Tanya was feeling extremely exhausted. She had been on her own for six years, ever since her husband left her. A year ago, her daughter got married and moved to another city.
At forty-two, Tanya was at a wonderful age for a woman—a second youth. She was a homemaker, and everyone considered her pickles and tomatoes a masterpiece. But who would she make them for? The balcony was already lined with rows of idle jars.
“I can’t just wither away alone, looking this good!” she’d tell her friends. They would reply, “Of course not! Look for a husband! Plenty of single men out there.”
One friend suggested an agency called “The Best Husband.” Tanya thought it seemed odd and a bit pathetic to turn to an agency. But at forty-two, that number was bothering her. The old clock on the wall was ticking away the time with its rattling sound.
So, Tanya went to the agency. A friendly woman in bright pink glasses greeted her:
“We really do have the best. Let’s look through our database together, have a seat next to me!”
“They all look handsome in the photos,” Tanya chuckled. “But how do you get to know someone? How do you know if he’s the one?”
“We have it all figured out,” the woman replied. “We offer a week-long trial. It’s long enough to decide if he’s right for you, or if you should look for someone else.”
“What do you mean by ‘trial’?”
“The man comes to live with you for a week. We don’t mess around here; we’re straight to the point. And rest assured, we don’t have any maniacs or crazies in our listings.”
Tanya suddenly found the idea exciting. She and the woman in pink glasses picked out five candidates. Tanya paid a small fee and hurried home. The first was set to arrive that very evening.
Tanya put on a green dress—the color of hope—and donned earrings with diamonds that she rarely took out from her old jewelry box.
Ding-dong! The doorbell rang.
Tanya peeked through the peephole and saw roses. She let out a small squeal of delight. Opening the door, she found an elegant man just as in the photo.
They sat down at the table, with the bouquet placed in the center. Tanya discreetly observed her charming guest, thinking, “That’s it! No need to meet the others. He’s the one!”
They started with the salad. The prospective husband winced, “Did you over-salt this?” Tanya gave a sheepish smile and served roasted duck instead. He chewed a bit and said, “It’s quite tough, isn’t it?” He found the rest of the meal lacking too. In her rush, Tanya had forgotten the wine she had thoughtfully selected. Pouring it, she said, “Here’s to getting acquainted!” The guest sniffed the wine, took a sip, and said, “Tastes cheap.” He stood up, “Let’s have a look around your home…”
Tanya picked up the bouquet and handed it back to him, “I don’t even like roses. Goodbye.”
That night Tanya shed a few tears out of frustration. But she still had four more meetings ahead.
The second suitor arrived the next evening. He entered with confidence, “Hello there!” He reeked of vodka. Tanya asked, “Did you already celebrate our meeting somewhere?” He snickered, “Oh, come on! By the way, do you have a TV? There’s a match on—Manchester United and Liverpool. We can chat while we watch.” Tanya sharply retorted, “You’ll be watching TV at your own place.”
Another night of tears followed.
Two days later, the third candidate appeared. He wasn’t handsome, wore an old jacket, and his nails were unkempt, with mud-caked shoes. Tanya was already considering how to send him off politely. Still, she decided to serve him a meal first. He devoured the food eagerly, showering her cooking with compliments, making Tanya blush. She brought out her pickles. “My goodness!” the less-than-handsome man exclaimed. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”
Then the grandmother clock chimed. The man listened intently, “What’s that creaking noise?” He walked into the room, stood on a stool, and inspected the clock, “Let me fix this! Do you have any tools?”
Soon enough, the clock chimed crisply, and Tanya joyfully listened to its gentle sound. She thought it was a sign. This man was meant to be her husband. He was talented, and his disheveled appearance could be easily fixed. Plus, he was the third candidate—her lucky number.
They were facing the night ahead. Tanya prepared for it, visited the beauty salon, and arranged her bed with romantic rose-patterned linen (Tanya truly loved roses). When she emerged from the bathroom, her guest was already dozing off, fully clothed. This didn’t faze Tanya. She looked at him with tenderness: “Poor thing, he’s tired.” She gently slipped under the duvet beside him.
Then the nightmare began. This craftsman was an expert snorer. It was intense and relentless. Tanya first covered her ears with a pillow, then him, tried turning him over, but it was all in vain. She didn’t sleep a wink and suffered through the night.
In the morning, the guest came into the kitchen where a gloomy Tanya sat: “So, shall I move in with my stuff tonight?”
Tanya shook her head: “I’m sorry, you’re lovely, but… No!”
The fourth, a bearded man, looked like he walked out of an old British film about explorers. She even let him smoke in the kitchen. He took a drag and said, “Tanya, let’s agree upfront, shall we? I’m a free spirit. I love fishing, hanging out with mates, and I can’t stand being called up asking ‘Where are you?’ alright?”
Tanya watched him flick ash into an orchid pot and asked, “Maybe you’re a womanizer too?” The bearded man chuckled, “Why not? Like I said—freedom! It’s natural for a man.”
After he left, Tanya aired out the kitchen for a long time. Her head throbbed, and she felt drained, as if life had been sucked out of her. She didn’t even bother with the dishes.
The next morning, sunshine peeked through the curtains, cheerful sparrows chirped outside. Suddenly, Tanya felt a sense of relief. It was Saturday. No rush, no one to disturb her with their murmurs, rustling, or snoring. The dishes? She’d wash them whenever she liked. Peace and freedom.
The phone rang: “Ms. Tanya! This is ‘The Best Husband’ agency. You have one more candidate today, remember? He’s wonderful, truly your match!”
Tanya practically shouted into the receiver: “Cross me out! Remove me from your files! No one else! The best husband is the one that doesn’t exist!”
And with a fit of laughter, she threw open the curtains.
