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Happy marriage

Stephen King

“A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage ... "

Stephen King

Happy marriage

A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage.

But if someone had asked her a question about her family life before that evening, she would probably have answered that she was happily married and that everything was fine.

Darcellen Madsen, a name that could only have been chosen by parents overly interested in a specially purchased book of baby names, was born the year John F. Kennedy became president. She grew up in Freeport, Maine, which was then still a town and not an annex to America's first L.L. Supermarket. L. Bean" and half a dozen other shopping monsters called drain centers, as if these were not stores, but some kind of sewers. There, Darcy first graduated from high school and then from Addison Business College. After becoming a certified secretary, she went to work for Joe Ransom and left in 1984, when his company became the largest Chevrolet dealership in Portland. Darcy was an ordinary girl, but with the help of a few slightly more sophisticated friends, she mastered the tricks of makeup, which allowed her to become attractive at work and glamorous when they went out to live music venues like the Lighthouse or Mexican Mike on the weekends. drink a cocktail and have fun.

In 1982, Joe Ransom, having found himself in a rather sticky tax situation, hired a Portland accounting firm to—as he put it in a conversation with a senior manager that Darcy overheard—“solve the problem that everyone dreams of.” Two diplomats arrived to help: one older and the other younger. Both wore glasses and conservative suits, both with neatly cropped hair combed to the side that reminded Darcy of his mother's 1954 yearbook, where the faux-leather cover showed a high school cheerleader holding a bullhorn.

The young accountant's name was Bob Anderson. They started talking on the second day and she asked if he had a hobby. Bob replied that yes, and his hobby was numismatics.

He began to explain to her what it was, but she did not let him finish.

- I know. My father collects dimes with a bust of the Goddess of Liberty and nickels with a picture of an Indian. He says he has a special soft spot for them. Do you have such a weakness, Mr. Anderson?

He actually had one: “wheat cents,” the ones with two ears of wheat on the reverse. He dreamed that someday he would come across a copy of the 1955 coinage, which...

But Darcy also knew this: the batch was minted with a defect - it turned out to be a “double die”, which made the date look double, but the numismatic value of such coins was obvious.

Young Mr. Anderson admired her knowledge, shaking his head of thick, carefully combed brown hair in admiration. They clearly found a common language and had a snack together at lunchtime, sitting on a sun-drenched bench behind a car dealership. Bob was eating a tuna sandwich and Darcy was eating Greek salad in a plastic container. He asked her to go with him to the weekend fair in Castle Rock on Saturday, explaining that he had rented a new apartment and was now looking for a suitable chair. And he would also buy a TV if he can find a decent one and inexpensively. “Decent and inexpensive” became a phrase that for many years defined their quite comfortable strategy for joint acquisitions.

Bob was as ordinary and unremarkable in appearance as Darcy - you simply don’t notice such people on the street - but he never resorted to any means to look better. However, on that memorable day on the bench, inviting her, he suddenly blushed, causing his face to perk up and even become attractive.

- And no search for coins? – she said jokingly.

He smiled, showing straight, white and well-groomed teeth. It had never occurred to her that the thought of his teeth might ever make her shudder, but was that surprising?

“If I come across a good set of coins, I, of course, will not pass by,” he replied.

– Especially with “wheat cents”? – she clarified in the same tone.

“Especially with them,” he confirmed. “So will you join me, Darcy?”

She agreed.

On their wedding night, she had an orgasm. And then from time to time I experienced it. Not every time, but often enough to feel satisfied and think that everything is fine.

In 1986, Bob received a promotion. In addition, on the advice and not without the help of Darcy, he opened a small company that delivered by mail collectible coins found in catalogs. The business proved profitable, and in 1990 he expanded the product line to include baseball player cards and old movie posters. He did not have his own stocks of posters and posters, but once he received an order, he could almost always fulfill it. Darcy usually did this, using the bloated rotating catalog with contact information cards that seemed very convenient before the advent of computers to contact collectors around the country. This business never grew to a size that would allow us to completely switch to it alone. But this state of affairs suited the spouses quite well. However, they showed similar unanimity when buying a house in Pownal, and on the issue of having children when the time came to have them. They usually agreed with each other, but if their opinions differed, they always came to a compromise. Their value system coincided.

How's your marriage?

Darcy's marriage was successful. Happy, you might say. Donny was born in 1986. Before giving birth, she left her job and never worked again, except for helping her husband with the affairs of their company. Petra was born in 1988. By then, Bob Anderson's thick brown hair had begun to thin at the top, and in 2002, when Darcy finally gave up the rotating card catalog and switched to a Mac, her husband had a large, shiny bald spot. He tried in every possible way to hide it, experimenting with styling the remaining hair, but, in her opinion, he only made things worse for himself. Twice he tried to get his hair back with some kind of miraculous healing potions that were advertised by crooked hosts on the late-night cable channel - after reaching adulthood, Bob Anderson became a real night owl - which could not but irritate Darcy. Bob didn't let her in on his secret, but they had a shared bedroom with a closet in which their things were stored. Darcy couldn't reach the top shelf, but sometimes she stood on a stool and

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I put “Saturday shirts” there, as they called the T-shirts that Bob liked to wear around the garden on weekends. There she discovered a bottle with some kind of liquid in the fall of 2004, and a year later - small green capsules. She found them on the Internet and found out that these products were very expensive. Then she thought that miracles never come cheap.

Be that as it may, Darcy did not show dissatisfaction with the miraculous drugs, as well as the purchase of a Chevrolet Suburban SUV, which Bob for some reason decided to purchase in the very year when gasoline prices began to really bite . She had no doubt that her husband appreciated this and made a retaliatory move: he did not object to sending the children to an expensive summer camp, buying an electric guitar for Donny, who in two years learned to play very decently, however, then suddenly quit, and against Petra’s horse riding lessons .

It's no secret that a happy marriage is based on a balance of interests and high stress resistance. Darcy knew this too. As the Steve Winwood song says, you need to “go with the flow and don’t flounder.”

She didn't flounder. And he too.

In 2004, Donnie went to college in Pennsylvania. In 2006, Petra went to study at Colby College in Waterville. Darcy Madsen Anderson is forty-six years old. Forty-nine-year-old Bob, along with building contractor Stan Morey, who lived half a mile away, still led young scouts on camping trips. Darcy thought her balding husband looked rather ridiculous in the khaki shorts and long brown socks he wore for his monthly outdoor excursions, but she never said so. It was no longer possible to hide the bald spot on the crown of his head, his glasses became bifocal, and he no longer weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, but two hundred and twenty. Bob became a full partner in the accounting firm, which was no longer called Benson & Bacon, but Benson, Bacon & Anderson.

They sold their old house in Pownal and bought a more prestigious one in Yarmouth. Darcy's breasts, so small, firm and high in her youth - she generally considered them her most important asset and never wanted to look like the busty waitresses of the Hooters restaurant chain - have now become larger, lost their elasticity and, of course, have sagged a little, which immediately it was noticeable as soon as she took off her bra. But still, Bob would creep up from behind from time to time and lay his hands on them. After some pleasant foreplay in the upstairs bedroom overlooking the peaceful strip of their little property, they still made love from time to time. He often, but not always, reached orgasm too quickly, and if she remained unsatisfied, then “often” did not mean “always” anyway. In addition, she always experienced the peace that she felt after sex, when her husband, warm and relaxed after the release he received, fell into sleep in her arms. This peace, in her opinion, was largely due to the fact that after so many years they were still living together, approaching their silver wedding, and everything was fine with them.

