З життя
Життя в злиднях: свекруха та чоловік засуджували Світлану, але пошкодували після розлучення.
На Світлану часто кидали жарти свекруха та чоловік через те, що та виросла в дитбудинку. Проте після розлучення їм довелося гірко пошкодувати про свої слова.
Чи можуть діти з інтернатів бути щасливими? Світлана потрапила до дитячого будинку у віці 13 років, коли її батьки загинули в аварії, а родичі відмовилися від неї. Розумна, красива та чемна Світлана одразу припала до душі одній з виховательок. Коли їй виповнилося 18 років, вихователька видала її заміж за свого старшого сина Олега.
Це був холодний розрахунок. Квартиру, яку Світлана отримала від держави, продали та переоформили на себе. Думка Світлани нікого не цікавила.
— Ти мусиш щодня дякувати за те, що стала частиною нашої родини, — заявила Галина Петрівна.
Життя з нею було гіршим, ніж в дитбудинку. Після школи їй не дозволили навчатись і влаштували посудомийкою в кафе. У Галини Петрівни були впливові зв’язки в місті. Свекруха забирала всі гроші Світлани. Їй доводилося доношувати одяг свекрухи і її подруг.
— Чому ти така безгосподарна, невдаха, жаба, — постійно дорікала свекруха.
Знайомі жаліли Світлану й приносили їй одяг та взуття.
Через кілька років Світлана народила доньку Алісу. Але ніхто в родині не був задоволений її зовнішністю. Галина Петрівна щодня відправляла Світлану на роботу і часто казала:
— Вона зовсім не схожа на мого сина. Він красивий, а це якась вередлива мавпочка.
Світлана продовжувала мити посуд, а її маленька донька спала поруч в колясці. Коли Світлана була зайнята, її колеги із задоволенням бавились з її донькою.
— А що я маю робити? Ця невдячна жінка завжди забирає дитину з собою. Вона нам зовсім не довіряє. Це ж моя онука, я б теж хотіла з нею побавитися, — казала всім свекруха.
Катерина, бухгалтер в кафе, збиралася знову йти в декрет. Перед відходом вона підійшла до Світлани й сказала:
— Досить мучити себе і доньку. Залиш свого чоловіка і переїжджай до мене. У нас багато місця. Мій чоловік і його мама живуть у будинку, а ви поживете у прибудові, адже там є гостьовий дім з усіма зручностями і невеликою кухнею. Не бійся, ти не залишишся сама.
Очі Світлани наповнилися слізьми.
— Катерина Василівна, я не можу так жити. Навіть без нас у вас велика сім’я. А ми з донькою — це лишні роти.
— Так, сім’я у нас немаленька. Але мама вже в роках, їй складно самій. Ти будеш допомагати, ми добре тобі платитимемо.
Світлана довго вагалась, адже це була важлива зміна в її житті. Але бачити свою маленьку доньку в старому одязі змушувало її серце стискатися. Тому вона вирішилася на цей крок.
Вона швидко зібрала кілька своїх речей. Серед них були дитячі речі, підгузки і іграшки. Світлана поспішала, щоб свекруха не встигла повернутися.
Катерина Василівна відвезла Світлану з Алісою до себе. Вони оселилися в невеликому будинку. Сім’я Жені дуже добре прийняла Світлану, діти постійно намагалися грати з малечею.
Коли свекруха з чоловіком дізналися про всі обставини, вони дуже злякалися. Вони боялися, що Світлана поверне частину квартири чи навіть більше.
Тому свекруха вирішила, що треба розлучити доньку з Світланою. Вона пішла до опікуна і повідомила, що Світлана в алкогольному сп’янінні викрала дитину, не годує, б’є і навіть привела свідків. Галина Петрівна була суворою і жорстокою жінкою. Вона нічого не шкодувала на адвоката, щоб відібрати дитину у Світлани.
Навіть зв’язки Катерини Василівни виявились безсилими у цій боротьбі. Але одного чудового дня все змінилося…
Хтось наполегливо дзвонив у двері. Відчинила мати Жені. На порозі стояв високий солідний чоловік у костюмі з портфелем. Чоловік був в літах.
— Тут живе Світлана Пилипенко?
— Хто ви? — Критично поставилася жінка, можливо, вирішивши, що це ще один адвокат від свекрухи Світлани.
