Psychological Story "Dog's Love"

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

Olya was quickly busy in the kitchen at the stove. Her movements were clear and precise to the millimeter. An experienced hostess, wife and mother with thirty years of experience in family life was preparing to celebrate her fiftieth anniversary today. She was waiting for her eldest son Zhenya to visit with his common-law wife Lena and the youngest - Yegor with his girlfriend Marina. She knew that today, like every year throughout her life with her husband and father of her children, Alexander, he would bring her some gift, part of which would be intended for him: something like a trip to Cambodia or Vietnam for two or an airplane flight. ball with him, or a trip to some show or concert of a foreign star, for which tickets can be bought only by acquaintance, having overpaid twice. Sasha loved Olya and loved to spend time with her alone, therefore, in a sense, he gave all his gifts to his wife to himself. He gave himself time with Olya, the woman who became everything to him in his life, who bore him two wonderful sons.

Zhenya, at the age of thirty, was already a talented architect and his works won prizes in Kiev and at international design competitions. Lena helped him in everything. Their union could be called just as happy if not for Lena's infertility. Olya herself made a lot of efforts to help young people in the fight against infertility. Olya worked all her life as an obstetrician-gynecologist in a large Kiev clinic and had a lot of connections and knowledge to help her son become a father, but after eight years of joint efforts, Lena never got pregnant. Olya hoped only that artificial insemination would solve this problem of young people.

Egor was twenty-four years old and a couple of years ago he graduated from the Kiev Polytechnic and began work on his dissertation while studying in graduate school. He had been dating Marina for two years and they planned to soon rent an apartment and live together.

Sasha had his own big business, the wave was stable and it seemed that Olya had nothing to worry about, but something worried her, her heart ached unpleasantly. But she continued to cut vegetables for salads and cook the traditional stuffed pike that her sons loved so much. Every year Olya on her birthday gathered her closest people around her - her family. But this year the family was incomplete. Louis and Michael will no longer be with them.

Louis, an old poodle, passed away three weeks ago. Who lived in the family for eighteen years and died of old age. Olya was ready for his departure, but from this readiness the pain of loss did not become weaker.

Louis was two months old when Olya brought him home. He witnessed many events in her life and became her own being. Louis often slept at her feet right on the bed. But for the last few years he could not jump on a low bed, he walked badly and no longer asked for a walk, but lay quietly in diapers in the corner of the hallway, sadly saying goodbye with his eyes to those whom he loved. Olya cried the last days of his death, talked a lot with Louis, remembering, remembering the most beautiful moments of his dog's life. Michael, a huge shaggy Caucasian, who was ten years younger than Louis, sat next to him and listened to Olya's sad speeches, looked into her eyes and a stingy dog's tear stood in the corner of his clever eye, afraid to fall to the floor. Michael had been quiet the last few days and had barely moved away from Louis until three weeks ago the old poodle's breathing stopped.

When Louis' body was buried in the dog cemetery, Michael took his place on the rug in the corner of the hallway and never stood up. He refused food and water, and always a cheerful, kind-hearted Caucasian, within ten days after Louis's death, he went in the wake of an old friend.

Olya will never forget his huge eyes with frozen tears in the corners. He could not explain anything to her in words, he simply refused to live without Louis. Michael left ten days ago.

Olya's heart was melancholy, but she controlled herself - she had to continue living and rejoice in what she had. And in her life there was a lot of things that others were deprived of. And honestly, one could say that Olya was one of those women who could rightfully be called happy. But something squeezed her heart. Inexplicable anxiety, intertwined with longing and sadness, haunted her. She artificially tried to brush aside the vague uneasiness in her chest and occupy herself with preparations for the family feast. There were a couple of hours before the start of the festive family dinner. The doorbell rang. Olya quickly found herself in the hallway. His gaze slid over the empty dog rug in the corner, which there was no strength to remove and his heart pricked with an insidious needle. The hands opened the front door automatically. Her husband stood on the threshold with an enigmatic smile on his face. Having crossed the threshold, he gently hugged Olya and with a dexterous movement put some papers in the pocket of the kitchen apron.

- I congratulate you my beloved, - Sasha said kissing her on both cheeks.

- What is it? - Olya unrolled the papers and pretended to be surprised. She had long ceased to be surprised at Sasha's gifts, and today she was almost not pleased with anything - the shadow of the loss of two close beings poisoned her soul and pricked her heart with painful needles of longing.

- You need to distract yourself, dear. This time we fly to Goa. The plane is in a week, so pack our suitcases, - Sasha smiled smugly, not letting his wife out of his arms.

