The Happy Marriage Read Online Free PDF Page B

occasionally wish that she could get a little more involved in the act, but she would laugh and make him understand that she was too bashful for that. One evening, when they’d been changing channels on the television late at night, they’d stumbled onto a porno. She’d cried out, horrified by the spectacle of those unrestrained women and men with huge penises. Shocked, she had snuggled against him as though wanting him to protect her from some imminent danger. She’d never seen a porno in her life. He had reassured her, telling her that those films were transgressive and outrageous, and that most people’s sexuality was rather simple. Then she’d regained her composure. At which point he’d switched the television off and they fell asleep on the living room sofa, their bodies entwined.
    One day, she took the train to go see her parents, who lived on the outskirts of Clermont-Ferrand. She had asked him if he could help buy her ticket, and told him she also wanted to bring her parents a few small presents. He’d given her all she’d asked for and told her that they would open a joint bank account that very afternoon so she would never have to ask him for money again. She’d been very happy to hear this and he’d told her that everything that was his also belonged to her, and vice versa. He’d laughed, happy at how perfect their arrangement was.
    She stayed with her parents for a week. The painter lived through those seven days and nights as though he’d been abandoned. It was the first time they’d spent so long apart. He had missed her terribly. He would call her every day, but had often been unable to speak to her because she had just left, or had gone out for a run … it allowed him to discover how deeply he was in love with her, “smitten,” as people used to say in his youth. She dwelled in his thoughts, and would not be dislodged.While at his desk, he would fail to make any progress on his projects. He would imagine her in his arms, humming songs from his village, tunes that he was not especially fond of, but which he could suddenly not do without, even though he didn’t really understand the meaning of those words. That was love, the kind of love that reminds you of your beloved. Tired of not bumping into her in one of the rooms of their house, he would go into the bathroom in the middle of the day just to smell her pajamas, or her perfume. On the following day, he’d even brushed his teeth with her brush. While sitting in the living room, he would be surprised to discover he’d been speaking out loud as though she were right in front of him. Unable to concentrate on his work, he would watch old films on the television until late at night. He would always fall asleep on the sofa and wake up at two in the morning and confuse his wife’s face with Natalie Wood’s in Elia Kazan’s Splendor in the Grass . They slightly resembled one another, but his wife must have been a little taller, and her hair was darker.
    When she finally returned from Clermont-Ferrand, there was a great celebration. He’d driven to the station to pick her up, and had arrived far too early. Little presents were waiting for her back at the house and he’d put on some music to welcome her back. Looking worried, she’d asked him if he’d missed her. That’s an understatement, he’d said, he hadn’t been able to sleep without her, or eat, or drink. “I was like a child in foster care!”
    Two months later, she told him she was pregnant. He’d jumped for joy and had started singing to the top of his lungs until their kind neighbors came by to see if everything was all right. They had quickly agreed to have dinner together and they toasted the happy news with champagne. He’d never been so attentive to a woman before. They could spend whole hours at a stretch together doing absolutely nothing, and he would bend over backwards to spoil her. Once, she asked him for sea urchins in the middle of the night. Why sea urchins?