З життя
Свекруха не любила невістку, але син став на її бік, і за кілька років вона всім довела свою правоту.
Свекруха не знаходила спільної мови з невісткою, але врешті-решт її син став на сторону Олени, яка через кілька років здивувала всіх.
Спостерігаючи за стосунками свекрух і невісток, можна лише дивуватися. Чому старші жінки часто обирають тактику зневаги до матерів своїх онуків? Як би там не було, зрештою, за це доведеться заплатити. На жаль, усвідомлення помилок зазвичай приходить тоді, коли вже нічого не можна виправити.
Після весілля Андрій і Олена жили в домі його матері. Свекруха постійно критикувала невістку — погано виглядає, неправильно висловлюється, погано готує або не вміє прибирати підлогу. Коротше кажучи, у всьому була якась недосконалість. Олена постійно просила чоловіка переїхати, але той завжди знаходив відмовки. Не хоче брати кредити, немає грошей на нову квартиру, завжди щось. Після кожної такої розмови Андрій просив дружину ще трохи потерпіти. І Олена терпіла. Місяці, роки минали. Нічого не змінилося. Олена народила доньку, згодом ще одну, і вони досі жили зі свекрухою.
Після народження онуків бабуся трохи змінила своє ставлення, весь час була заглибленою в дітей і трохи залишала Олену у спокої. Коли дівчата підросли, Олена почала працювати у великій компанії. Це стало для неї ковтком свіжого повітря і нагодою реалізуватися. Здавалося, все йде на краще, проте це було лише на перший погляд. Одного дня сусід свекрухи прийшов і сказав їй, що бачив, як Олена сіла в якусь чужу машину. Після цієї розмови свекруха, потираючи руки, чекала, поки невістка повернеться з роботи. Коли Олена прийшла додому, мати Андрія буквально накинулася на неї зі звинуваченнями у всіх смертних гріхах.
Але Олена спокійно відповіла, що це автомобіль її начальника. І в машині разом з нею були ще двоє колег — вони всі разом їхали на роботу. Свекруха вдала, що не чує цього. Погрожувала, що все розповість синові. Олені було це байдуже. Вона знала, що її чоловік розумний і не повірить в такі фантазії. Але вона помилилася! Наступного дня, повернувшись з роботи, Олена застала чоловіка навпідпитку. Агресивно звинувачував її у невірності, майже пустив у хід кулаки.
А свекруха задоволено підслуховувала за дверима їхні крики. Наступного ранку Олена пішла на роботу. Її бос виявився дуже доброю людиною. Він допоміг їй знайти житло, подати заяву на розлучення та відсудити дітей у чоловіка. Олена була змушена розпочати життя наново. І, як виявилося, вона зробила правильно. Швидко відновилася після розлучення, отримала підвищення, навіть зустріла нове кохання. Через два роки Олена знову вийшла заміж і народила сина.
А що ж Андрій і його мати?
Після відходу Олени Андрій став пити ще більше. Його мати зрозуміла свої помилки, навіть намагалася повернути невістку. Але, звісно, було вже запізно. Через кілька років Олена зжалилася над своїми колишніми рідними та вирішила познайомити їх зі старшими дочками. Вона приїхала до будинку колишнього чоловіка на дорогій машині, доглянута і квітуча. Побачивши Андрія та плачучу свекруху, зрозуміла, що зло не залишилось безкарним.
