Ex-husband

Can you imagine what it would be like to hear at the age of twenty-nine that I might not live to be thirty anymore? I was silent, the doctor was saying something, talking, and I was looking at a crooked, tasteless picture hanging on the wall, and was silent. The worst part is that I didn't know if I wanted to live to be thirty. Maybe it's for the best?

Matthew, my husband, has been working for almost three years on the construction of a new plant fifty kilometers from our village. At first everything was fine. The salary was very decent. He drove home every day in his car, tired, of course, but I tried to feed him better and give him a rest. He helped me around the house only on weekends, but I justified him by saying that it was difficult for him, he tried for both of us, my salary was small, and we wanted to buy a better house.

We live in my grandmother's old house, which is probably almost a hundred years old. But six months ago, my husband said that his salary was cut in half, so it would be expensive to travel every day. Said that he was given a place in the hostel, and began to leave on Monday morning and return on Saturday. I tried to convince him to find a job somewhere nearby, since they don't pay enough there, especially since we already had enough for a new house if we sold and added our own. In addition, I noticed that we somehow began to move away from each other; Matthew was not affectionate enough, and then he became a stranger at all. He even went to sleep in another room, saying that he didn't get enough sleep in the dorm and he needed to rest. But he didn't even listen to my persuasions, he said, mind your own business. I didn't climb anymore.

When I realized I was sick, I didn't even tell him, I didn't want to bother him. I thought I would be cured, it would pass. But I was getting worse. Doctors assumed the worst, but it was necessary to wait for the results of the examination.

I was completely weakened by this experience. Matthew didn't notice anything. I arrived on Saturday, ate and sat on the sofa in front of the TV. Only in the evening, when I decided to have dinner, I was surprised that I was lying in the bedroom.

And he made a grimace, "What are you, Rachel, you look like a battered doll, are you sick or something? It's useless, you're of no use in life, nothing but trouble. Couldn't bear the birth of a child, and now decided to get sick?"

I looked at Matthew and didn't recognize my husband. He may never have been caring and gentle in the six years we lived together, but he wasn't so cruel either. And, after all, I knew that it was because of him that we did not have children. We were examined by him. The doctors said that everything was fine with me, and he needed to undergo treatment. but he resisted, they say, this is not true, he is healthy, and the children, in general, not the most important thing, life is calmer without them. I couldn't convince him. Begged, begged, but to no avail. Then I resigned myself.

"Matthew, I'm really sick," I said quietly, still hoping for sympathy, "The doctors said it's very serious, I might even die. Matthew, I'm scared."

"Is it contagious?" instead of supporting him, he recoiled from me, "I'll leave tomorrow, or maybe I really will get infected from you." He ran out of the bedroom, and I was crying into my pillow all night. I fell asleep only in the morning, and when I woke up, my husband was gone; he left without even saying goodbye.

The following weekend, Matthew didn't come at all. He called and told me to pack his things. All. I didn't understand anything; I asked "Why?", he replied "I'll come in a week, I'll pick him up. I've had another woman here for a long time. Normal, healthy. And we're going to have a baby! Do you understand? I told you I was fine! And see that there are no tantrums! By the way, I've already spent the money, so you don't have to think about it. It was set aside from my salary, so the money is, frankly, mine."

I felt dizzy, and I couldn't answer my husband. The phone fell out of my hands and disconnected. I was terrified. So that's why he stopped going home! That's why I've become such a stranger! He just found a replacement for me. Also a child. Is it really true that Matthew is healthy and I'm not capable of anything? But I needed his love and support so much! I can't do it by myself; I can't! I started crying, I didn't even think about money anymore.

Although, yes, we saved his salary, but we spent it on my life. I bought clothes for him and gave them to him for the dining room. Is that fair? And here I am, sitting in this small office, with a crooked picture on the wall, and indifferently listening to my verdict. The doctor called me softly, and I shuddered, "Do I have hope?" I asked, just to say something.

"There is always hope, even if it is small, but it is there. Only you do not give up, you need to be treated, believe, try to be close to people close to you, it often inspires such strength that all diseases recede."

I smiled sadly, I have no close people. My parents are far away, and I don't want to tell them anything, they have enough problems without me; God didn't give me children, and my husband…

Taking the papers with instructions for treatment and prescriptions, I got up and calmly left the office. When I got home, I looked longingly at the two large bags of Matthew's things standing by the door, threw the papers on the dresser, went to the mirror and looked at my reflection. I saw a faceless, pale, thin girl there; I couldn't even believe it was me. Just a few years ago I was healthy, beautiful. My eyes were shining with joy. I woke up every day with the hope that something extraordinary would happen that day, that I would feel a new life in me, or that Matthew would suddenly gently hug me and tell me how much he loved me. But gradually the hope faded; the joy in his eyes dimmed. I stopped dreaming about having a child, convinced myself that there was simply nothing to love me for, so I tried to be happy, at least that my husband did not leave me. Now he's gone.