In 2009, twenty-five years after their wedding ceremony in a small Baptist church, which by then had been demolished and replaced with a parking lot, Donny and Petra threw a real feast for them at Birches Restaurant in Castle View. More than fifty guests, expensive champagne, sirloin steak, a huge cake. The celebrants danced to the sounds of “Free,” the same Kenny Loggins song they performed at their wedding. The guests applauded in unison when Bob made a clever step - Darcy had already forgotten that he could do this, but now she couldn’t help but envy him. Even though he had a paunch and a sparkling bald spot on the top of his head, which he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about, he managed to retain the ease and flexibility of movements so rare for accountants.

But all the brightest things in their lives remained in the past and were suitable for farewell speeches at funerals, and they were still too young to think about death. In addition, the memories did not take into account the little things that made up married life, the manifestations of care and participation, which, in her deep conviction, was precisely what makes a marriage lasting. When Darcy once poisoned herself with shrimp and, bursting into tears, shuddered all night from bouts of vomiting, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hair wet from sweat and sticking to the back of her head, Bob did not leave her one step. He patiently carried the bowl of vomit into the bathroom and rinsed it so that “the smell of vomit would not provoke further attacks,” as he explained. At six in the morning he had already started the car to take Darcy to the hospital, but, fortunately, she felt better - the terrible nausea had gone away. Calling in sick, he didn't go to work and canceled his Scout trip to White River so he could stay home in case Darcy got sick again.

This manifestation of attention and participation was mutual in their family, according to the principle “Good is repaid with good.” In 1994 or 1995, she sat up all night in the emergency room at St. Stephen's Hospital, waiting for the results of a biopsy of a suspicious lump that had formed in his left armpit. As it turned out, it was just a prolonged inflammation of the lymph node, which went away safely on its own.

Through the loosely closed door to the bathroom you can see a collection of crossword puzzles on the lap of the husband sitting on the toilet. The smell of cologne meant that there would be no SUV in front of the house for a couple of days, and Darcy would have to sleep alone, because her husband would have to handle accounts for a client in New Hampshire or Vermont: Benson, Bacon and Anderson now had a clientele throughout New England. Sometimes the smell of cologne meant a trip to check out a coin collection at an estate sale: they both realized that not all the coins for their side business could be obtained by relying on the Internet. A shabby black suitcase in the hallway, which Bob did not want to part with, despite all her persuasion. His slippers are by the bed, always inserted one into the other. A glass of water and an orange vitamin tablet are on the latest issue of the monthly Coins and Numismatics, which lies on the nightstand on his side. This is as invariable as the fact that when he belches he says: “There is more air outside than inside,” or: “Beware! Gas attack!” when it spoils the air. His coat always hangs on the first hook of the coat rack. The reflection of his toothbrush in the mirror - Darcy had no doubt that if she did not change them regularly, her husband would continue to use the one he had on his wedding day. His habit is to wipe his lips with a napkin after every second or third piece of food. Methodically packing their gear, with the obligatory spare compass, before he and Stan lead a group of nine-year-olds on the Dead Man's Trail, a perilous trek through the woods that began behind the Golden Grove Mall and ended at Used Car World. » Weinberg. Bob's nails are always cut short and clean. The smell of chewing gum is always clearly felt when kissing. All this, along with a thousand other little things, made up the secret history of their family life.

Darcy had no doubt that her husband had formed a similar image of herself. For example, the protective scent of cinnamon

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lipstick that she used in winter. Or the scent of shampoo that he caught when he rubbed his nose against the back of her neck - this happened rarely now, but it did happen. Or the clatter of the keyboard on her computer at two in the morning, when a couple of days a month she was suddenly overcome by insomnia.

Their marriage lasted twenty-seven years, or—as she calculated for fun using a calculator on her computer—nine thousand eight hundred and fifty-five days. Almost a quarter of a million hours or more than fourteen million minutes. Of course, from here we can subtract his business trips and her own rare trips - the saddest was with her parents in Minneapolis, when they buried her younger sister Brandolyn, who died in an accident. But the rest of the time they were not separated.

Did she know everything about him? Of course not. Just like he does about her. For example, Bob had no idea that sometimes, especially on rainy days or sleepless nights, she greedily devoured chocolate bars in incredible quantities, unable to stop, although nausea set in. Or that the new postman seemed attractive to her. It was impossible to know everything, but Darcy believed that after twenty-seven years of marriage they knew the most important things about each other. Their marriage was successful and was one of those fifty percent that do not break up and last a very long time. She believed in this as unconditionally as she believed in the force of gravity, which kept her on the ground and did not allow her to fly up when walking.

That was until that night in the garage.

The TV remote control stopped working and the drawer to the left of the sink didn't have the correct AA batteries. There were medium and large “barrels”, and even small round batteries, but there were none needed! Darcy went to the garage because she knew Bob was definitely keeping the package there, and as a result, her whole life changed. This is what happens to a tightrope walker whose only wrong step ends up falling from a great height.

The kitchen was connected to the garage by a covered walkway, and Darcy quickly crossed it, wrapping herself in a robe. Just two days ago, the unusually warm October Indian summer suddenly gave way to cold weather, more like November. The icy air stung my ankles. She probably would have bothered to put on socks and pants, but the next episode of Two and a Half Men was starting in less than five minutes, and the damn box was tuned to CNN. If Bob had been home, she would have asked him to switch to the desired channel manually - there were buttons for this somewhere, most likely in the back, where only a man could find them - and then she would have sent him to the garage to get batteries. After all, the garage was his domain. Darcy only came here to take the car out, and only on rainy days, usually preferring to leave it on the lot in front of the house. But Bob had gone to Montpelier to appraise a collection of World War II steel pennies, and she was left alone at home, at least temporarily.

Feeling for the triple switch near the door, Darcy lightly turned on all the lights at once, and the room was filled with the hum of fluorescent lamps suspended from above. The spacious garage was in perfect order: tools were neatly hung on special panels, and the workbench was wiped down. The concrete floor is painted gray, like the hulls of ships. No oil stains - Bob said that stains on the garage floor indicated either the presence of junk in it or the carelessness of the owner. Now there was a one-year-old Toyota Prius, which Bob usually drove to work in Portland, and he went to Vermont in an old SUV with God knows how many miles. Darcy's Volvo was parked in front of the house.

– Opening a garage is so easy! – he told her more than once. When you've been married for twenty-seven years, advice is given less and less often. “Just press the button on the sun visor in the car.”

“I like to see her through the window,” Darcy invariably answered, although the real reason was different. She was very afraid of hitting the lift gate when she reversed. She was terrified of driving like that. And she suspected that Bob knew about this... Just like she did - about his fad of carefully arranging banknotes in his wallet with images of presidents in one direction. Or never leave an open book with its pages turned down. In his opinion, this spoiled the spine.