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No One Left to Talk To: A Story “Mum, what are you saying? How can you say you’ve got no one to talk to? I call you twice a day,” her daughter asked wearily. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant,” Nina Anderson sighed sadly. “I just don’t have any friends or acquaintances left who are my age. From my time.” “Mum, don’t talk nonsense. You still have your school friend Irene. And honestly, you’re so modern and you look much younger than you are. Oh, Mum, what’s wrong?” her daughter fretted. “You know Irene has asthma; when she talks on the phone she starts coughing. And she lives all the way on the other side of the city. There were three of us friends, remember I told you? But Mary’s been gone for a long time. Yesterday, Tanya from the flat next door popped in. I made her a cuppa—she’s a lovely woman, often drops by. She even brought over some buns she’d baked for her family. She told me about her children and grandchildren. She’s got grandchildren, even though she’s about fifteen years younger than me. But her childhood, her memories—they’re so different from mine. I just long for a chat with peers, people like me,” Nina Anderson explained, though she realised perfectly well that her daughter wouldn’t understand. She was still young. Her time wasn’t gone—it was just outside the window. She didn’t yet yearn for memories. Sveta was wonderful and caring; it wasn’t about her. “Mum, I got us tickets for a night of classic ballads on Tuesday. Remember you wanted to go? No more sulking—put on your burgundy dress, you look stunning in it!” “All right, darling, everything’s fine. I don’t know what came over me, good night, we’ll speak tomorrow. Go to bed early—you hardly get any sleep,” Nina changed the subject. “Yes, Mum, goodnight. Bye,” and Svetlana hung up. Nina Anderson gazed silently at the glittering evening lights outside… Year Eleven, also spring. So many plans. It seemed so recent. Her friend Irene fancied Simon Mallory from their class. But Simon liked Nina. He’d call her every evening, invite her out. But Nina thought of him as just a friend—why raise his hopes? Later Simon left for the army. He came back, married, lived in Irene’s old house. Back then everyone had a landline. The number… Nina Anderson dialled the number from memory. The tone didn’t come at once—then someone picked up, there was rustling and then a quiet man’s voice: “Hello, I’m listening.” Maybe it’s too late? Why did I call? Maybe Simon doesn’t even remember me, or maybe it’s not him at all! “Good evening,” Nina’s voice rasped a little with nerves. There was more static on the line, then suddenly she heard an astonished voice: “Nina? Is that really you? Of course it is. I’d know your voice anywhere. How did you find me? I’m only here by chance….” “Simon, you recognised me!” A wave of joyful memories swept over Nina Anderson. No one had called her by her name for ages—just “mum”, “granny”, or “Mrs Anderson”. Well, except Irene. But just “Nina” sounded so wonderful, so fresh—as if the years hadn’t passed at all. “Nina, how are you? I’m so glad to hear from you.” Those words made her ridiculously happy. She’d feared he wouldn’t recognise her, or her call would be out of place. “Do you remember Year Eleven? When Simon and Victor took you and Irene out in that rowing boat? He’d blistered his hands on the oars and tried to hide it. Then we ate ice cream on the riverside while the music played,” Simon’s voice was soft and wistful. “Of course I remember!” Nina laughed joyfully, “And that class camping trip? We couldn’t get the tins open, we were so hungry!” “Oh yes,” Simon chuckled, “Then Victor opened them and we sang songs by the campfire. Do you remember? After that, I decided to learn the guitar.” “And did you?” Nina’s voice rang with youthful delight at all these shared memories. It was like Simon was reviving their happy past, recalling detail after detail. “So, how are things now?” Simon asked, but immediately answered himself, “Actually, I can tell from your voice you’re happy. Children, grandchildren? You still writing poems? I remember: ‘To dissolve into the night and be reborn by morning!’ So full of hope! You always were like sunshine, Nina! You bring warmth to everyone, no one could be cold around you. Your family’s so lucky—to have a mum and granny like you is pure gold.” “Oh, come off it, Simon, I’m long past that. My time’s over, I—” He interrupted. “Come on, you give out so much energy I think my phone’s about to melt! Just kidding. I don’t believe you’ve lost your zest for life—not a bit. That means your time isn’t over yet, Nina. So live—and be happy. The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!” “Simon, you’re still such a romantic. What about you? I’m going on and on about myself…” But suddenly there was a crackle and the call cut out. Nina sat there, phone in hand. She wanted to ring back, but it was late—better not. Another time. What a wonderful chat they’d had—so many memories! The sudden ringtone made Nina jump. Her granddaughter. “Yes, Daisy, hello, I’m still up. What did Mum say? No, my mood’s fine. I’m going to a concert with Mum. Are you coming over tomorrow? Wonderful, see you then. Bye.” In an unexpectedly good mood, Nina Anderson went to bed, head full of plans. As she drifted off, she found herself composing lines for a new poem… In the morning, Nina decided to visit Irene. Just a few stops on the tram—she wasn’t a creaky old nag yet. Irene was delighted: “At last! You’ve been promising for ages. Ooh, is that an apricot tart? My favourite! Well, spill, what’s brought this on?” Irene coughed, pressing her hand to her chest, then waved Nina’s concern away. “It’s all right, new inhaler—I’m better. 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