Tanya felt utterly exhausted. She had been alone for six years since her husband left her. Her daughter had married last year and moved to another town.
At forty-two, Tanya was in her prime. A second youth. She was an excellent homemaker, known for her superb cooking, especially her pickled cucumbers and tomatoes, which everyone called masterpieces. But who was she making them for? The balcony was already lined with rows of unused jars.
“I won’t perish in solitude, looking so lovely!” Tanya would tell her friends. They’d reply, “Absolutely not! Find yourself a husband! There are plenty of single men out there.” One friend even suggested an agency, “Best Husband.” Tanya thought it seemed silly and a bit pathetic to go through an agency. But on the other hand, being forty-two was unnerving. The old clock on the wall ticked away time loudly.
So, Tanya visited the agency. A friendly woman in bright glasses greeted her, saying, “We truly have the best here. Let’s look through our database together; take a seat!”
“They all seem charming,” laughed Tanya. “But how do you really get to know a person? How do you know he’s the one?”
“We have a plan,” the woman explained. “We let you try for a week, it’s enough to see if he’s your match. Then you decide whether to continue or find another.”
“You assign men?” Tanya asked.
“Yes! They live with you for a week. We’re not shy brides here; we get straight to the point. And don’t worry, we have no maniacs or crazies.”
Tanya suddenly got excited. She loved the idea. Together with the cheery lady, they selected five candidates. Tanya paid a modest fee and hurried home, as the first was to arrive that evening.
Tanya wore a green dress, the color of hope, and earrings with diamonds she rarely took out of her old jewelry box. Ding-dong! The doorbell rang.
Peeking through the spyglass, she saw roses and squeaked with joy. She opened the door. The man was elegant, just as in his photo.
They sat at the table; Tanya had prepared a feast. She placed the bouquet in the center. Sneaking glances at her pleasant guest, she thought, “This is it! No need to meet the others.”
They began with the salad. The potential future husband grimaced, “Isn’t this too salty?” Tanya embarrassedly smiled and served roasted duck. “Bit tough,” he commented, and found everything else similar. Amidst her busy thoughts, Tanya forgot about the wine she had painstakingly chosen. She poured it saying, “To our acquaintance!” He sniffed the glass, took a sip, and remarked, “Cheap stuff.” He got up, inspecting her living space.
Tanya handed him the roses, “I don’t really like roses. Goodbye.”
That night, Tanya cried a little, feeling miffed. But four more meetings awaited.
The second potential partner arrived the following evening. Entering with confidence, he greeted, “Hey there!” She smelled vodka on him. Tanya asked, “Already celebrating our meeting somewhere?” He chuckled: “Oh, come on! Hey, got a TV? The match is about to start: Arsenal vs. Chelsea. We can chat during it.”
Tanya curtly replied, “Watch TV at your own home.”
Another tearful night passed.
A day later, the third candidate came along. Not much to look at, old coat, unkempt nails, muddy shoes. Tanya was already thinking about how to politely turn him away, but decided to feed him first. He ate quickly, praising her dishes. She brought out the pickles. “My goodness,” he exclaimed. “This is the best I’ve ever tasted!”
Just then, the old clock chimed again. The man listened, “What’s that noise?” He went inside, stepped on a stool, and examined the clock. “I can fix this for you.” Soon, the clock was chiming clearly again. Tanya was delighted, considering it a sign. Maybe he should be her husband. A handy guy, those dirty shoes and nails? No big deal, they could be cleaned. Plus, he was the third, her lucky number.
Later that night, Tanya prepared by visiting a beauty salon and spreading fine linen sheets with large roses on top (she secretly loved them). When she came out of the bathroom, her guest was already dozing, still fully dressed. Tanya wasn’t bothered, tenderly looking at him: “Poor fellow, probably exhausted.” She quietly lay beside him under the covers.
Then the nightmare began. This handyman snored. Loudly and deeply. Tanya tried everything: covering her ears with a pillow, then his head, turning him over. All to no avail. She didn’t sleep a wink, suffering through it.
In the morning, the guest strolled into the kitchen where a sullen Tanya sat: “What do you think? Move my stuff in tonight?”
Tanya shook her head: “No, sorry. You’re good, but… No!”
The fourth, bearded man reminded Tanya of an old movie hero. She even allowed him to smoke in the kitchen. He took a drag and said, “Tanya, let’s set the rules straight. I’m a free man. I love fishing, hanging out with friends. Don’t like being called up with ‘Where are you?’ Got it?”
Watching him flick ash into the potted orchid, Tanya asked, “So, does this free spirit extend to other women, too?” The bearded man smirked: “Why not? Freedom is a normal thing for a bloke.”
After he left, Tanya aired out the kitchen for ages. She had a headache and felt utterly drained. She didn’t even bother doing the dishes.
When she woke up the next morning, the sun was bright outside, birds were chirping happily. Suddenly, Tanya realized she felt wonderful. It was Saturday. No rush, no disturbances, no one grumbling, no rustling, no snoring. The dishes? She’d wash them whenever she pleased. Peace and freedom.
Just then, the phone rang: “Tanya! This is Best Husband Agency. You have another candidate today, remember? He’s perfect, definitely the one for you!”
Tanya practically shouted into the phone, “Scratch me off the list! Delete me from your database! No more! The best husband is one who isn’t there!”
She burst into laughter, drawing the curtains open wide.