- Thank you, Sasha darling, - said Olya calmly and returned to the cutting board and boiling pots on the stove.

Sasha did not ask her any unnecessary questions. I understood what exactly darkens Olino's mood, what torments her soul.

-Let me help you in the kitchen, just change and wash my hands. Get out, my dear, one more knife and a board.

Soon the house became more lively - Egor and Marinka came, followed by Zhenya and Lena. Zhenya brought his mother a bouquet of fifty red roses. Olya hugged her son tightly and with a smile took one rose out of the bouquet and laid it on the rug in the corner of the hallway.

- Let it be forty-nine.

Zhenya smiled, was talkative, trying to distract his mother from sad thoughts about Louis and Michael. At the table, the sons drank a few toasts to their mother and began vying with each other to brag about their successes. Olya cheered up and through the sadness in her eyes beams of joy and pride for her sons shone. Marina and Lena looked at their boyfriends with admiration and from this Olin's soul thawed and the sound of anxiety became fainter and weaker in her heart.

The evening passed imperceptibly quickly. At about ten in the evening, the sons and their chosen ones were getting ready for their homes and the parents were soon left alone in the apartment.

An insidious needle was soon thrust into Olya's heart again and she shuddered. Sasha noticed that something was happening to his wife.

- Let me put you to bed, my dear. I worked hard today, ran around the kitchen. We go to bed. I'll wash the dishes myself and take everything off the table. Do not worry.

Olya, like an obedient girl, went into the bedroom. She lay down on the bed but could not close her eyes until early morning. The same inexplicable anxiety squeezed her chest. Making it difficult to breathe. Thoughts swarmed and confused and were about nothing, but the heaviness in her heart did not leave her. Sasha, having washed all the dishes, lay down in the study so as not to disturb his wife.

It was getting light. Fatigue took its toll and Olya closed her eyes.

Waking up after two days with a headache, Olya went to the kitchen to make strong coffee. Sasha was no longer at home - he worked even on weekends.

A cold wave of chills washed over her body when she saw that the petals of all forty-nine roses had fallen on the table and the vase now adorned with bare stems with needles, the tops of which were bitterly adorned in some places by lonely petals that had held on during the night and did not have time to fall.

Olya cried: “What is this? Why? Were they so fresh yesterday? Roses are so short-lived in winter …”. With a jerk she rushed into the hallway. On the empty dog's rug still lay a red rose, as if it had just been plucked from the garden.

“How did you survive without water?” Olya whispered and carefully lifted the rose from the litter. - What helped you not to fade? Louis …, Michael …, - called into the void … But no one in the apartment responded to her call with barking barks as usual … Olya, as if in a fog, opened the cabinet with the remains of dry dog food, which was a delicious treat for Louis and Michael. But no one came running to the sound of the food bag rustling and knocked her down, wagging her tails, as usual. Olya sighed and put the package in place. The fallen petals of forty-nine scarlet roses were carefully collected one at a time and placed on the bottom of an empty three-liter glass jar. She put one survivor in a vase with cool water.

The phone rang.

- Hello, Olga Nikolaevna, this is Lena, come to us urgently, Zhenya is no more!

- How … - Olya did not recognize her voice. It sounded hollow. As if someone's cold steel fingers grabbed her throat with a ring.

- He hanged himself at home! I just came from the market! Did not make it! - Lena shouted into the telephone receiver.

Olya, losing strength in her legs, slowly sinking to the floor, felt that now not one, but a thousand small insidious needles pierced her heart and blocked her breathing. She froze sitting on the floor, disconnected for a few seconds, maybe minutes … Lena was shouting something into the receiver in a breaking voice, but Olya no longer heard anything.

Gathering all her courage and will, she called a taxi home to her son. I did not believe in the words of the daughter-in-law. “It couldn't have happened. Probably Lena got something wrong. This cannot be.”- thoughts swarmed like bees in a crowded hive, but inside it was empty - there were no feelings, only the heart pierced by many insidious needles ached, groaned, beat, choked.

Olya made an effort above herself and got up from the floor, holding on to the wall with her right hand. The left one dug her fingers into her chest, under which her poor heart was pounding. “Zhenya, Zhenya … I applied you to the left breast, you can't suck mother's milk from your right breast. Probably you were calmed by the rhythm of my heart … Zhenya … I'm going to you.. Now everything will be clearer.. Lena got something wrong.. Yesterday you looked so good, smiled, joked, bragged about your successes. It's all right, Zhenechka, isn't it? You will come out, as always, to meet me and hug me tightly, my dear son ….

Olya slowly went down the steps from the third floor to the first, still holding onto her chest with her left hand, opened the door of the taxi car and seemed to fall into the back seat.

