З життя
Ти впевнена, що чекати роками варто? Подбай про себе!
Василино, яка ж ти неслухняна, скільки разів казала тобі, знайди хоча б собі кавалера “для здоров’я”, твій Андрій в тій Польщі теж святий не буде! А ти роками його чекаєш!
Тиждень тому чоловік Василини, Андрій, повернувся з заробітків з Польщі. І майже з порогу ошелешив її новиною про іншу жінку. Цілих 5 років Василина чекала чоловіка з заробітків, навіть не дивилася на інших. Андрій приїжджав щороку на місяць у відпустку. Василина ж сподівалася на його повернення, разом з донькою готувала святкову зустріч.
— Поплач, поплач, стане легше, — втішала подруга Наталка.
“Василино, яка ж ти наївна, скільки разів казала тобі, знайди хоча б собі кавалера “для здоров’я”, твій Андрій в тій Польщі теж не святий! А ти роками його чекала!”
Василина від таких слів заплакала ще дужче, подруга гладила її по голові, як мале дитя. Щоб хоч трохи розрадити подругу, Наталка вирішила організувати дівич-вечір у кафе. В суботу ввечері четверо подруг зібралися, щоб загоїти душевні рани. Наталка — чотири роки вдова, виховує сина. Христина — розлучена, виховує двох доньок-близнюків. Василина — жінка, мрії якої про щасливе сімейне життя розбив Андрій.
Пробач, я покохав іншу жінку, вона вагітна. Нашій доньці вже 18 років, доросла, все зрозуміє. За навчання не хвилюйся, я все оплатити бажаю, квартиру залишаю тобі.
— Дівчата, мусимо сьогодні добре випити, — запропонувала Христина.
— Я давно їй казала — заведи коханця. Думаєш, твій Андрій там святий? Та де там. А тепер мучишся. А було б легше, якби когось мала. Василина сиділа наче в тумані, майже не чулась, як подруги щебетали.
5 років Василина вірно чекала чоловіка, навіть не глянула на іншого. Працювала вчителькою початкових класів. Усю свою невитрачену любов віддавала дітям та доньці.
Донька навчалася в столиці. Гроші, що надсилав чоловік, Василина обдумано витрачала, не кидала на вітер. Зробила ремонт, придбала техніку, ще залишила трохи, аби купити автівку, коли чоловік повернеться. Мріяла, що Андрій зрадіє благополучному домівці. Але його звістка обпекла, як окріп.
— Досить, не реви, уяви, що він помер, — заспокоювали подруги.
— Треба тобі знайти чоловіка для здоров’я, — пожартувала Христина.
Василина лише здивовано підняла на них заплакані очі.
— Ми так іноді робимо, йдемо в кафе чи ресторан і там “знімаємо” кавалерів. Вони теж туди за цим приходять, жінки їхні зазвичай за кордоном. Надсилають гроші, ось вони й розважаються. Такі чоловіки на одну ніч, не більше.
В кафе грала легка музика. До Василини підійшов невідомий чоловік приємної зовнішності й запропонував потанцювати. Подруги майже силоміць підштовхнули її до Олега, так звали нового кавалера.
Вони почали танцювати.
— Олег, — представився. Як тільки почав розказувати, що дружина залишила, бо знайшла в Польщі іншого, Василина не повірила. Ну ось почалося, вже голову крутити хоче. “Стоп”, обірвала Василина нового знайомого. Це ви щойно придумали? Олег дивився здивованими очима.
Подруги показували їй “лайки” пальцями, а Василина хотіла в землю провалитися.
— Чому вирішили, що я вас обманюю? Для чого це мені? Вибачте, що довірився вам. Ще раз вибачте.
Олег попрощався, а Василина повернулася до подруг за столик і взялась за келихи, щоб забутися.
Минув тиждень, Василина пішла на ринок купити продуктів до пакунку для доньки-студентки. І там з Олегом випадково зустрілися. Заговорили. Василина здивувала себе, що рада цю людину бачити. Олег запросив Василину на шашлики до себе на дачу. І Василина, не чекаючи від себе такої сміливості, сказала: “Так”.
Привітна весна вирувала довкола, а в душі Василини почав повертатися спокій… Все ще буде. Вір!
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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