Tina was thoroughly exhausted. She had been alone for six years since her husband left. Her daughter got married a year ago and moved to another city.
Tina was only forty-two, an excellent age for a woman. A second youth. She was a homemaker and a fantastic cook; her pickled cucumbers and tomatoes were considered masterpieces by everyone. But who would appreciate them now? Her balcony was already lined with rows of idle jars.
“I’m not going to waste away alone, looking this good!” Tina would tell her friends. They would reply, “No way! Look for a husband! There are plenty of single men out there.”
One friend suggested an agency called “The Best Husband.” Tina thought it was a bit ridiculous and sad to resort to an agency, but being forty-two made her uneasy. The ticking sound of her grandmother’s clock marked the passing of time.
So, Tina went to the agency. A cheerful woman with pink glasses greeted her and said, “We truly have the best. Let’s have a look at our database together. Sit beside me!”
“They all look handsome,” Tina smirked. “But how do you really know someone? How do you know if he’s the one?”
“We’ve thought of that,” the woman replied. “We offer a one-week trial. Enough time to decide if he’s right for you or if you should keep looking.”
“Who do we trial exactly?”
“A gentleman!”
“How does that work?”
“Simple! He stays with you for a week. Look, we’re not shy brides here, we get straight to the point. And we don’t have any maniacs or lunatics.”
Tina suddenly found herself quite excited by the idea. With the help of the pink-glassed lady, she chose five candidates. Tina paid a small fee and hurried home. The first gentleman was set to arrive that evening.
Tina dressed in a green dress—symbolizing hope—and wore the diamond earrings she rarely took out from her old jewelry box.
Ding!—the doorbell rang. Tina peeked through the spyhole and saw roses. She let out a quiet squeal of joy. Upon opening the door, the man standing there was elegant, much like his photo.
They sat at the table; Tina had prepared a feast. She placed the bouquet at the center. She snuck glances at her pleasant guest and thought, “That’s it! No need to meet the others. This one’s perfect!”
They began eating salad. Her future husband grimaced, “Why’s it so salty?” Tina smiled awkwardly and served him roast duck. He chewed a bit and said, “It’s a bit tough…” He seemed unimpressed with everything. In her busyness, Tina had forgotten about the wine she’d carefully selected. She poured it and said, “Well, here’s to us getting to know each other!” The guest sniffed the glass and took a small sip: “Tastes cheap.” He stood up and said, “Let’s see what you’ve done with the place…”
Tina handed him the bouquet, “I’m not actually fond of roses. Goodbye.”
That night, Tina shed a quiet tear out of frustration, but she knew four more meetings awaited her.
The second candidate arrived the following evening. He entered confidently, “Hello there!” Tina could smell vodka on him. She asked, “Have you already celebrated our meeting somewhere?” He smirked, “Oh, come on! Hey, got a TV? There’s a game starting soon. Arsenal versus Manchester. We can chat about it too.” Tina sharply replied, “Watch TV at your own place.”
That night, she cried a little more alone.
A day later, the third candidate appeared. He wasn’t handsome, wore an old jacket, had unkempt nails. His shoes were muddy. Tina was already thinking of a polite way to send him away. But she decided to feed him first. He ate greedily, quickly, and praised Tina highly. She even felt flattered. She brought out her pickles. “Oh my word!” he exclaimed. “This is the best I’ve ever eaten!”
And then the grandmother clock chimed. The not-so-handsome man listened, “What’s that creaking noise?” He went to the room, stood on a stool, examined the clock, “I can fix it quickly. Got any tools?”
Soon, the clock was chiming clearly and melodically, and Tina was thrilled to hear such a pleasant sound. She thought it was a sign. This not-so-handsome man ought to be her husband. He was handy, after all, and the scruffy shoes and nails? Mere trifles, easily cleaned. Plus, he was the third one, a lucky number.
The night was yet to come. Tina had prepared for it by visiting a beauty salon and laying out sultry bed linens with large roses—she did love them after all. But when Tina emerged from the bathroom, her guest was already dozing off, fully clothed. It didn’t bother Tina. She looked at him tenderly sleeping, “Poor thing, he’s exhausted.” She carefully slipped under the blanket beside him.
Then the nightmare began. This handyman started to snore. Skillfully, robustly, and loudly. Tina tried covering herself with a pillow, then him, then moved his sleeping body—pointless. She didn’t sleep a wink and suffered the whole night.
In the morning, he appeared in the kitchen, where Tina sat gloomily, “So, shall I move my things in tonight?”
Tina shook her head, “No, sorry. You’re nice, but… No!”
The fourth man, bearded, reminded Tina of a hero from an old geological film. She even allowed him to smoke in her kitchen. The bearded man took a drag and said, “Tina, let’s set things straight from the start. I’m a free man. Love fishing, enjoy going out with friends. I don’t like being called and asked ‘Where are you?’ Okay?”
Tina watched as he flicked ash into her orchid pot and asked, “Do you also frequent other women?” The bearded man chuckled, “Why not? I said I’m free! It’s normal for a man.”
After he left, Tina aired out the kitchen for a long time. She had a headache and felt utterly drained, as if three liters of blood had been drained from her. She didn’t even bother washing the dishes.
The next morning, Tina opened her eyes to a sunny room, the sparrows chirping joyfully. She realized how wonderful she felt. It was Saturday. She wasn’t in a rush, no one was bothering her, no one talking, rustling, or snoring. The dishes? She’d wash them when she felt like it. Peace and freedom.
Then the phone rang: “Tina! This is ‘The Best Husband’ agency. Remember, you have one more candidate today. He’s wonderful, definitely the one for you!”
Tina practically shouted into the phone, “Remove me from your list! Delete my entry! No more! The best husband is the one who doesn’t exist!”
And with a laugh, she threw open the curtains.
