid ever do to upset you?” I was puzzled. There were still three gorgeous, pampered orchids on her windowsill. “That flower was a wedding gift for my son. And, well, you know how that turned out…” Kate sighed heavily. “I know your Dennis and Tanya divorced before their first anniversary. I won’t ask why—it must have been serious. Dennis absolutely adored Tanya.” I didn’t want to reopen an old wound. “Someday I’ll tell you the whole story, Polly. For now, it’s too much to remember,” Kate mused, dabbing her eyes. I brought the “rejected” and “banished” orchid home. My husband looked at the pitiful specimen and said, “Why bother with that runt? Even I can see there’s no life left in it. Don’t waste your time.” “I’m going to revive her,” I insisted. “A bit of love and care, and you’ll see—she’ll be in bloom again.” He winked: “Who can refuse love?” A week later, Kate rang: “Polly, can I come round? I can’t keep this burden inside. I want to tell you everything about Dennis’ disastrous marriage.” “Come right over, Kate. I’m here.” I couldn’t turn her down. She’d been my rock through my first painful divorce—and when things were rocky with my second husband too. We’d been friends forever. Kate arrived an hour later. She settled in the kitchen, and over a glass of dry wine, a cup of strong coffee, and some dark chocolate, the story spilled out. “I never imagined my ex-daughter-in-law was capable of such a thing. Dennis and Tanya were together for seven years before marrying. Dennis left Annie for Tanya—and I loved Annie, so homely and warm, I called her daughter. Then this dazzling beauty Tanya swept in. Dennis was besotted—hovering around her like a bee around a blossom. Love at first sight, absolutely scorching. He pushed Annie aside in a heartbeat. “Yes, Tanya had model looks. Dennis loved when his mates gawped and passers-by turned heads. Yet, no child in seven years. I thought maybe Dennis wanted everything proper—wedded first, then kids. He’s private, never confided much, and we didn’t meddle. “One day he just told us: “‘Mum, Dad, I’m marrying Tanya. We’ve given notice at the registry office. No expense spared—a wedding to remember.’ “We were thrilled—Dennis was thirty, finally settling down. But the wedding date shifted—he was unwell, then I got held up at work. I got a bad feeling, but I saw his happiness and kept silent. “Dennis even wanted a church blessing, but the priest was away. Nothing was going right. Everything was a sign… “Still, we had a big, noisy wedding. Look—here’s the photo. See that orchid? Blooming, magnificent. Its leaves stood tall. Now, they’re just limp rags. “Dennis and Tanya planned a Paris honeymoon, but there was a hitch—Tanya wasn’t allowed to leave the country. Some massive unpaid fine. They were turned away at the airport. Dennis ignored the strings of bad luck, lost in dreams of family life. “But then he got seriously ill—hospitalised. The doctors had little hope. Tanya stuck around for a week, then said: “‘I’m sorry, but I can’t cope with a disabled husband. I’m filing for divorce.’ “Imagine, Polly, what Dennis felt lying there? Still, he replied: “‘I understand, Tanya. I won’t stand in your way.’ “So, they divorced. “But Dennis recovered. We found him a brilliant doctor, who pulled him through in half a year—said Dennis was young enough to bounce back. Our family grew close to the doctor, Peter, who had a lovely twenty-year-old daughter, Masha. Dennis barely paid attention to her: “‘She’s tiny. Not even pretty.’ “‘Give her a chance, son. Looks aren’t everything. You’ve tried the model wife—now, perhaps, try joy over glamour.’ “He couldn’t forget Tanya’s betrayal, yet Masha adored Dennis from the start—she followed him everywhere, phoned him constantly. “We tried matchmaking with a trip in the countryside. Dennis sulked the whole time, nothing cheered him up—campfire, barbeque, our laughter—nothing. Masha followed him with puppy eyes, but he barely glanced at her. “‘It’s hopeless,’ I sighed to my husband. ‘Dennis still loves Tanya. She’s a splinter in his heart.’ “A few months later, Dennis showed up at the door with the infamous orchid: “‘Here, Mum—the last relic of past happiness. Do what you want with it. I don’t want this exotic reminder.’ “I begrudgingly accepted the orchid and took a dislike to it—almost as if I blamed it for my son’s pain. I shoved it out of sight, neglected it. “Then I ran into a neighbour: “‘Kate, I saw your Dennis with a pixie-like girl. His first wife was far more striking, though…’ “I didn’t believe it—could Dennis really be dating Masha? “‘Meet my wife, Masha,’ Dennis introduced her, cradling her hand. “My husband and I exchanged glances. “‘But what about a wedding? Guests?’ “‘No need for a fuss—we’ve done all that. Registered at the town hall, quiet and simple. Father Peter gave us a church blessing. Masha and I are forever.’ “I pulled Dennis aside: “‘Do you actually love her? Please don’t hurt Masha—or marry just to spite Tanya.’ “‘No, Mum, I’m not taking revenge. I’m over that woman,’ he said—he’d stopped calling Tanya by name. ‘As for love… Masha and I just fit perfectly together.’ “That’s my story, Polly.” Kate finally unburdened her heart. …After this heartfelt chat, two years rushed by, life got busy. But the orchid revived and bloomed—they really do respond to love. When I met Kate again, it was at the maternity ward: “Hey, mate, what are you doing here?” “Masha’s had twins. They’re being discharged today,” Kate grinned. At the entrance stood Dennis and Kate’s husband, Dennis clutching a bouquet of red roses. Out came a tired but glowing Masha, followed by the nurse gently carrying two tiny, sleeping bundles. My own daughter was there, snuggling her newborn. Tanya is now begging Dennis for forgiveness and to try again… But you can glue a broken cup, though you’ll never drink from it the same way again…
IS THE ORCHID TO BLAME? Polly, take this orchid away or Ill chuck it out, Kate announced, carelessly lifting the...
