The Happy Marriage

I’ll be at his beck and call day and night. I’ll offer him a truce for the sake of our children. It’s the best way to avoid him slipping out of my grasp, so that he can finally become the man I always dreamed he could be. I’ll look after him and become indispensable to him. I’ll love him for what he is and I’ll never try to change him again. I’m not a monster; I have feelings too. I can be a little wild and brutal, it’s my nature. I hate all the playacting and hypocrisy that’s so common in his family. I’ll love him and give him everything I didn’t during those years of disagreements, and I’m also going to admire him, even though I’ve always done all I could to prevent him from seeing how proud I was of him. I want him to see how much I love him, and to realize that I’m not his enemy, and that I’m the only woman who actually loves him, especially now that he’s an invalid and his life has been stunted by his illness and its ramifications. I’ve acquainted myself with his condition and I’m told he’ll make a full recovery. But will he recover full possession of his motor skills? Will he ever be able to paint like he used to? The doctors can’t say for sure. There’s nothing to do apart from watch his progress and be happy that he’s able to pick up a brush again. I’ll keep him close, no other woman will ever be able to get near to him, I’ll be right here and he won’t be able to budge from his wheelchair. The Twins, as he calls them, will help me when he needs to go to the bathroom or to go out. But from now on I’ll be the one who washes him, so I can see him be utterly dependent on me, just like a child, and he won’t be able to grumble, threaten me, or insult me like he used to do in the past. I’ll be out of his reach. I’ll sleep beside him, make him herbal tea, give him his medication, and even slip him some sedatives, so that he’ll be able to sleep properly. The time has come for me to prove I’m a good selfless wife who’s ready to sacrifice her youth yet again so that he can have a good life. I’ll be attentive and never leave him alone. I spoke to his doctors and they think this is a good idea. After all, we promised ourselves to be good to one another, “in sickness and in health” as the traditional Christian vows say. In our country, people promise to help one another through illness, and that’s what I’m going to do.

I’m going to take charge, but I’ll do so with such tenderness that he’ll be surprised, and it’ll make it easier to handle him. I’ve already put all of his affairs in order. No documents can be signed without my consent. I’ve hidden a few of his paintings in the basement and locked the door with a padlock and I’m the only one with the key. He won’t be able to give them away to people anymore. I called his agent who immediately told me that the price of his paintings had shot up and that it would be a good idea not to sell any for the time being. He explained that the fewer of his canvases are in circulation, the more prized they’ll become. So regardless of what Foulane thinks, his painting days are over. In any case, he’ll never be able to execute the kind of large paintings that go for such large sums. It’s done, fini! He’s mine now and I can do what I like with him, and I want him to be calm, obliging, maybe even happy.

There’s still an important detail that I need to take care of: ensuring he hasn’t fathered any other children. I found a photo in his chest that depicted a little boy in the arms of a blonde woman …