З життя
Спадок чи свобода: відмовляємося жити за батьківськими правилами
Після смерті мами наш батько ніби здичавів. Втративши останній стримуючий фактор, він перетворився з людини, що хоч і формально поважала наші межі, на справжнього диктатора — з криками, ультиматумами та улюбленою загрозою: «Позбавитеся всього! Нічого не отримаєте!»
Мені двадцять дев’ять. Брат на три роки старший. Ми — дорослі, самостійні люди. У кожного своє життя, стосунки, робота, плани. Але батько ніби цього не бачить. Він поводиться так, немов ми — непутящі підлітки, а він — останній на землі носій істини. А якби це були лише поради, ми б, може, і терпіли. Але він вимагає. Саме вимагає, наказує, а за непокору б’є по найболючішому: «Квартира буде не ваша».
Так, квартира — гарна. Трьохкімнатна у центрі Чернігова, не «хрущовка», з ремонтом. Але, Боже мій, наскільки вона здешевіла поруч із тим болем, який ми пережили через нього.
Брат колись вже вирвався. Жив окремо, мав спокій, налагодив своє. Та батько почав дзвонити, маніпулювати, умовляти — мовляв, самотньо, «син має бути поряд». В якийсь момент брат здається. Повертається. І одразу потрапляє у клітку з розкладом: «О 23:00 — вдома. Після — двері на засов». Кілька разів, прийшовши опівночі, він ночував у машині чи у друзів. Вмитися та переодягнутися вдавалось лише вранці у спортзалі. Через пару місяців такого життя він просто зібрав речі та знову виїхав. І знову погрози: «Усе! Позбавлю спадщини!»
Коли брат пішов, батько переключився на мене. Я, на його думку, «полюбила не того». Мій тодішній хлопець не сподобався йому з перших секунд — не так подивився, не те сказав. Батько випалив: «Якщо не кинеш — не отримаєш ні копійки». Я мовчки зібрала речі та переїхала до брата. Потім зняла житло. Було важко, але я впоралась. Бо гірше за життя під постійним тиском — не існує.
Через деякий час батько ніби заспокоївся. Подзвонив. Помирились. Все ж таки рідний. Думали — очуняв. Але ні. Нова спалахнула сварка, коли брат оголосив про весілля. Його наречена батькові не сподобалась — жартувала надто сміливо, на його погляд, і виглядала забагато. Він вимагав скасувати весілля. Коли брат відмовився, мені заборонили йти. Але я пішла. Бо це моя родина. На моєму весіллі брат теж був. А батько — ні. Ні на одному.
Тепер він знову оголосився. Старіє, хворіє, і — раптом — захотів, щоб ми з чоловіком переїхали до нього. «Один не впораюсь, доглядайте», — каже. Ми запропонували: будемо приїжджати, допомагати, продукти возити, оплачувати сидінку. Але жити з ним — ні. Ми більше не готові.
Знову почалося: «Ви мене кинули. Ви — невдячні. Квартира дістанеться чужим». Ми з братом переглянулись і лише зітхнули. Вже не боляче. Вже не ображає. Втомилися. І якщо ціна за спокійне життя — це його спадщина, нехай буде так. Ми занадто довго платили занадто високу ціну за право хоч трохи бути собою.
Коли йде близька людина, здавалось би, друга половина родини має стати міцнішою, єдинішою. У нас же навпаки — мами немає, і ми втратили її й батька разом. Набридло жити під страхом бути «негідними». Ми хочемо жити по-своєму. Без його «дудки», без принижень, без вічного виблагаМи вибрали себе, навіть якщо це означає втратити стіни, які колись називали домом.
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