It was warm in the garage. There were large silvery pipes running along the ceiling—it would probably be more accurate to call the structure a pipeline, but Darcy didn't know for sure. She walked over to a workbench on which sat a neat row of square metal containers neatly labeled: BOLTS, NUTS, HINGES, HOOKS AND CLAMPS, PLUMBING HARDWARE, and—this one she especially liked—SUNTS. On the wall hung a calendar from Sports Illustrated with an offensively young and sexy girl in a swimsuit, and on the left were two photographs. One was an old photo of Donnie and Petra in Boston Red Sox uniforms at the Yarmouth Children's Stadium. At the bottom, Bob had written "Local Team 1999" in felt-tip pen. In another, more recent one, taken in front of a seafood eatery on Old Orchard Beach, Petra, now grown and much prettier, stood hugging each other and her fiancé Michael. The inscription in felt-tip pen read: “Happy couple!”

The batteries were in a cabinet hanging to the left of the photographs, and on the adhesive tape was printed: “Electrical Equipment.” Darcy, accustomed to Bob's manic neatness, took a step towards the locker without looking at her feet, and suddenly tripped over a large cardboard box that was not completely pushed under the workbench. She lost her balance and almost fell, managing to grab the edge of the workbench at the very last moment. Her nail broke, causing pain, but she still managed to avoid an unpleasant and dangerous fall, which was good. It’s even very good, because she was left alone in the house and there would be no one to dial 911, even if she hit her head on a clean, but very hard floor.

She could have simply pushed the box further under the workbench with her foot and wouldn't have known anything. Later, when it occurred to her, she thought about it a lot, just like a mathematician who is haunted by a complex equation. Moreover, she was in a hurry. But at that moment she caught her eye on a knitting catalog lying on top of the box, and she bent down to take it with her along with the batteries. And underneath was the Brookstone gift catalogue. And underneath that are the catalogs of “Paula Young Wigs”... clothes and accessories from Talbots, Forzieri... Bloomingdales...

- Bo-ob! – she exclaimed, dividing his short name into two indignant syllables. She said the same thing when her husband left dirty footprints or left wet towels on the bathroom floor, as if they were living in a luxury hotel where a maid kept order. Not “Bob”, but “Bo-ob!” Because Darcy really knew him like the back of her hand. He believed that she was addicted to ordering from catalogues, and once even said that she had developed a real addiction. This is stupidity - she really was addicted, but only to chocolate bars! After that little skirmish, she sulked at him for two whole days. But he knew how her head worked, and with regard to everything that was not a vital necessity, she was a typical representative

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people about whom they say: “Out of sight, out of mind.” So he simply quietly collected the catalogs and slowly dragged them here. He was probably going to throw them in the trash later.

“Danskin”… “Express”… “Computers”… “The World of Macintosh”… the Montgomery Ward catalogue, better known as Monkey Ward… “Leila Grace”…

The deeper she climbed into the box, the angrier she became. You might think that her irrepressible extravagance led them to bankruptcy! Darcy had completely forgotten about the series and was only thinking about what she would say to her husband when he called from Montpelier - he always called after finishing dinner and returning to the motel. But first she'll drag all those catalogs back into the house, even if she has to make a few trips. Folded into the box, they were at least two feet high, and because of the coated paper, they were terribly heavy. No wonder she stumbled and nearly fell again.

“Death by catalogue,” she thought. - An original way to say goodbye to...

The thought suddenly ended, remaining unfinished. Lifting her thumb up about a quarter of the stack, under the Gooseberry Patch home decor catalog, Darcy saw something that didn't look like a catalog at all. It’s definitely not even a catalogue! It was Bound Bitches magazine. At first she didn’t even want to look at it and probably wouldn’t have if she had come across it in Bob’s drawer or on the shelf where he hid his miracle hair restoration products. But hiding such a magazine among a couple of hundred catalogs... her catalogues!.. was already going beyond all limits!

The cover featured a photo of a completely naked woman tied to a chair. The upper half of the face was covered by a black hood, and the mouth was open in a silent scream. She was tied with rough ropes that dug into her chest and stomach. There were clearly drawn traces of blood on his chin, neck and arms. At the bottom of the page, in large yellow letters, was a flashy announcement:

ON PAGE 49: BRAND’S BITCH GETS WHAT HE’S ASKED FOR!

Darcy had no desire to open page 49 or any of the others. She had even come up with an excuse for her husband that it was “male curiosity,” something she learned about from an article in Cosmopolitan magazine while she was sitting in the dentist’s waiting room. One reader, who discovered a couple of gay magazines in her husband's briefcase, sought advice from an expert who specialized in the sexual characteristics of men. A reader wrote that the magazines were very explicit, and she was worried that her husband was actually gay. Although, according to her, in the marital bedroom he was very good at hiding it.

The expert reassured her. Men are very inquisitive and adventurous by nature, and many like to expand their horizons in matters of sex. Moreover, they do this either through alternative options - here homosexual experience was in first place, followed by group sex - or through fetishistic options: water sports, wearing women's clothing, sex in a public place. And of course, tying up a partner occupies a special place. The expert even added that some women really like it, which greatly puzzled Darcy, although she admitted that she didn’t know much.

“Male curiosity”, nothing more. Bob must have seen the magazine on display somewhere—although Darcy couldn't imagine what kind of display it might have been—and his curiosity awoke. Or maybe he got the magazine out of a convenience store trash can. Then he brought it home, looked through it in the garage, was as indignant as she was - the blood on the girl was clearly drawn, although she seemed to be screaming for real - and stuck it in a stack of catalogs, which he prepared to throw away, so that Darcy would not accidentally stumble upon “incriminating evidence.” ” and didn’t start a scandal. That's all, and nothing more. You probably won't find anything like this in any catalogue. Maybe a couple of copies of Penthouse or the ones with girls in lingerie—she knew most men liked silk and lace, and Bob was no exception—but nothing like Bound Bitches.

She looked at the magazine cover again and was surprised that there was no price anywhere. And a barcode too! Realizing that the price might be listed on the back, Darcy turned the magazine over and couldn't help but wince when she saw a large photograph of a naked girl tied to a metal operating table. The expression of horror on her face was as fake as a three-dollar bill, which was somewhat reassuring, and the plump man standing next to him in ridiculous leather shorts and bracelets looked more like an accountant than a sadist about to stab the Bound star on duty. bitches."

And Bob is an accountant!

Darcy immediately banished the stupid thought that had been planted by the large part of her brain that was responsible for stupid thoughts, and, making sure that there was no price or barcode on the back cover either, she put the magazine back in the box. Having changed her mind about bringing the catalogs into the house, she slid the box under the workbench and unexpectedly found a solution to the mysterious lack of price and barcode. Such magazines were sold in plastic packaging that covered the shamelessness, and the price and barcode were probably indicated on it. There was simply no other explanation, which meant that Bob had bought the damn magazine himself, unless, of course, he had pulled it out of the trash can.

Maybe he bought it online. Surely there are sites that specialize in similar topics. Not to mention the pictures of young women dressed like twelve-year-old girls.