Then I heard the sound of a car pulling up, and a minute later Matthew came into the house. "Oh, packed, well done!" he exclaimed joyfully when he saw the bags, "I'll leave you all the furniture, it's still old. But I'll take my favorite bookmarks, you made them for me, so no offense. Sue can't do that. She's a master at something else," Matthew laughed out loud, and I winced. It looked so disgusting.

My husband didn't ask anything about my health, and I didn't expect any more sympathy. I was waiting for him to leave. He didn't stay long. After he left, I calmly cleaned up the house, sat down at the table, wrote a farewell letter to my parents, and climbed into the attic. I remembered that I had put my grandmother's box with some jars and parcels there. I was sure that there were definitely poisons left there, with which my grandmother poisoned rats and mice. The box was lying in the corner of the attic, under thick curtains made of cobwebs.

I pulled it out and was about to go down, when suddenly a pigeon flew in through a small window and, apparently frightened, began to rush, beat. I let the box out of my hands in surprise. It fell, and all the contents scattered. The cans broke, the bags flew apart. I was standing, hiding my hands from the pigeon, which could scratch me. And when it did fly out, I wanted to check if anything from the poison was preserved. but then I saw a dusty, but very beautiful little box. My hands reached out to it by themselves, and I opened it, holding my breath…

I sat on the bed for a long time, looking at my find. There was a small icon in the box. A simple, cheap frame and an image of the Mother of God on a tablet. The picture was almost erased, but I couldn't take my eyes off it. It seemed to me that she was looking straight into my soul, warming me with love and warmth.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I slept soundly and peacefully. When I woke up in the morning, I didn't remember what I was dreaming, but I still had the feeling of my grandmother's warm hands, as if she rocked me all night and sang her lullaby. I got out of bed, went to the window and smiled at the sun for the first time in a long time. Then I resolutely took the letter written as a sign of forgiveness to my parents, and tore it up with pleasure.

That morning I decided to overcome my illness. And I succeeded. The treatment was not easy. Sometimes unbearably difficult. Sometimes it even seemed that everything was in vain. But I didn't give up when I was already in despair; I asked the Virgin Mary for strength and help from my grandmother. And they helped me.

Three years later, I saw the wrong person in the mirror a simple, faceless girl; I saw a young woman with a firm look, healthy, beautiful and confident in the future. Men began to pay attention to me. Many tried to take care of me. I didn't want to date anyone; I couldn't forget Matthew's betrayal. But one day I met a strange young man in the store, and it was like something pricked in my chest. I involuntarily looked at his right hand; I didn't see the ring, but I heard a whisper. This man leaned into my ear and said softly with a smile, "Not married. I've probably been looking for you all my life."

I was so ashamed that I jumped out of the store and ran home. And in the evening I saw him at my gate with flowers in his hands. Edward said he fell in love with me at first sight, and I believed him. I do not know why, maybe because I myself fell in love like a girl.

Today I walked down the street from the district center and smiled. It didn't matter that it was raining nasty, that the cold autumn wind was blowing; I was happy. An hour ago, the doctor said that I would have a healthy boy.

"Rachel, thank you, dear! I've always dreamed of a son," Edward shouted into my phone, "Don't be offended, but he will look like me, so let my daughter look like you. I hope you don't mind the girls too?"

I replied that I didn't even mind at all and had just switched off when I suddenly heard a casual shout, "Rachel, wait, is that you?" I turned around and was startled to see Matthew next to me. He was a little drunk; I smelled alcohol and, wincing, recoiled from him. "What are you shying away from? Are you disgusted, or what?" he clicked his tongue, "And you've become so beautiful. Recovered? Or was she being pitiful then, she wanted to take me for pity? So I'm fine, I can come back, I even like you like that," he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me to him and smiled nastily, "Let's go to you, I'll caress you."

I pulled away and pushed him away, exclaiming, "Don't even think about it! I will never stoop to be near you again. I married a wonderful man and I will soon have a child from him, a son."

"And I don't have a son," Matthew suddenly said sadly in an almost normal voice, "No son, no daughter. Catherine didn't lie to me then, she was pregnant from me. I'm raising a stranger now. And where to go?" He lowered his head and, sniffing, began to search for something in his pockets.

Not finding it, he waved his hand and left without even saying goodbye. And I breathed a sigh of relief. All this time, Matthew was a ghost next to me, memories of my past life pressed on me, but now I realize that my ex has no power over me. That he himself is not worthy of anything but pity. I watched him go for a few seconds, and then I dialed Edward's number again.

"What, darling, have you missed me already?" my husband's native voice immediately rang out from the phone and I immediately forgot about the unpleasant meeting...