- Spasskaya Street, 11.

It seemed to her that one minute had passed when the car drove up to the entrance of the house where Zhenya and Lena were renting a two-room apartment. Near the front door some people were crowding, there were ambulances and a police car parked in the courtyard. Olya at one point was on the threshold of her son's apartment, pushed the door with her hand and ran into the apartment. It was full of strangers scouring the apartment. In the corner of the room stood Lena with her face swollen from tears and with a fixed gaze looked up to the right. Olya, following the direction of her gaze, raised her eyes to the chandelier.

- Zhenya !, - her soul silently cried out, - Zhenya! Zhenya! Son!

As if in slow motion, in some horrible thriller, two men in police uniforms were taking her son's head out of the loop attached to a house horizontal bar. She wanted to take a step stretched out her hands to meet him and fell into the darkness.

Olya opened her eyes from the pungent smell of ammonia, which Lena poked on a piece of cotton wool under her nose.

- Zhenya, - whispered barely audibly, although her whole being wanted to scream and break with her voice this ominous silence in which the camera clicks and rare individual fragments of phrases of other people's voices and footsteps were heard.

Olya got up from the sofa, to which she was apparently carried by these people, who scurried about her son's apartment, probably searching her. Looking around in confusion, she saw a body on the floor, covered with a white sheet.

- Zhenya! Zhenya! Zhenya! My son!”Choked sobs escaped from her chest and she tried to approach the white sheet on the floor, but the man in uniform stopped her:

- Are you his mother?

Olya, without taking her eyes off the body under the sheet, nodded in response. The first tears rolled in two streams from her eyes. A hysterical groan escaped from my throat: "What have you done, son ?!"

- We need to interrogate you. Let's go to the kitchen.

Olya obeyed. Automatically answered questions, not fully realizing what had happened. Two endless paths of maternal tears ran down my face. In the kitchen, she noticed two suitcases next to each other. Both belonged to the son. Answering the investigator's questions, Olya thought at the same time: “He was going to leave? Or leave Lena? Why didn't he tell me anything yesterday?"

Only a few days later, Olya realized that he would never be in her life again, that the loss was irreversible and that she would never survive this pain of loss. She did not remember how Zhenya was buried, her memory supplanted all the pain that she could not keep in her memory. She did not remember anything, did not remember Zhenya's face, his body lying in the coffin, the funeral procession, the commemoration, she did not remember anything. But a huge black hole appeared in her heart, which ached with unbearable pain. Olya never thought that emptiness could hurt. Probably, it's like a phantom pain: the lost part of the body is no longer there, but excruciating pain is there. Olya saw how her husband and youngest son were busy around her, but she remained indifferent to their efforts to somehow support her. Oli's world narrowed down to one point, the name of which is mental pain. She understood that Zhenya was no longer there. And it never will be.

She walked slowly into the kitchen and held out her hands for a glass jar filled with withered rose petals. Having sealed the jar with a nylon lid, Olya hugged her with her arms and pressed her to her chest. Embracing all that was left of her son - these rose petals in a glass jar - she went back to bed. She pressed the can to her chest and, looking at one point on the ceiling, held her breath. Tears, incessantly, poured spontaneously from her reddened eyes. She pressed the can even more tightly to her chest when Yegor tried to take it away from her. Now she did not part with this can. Now this can was him - her son. She did not hear the voices of her son and husband. The world died for her.

Forty days have passed since Zhenya's death, which has remained a mystery to all his relatives. Olya still did not part with the jar, in which the rose petals, presented before her death by her son, were shriveled.

Lena soon left the rented apartment and went to her mother in Boyarka. Before leaving, she confessed to Olya that the suitcases in the kitchen were her attempt to leave Zhenya. After Olya's birthday, they had a big fight and Lena decided to leave. Lena said that for the apparent strength of their relationship, they often quarreled, but Zhenya forbade Lena to tell his parents about it. At times they felt happy, like many married couples, but if they quarreled, then their conflicts were quite destructive for both and each time they balanced on the verge of breaking up, but did not dare to do so, because the reasons for their quarrels were so insignificant. that after reconciliation they did not understand how such a conflict could be developed out of a simple petty disagreement or misunderstanding of each other. It seemed to Lena all the time that Zhenya was reproaching her for everything, she reacted sharply to his reproaches, protecting herself from the feeling of guilt, which, with each reproach, ate her soul, she wounded Zhenya with hurtful words and tried to distance herself. Zhenya perceived this as rejection and ignorance, and the flywheel of the quarrel, thus, unwound, gaining strength. For two or three days they could not get out of this borderline state, in which they exhausted each other to complete exhaustion, after which a phase of love began, in which they understood that they could not live without each other.

