A weary woman after six years of solitude.
Marie was truly exhausted. She had been living alone for six years, ever since her husband had left her. The previous year, her daughter got married and moved to another city.
At fortytwo, Marie was still in the prime of lifea second youth. She was an excellent homemaker, famed for her tomatopickles that everyone called a masterpiece. But who could she possibly cook them for now? The jars were already piling up on the balcony, untouched.
I wont wither away in my loneliness; Im still beautiful! Marie told her friends. They replied, No! Find yourself a husband! There are plenty of single men out there. One suggested a matchmaking agency called The Best Husband. Marie thought it was a bit absurd and pitiful to turn to an agency, yet at fortytwo she felt uneasy about her age. Her grandmothers antique clock marked the passing time with its metallic clatter.
She walked into the agency, where a friendly lady with violet glasses greeted her:
We truly have the best. Lets look through our database together. Sit beside me.
Theyre all handsome, indeed, Marie smiled, but how will I know if any of them is right for me?
Thats arranged, the lady answered. Well lend you one for a week. Thats enough time to decide if hes the one or if you should keep looking.
What do you mean lend?
Yes! A man will come live with you for a week. Were not here to be shy like schoolgirls; we get straight to the point. And we have no maniacs or lunatics.
Excitement suddenly surged in Marie. Together with the lady in violet glasses, she chose five candidates. Marie paid a modest fee and hurried home. The first candidate was to arrive that very evening.
She slipped into a green dressthe colour of hopeand put on diamond earrings she rarely took out of her old box.
Ding! The doorbell rang.
Marie first peered through the peephole, saw roses, and let out a tiny squeal of joy. She opened the door; the man was as elegant as his photograph.
They sat at the table; Marie had prepared a feast, placing the bouquet in the centre. Watching her charming guest discreetly, she thought, Hell do; I dont need anyone else. They began with salad, and the prospective husband winced, Why so much salt? Embarrassed, Marie smiled, then served her roasted duck. He chewed a piece and remarked, A bit tough. He disliked the rest as well. In her rush, Marie had forgotten the most important thingthe wine she had carefully selected. She poured it, saying, To our meeting! The guest sniffed the glass, took a sip, and declared, What a mediocre wine. He stood up, Lets see your apartment
Marie handed him the bouquet, saying, I dont like roses at all. Goodbye. That night she shed a few tears; she was hurt. Yet three more meetings remained.
The second suitor arrived the next evening, entering confidently, Hey! He reeked of vodka. Marie asked, Did you already celebrate our meeting somewhere? He laughed, Come on! Is there a TV here? The PSGMarseille match is starting; we can chat while it plays. Marie replied curtly, Watch TV at home.
Again she cried a little that night, alone.
Two days later the third candidate showed up. He was unattractive, wearing an old jacket, with unkempt nails and mud on his shoes. Marie was already thinking of a polite way to dismiss him, but she decided to invite him to eat first. He devoured his food quickly, showering Marie with compliments, leaving her almost bewildered. She opened a tin and he exclaimed, My God! This is the best Ive ever tasted in my life!
At that moment her grandmothers clock chimed. The unattractive man asked, Whats that metallic clatter? He stepped onto a stool, examined the clock, and said, Ill fix it right away! Do you have tools? Soon the clock rang clearly and sweetly; Marie was delighted by the sound. She took it as a sign. This man, despite his shabby shoes and nails, had many qualities and could easily mend those details. Moreover, he was the third candidatean auspicious number.
They were to spend the night together. Marie had prepared: she visited a beauty salon, laid out elegant bedding adorned with large rose patterns (she truly loved roses). When she emerged from the bathroom, her guest was already asleep, fully clothed. It didnt disturb her; she looked at him tenderly, Youre tired, dear, and slipped beneath the covers beside him.
Then the nightmare began. The handyman started snoringloud and relentless. Marie covered her head with a pillow, then tried to move him, but nothing helped. She lost sleep, suffering through the night.
In the morning the guest went to the kitchen where a sullen Marie sat. So, what do you think? Should I move in tonight with my things? he asked.
Marie shook her head. No, Im sorry. Youre a good person, but No!
The fourth man, bearded, reminded Marie of a hero from old adventure films. She even let him smoke in the kitchen. After a puff, he declared, Marie, lets be clear from the start. Im a free man. I love fishing, going out with friends, and I dont like being hounded with Where are you? questions. Is that okay? Marie watched him drop ash into an orchid pot and asked, You chase women too, dont you? He smiled, Why not? Im free! Thats normal for a man.
After he left, Marie aired the kitchen for a long time. She had a pounding headache, felt utterly exhausted, drained of energy, and didnt even do the dishes.
The next morning, she opened her eyes to sunshine behind the curtains, sparrows singing cheerfully. She suddenly realized how good she felt. It was Saturday. She had no rush, no one bothering her, no murmurs, no snoring. The dishes? She would wash them whenever she wanted. Peace and freedom.
Suddenly the phone rang: Hello, Marie! This is the Best Husband agency. We have another candidate for you today, remember? Hes wonderful; this one will surely be the right one!
Marie shouted into the receiver, Cross me off! Delete my file! No more! The best husband is the one who doesnt exist! And, laughing, she pulled back the curtains.
