A weary woman after six years of solitude.
Marie was truly exhausted. She had been living alone for six years, ever since her husband 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, famous for her tomatopickle preserves that everyone called a masterpiece. But who would she now make them for? The jars were already piling up on the balcony, unused.
I wont waste away alone, especially when Im so beautiful! Marie would tell her friends. They replied, No! Find yourself a husband! There are plenty of single men out there.
One of them suggested a marriage agency called The Best Husband. Marie thought it sounded a bit absurd and pathetic to turn to an agency. Yet, at fortytwo, the number made her uneasy. Her grandmothers old clock ticked away, its metallic clang marking the passing time.
So Marie went to the agency. A friendly lady with violet glasses greeted her:
We truly have the best. Lets browse our database together. Sit beside me.
Theyre all handsome, indeed, Marie smiled, but how will I know if any of them is the right one for me?
We have a solution, the lady answered. Well lend you one for a week. Thats enough time to decide whether hes the one or if you should keep looking.
What do you mean by lend?
A man will come live with you for a week. Were not shy like teenagers; we get straight to the point. And we have no maniacs or lunatics.
Excited by the idea, Marie and the violetglassed lady chose five candidates. Marie paid a modest fee and hurried home. The first gentleman was to arrive that very evening. She put on a green dress, the colour of hope, and slipped on diamond earrings she rarely took out of her old box.
Ding! The doorbell rang.
Marie peeked through the peephole, saw roses, and let out a small cry of joy. She opened the door. The man was as elegant as his photograph.
They sat down to a meal; Marie had prepared a feast and placed the bouquet in the centre of the table. Watching her charming guest quietly, she thought, Thats enough. No need for anyone else.
When they began the salad, the prospective husband grimaced, Why so much salt? Embarrassed, Marie smiled and served him roasted duck. He chewed a piece and complained, 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! He sniffed the glass, took a sip, and muttered, What a mediocre wine. He rose and said, 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 felt hurt. Yet three more meetings remained.
The second suitor arrived the next evening, swaggering in with a Hey! He smelled of vodka. Marie asked, Did you already celebrate our meeting somewhere? He laughed, Come on! Is there a TV here? The PSGMarseille match is on; we can chat while we watch. Marie replied coldly, Watch TV at your place.
Again, she cried a little that night, alone.
Two days later the third candidate showed up. He wasnt handsome, wore an old jacket, had unkempt nails, and mud on his shoes. Marie was already pondering a polite way to send him away, but she invited him to eat first. He devoured his food quickly, showered Marie with compliments, leaving her almost bewildered. She opened a can, and he exclaimed, My God! This is the best thing Ive ever tasted!
At that moment her grandmothers clock chimed. The notsohandsome man asked, Whats that metallic clatter? He climbed onto a stool, inspected the clock, and said, Ill fix it fast! Do you have tools? Soon the clock rang clearly and beautifully; Marie was delighted by the sweet sound. She took it as a sign. This man, despite his shabby shoes and nails, had many good qualities, was handy, and the number three was lucky.
They were to spend the night together. Marie had prepared: she went to a beauty salon, laid out elegant bedding with large rose patterns (she truly liked roses). When she emerged from the bathroom, her guest was already asleep, already dressed. It didnt disturb her. She looked at him tenderly, Youre tired, my dear, and slipped under the covers beside him.
Then the nightmare began. The handyman started snoringloud and powerful. Marie covered her head with a pillow, then tried to push him asidenothing helped. She spent the night awake, suffering.
In the morning the guest went to the kitchen where a gloomy Marie sat. So, what do you think? Shall I move in tonight with my things?
Marie shook her head. No, Im sorry. Youre a good person, but No!
The fourth suitor was bearded, reminding Marie of an old adventurefilm hero. 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, hanging out with friends, and I dont like being hounded with Where are you? Is that okay?
Marie watched him drop ash into an orchid pot and asked, You chase women too, dont you? The bearded man smiled, Why not? Im free! Thats normal for a man.
After he left, Marie aired the kitchen for a long time. Her head throbbed, she felt exhausted, drained of energy, and didnt even wash the dishes.
The next morning she opened her eyes to sunshine streaming through the curtains, sparrows singing cheerfully. She suddenly realized how good she felt. It was Saturday. No rush, no one disturbing her, no snoring, no complaints. The dishes? She would do them when 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 the curtains open.
