Connect with us

З життя

Забери це від мене! Я більше не витримаю! Навіть доторкнутися не можу!

Published

on

Віка, забери її! Я більше не можу! Мені навіть торкатися до неї гидко! Марину трясло. Дитина на її руках плакала не в собі. Віка взяла на руки племінницю і кивнула.

– Добре. Але це твоє рішення, потім не буде претензій?
– Ні, які претензії?! Забери її, вона мені не потрібна!

Крихітка з’явилася на світ лише місяць тому. З початку вагітності з Мариною відбувалося щось недобре. Віка покладала зміни настрою на пізню вагітність. Сестра вже сім років була вдовою. Старші діти виросли й жили окремо. Поїздка на море, короткий роман і несподівана вагітність стали для всіх сюрпризом. Марина ніколи не була схильна до спонтанності. Спершу здавалося, що майбутня дитина тішить Марину. Але згодом Віка помітила, що сестра то купує одяг для малюка, шукає візочок, то раптом тижнями мовчить, наче ховається за кам’яною стіною.

Перед родами Марина раптом перестала спілкуватися з родичами. Не дзвонила ні мамі, ні сестрі, ні дітям. Занепокоїлась Віка і знайшла сестру в пологовому будинку, де та збиралася писати відмову від дитини.

– Марина, що з тобою? Чому?
– Я сама не знаю. Нічого не відчуваю. Вона чужа.
– Як чужа?! Ти що! Це твоя дитина!
– Буде не моя! – Марина повернулася до стіни.

Віка підключила “важку артилерію” і привела маму. Марина погодилася забрати дитину. Мама наполягла, щоб вона пожила з донькою у неї під приводом допомоги. Насправді ж усі разом наглядали за Мариною. Вона доглядала за дитиною, усе робила на автоматі, не затримуючись навіть хвилини більше біля доньки. Ім’я дала їй бабуся, на руках носила тітка.

– Марина, я заберу її. Буду виховувати, але мине трохи часу, і кого вона буде називати мамою?
– Мені байдуже. Головне, щоб не мене.

За тиждень оформили документи, і Віка стала офіційним опікуном своєї племінниці. Марина виїхала до іншого міста.

Маленька Олеся росла непосидючою і веселою. Рано почала ходити, рано заговорила. Маму називала Вікою. Минуло дванадцять років.

– Мам, сьогодні трійка п’ятірок, а завтра ми з класом йдемо в кіно, – дзвінкий голос заповнив квартиру.
– Це вона?
– Так, Марина, вона. Я прошу тебе…
– Добрий день! Я Олеся, а ви?

На порозі кухні стояла великими очима висока дівчинка й дивувалася, переводячи погляд з жінки, яка сиділа за столом, на маму, яка, біла як крейда, стояла біля вікна.
– А я… Марина. Я твоя мати, Олеся.

– Я ж просила! – Віка обурено подивилася на сестру і крокувала до доньки. – Олеся! Я все поясню!
– Не треба, мам. Давай послухаємо. І що? От ви кажете, що ви моя мати. І?
– Я приїхала за тобою. Хочу, щоб ти жила зі мною.
– Навіщо?
– Ти моя донька.
– Ні, не ваша. У мене одна мама, ось вона стоїть. І іншої мені не треба! А вас я бачу вперше й, сподіваюся, востаннє в житті. – Олеся обернулася і вийшла з кухні.

Віка, не маючи сили, опустилася на стілець.
– І чого ти досягла?
– Поки нічого. Але досягну, будь певна. Знадобиться, навіть через суд.
– Навіщо тобі це все? Ти ж сама віддала її, не хотіла її бачити. Ніхто не розумів чому і навіщо ти це зробила. А зараз, стільки років потому ти з’явилася і хочеш, щоб вона тобі на шию кинулася? Вибач, Марина, давай ти зараз поїдеш до мами, потім поговоримо, мені треба до доньки.
– До племінниці! – Марина підвелася.

Віка лише зітхнула. Закривши двері, вона пішла до кімнати Олесі.
– Олесенька…
– Мам, зачекай. Перш ніж почнеш щось пояснювати, я хочу сказати. Я все знаю. Рік тому, пам’ятаєш, ми у бабусі прибирання робили. Я знайшла документи на опіку. Спочатку була жахливо злою, що ви мені нічого не сказали, потім хотіла з нею зустрітися, щоб запитати – чому? А потім зрозуміла, що мені це не потрібно. Ти моя мама! Інша мені не треба!

– Олеся, дівчинко моя! Я тебе нікому не віддам.
– Я й сама себе не віддам, – розсміялася Олеся. – Пам’ятаєш мого однокласника Богдана? Зателефонуй його мамі, вона юрист, спеціалізується на сімейному праві.
– Ну знаєш, доню, не поспішай занадто швидко дорослішати. Все вона вирішила. Я поки ще тут головна і мама, на хвилинку. – Віка розсміялася у відповідь і обійняла дівчинку. – Зателефонуємо, звісно, все вирішимо.

Далі було багато нервів, розглядів, але суд залишив усе як є. Врахували думку Олесі, яка категорично відмовилася жити з рідною матір’ю та визнавати її.

Сестри стояли біля будівлі суду.
– Ну ось і все, нарешті цей жах закінчився. – Віка з полегшенням видихнула. – Що далі робитимеш?
– Поїду, Віка. Я не буду заважати. Допомагатиму, не відмовляйся. На Олесю давно рахунок відкритий, документи у мами, я залишила.
– Навіщо це все було, Марино, і чому ти тоді її залишила?
– Не було ніякого роману, Вік, нічого не було. Був темний парк, пізній вечір.

Віка ахнула.
– І ти мовчала?! Стільки років і все в собі?
– Виправити вже було нічого не можна. Тому мовчала. Я взагалі не зрозуміла одразу, що вагітна, списала на ранній клімакс, а потім було пізно. Олесі не розповідай. Нехай не знає. Це не її життя, моє. А мене вона, можливо, колись пробачить.

Віка обійняла сестру і обидві поглянули в ту сторону, де з бабусею стояла Олеся.
– Іноді найстрашніше може перетворитися на найпрекрасніше. Вона така красива! – Марина витерла очі, і Віка вперше за багато років побачила на обличчі сестри усмішку.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

п'ять × 5 =

Також цікаво:

З життя7 години ago

A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day

Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...

З життя7 години ago

Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home

Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...

З життя8 години ago

“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…

Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...

З життя8 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя9 години ago

Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.

Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....

З життя9 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя10 години ago

“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family

My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...

З життя10 години ago

Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything

Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...