Fate on a Hospital Bed – “Young Lady, You Look After Him! I’m Too Scared to Even Feed Him with a Spoon,” She Snapped, Tossing Grocery Bags onto the Bed Where Her Sick Husband Lay. “Please Don’t Worry! Your Husband Will Recover. He Needs Careful Nursing Now. I’ll Help Dmitry Get Back on His Feet,” I, as the nurse, had to reassure the tuberculosis patient’s wife yet again. Dmitry arrived in critical condition, but his will to live gave him good odds. Sadly, his wife Alla didn’t believe in medicine. It seemed she’d given up on him already… Years later, the same fate befell their son Yura. Alla gave up on him too – but Yura survived. Despite his diagnosis, Dmitry joked and laughed, eager to leave the TB ward. His village lacked any specialist hospital, so Alla rarely visited. I felt sorry for him – so unkempt, so abandoned… “Dima, do you mind if I bring you some things? I see you don’t even have slippers,” I teased. “Violetta, I’d swallow poison from you if you said it was medicine. But no, just let me get well first…” My heart fluttered. Was I falling for a married man? I tried not to. But you can’t command the heart… I visited Dima more often. Our talks grew deep; we switched to first names. He had a five-year-old son. “My Yura takes after his beautiful mum… I loved Alla – but she only loves herself. It eats you up… now it’s you caring for me, a stranger,” he sighed. I tried to make excuses for Alla. He shook his head. “A wife can find time for her lovers a hundred miles away—but not for me.” After a fight, Alla vanished. A month passed. Dima told me quietly, “We’re divorcing.” When he was discharged, he asked shyly to stay with me, and I agreed—if he’d accept my child too. He did—and so began our life together. Years passed. We had two children together. His son Yura visits often. My own daughter lives far away; I never regretted being a single mother. As for Alla: she remarried many times, had another son who suffered from mental illness. She remained cold and distant, and when she died, her son was sent to a care home. Now Dima and I are old, but love each other more than ever, grateful for every day together.
FATE ON A HOSPITAL BED Tuesday Ill never get used to certain moments in the ward. Today, Mrs. Parker burst...