— Мені терміново потрібно з нею поговорити.
Мама Жені впустила чоловіка в дім і покликала Світлану.
Світлана саме прополювала грядки, а діти гралися з її маленькою донькою.
— Добрий день, Світлано. Я Сергій, — представився чоловік і розплакався.
Виявилося, що Сергій — біологічний батько Світлани. Колись у нього був курортний роман з її мамою. Коли дівчина дізналася про вагітність, надіслала листа Сергію, але його мама перехопила його і заховала. Після того, як мама пішла з життя, Сергій перебираючи старі речі, знайшов цей лист.
Сергій не зміг знайти родину, проте дізнався, що має дочку. І нарешті вони зустрілися віч-на-віч.
Сергій був заможним, тому допоміг розірвати шлюб і відстояти права Світлани на доньку. Він забрав їх з собою в інше місто, в великий дім, забезпечивши всім необхідним для щасливого життя.
Коли чоловік дізнався про всі деталі, спробував відновити стосунки з колишньою дружиною, але вона змінила номер телефону і більше не поверталася в місто.
Michael Froze: From Behind the Tree, a Dog He’d Recognise Anywhere Watched Him with Sad, Knowing Eyes
I frozepeering from behind an old oak tree, a dog watched me with a sadness Id have recognised anywhere. Dust...
DO I REMEMBER? I CAN’T FORGET! “Polly, listen… Remember my illegitimate daughter, Anastasia?” My husband spoke in riddles, making me uneasy. “Do I remember? I can’t forget! Why?” I sat down, bracing for bad news. “Well… Anastasia is begging us to take in her daughter—my granddaughter,” he mumbled. “And why on earth should we, Alex? Where’s Anastasia’s husband? Disappeared into thin air?” I was intrigued. “The thing is, Anastasia doesn’t have much time left. She never had a husband. Her mother remarried and lives in America. They’re estranged, and she has no other family. That’s why she’s asking…” Alex couldn’t meet my eyes. “So, what’s your plan?” I had already decided. “Well, I’m asking you, Polly. Whatever you say, that’s what we’ll do,” he finally looked at me. “How convenient. You made mistakes in your youth, and now I’m to shoulder the burden of a stranger’s child? Isn’t that right?” My husband’s feebleness made me furious. “Polly, we’re a family. We should decide together,” Alex pushed back. “Oh, you remembered now! Yet, when you fooled around, did you consult me? I’m your wife!” Tears welled up and I stormed out… In school, I dated a boy named Peter, until a new boy, Alex, arrived and swept me off my feet. I broke up with Peter. Alex noticed me, walked me home, kissed my cheek, and picked flowers for me. A week later, he led me to his bed. I didn’t protest—I fell head over heels for Alex. After we graduated, he went off to serve in the army in another city. We wrote to each other for a year. Then Alex returned on leave. I was overjoyed. He promised we’d marry when he came back for good—already considered me his wife. His sweet words melted me every time, even years later: one loving look from Alex, and I’d melt like chocolate in the sun. Alex went back to the army. I waited, confident I was a betrothed bride. Six months later, a letter arrived: Alex had found “real love” in his garrison town and wasn’t coming back. But I was already carrying Alex’s baby. So much for a wedding—just as my gran warned me. When the time came, I gave birth to my son, Ivan. Peter, my old boyfriend, stepped in to help. Desperate, I accepted. Yes, Peter and I became intimate. I’d long given up hope of seeing Alex again. Then he turned up, surprised to see Peter there. “Can I come in?” Alex asked. “Come on in, since you’re here,” Peter reluctantly allowed. Sensing the tension, Ivan clung to Peter, wailing. “Peter, why don’t you take Ivan for a walk?” I was at a loss. When they left, Alex asked, “Is he your husband?” “What’s it to you? Why are you here?” I was angry and confused. “I missed you. I see you’ve made a life with Peter—you didn’t wait for me. Well, I’ll go—sorry to intrude on your happy family,” he said, heading for the door. “Wait, Alex. Why have you come—just to hurt me? Peter helps me cope with loneliness. He’s been raising your two-year-old son, by the way,” I tried to keep him there. My love for him hadn’t died. “I’ve come back for you, Polly. Will you have me?” Alex asked, hope in his voice. “Come in, dinner’s ready,” my heart leapt—he came back, so he hadn’t forgotten. Why resist? Peter was shoved aside. My Ivan needed his real father. Later, Peter married a lovely woman with two children. A few years passed. Alex could never love Ivan as his own—he was convinced Ivan was Peter’s son. Alex never really cared for Ivan. He