- None of this matters! – she said to herself, shaking her head decisively. The issue was closed and was not subject to further discussion. If she talks about this with her husband when he calls or returns home, he will probably be embarrassed and defensive. He would call her sexually infantile, which was not far from the truth, and accuse her of making a scandal out of nothing, and she definitely did not want that. Darcy was determined to “go with the flow and not flounder.” Marriage is like forever building a house, with new rooms appearing every year. A small cottage in the first year of family life is constantly being built on and in twenty-seven years it turns into a huge mansion with intricate passages. Cracks are likely to appear in it, and most of the storage rooms are covered with cobwebs and abandoned. Among other things, unpleasant memories from the past are stored there, which it is better not to stir up. But all this is nonsense! You should simply put such memories out of your head or show generosity.

This thought, which brought a positive line to all doubts, pleased Darcy so much that she even said out loud:

- It's all nonsense!

And to prove her determination, she placed both hands on the box and pushed it all the way with force.

Something made a dull thud. What?

I don't want to know! – she said to herself, realizing that this time her brain produced a smart idea. It was dark under the workbench, and quite possibly there were mice there. Even if their garage is kept in perfect order, the weather is cold now. A frightened mouse may bite.

Darcy stood up, dusted off the hem of her robe and headed down the passage into the house. Halfway there she heard the phone ringing.

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I got to the kitchen before the answering machine started, but didn’t pick up. If it's Bob, he better leave a message. She was not ready to talk to him right now, fearing that he might suspect something was wrong from her voice. Bob will decide that she went out to the store or rent a movie and will return in an hour. In an hour she will be able to move away from the unpleasant discovery and calm down, and they will talk normally.

But it was not Bob who called, but Donnie:

- Damn it, it’s a pity I didn’t catch you! I wanted to chat with you both.

Darcy picked up the phone and, leaning her elbows on the table, said:

- Then let. I was in the garage and just returned.

Donnie was literally bursting with news. He lived in Cleveland, Ohio, and after two years of thankless hard work in the lowest position in the city's largest advertising firm, he decided to start his own business with a friend. Bob tried his best to dissuade him, explaining that no one would give them a loan for the start-up capital that would be needed to last the first year.

“Come to your senses! He said to Donnie as Darcy handed him the phone. It was at the beginning of spring, when under the trees and bushes in the backyard there was still snow that had not yet melted. “You are twenty-four years old now, Donny, and your partner is the same age.” Insurance companies even now refuse to sign contracts to insure you in case of a collision, and you must cover all car repair costs yourself. No bank will give you a loan of seventy thousand dollars for startup capital, especially when the economy is doing so poorly.”

However, they were given a loan, and now they have two large orders, both on the same day. The first came from a car dealership that wanted to target a clientele in their thirties. And the second is from the very bank that provided the initial capital for the Anderson & Hayward company. Both Darcy and Donnie cheered noisily and talked for twenty minutes. During the conversation, an incoming call signal was heard.

- Will you answer? – Donnie asked.

- Not now, it’s my father calling. He's in Montpelier now, looking at a collection of steel cents. He'll call back again.

- How is he?

Great, she thought. Broadens the mind. But she said out loud:

– Like a gopher: chest forward and nose to the wind.

Hearing one of Bob's favorite phrases, Donnie laughed. Darcy really liked the way he laughed.

- And Pets?

“Call yourself and find out, Donald.”

“I get ready all the time, but I just can’t get it together.” I'll definitely call you! For now, tell me in a nutshell.

– She’s doing great. All in wedding troubles.

– You might think the wedding is in a week, and not in June.

– Donnie, if you don’t try to understand women, you’ll never get married yourself.

– I’m not in a hurry. I still feel pretty good.

– Don’t forget to be careful with that “not bad” thing.

– I am extremely careful and very polite. Okay, mom, I have to run. We're meeting with Ken in half an hour and we'll start coming up with a strategy for the car dealership.

She was about to tell him not to drink too much, but she restrained herself in time. Although her son looked like a high school student, and she clearly remembered how at age five he, dressed in a red corduroy jacket, tirelessly rode a scooter along the concrete paths of Joshua Chamberlain Park in Pownal, Donnie had long been neither one nor the other. He became not just an independent young man, but an aspiring entrepreneur, and she still couldn’t believe it.

“Okay,” Darcy said. - Well done for calling, Donny. I was glad to talk.

- Me too. Tell your dad hi when he calls and tell him I love him.

- I'll pass it on.

“Chest forward and nose to the wind,” Donnie repeated with a chuckle. “I wonder how many scouts he taught that expression?”

- Everyone without exception. “Darcy opened the refrigerator and checked to see if, by chance, there was a chilled chocolate bar there, which would be so useful right now. But he wasn't there. – It’s scary to even think about it.

- I love you, Mom.

- I love you too.

She hung up the phone, regaining her peace of mind, and continued to stand for a while, leaning on the table. However, the smile soon faded from her face.

As she pushed the box of catalogs under the workbench, a knock was heard. Not a grinding sound, as if it had touched a fallen tool, but just a knock! And deaf.

I don't want to know!

Unfortunately, this was not the case. This knock is like unfinished business. Yes, and the box too. Were there any other magazines like Bound Bitches?

I don't want to know!

That's how it is, but it's still better to find out. If there are no other magazines there, then the explanation about male sexual curiosity is correct. And Bob only had one look at this sickening—and full of mentally ill people, she mentally added—world to satisfy his curiosity. If there were other magazines there, that wouldn't change anything either, since Bob was going to throw them away anyway. However, it would be useful to clarify.

And that knock... It worried her much more than the magazines.

Darcy took a flashlight from the closet and headed back to the garage. Once outside the door, she shrugged her shoulders chillily and pulled her robe tighter, regretting that she had not thrown on a jacket. It got really cold there.

Kneeling down, Darcy pushed the box aside and shined the flashlight. At first she didn’t understand what she saw: across the smooth board of the baseboard there were two dark stripes - one slightly thicker than the other. Then Darcy felt an uneasiness that gradually increased and finally turned into confusion that engulfed her entire being. There's a hiding place here!

Stay out of here, Darcy. This is his business - and for the sake of your own peace of mind, leave everything as it is.

Good idea, but she's already gone too far to stop. She climbed under the workbench, preparing to meet the web, but it was not there. If she was one of those “out of sight, out of mind” women, her balding, coin-collecting, Scout-leading husband was the picture of neatness.

He often climbs in here himself, so there can’t be any cobwebs here.

Is this really so? Darcy didn't know what to think.

The dark stripes on the baseboard were eight inches apart, and there was a pin in the middle of the strip between them that allowed it to turn. While pushing the box, Darcy touched the bar, and it turned a little, but the dull knock did not come from the bar. Darcy turned it higher - behind it was a niche about eight inches long, a foot high and about sixteen inches deep. She thought there might be other magazines there, rolled into a tube, but there were no magazines there. In the hiding place was a small wooden box that seemed familiar to her. The box had apparently been left standing on its side, and the baseboard that had been moved by the box knocked it over, causing a dull thud.

Frozen with a sense of foreboding so strong that it seemed she could touch it with her hand, Darcy reached out and pulled out the box. It was a small oak box that she had given her husband for Christmas about five years ago, maybe a little earlier. She couldn't say for sure - she only remembered that she had successfully bought it in a gift shop in Castle Rock.

