З життя
«Ти мені ніхто, і я не зобов’язана тебе слухати!» — знову сказала мені дочка чоловіка
«Ти мені ніхто, і я не зобов’язана тебе слухати!» — знову кинула мені донька чоловіка.
П’ять років тому я, Олена, вийшла заміж за Олега, і з того часу моє життя в невеличкому містечку під Харковом перетворилося на постійну боротьбу за мир у родині. У Олега є донька від першого шлюбу, 14-річна Соломія, з якою він часто бачиться і помагає матеріально. Я ніколи не заперечувала проти їхніх стосунків — навпаки, з його колишньою дружиною, Наталею, у нас склалися теплі, майже дружні відносини. Але Соломія з її підлітковим бунтом стала для мене справжнім випробуванням, а її слова «ти мені ніхто» болять, ніж ніж, кожного разу.
Наталя — розсудлива жінка. Якщо їй потрібно, щоб Соломія погостювала у нас, вона завжди телефонує заздалегідь, питає, чи нам зручно. Іноді ми просто базікаємо по телефону, як подруги. Вона не має злості до Олега: після розлучення він залишив їй квартиру, куплену в шлюбі, а свою частку переписав на Соломію. Ми з Олегом і нашим дворічним сином, Данилком, живемо у моїй двокімнатній квартирі. Олег забезпечує родину, а я у декреті, присвячуючи себе маляті. Але з появою Соломії в нашому домі почався хаос, який я вже не можу терпіти.
Останнім часом у Соломії почалися підліткові проблеми. Наталя вийшла заміж, і її новий чоловік, Андрій, переїхав до них. Спочатку Соломія раділа, але швидко почала бунтувати. Коли Андрій просив її прибрати за собою, вона огризалася: «Ти мені не батько, не смій командувати!» Хоча Андрій намагався знайти спільну мову, дарував подарунки, був терплячим, Соломія його відштовхувала. Вона стала нестримною: посуд не миє, сміття не виносить, на кожну прохання грубить. У черговій сварці вона заявила Андрію: «Це мамина квартира, ти тут ніхто!» Олег, дізнавшись про це, був у шаленстві — адже вони здають його квартиру, а на ці гроші живе вся їхня родина. Наталя відчитала Соломію, і та, в сльозах, подзвонила батькові, благаючи забрати її до нас.
Я не заперечувала. Данилко спить у нашій кімнаті, а у вітальні є розкладний диван для таких випадків. Я подзвонила Наталі, щоб уточнити, як вона до цього ставиться. Вона погодилася, але попередила: «Якщо Соломія не слухається, одразу дзвони». Соломія приїхала пригнічена, але швидко освоїлася і почала жити, як їй заманеться. Вона ігнорувала мої прохання, дулася на кожне зауваження. Посуд не мила, ліжко не прибирала, речі розкидала по всій кімнаті, а сама цілими днями торохтіла по телефону з подружками. Я відчувала, як у мені закипає злість, але стримувалася заради Олега.
Зрештою, я не витримала і попросила чоловіка поговорити з донькою. «Вона мене не сприймає серйозно», — сказала я. Олег спробував, але Соломія лише махнула рукою. Коли я знову попросила її прибрати за собою зі столу, вона випалила: «Ти мені ніхто, і я не зобов’язана тебе слухати!» Моє серце стиснулося від образи. Я ледве стримала сльози й відповіла: «Я дружина твого батька і господиня цієї квартири. Ти тут лише тому, що я дозволила. Не смій так зі мною розмовляти!» Соломія вилетіла з кухні, грюкнувши дверима. Нічого не змінилося — вона й надалі поводилася так, ніби я пусте місце.