always had an eye for the ladies. He was forever chasing after women, easily smitten, just as easily moving on—including some of my own friends. I cried but kept loving him, determined to hold my family together. It was easier for me than for him—the one who loves is always blinded by hope. I never needed to lie or invent excuses; I just loved him. He was my sun. Sometimes I wanted to leave, but then I’d scold myself: Where would I go, who could compare? Besides, Alex would be lost without me. I was wife, lover, and mother to him. Alex lost his own mother at fourteen—she died in her sleep. Maybe that’s why he always looked for lost affection elsewhere. I forgave everything. Once, after a bitter argument, I threw him out. He moved in with his relatives. Months passed—I forgot why we argued—but he didn’t return. At last, I went to his family’s house. His aunt was surprised to see me. “Polly, why do you want Alex? He said you’d divorced—he has a new girlfriend now.” I found out where she lived and paid them a visit. “Hello! Could I see Alex, please?” I asked politely. She just smirked and slammed the door in my face. I left in silence. A year later, Alex came back. By then the girl had given birth to his daughter, Anastasia. To this day, I blame myself for throwing him out—maybe that girl wouldn’t have scooped him up otherwise. I tried harder to please and adore Alex. We never talked about his illegitimate daughter. It seemed if we did, our family would fall apart. We let sleeping dogs lie. After all, what’s one stray child? It happens. I blamed the “temptresses” instead. In time, Alex settled down. Flings ended. He stayed home watching TV. Our son married early, gave us three grandkids. Then, out of nowhere… Anastasia, Alex’s daughter from long ago, reappeared—asking us to take in her daughter. How would I explain a new little girl to Ivan? He never knew about his father’s youthful escapades. In the end, we took legal guardianship of five-year-old Alina. Anastasia passed away, gone at thirty. Graves grow over with grass, but life goes on. Alex spoke to Ivan man-to-man. After hearing his father’s confession, Ivan said, “What’s done is done, you don’t answer to me. But the girl should stay—she’s family.” Alex and I breathed easier. We’d raised a kind son. Now, Alina is sixteen. She adores her Grandpa Alex, whispers secrets to him, calls me Granny, and says she’s my spitting image at her age. I never argue…
DO I REMEMBER? I COULD NEVER FORGET! Polly, darling, theres something I must tell you Well, do you recall my...
Winter had blanketed Andrew’s garden with soft snow, but his loyal dog Duke, a massive German Shepherd, was acting strangely. Instead of curling up in the large kennel Andrew had lovingly built for him last summer, Duke stubbornly insisted on sleeping outside, right in the snow. Watching from his window, Andrew felt a pang of worry—Duke had never behaved like this before. Each morning, as he stepped outside, Andrew noticed Duke watching him tensely. Whenever he approached the kennel, Duke positioned himself between Andrew and the entrance, growling softly and looking at him pleadingly, as if to say: “Please, don’t go in there.” This odd behaviour was so out of character for their years of friendship, it made Andrew uneasy—what was his best friend hiding? Determined to get to the bottom of it, Andrew came up with a plan—he lured Duke into the kitchen with a tempting piece of steak. While the dog, locked inside, barked desperately at the window, Andrew crept towards the kennel and crouched down to peer inside. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw something that froze him on the spot… …There, curled up in a blanket, was a tiny kitten—dirty, freezing, and barely breathing. Its eyes barely opened, and its frail body shivered with cold. Duke had found it somewhere, and instead of chasing it away or leaving it to its fate, he had sheltered it. He had slept outside to avoid scaring it and guarded the entrance as if there was treasure inside. Andrew held his breath. He reached out, gently lifted the tiny creature and pressed it to his chest. In that moment, Duke raced over and nestled beside his shoulder—not growling, but gently, eager to help. “You’re a good dog, Duke…” Andrew whispered, clutching the kitten. “Better than most people.” From that day on, there were no longer just two friends living in the garden, but three. And the lovingly built kennel found its purpose again—as a little home for souls in need of saving.
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