Page 6 of 6

A surrounding chain was carved at the top, and below, also carved in wood, there was an inscription indicating the purpose of the box: “Cufflinks.” Although Bob preferred to wear button-down shirts to work, he had several very nice pairs of cufflinks, although they were stored interspersed. Darcy bought a box so he could put them away neatly. She remembered how Bob opened the gift and, noisily expressing admiration, kept the box on his bedside table for some time, but then it disappeared somewhere. Now it’s clear why Darcy hadn’t seen this thing for a long time - it was hidden in a hiding place under the workbench, and Darcy was ready to “bet the house and the land” - another expression from Bob - that it wasn’t cufflinks that were kept there now.

Then don't look.

Great idea, but now there really was no turning back. Feeling like someone who had accidentally wandered into a casino and suddenly decided to bet all her property on one single card, she opened the box.

Lord, I pray to You, make it empty!

But the Lord did not heed her pleas. The box contained three plastic cards, tied with an elastic band. She pulled them out with her fingertips, the way women pull out rags, fearing that they are not only dirty, but also contagious. Darcy took off the rubber band.

The cards turned out to be not credit cards, as she first thought. One was a Red Cross donor card belonging to one Marjorie Duvall from the New England region. Blood of the first group, Rh positive. Darcy turned the card over and saw that Marjorie—or whatever her name was—had last donated blood on August sixteenth, 2010. Three months ago.

Who the hell is Marjorie Duvall? How did Bob know her? And why does this name seem familiar to Darcy?

The second card was an admission card to the North Conway Library and bore the address: 17 Honey Lane, South Gansett, New Hampshire.

The last card turned out to be a driver's license issued in the name of Marjorie Duval in the state of New Hampshire. A typical thirty-something American woman with a very ordinary face looked out from the photo. Is it true that anyone ever has a good photo on their driver’s license? Her blond hair was pulled back, either in a ponytail or a bun, but it was hard to tell from the photo. Date of birth: January 6, 1974. The address is the same as on the library pass.

Darcy suddenly realized that she was making some kind of indistinct squeaking sound. Such a sound coming from her own lips terrified her, but she could not stop. And a lead-filled lump formed in her stomach, it began to bind all her insides and sink lower and lower. Darcy saw Marjorie Duvall's photograph in the newspapers. And on the six o'clock news on TV.

With naughty fingers, she secured the cards with an elastic band, put them away in the box and put it in its hiding place. She was about to close the bar when she suddenly heard an inner voice:

No no and one more time no! This simply cannot happen!

Where did this idea come from? What part of the brain refused to accept this? The one who was responsible for smart thoughts or stupid ones? Darcy had no doubt about one thing: stupidity forced her to open the box. And now her whole world has collapsed!

She took out the box again.

This is probably some kind of mistake. We spent half our lives together, I would have known, I couldn’t help but know!

She opened the box again.

Is it possible to know another person completely?

Until this evening she had no doubt about it.

Marjorie Duvall's driver's license was on top. And at first it was below. She moved the card down. But which of the remaining two was on top? Donor or library? It would seem that what would be easier if you only had to choose from two, but Darcy couldn’t pull herself together and remember. She placed the library pass upstairs and instantly realized she had made a mistake. When she opened the box, something red and like blood immediately caught her eye. Well, of course, what other color could a donor card be? So she was the first to go.

She placed it on top and began to tighten the elastic when she heard the phone ringing. It is he! It's Bob calling from Vermont, and if she picks up, she'll probably hear a familiar, cheerful voice: “Hi, honey, how are you?”

Darcy's hand trembled, and the rubber band broke, slipped off her finger and flew to the side. Darcy involuntarily screamed, not understanding why: from horror or the shock she had experienced. But why should she be afraid? In twenty-seven years of marriage, he had touched her only to caress her. And in all these years he raised his voice only a few times.

The phone rang and rang, but suddenly fell silent, interrupted in the middle of the call. Now he will leave a message: “I can’t find you! Call me back when you get back so I don't worry, okay? My number…"

Bob will be sure to leave the hotel's phone number where he can be contacted. He never relied on chance and always took precautions.

Her fears were unfounded. They are probably akin to those that can unexpectedly emerge from the darkest depths of consciousness, frightening with terrible guesses. For example, that ordinary heartburn is the beginning of a heart attack, and a headache is a symptom of a brain tumor, that Petra did not call back from the party because she had an accident and is now lying in a coma in some hospital. Usually, such worries visited Darcy in the morning of a sleepless night, when she could not sleep a wink. But at eight in the evening?.. And where did that damned rubber band fly off to?

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Notes

A Good Marriage © 2011. V.V. Antonov. Translation from English.

End of introductory fragment.

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A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage.

But if someone had asked her a question about her family life before that evening, she would probably have answered that she was happily married and that everything was fine.

Darcellen Madsen - a name that could only be chosen by parents overly enthusiastic about a specially purchased book of baby names - was born the year John Kennedy became president. She grew up in Freeport, Maine, which was then still a town and not an annex to America's first L.L. Supermarket. L. Bean" and half a dozen other shopping monsters called drain centers, as if these were not stores, but some kind of sewers. There, Darcy first graduated from high school and then from Addison Business College. After becoming a certified secretary, she went to work for Joe Ransom and left in 1984, when his company became the largest Chevrolet dealership in Portland. Darcy was an ordinary girl, but with the help of a few slightly more sophisticated friends, she mastered the tricks of makeup, which allowed her to become attractive at work and glamorous when they went out to live music venues like the Lighthouse or Mexican Mike on the weekends. drink a cocktail and have fun.

In 1982, Joe Ransom, having found himself in a rather sticky tax situation, hired a Portland accounting firm to—as he put it in a conversation with a senior manager that Darcy overheard—“solve the problem that everyone dreams of.” Two diplomats arrived to help: one older and the other younger. Both wore glasses and conservative suits, both with neatly cropped hair combed to the side that reminded Darcy of his mother's 1954 yearbook, where the faux-leather cover showed a high school cheerleader holding a bullhorn.

The young accountant's name was Bob Anderson. They started talking on the second day and she asked if he had a hobby. Bob replied that yes, and his hobby was numismatics.

He began to explain to her what it was, but she did not let him finish.

I know. My father collects dimes with a bust of the Goddess of Liberty and nickels with a picture of an Indian. He says he has a special soft spot for them. Do you have such a weakness, Mr. Anderson?

He actually had one: “wheat cents,” the ones with two ears of wheat on the reverse. He dreamed that someday he would come across a copy of the 1955 coinage, which...

But Darcy also knew this: the batch was minted with a defect - it turned out to be a “double die”, which made the date look double, but the numismatic value of such coins was obvious.

Young Mr. Anderson admired her knowledge, shaking his head of thick, carefully combed brown hair in admiration. They clearly found a common language and had a snack together at lunchtime, sitting on a sun-drenched bench behind a car dealership. Bob had a tuna sandwich and Darcy had Greek salad in a plastic container. He asked her to go with him to the weekend fair in Castle Rock on Saturday, explaining that he had rented a new apartment and was now looking for a suitable chair. And he would also buy a TV if he can find a decent one and inexpensively. “Decent and inexpensive” became a phrase that for many years defined their quite comfortable strategy for joint acquisitions.