Olya, having learned the details of her son's family life, began to understand that not everything was as smooth in his life as it seemed to her, and in her soul she began to blame Lena for his death. But one thing remained a mystery: why did he hide it from her - from his mother? A doubt began to creep into my heart that as a mother Olya was good enough. “They don’t hide such things from good mothers, sons talk to good mothers and come to them in difficult times,” Olya reproached herself mentally, while pressing the jar of rose petals tighter to her stomach. She began to ask herself how close she could be to her son, especially since Zhenya was her child from her first marriage, such a fleeting and fatal one. The feeling of guilt in my mother's heart was gaining momentum. She remembered the year when she left her first husband, still pregnant with Zhenya, at the eighth month to Sasha. Fell in love. I could not stay with the child's father. Although he was a good guy, it somehow happened that an unplanned pregnancy connected their destinies without love. The meeting with Sasha turned everything upside down and Olya made her choice, already being eight months pregnant. Sasha accepted the child as his own and tried to raise him on a par with Yegor, distributing love equally between the boys, the age difference between which was six years. Zhenya never found out that his father was not Sasha. But Olya sometimes thought that Sasha was not doing very well with the distribution of attention between his sons. But she was silent. And I was so grateful that I accepted her with someone else's child.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband:

- Olenka, get up, leave this jar, let's clean up the apartment, look how big a layer of dust is, - Sasha tried to distract his wife by doing some housework. In this he was persistent. And they managed to clean one room already. It was a very detailed, thorough cleaning, cleaning all cabinets and drawers from excess debris. Olya was not always obedient, but this time she obeyed. I left my jar on the bed, with which I slept and walked around the apartment all day, dragging it everywhere with me. This time they decided to remove the nursery or the room that once served as a nursery.

Olya was slowly sorting through the trash in the boxes, from time to time her eyes were moistened when she stumbled upon something that reminded her of her son, and sometimes tears again flowed from her eyes without a single sob, falling to the floor, onto her hands, onto her knees …

In one of the drawers of the furniture set, which always belonged to Zhenya - there were always only his things - she came across a white sheet of paper folded in four. Excitement swept over her in a sudden, cold wave. With trembling fingers, she opened a sheet of paper and immediately recognized Zhenya's sweeping handwriting.

“Hello mom, my beloved mom… This is my last letter in my short life… I am leaving so that I will never return. I ask you to endure this, do not break, just as I broke … I do not blame anyone for my death.. I just do not want to live in this world where there is no love and never was … I do not even know if you loved me, but I love you … Although now you will not believe me … Because how can a loving son leave his mother and leave like this … But I have always loved you and will love you even there in heaven … I am always with you. My dear mommy … You are the only one so close and so distant … I have always fought with Yegor for your love. You are all that I had left in this world … I could not even fight for my father - he always loved my brother more than me … I felt it … But you - no … You were my mother. That is why I didn’t want to upset you and didn’t want to tell you about how Lenka and I lived.. Everything was very difficult… But don’t blame her. I was wrong with her in many ways. I don't even know how to explain it to you, but it was as if all my life I was in captivity of the same feeling that I was superfluous, unnecessary, outcast in this world. suffered. And my pain was gigantic. It was unbearable to deal with her, but I suspect that for the most part it only seemed to me. Lenka loved me. It was I who tormented her with my suspicions of dislike and accusations that she was not taking care of me well enough, not paying enough attention to me … You know, Mommy, I have lived my whole life in some kind of lack of love … I never have enough of her … And I despaired of believing that it exists so immense and sincere, so disinterested and unconditional, of which I myself am capable … But I no longer have faith that someone in this life will love me with such, just such love … I would like someone to love me because … just don't laugh, mommy, as Michael Louis loved … This is true intimacy and love … But only dogs seem to be capable of it.. Among people, I will never meet her, such devotion, unconditional and sincerity … Forgive me, my dear mommy … Forgive me for writing this to you, Maybe it's better that you never find this letter at all, but I know that you will find it … it is in my box that I will leave it - I do not want other people's eyes to look into my dead soul … only you are my dear mommy … Know that I t I love myself sincerely, unconditionally and faithfully, but I can no longer live here … My soul died a long time ago, probably in the first days of my life … Forgive me … Remember all the best about me … and goodbye … Your son Zhenya …"

Olya dropped the letter from her hands and froze sitting on the floor in an uncomfortable position. Sasha entered the room and immediately understood everything.. The irreparable happened.. Oli is no longer and never will be.

(c) Yulia Latunenko