Я порадилася з Олегом і подзвонила Наталі. «Думала, вона хоч大家都是很重要的朋友。」
A Sold Friend: Grandad’s Tale And He Understood Me! It Was No Fun – I Realized What a Foolish Idea It Was. I Sold Him. He Thought It Was a Game, Until He Realized I’d Truly Sold Him. Times, After All, Are Different for Everyone. For Some, All-Inclusive Isn’t All That Generous, While Others Just Dream of Fresh Bread and Sausage. That’s how we lived – each in our own way, with all sorts of ups and downs. I was little back then. My uncle – Uncle George – gave me a shepherd puppy, and I was over the moon. The pup bonded with me, understood me at a glance, looked into my eyes and waited, waited for my signal. “Lie down,” I would say after a pause, and he would lie, gazing up at me loyally as though ready to die for me. “Serve,” I commanded, and the puppy would clamber up on chubby legs and freeze, swallowing anxiously, waiting for a reward – a tasty treat. But I had nothing to spoil him with. We were barely managing ourselves. Times were tough. My uncle, Uncle George, my mum’s brother who had given me the puppy, once said to me: “Don’t be upset, lad. Look how loyal he is! Sell him, then call for him, and he’ll run back to you. No one will see. You’ll have some money for a treat for you and your mum, and for him too. Trust me, I’m telling you something useful.” The idea sounded good to me. I didn’t realize then how wrong it was – an adult suggested it, and besides, it’d just be a joke, and I could get a treat. I whispered into Loyal’s warm, furry ear that I’d give him away, then call him back, so he should come to me and escape from strangers. And he understood me! He barked, as if to agree. The next day, I put on his lead and walked him to the station. Everyone sold things there – flowers, cucumbers, apples. The crowd poured off the train, and people began buying, haggling. I stepped forward a little, pulling my dog closer. But no one approached. Almost everyone had gone when a man with a stern face came over. “You there, lad, waiting for someone, or maybe you want to sell your dog? Good, strong pup – I’ll take him,” and he pressed some money into my palm. I handed him the lead. Loyal looked around and sneezed happily. “Go on, Loyal, go with him, my friend,” I whispered, “I’ll call you, come to me.” And he went off with the man. Hiding, I watched where they went. That evening, I brought home bread, sausage, and sweets. Mum asked sternly: “Did you steal this from someone?” “No, Mum, I helped carry some things at the station, and they paid me.” “Well done, son. Now eat and let’s go to bed – I’m exhausted.” She didn’t even ask about Loyal; she didn’t care. Uncle George came by in the morning. I was getting ready for school, but all I wanted was to go call for Loyal. “So,” he chuckled, “sold your friend?” and ruffled my hair. I pulled away, refusing to answer. I hadn’t slept all night, and couldn’t eat my bread and sausage for the lump in my throat. It wasn’t fun – I realized what a stupid idea it had been. No wonder Mum never liked Uncle George. “He’s daft, don’t listen to him,” she’d always say. I grabbed my schoolbag and dashed from the house. It was three blocks to that man’s house, and I ran the whole way. Loyal sat behind a tall fence, tied up with a thick rope. I called him, but he looked at me sadly, head on his paws, tail wagging, trying to bark though his voice broke. I’d sold him. He thought it was a game, but then realized I had truly sold him. The owner came out, scolded Loyal, and he tucked in his tail. I knew then it was hopeless. That evening I worked at the station carrying bags. They paid little, but it was enough. Scared, I went to the gate and knocked. The man opened the door. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want?” “Sir, I changed my mind,” I stammered, handing him the money he’d given me for Loyal. He squinted at me, took the money, and untied Loyal. “Here, lad. Take him. He’s been pining, not cut out for a guard dog – but mind, he may never forgive you.” Loyal looked at me mournfully. Our game had become a trial for us both. Then he walked over, licked my hand and pressed his nose into my stomach. Years have passed since then, but I know now: you never sell a friend, not even as a joke. And Mum was so glad: “I was exhausted yesterday, then remembered – where’s our dog? I’m used to that boy, he’s part of the family, our Loyal!” After that, Uncle George hardly ever visited. We didn’t find his jokes funny anymore.
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