Bob was as ordinary and unremarkable in appearance as Darcy - you simply don’t notice such people on the street - but he never resorted to any means to look better. However, on that memorable day on the bench, inviting her, he suddenly blushed, causing his face to perk up and even become attractive.

And no searching for coins? - she said jokingly.

He smiled, showing straight, white and well-groomed teeth. It had never occurred to her that the thought of his teeth might ever make her shudder, but was that surprising?

If I come across a good set of coins, I certainly won’t pass by,” he replied.

Especially with “wheat cents”? - she clarified in the same tone.

Especially with them,” he confirmed. - So will you join me, Darcy?

She agreed.

On their wedding night, she had an orgasm. And then from time to time I experienced it. Not every time, but often enough to feel satisfied and think that everything is fine.

In 1986, Bob received a promotion. In addition, on the advice and not without the help of Darcy, he opened a small company that delivered by mail collectible coins found in catalogs. The business proved profitable, and in 1990 he expanded the product line to include baseball player cards and old movie posters. He did not have his own stocks of posters and posters, but once he received an order, he could almost always fulfill it. Darcy usually did this, using the bloated rotating catalog with contact information cards that seemed very convenient before the advent of computers to contact collectors around the country. This business never grew to a size that would allow us to completely switch to it alone. But this state of affairs suited the spouses quite well. However, they showed similar unanimity when buying a house in Pownal, and on the issue of having children when the time came to have them. They usually agreed with each other, but if their opinions differed, they always came to a compromise. Their value system coincided.

How's your marriage?

Darcy's marriage was successful. Happy, you might say. Donny was born in 1986. Before giving birth, she left her job and never worked again, except for helping her husband with the affairs of their company. Petra was born in 1988. By then, Bob Anderson's thick brown hair had begun to thin at the top, and in 2002, when Darcy finally gave up the rotating card catalog and switched to a Mac, her husband had a large, shiny bald spot. He tried in every possible way to hide it, experimenting with styling the remaining hair, but, in her opinion, he only made things worse for himself. Twice he tried to get his hair back with some kind of miraculous healing potions that were advertised by rogue hosts on the late-night cable channel - upon reaching adulthood, Bob Anderson became a real night owl - which could not but irritate Darcy. Bob didn't let her in on his secret, but they had a shared bedroom with a closet in which their things were stored. Darcy couldn't reach the top shelf, but sometimes she would stand on a stool and put away the “Saturday shirts,” as they called the T-shirts that Bob liked to wear around the garden on weekends. There she discovered a bottle with some kind of liquid in the fall of 2004, and a year later - small green capsules. She found them on the Internet and found out that these products were very expensive. Then she thought that miracles never come cheap.

Be that as it may, Darcy did not show dissatisfaction with the miraculous drugs, as well as the purchase of a Chevrolet Suburban SUV, which Bob for some reason decided to purchase in the very year when gasoline prices began to really bite . She had no doubt that her husband appreciated this and made a retaliatory move: he did not object to sending the children to an expensive summer camp, buying an electric guitar for Donny, who in two years learned to play very decently, however, then suddenly quit, and against Petra’s horse riding lessons .

It's no secret that a happy marriage is based on a balance of interests and high stress resistance. Darcy knew this too. As the Steve Winwood song says, you need to “go with the flow and don’t flounder.”

She didn't flounder. And he too.

In 2004, Donnie went to college in Pennsylvania. In 2006, Petra went to study at Colby College in Waterville. Darcy Madsen Anderson is forty-six years old. Forty-nine-year-old Bob, along with building contractor Stan Morey, who lived half a mile away, still led young scouts on camping trips. Darcy thought her balding husband looked rather ridiculous in the khaki shorts and long brown socks he wore for his monthly outdoor excursions, but she never said so. It was no longer possible to hide the bald spot on the crown of his head, his glasses became bifocal, and he no longer weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, but two hundred and twenty. Bob became a full partner in the accounting firm, which was no longer called Benson & Bacon, but Benson, Bacon & Anderson.

They sold their old house in Pownal and bought a more prestigious one in Yarmouth. Darcy's breasts, so small, firm and high in her youth - she generally considered them her most important asset and never wanted to look like the busty waitresses of the Hooters restaurant chain - have now become larger, lost their elasticity and, of course, have sagged a little, which immediately it was noticeable as soon as she took off her bra. But still, Bob would creep up from behind from time to time and lay his hands on them. After some pleasant foreplay in the upstairs bedroom overlooking the peaceful strip of their little property, they still made love from time to time. He often, but not always, reached orgasm too quickly, and if she remained unsatisfied, then “often” did not mean “always” anyway. In addition, she always experienced the peace that she felt after sex, when her husband, warm and relaxed after the release he received, fell into sleep in her arms. This peace, in her opinion, was largely due to the fact that after so many years they were still living together, approaching their silver wedding, and everything was fine with them.

In 2009, twenty-five years after their wedding ceremony in a small Baptist church, which by then had been demolished and replaced with a parking lot, Donny and Petra threw a real feast for them at Birches Restaurant in Castle View. More than fifty guests, expensive champagne, sirloin steak, a huge cake. The celebrants danced to the sounds of “Free,” the same Kenny Loggins song they performed at their wedding. The guests applauded in unison when Bob made a deft step - Darcy had already forgotten that he could do this, but now she couldn’t help but envy him. Even though he had a paunch and a sparkling bald spot on the top of his head, which he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about, he managed to retain the ease and flexibility of movements so rare for accountants.

But all the brightest things in their lives remained in the past and were suitable for farewell speeches at funerals, and they were still too young to think about death. In addition, the memories did not take into account the little things that made up married life, the manifestations of care and participation, which, in her deep conviction, was precisely what makes a marriage lasting. When Darcy once poisoned herself with shrimp and, bursting into tears, shuddered all night from bouts of vomiting, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hair wet from sweat and sticking to the back of her head, Bob did not leave her one step. He patiently carried the bowl of vomit into the bathroom and rinsed it so that “the smell of vomit would not provoke further attacks,” as he explained. At six in the morning he had already started the car to take Darcy to the hospital, but, fortunately, she felt better - the terrible nausea had gone away. Calling in sick, he didn't go to work and canceled his Scout trip to White River so he could stay home in case Darcy got sick again.

This manifestation of attention and participation was mutual in their family, according to the principle “Good is repaid with good.” In 1994 or 1995, she sat up all night in the emergency room at St. Stephen's Hospital, waiting for the results of a biopsy of a suspicious lump that had formed in his left armpit. As it turned out, it was just a prolonged inflammation of the lymph node, which went away safely on its own.