I’ve Never Taken What Belongs to Someone Else Once, while still at school, Martha both despised and envied Nastya. She looked down on Nastya because her parents were hopelessly alcoholic, scraping by on odd jobs and living hand-to-mouth. Nastya always wore shabby clothes, seemed half-starved and downtrodden. Her father often hit her—sometimes for drinking too little, sometimes for drinking too much, sometimes for no clear reason at all. Nastya’s mother never stood up for her, too afraid of her husband’s heavy hand. Only her devoted grandmother brought any light to Nastya’s world. Once a month, from her modest pension, Grandma would give her beloved granddaughter a “salary” for good behaviour. Even if Nastya misbehaved, Grandma would always pretend not to notice and hand over her pay anyway—five roubles! For Nastya, that was the happiest day of the month. She’d rush to the shop and buy ice cream (one for herself, one for Grandma), halvah, and a few sweets. Every time, Nastya tried to make the treats last all month—but after two days, they’d always be gone. Then, as if on cue, Grandma would get her own ice cream from the fridge and say, “Here, sweetheart, eat this. My throat is sore today.” “How odd,” Nastya thought, “Grandma’s throat always seems to start hurting the day my sweets run out…” She secretly always hoped to get a share of Grandma’s portion. Martha’s family was the complete opposite. Their home was overflowing with comfort. Her parents earned good money and pampered their only daughter. Martha was always dressed in the latest fashions, and her classmates sometimes borrowed her things. She was never denied anything—well-fed, well-dressed, and shod in the best shoes. Yet Martha envied her classmate’s enchanting beauty, the warmth that radiated from Nastya, and her natural ability to get along with everyone. Martha, however, considered herself above even talking to Nastya. Whenever they crossed paths, Martha would glare at her so coldly, it felt to Nastya as if she’d been doused in ice water. Once, Martha insulted her in front of everyone: “You’re pathetic!” Nastya ran home in tears and told her grandmother. Grandma sat her down, stroked her hair and said, “Don’t cry, Nastya. Tomorrow, tell her, ‘You’re right—I belong to God!’” Nastya felt better right away. Martha was beautiful herself, but her beauty came with an air of coldness and distance. Then there was Max, the class heartthrob—carefree, always joking, not bothered by failing grades or scoldings from teachers. His outlook was sunny, and his optimism infectious; even the teachers liked him, despite his troublemaking ways. In their final years at school, Max began escorting Martha home after lessons and waiting for her at the school gate in the morning. Their classmates teased: “Here come the bride and groom!” Even the teachers noticed the blossoming romance between Max and Martha. Eventually, the final bell rang, prom night passed, and the classmates went their separate ways. Max and Martha married in a hurry—the “evidence of love” couldn’t be concealed, not even by Martha’s elaborate wedding dress. Within five months, she gave birth to a daughter, Sofia. After school, Nastya was forced to get a job. Her beloved grandmother had passed away, and now her parents depended on Nastya’s income. She had plenty of admirers, but none touched her soul, and she was ashamed of her alcoholic family. A decade slipped by… One day, in the waiting room at the addiction clinic, there were two pairs: Nastya with her mum, Max with Martha. Nastya immediately recognized Max—he was now an impressive man, but Martha was nearly unrecognizable: gaunt, hands shaking, dead-eyed, only 28 but looking much older. Max greeted Nastya, embarrassed. “Hello, classmate,” he said, not wanting Nastya to witness his family’s misery. “Hello, Max. Looks like trouble at home. Has it been going on for long?” Nastya asked quickly. “A while,” he confessed, awkwardly. “A woman who drinks—it’s a disaster. I know from my mum. My father literally drank himself to death,” Nastya sympathized. After the appointments, Max and Nastya exchanged numbers for support. Misery loves company, and Max started visiting Nastya for advice. She shared her hard-earned wisdom about living with alcoholics, what treatments worked, and what absolutely didn’t. She knew, as so many drowned in the bottle, it wasn’t always obvious from the surface… Max confided that he and his daughter Sofia had long lived alone—Martha had returned to her parents’ home. Max had shielded Sofia from her unpredictable mother. The breaking point was when Max came home to find Martha drunk on the floor and three-year-old Sofia teetering on the windowsill, poised to fall from the fifth floor. After that, Max took no more chances. Martha refused help, convinced she could stop anytime. She was drawn to the abyss—and wanted to fall as far as possible. Their marriage ended. Later, Max invited Nastya to a restaurant and confessed: he’d loved her since their schooldays, but was too afraid of rejection, then Martha had become pregnant… Life tumbled on. Meeting at the clinic had seemed like fate. Chatting with Nastya was like a soothing balm. Max proposed marriage, and after all these years, Nastya was finally ready to accept his love—especially now that Martha was out of the picture. Nastya and Max married quietly, and she moved in with him. At first, Sofia was wary of sharing her father’s love, but Nastya’s kindness soon melted her heart, and before long, Sofia started calling her “mum.” A few years later, Sofia gained a little sister, Molly. One day, their doorbell rang. Nastya opened it to find—Martha, utterly changed, reeked of alcohol, a living warning. “You snake! You stole my husband, my daughter! No wonder I’ve hated you all my life!” Martha hissed. Nastya stood calm, confident, beautiful. “I have never taken what was not mine. You gave up your family by choice, never understanding why. I have never uttered a bad word about you. I truly pity you, Martha…” With that, Nastya closed the door on her uninvited guest.
NEVER TOOK WHAT WASNT MINE Even back in school, Martha looked down on Nancy yet couldnt help but envy her....
Like a Bird Drawn to the Call – A Tale of Love, Loyalty, and Life’s Twists: From My Grandmother’s Wisdom and Parents’ Lifelong Marriage, to Broken Trust, Forbidden Affairs, and a Second Chance Family with My True Soulmate
LIKE A BIRD TO A CALL Girls, you only marry once, and it must be for life. You stay with...