З життя
З трепетом у серці вона постукала в двері, але у відповідь – тиша.
З завмиранням серця Ніна постукала у двері. У відповідь – тиша. Вона невпевнено витягла з сумки ключі, відкрила двері… Господи, як довго вона тут не була! Все залишилося, як було, нічого не змінилося в цьому колись рідному й улюбленому домі, лише все стало неприязно чужим.
Майже рік минув після сварки з Максимом. Вони і раніше часто сварилися. Ніна брала на руки Соню і зі сльозами на очах йшла до мами. Найчастіше Максим, засумувавши, мчав миритися вже на наступний день. Життя знову налагоджувалось, перемир’я вносило різноманітність у їхні стосунки. Але останнього разу все пішло інакше…
Струснувши з себе спогади, Ніна рішуче попрямувала до шафи, щоб знайти потрібні документи. Папери лежали неторканими, дбайливо складеними в папку ще її руками. Вже два місяці за Ніною наполегливо доглядав хлопець, який давно був закоханий в неї. Відносин між ними ще не було, але тиждень тому він офіційно попросив її руки.
І весь цей тиждень Ніна не могла заснути, щось обтяжувало її, вона ніяк не могла прийняти рішення.
Спочатку здавалося, що непорозуміння з Максимом мало вирішитися. Він постукає у двері, як колись пронизливо погляне в саму душу і скаже: “Як же я скучив!”
Але дні минали, місяці спливали, а в житті нічого не змінювалося. З Максимом бачились мельком, він ставав все більше відчуженим і холодним, між ними немов розверзлася прірва. Він приходив лише до Соні, мовчки брав дитину за руку і забирав до себе. Потім так само мовчки приводив її назад. Соня весело щебетала, хизуючись татусевими подарунками — крутилася перед дзеркалом у новій сукні або туфельках. А Ніна лише з сумом згадувала, як сяяли очі Максима, коли він приносив подарунки для неї. А тепер… на Ніну він навіть не дивився, їм ставало некомфортно наодинці, і вона поспішала зникнути у своїй кімнаті. Мама, особливо не прихильна до Максима, часто повторювала: “Що Бог дає, те на краще”. Поступово вона і сама повірила в це.
Глибоко зітхнувши, Ніна прощально оглянула кімнату і… здригнулася від несподіванки: на дивані спав Максим. Вочевидь, після зміни. Перше бажання було швидко піти, але щось змусило повернутися. До болю знайома кожна рисочка, обличчя огрубіло, поросло щетиною, кола під очима… Ніна повільно присіла поруч. Що вона знає про цю людину, з якою прожила не один рік пліч-о-пліч? Які думки ховаються за цим нахмуреним чолом? Перед очима Ніни несподівано промайнуло напівзабуте обличчя юного Максима: вірні хлоп’ячі очі, а усмішка була світлою-світлою… Їй завжди здавалося, що саме в цю усмішку, яка перевернула її душу догори дном, вона колись закохалася. Невже той усміхнений хлопець і цей стомлений похмурий чоловік — одна й та ж людина? А часу з тих пір минуло зовсім небагато. Знову згадалася світла усмішка. І так живо, так реально це бачення, немов докір їй, Ніні…
Господи, куди ж все це поділося? Вона безпорадно озирнулася, ніби шукаючи когось, винного в її зруйнованому житті. Серце занило, затремтіло, забилося в лещатах спогадів без надії. Їхній колись затишний і казковий світок поступово наповнили дріб’язкові докори і образи, сльози і безвихідь нерозуміння. Вічно стомлений Максим, який працював на трьох роботах, щоб забезпечити її і Соню і ні від кого не залежати… У Ніни було час обдумати все і зрозуміти, що їй елементарно не вистачило терпіння, жіночої гнучкості і мудрості…
А вони колись були шалено щасливими. І це не вигадка її хворобливої фантазії. Ніна різко встала, їй нестерпно захотілося це довести самій собі. Її погляд впав на руку Максима, що лежала на їхньому… весільному альбомі, на фотографії, де вони були просто сяюче щасливими…
Рука її невільно здригнулася, і фотографії з м’яким шелестом посипалися на підлогу. Оглянулася і застигла… На неї дивився Максим.
– Ніно, ти повернулася? – його очі сяяли захопленням, і їй стало нестерпно від думки, що півгодини тому вона могла піти безповоротно…
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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