Through the loosely closed door to the bathroom you can see a collection of crossword puzzles on the lap of the husband sitting on the toilet. The smell of cologne meant that there would be no SUV in front of the house for a couple of days, and Darcy would have to sleep alone, because her husband would have to handle accounts for a client in New Hampshire or Vermont: Benson, Bacon and Anderson now had a clientele throughout New England. Sometimes the smell of cologne meant a trip to check out a coin collection at an estate sale: they both realized that not all the coins for their side business could be obtained by relying on the Internet. A shabby black suitcase in the hallway, which Bob did not want to part with, despite all her persuasion. His slippers are by the bed, always inserted one into the other. A glass of water and an orange vitamin tablet are on the latest issue of the monthly Coins and Numismatics, which lies on the nightstand on his side. This is as invariable as the fact that when he belches he says: “There is more air outside than inside,” or: “Beware! Gas attack!” when it spoils the air. His coat always hangs on the first hook of the coat rack. The reflection of his toothbrush in the mirror - Darcy had no doubt that if she had not changed them regularly, her husband would have continued to use the one he had on his wedding day. His habit is to wipe his lips with a napkin after every second or third piece of food. Methodically packing their gear, with the obligatory spare compass, before he and Stan lead a group of nine-year-olds on the Dead Man's Trail, a perilous trek through the woods that began behind the Golden Grove Mall and ended at Used Car World. » Weinberg. Bob's nails are always cut short and clean. The smell of chewing gum is always clearly felt when kissing. All this, along with a thousand other little things, made up the secret history of their family life.

Darcy had no doubt that her husband had formed a similar image of herself. For example, the cinnamon scent of the protective lipstick she used in the winter. Or the aroma of shampoo that he caught when he rubbed his nose against the back of her neck - this happened rarely now, but it did happen. Or the clatter of the keyboard on her computer at two in the morning, when a couple of days a month she was suddenly overcome by insomnia.

Their marriage lasted twenty-seven years or - as she calculated for fun using a calculator on the computer - nine thousand eight hundred and fifty-five days. Almost a quarter of a million hours or more than fourteen million minutes. Of course, from here we can subtract his business trips and her own rare trips - the saddest was with her parents in Minneapolis, when they buried her younger sister Brandolyn, who died in an accident. But the rest of the time they were not separated.

Did she know everything about him? Of course not. Just like he does about her. For example, Bob had no idea that sometimes, especially on rainy days or sleepless nights, she greedily devoured chocolate bars in incredible quantities, unable to stop, although nausea set in. Or that the new postman seemed attractive to her. It was impossible to know everything, but Darcy believed that after twenty-seven years of marriage they knew the most important things about each other. Their marriage was successful and was one of those fifty percent that do not break up and last a very long time. She believed in this as unconditionally as she believed in the force of gravity, which kept her on the ground and did not allow her to fly up when walking.

That was until that night in the garage.

Happy Marriage Stephen King

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Title: Happy Marriage

About the book "Happy Marriage" by Stephen King

We often pay attention only to the beautiful wrapper, but are not at all interested in the inner content. Horror master Stephen King invites us to read the book “Happy Marriage,” which will reveal to us the terrible secret of one seemingly happy family, but behind the external well-being lies a terrible truth. The husband turned out to be a serial maniac. Do you think that after 27 years of marriage you can recognize your soulmate? Yes, this is an impressive period of time, but, as it turned out, this is not enough to find out everything about a person.

You are all familiar or have probably heard about the legend of horror books Stephen King, who has an incredible talent for bringing mystical stories to life on the pages of his works, filling them with an eerie atmosphere that gives goosebumps. But that's not all... The author can tell any everyday story in such a way that it becomes scary at the thought that it happened somewhere in real life. At the same time, the main characters are not monsters, ghouls and ghosts, but real people, your close people, from whom you do not expect a blow.

The main characters of the book “Happy Marriage” are Darcy and Bob Andersen - an ideal married couple who have lived together for a long time. My husband loved Darcy and was always attentive, kind and sweet. The woman believed that she had a happy and ideal family. But at one fine moment this wonderful illusion of a happy marriage evaporated, and a cruel reality opened up. Darcy found her husband's hiding place, which left her incredibly horrified. Bob was a serial killer who brutally murdered eleven innocent women. How could this happen? Why didn't she notice this earlier? You can read about this in the book “Happy Marriage.”

Stephen King in his book shows us that even the most ideal family can have its skeletons in the closet. You cannot fully know everything about a person, even if you have lived together for twenty-seven years. Reading the work, we delve into the history of this family. The events in the book develop very dynamically. First, we meet the ideal and loving Andersen family, who live in perfect harmony, do not quarrel and always find a compromise. Next we see that the family turned out to be not so ideal, and their marriage was built on deception. The woman found herself in a nightmare reality, but the worst thing was that she didn’t know him at all. And now she has to make a choice: either leave everything as it is and forget, or stop her husband. What choice will she make?

The book “Happy Marriage” is very easy to read thanks to the simple style and skill of the author, who, as always, was at his best. Stephen King very vividly described the images of his characters, their feelings and secret thoughts, which gives us the opportunity to experience everything that is happening for ourselves. This work was based on real events.

On our website about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online the book “Happy Marriage” by Stephen King in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Quotes from the book "Happy Marriage" by Stephen King

It’s strange how people seem to see everything, but interpret the reason exactly the opposite. But how could it be otherwise, if we don’t forget that usually marriage on the outside and marriage on the inside are not very similar.

In most cases, love and marriage are mutually exclusive.

... young people pay slowly for a hasty marriage.

It's no secret that a happy marriage is based on a balance of interests and high stress resistance.

Marriage is like forever building a house, with new rooms appearing every year. A small cottage in the first year of family life is constantly being built on and in twenty-seven years it turns into a huge mansion with intricate passages. Cracks are likely to appear in it, and most of the storage rooms are covered with cobwebs and abandoned. Among other things, unpleasant memories from the past are stored there, which are better not to be brought up. You should simply put such memories out of your head or show generosity.

Download the book “Happy Marriage” for free by Stephen King

(Fragment)

Stephen King

HAPPY MARRIAGE

A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage.

But if someone had asked her a question about her family life before that evening, she would probably have answered that she was happily married and that everything was fine.

Darcellen Madsen - a name that could only be chosen by parents overly enthusiastic about a specially purchased book of baby names - was born the year John Kennedy became president. She grew up in Freeport, Maine, which was then still a town and not an annex to America's first L.L. Supermarket. L. Bean" and half a dozen other shopping monsters called drain centers, as if these were not stores, but some kind of sewers. There, Darcy first graduated from high school and then from Addison Business College. After becoming a certified secretary, she went to work for Joe Ransom and left in 1984, when his company became the largest Chevrolet dealership in Portland. Darcy was an ordinary girl, but with the help of a few slightly more sophisticated friends, she mastered the tricks of makeup, which allowed her to become attractive at work and glamorous when they went out to live music venues like the Lighthouse or Mexican Mike on the weekends. drink a cocktail and have fun.

In 1982, Joe Ransom, having found himself in a rather sticky tax situation, hired a Portland accounting firm to—as he put it in a conversation with a senior manager that Darcy overheard—“solve the problem that everyone dreams of.” Two diplomats arrived to help: one older and the other younger. Both wore glasses and conservative suits, both with neatly cropped hair combed to the side that reminded Darcy of his mother's 1954 yearbook, where the faux-leather cover showed a high school cheerleader holding a bullhorn.

