Husband Wanted – 2

Continued from Husband Wanted – 1

She watched them from the window, stomach churning, as her wild heartbeat made her faintly afraid she was about to have a heart attack. If only she would be so lucky, a heart attack would get her out of this farce.

 

It was hard to count the number of men who turned up for this joke that had gotten far out of hand. Were there a hundred men out there? Two hundred? Three hundred Spartan warriors seeking a wife? She covered her face with her hands and exhaled.

 

It all began with ice cream, and her naughty best friend. She cursed under her breath as she remembered the chain of events that led her here, yes it was the stupid ice cream. Dion’s husband bought her ice cream as they returned from an evening stroll while she was babysitting her godson, their boisterous three-year-old Ethan. She still wondered what possessed her to tell Dion she wanted a husband who would buy her ice cream on a cool February evening, long after Valentine’s Day.

 

“Wait! You want a husband? A real, actual, living and breathing husband?” Dion squealed.

“You want a man, one who would even do spontaneous, romantic things? Weren’t you going to be glued to spreadsheets and data analysis for the rest of your life and get a pet robot for companionship?” Dion continued.

 

“See ehn, just forget I said anything.” she snapped.

 

As she said the words, she groaned. Telling Dion to forget anything was the equivalent of adding a carbonate salt to warm hydrochloric acid, as she had done once by mistake in her university chemistry class. She smiled as she remembered her confusion at the ferocity of the resulting reaction, the bubbles escaping the beaker with volcanic speed and she would never forget the noise it made. Yes, Dion was like that, uncontrollable and combustible.

 

While she was still mulling over the memory, Dion had called Chris and started drafting a plan to net her a husband.

“I think we should put a notice on radio stations and even a national daily,” Chris said, rubbing his hands together with a silly grin pasted on his face.

“You are just as terrible as your wife!” she muttered.

“That’s what marriage does to you, the fusion and melding of elements from both of you makes you a much better version of yourself. My life was grey before Dion came with thunder and rainbows and now my life is a fucking movie!”

“A romantic thriller obviously, before this geek here says it’s a horror film, and wait o! are you quoting Banky W now?” Dion added quickly.

“I’m interested in your choice of genre, why romantic thriller instead of romantic comedy. Is there some kind of underground dangerous runs that both of you are into? Are you spies or elite assassins? Mr and Mrs Smith kinda vibes.”

 

Dion and Chris rolled their eyes at the same time and it struck her that they had begun to faintly resemble each other after only four years of marriage. What would happen after they’d been married for forty years? They’d become clones of each other no doubt. She felt a slight pang in her chest and not stopping to analyse the feeling, she left them to check on her godson.

 

It was his shirt that caught her attention and shifted her mind from her memories, it looked like a garden pasted on his torso. He was light-skinned like all the other men waiting for whatever circus Dion, Chris and all their other crazy friends had planned.

 

The selection process looked very efficient from her vantage point, even crazy people respected order and method when it suited them. She shrugged and walked to the door, she would tell Dion she wanted to have a good look at all the candidates even though she wasn’t supposed to meet any of them until the third stage of screening when they’d be only ten men standing.

 

All these men had either read the notice in the Daily Moonlight newspaper or heard about it on radio, not to mention twitter where “Husband Wanted” trended for days. She wondered at the mental state of the men who had responded to the ad for whatever reason. What if most of them were psychos? What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

 

She made her way through the queues, avoiding eye contact with the men and walking briskly to the gate. She nearly jumped from fright when someone tapped her back, she turned back to see the man in the garden shirt.

“Do you want something?” she was grateful she sounded dignified and not at all startled or ruffled.

“I am number 126, and I really do not have all the time. Do I get to meet her today and make my pitch?” he said with his impatience barely masked.

 

She smiled, this one had to be a misfit among the crazies, he was already approaching this as if it was a business deal. She hoped he would scale through.

“I am just a visitor here, I know nothing about what’s happening here.” She was smiling warmly at him.

“Ok,” he said curtly and turned back to where he’d been sitting.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” she said to his back which was moving away from her with great speed, he didn’t even stop or show a sign that he heard. He had a great butt and his voice was not so deep that you’d think of Barry White and breakfast in bed, it was manly though and he had no ‘H-factor’ the only thing on that blasted list she had specified.

 

This is going to be super interesting, she thought as she opened the gate and let herself out of the compound. Dion would kill her when she discovered she had escaped, she would resurrect though as she always did each time Dion killed her.