The young accountant's name was Bob Anderson. They started talking on the second day and she asked if he had a hobby. Bob replied that yes, and his hobby was numismatics.

He began to explain to her what it was, but she did not let him finish.

I know. My father collects dimes with a bust of the Goddess of Liberty and nickels with a picture of an Indian. He says he has a special soft spot for them. Do you have such a weakness, Mr. Anderson?

He actually had one: “wheat cents,” the ones with two ears of wheat on the reverse. He dreamed that someday he would come across a copy of the 1955 coinage, which...

But Darcy also knew this: the batch was minted with a defect - it turned out to be a “double die”, which made the date look double, but the numismatic value of such coins was obvious.

Young Mr. Anderson admired her knowledge, shaking his head of thick, carefully combed brown hair in admiration. They clearly found a common language and had a snack together at lunchtime, sitting on a sun-drenched bench behind a car dealership. Bob had a tuna sandwich and Darcy had Greek salad in a plastic container. He asked her to go with him to the weekend fair in Castle Rock on Saturday, explaining that he had rented a new apartment and was now looking for a suitable chair. And he would also buy a TV if he can find a decent one and inexpensively. “Decent and inexpensive” became a phrase that for many years defined their quite comfortable strategy for joint acquisitions.

Bob was as ordinary and unremarkable in appearance as Darcy - you simply don’t notice such people on the street - but he never resorted to any means to look better. However, on that memorable day on the bench, inviting her, he suddenly blushed, causing his face to perk up and even become attractive.

And no searching for coins? - she said jokingly.

He smiled, showing straight, white and well-groomed teeth. It had never occurred to her that the thought of his teeth might ever make her shudder, but was that surprising?

If I come across a good set of coins, I certainly won’t pass by,” he replied.

Especially with “wheat cents”? - she clarified in the same tone.

Especially with them,” he confirmed. - So will you join me, Darcy?

She agreed.

On their wedding night, she had an orgasm. And then from time to time I experienced it. Not every time, but often enough to feel satisfied and think that everything is fine.

In 1986, Bob received a promotion. In addition, on the advice and not without the help of Darcy, he opened a small company that delivered by mail collectible coins found in catalogs. The business proved profitable, and in 1990 he expanded the product line to include baseball player cards and old movie posters. He did not have his own stocks of posters and posters, but once he received an order, he could almost always fulfill it. Darcy usually did this, using the bloated rotating catalog with contact information cards that seemed very convenient before the advent of computers to contact collectors around the country. This business never grew to a size that would allow us to completely switch to it alone. But this state of affairs suited the spouses quite well. However, they showed similar unanimity when buying a house in Pownal, and on the issue of having children when the time came to have them. They usually agreed with each other, but if their opinions differed, they always came to a compromise. Their value system coincided.

How's your marriage?

Darcy's marriage was successful. Happy, you might say. Donny was born in 1986. Before giving birth, she left her job and never worked again, except for helping her husband with the affairs of their company. Petra was born in 1988. By then, Bob Anderson's thick brown hair had begun to thin at the top, and in 2002, when Darcy finally gave up the rotating card catalog and switched to a Mac, her husband had a large, shiny bald spot. He tried in every possible way to hide it, experimenting with styling the remaining hair, but, in her opinion, he only made things worse for himself. Twice he tried to get his hair back with some kind of miraculous healing potions that were advertised by rogue hosts on the late-night cable channel - upon reaching adulthood, Bob Anderson became a real night owl - which could not but irritate Darcy. Bob didn't let her in on his secret, but they had a shared bedroom with a closet in which their things were stored. Darcy couldn't reach the top shelf, but sometimes she would stand on a stool and put away the “Saturday shirts,” as they called the T-shirts that Bob liked to wear around the garden on weekends. There she discovered a bottle with some kind of liquid in the fall of 2004, and a year later - small green capsules. She found them on the Internet and found out that these products were very expensive. Then she thought that miracles never come cheap.

Be that as it may, Darcy did not show dissatisfaction with the miraculous drugs, as well as the purchase of a Chevrolet Suburban SUV, which Bob for some reason decided to purchase in the very year when gasoline prices began to really bite . She had no doubt that her husband appreciated this and made a retaliatory move: he did not object to sending the children to an expensive summer camp, buying an electric guitar for Donny, who in two years learned to play very decently, however, then suddenly quit, and against Petra’s horse riding lessons .

It's no secret that a happy marriage is based on a balance of interests and high stress resistance. Darcy knew this too. As the Steve Winwood song says, you need to “go with the flow and don’t flounder.”

She didn't flounder. And he too.

In 2004, Donnie went to college in Pennsylvania. In 2006, Petra went to study at Colby College in Waterville. Darcy Madsen Anderson is forty-six years old. Forty-nine-year-old Bob, along with building contractor Stan Morey, who lived half a mile away, still led young scouts on camping trips. Darcy thought her balding husband looked rather ridiculous in the khaki shorts and long brown socks he wore for his monthly outdoor excursions, but she never said so. It was no longer possible to hide the bald spot on the crown of his head, his glasses became bifocal, and he no longer weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, but two hundred and twenty. Bob became a full partner in the accounting firm, which was no longer called Benson & Bacon, but Benson, Bacon & Anderson.

Stephen King

Happy marriage

“A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage ... "

Stephen King

Happy marriage

A few days after the discovery in the garage, Darcy suddenly thought with surprise that no one ever asks questions about marriage. When meeting, people are interested in anything - last weekend, a trip to Florida, health, children, and even whether the interlocutor is happy with life in general, but no one ever asks about marriage.

But if someone had asked her a question about her family life before that evening, she would probably have answered that she was happily married and that everything was fine.

Darcellen Madsen, a name that could only have been chosen by parents overly interested in a specially purchased book of baby names, was born the year John F. Kennedy became president. She grew up in Freeport, Maine, which was then still a town and not an annex to America's first L.L. Supermarket. L. Bean" and half a dozen other shopping monsters called drain centers, as if these were not stores, but some kind of sewers. There, Darcy first graduated from high school and then from Addison Business College. After becoming a certified secretary, she went to work for Joe Ransom and left in 1984, when his company became the largest Chevrolet dealership in Portland. Darcy was an ordinary girl, but with the help of a few slightly more sophisticated friends, she mastered the tricks of makeup, which allowed her to become attractive at work and glamorous when they went out to live music venues like the Lighthouse or Mexican Mike on the weekends. drink a cocktail and have fun.

In 1982, Joe Ransom, having found himself in a rather sticky tax situation, hired a Portland accounting firm to—as he put it in a conversation with a senior manager that Darcy overheard—“solve the problem that everyone dreams of.” Two diplomats arrived to help: one older and the other younger. Both wore glasses and conservative suits, both with neatly cropped hair combed to the side that reminded Darcy of his mother's 1954 yearbook, where the faux-leather cover showed a high school cheerleader holding a bullhorn.

The young accountant's name was Bob Anderson. They started talking on the second day and she asked if he had a hobby. Bob replied that yes, and his hobby was numismatics.

He began to explain to her what it was, but she did not let him finish.

- I know. My father collects dimes with a bust of the Goddess of Liberty and nickels with a picture of an Indian. He says he has a special soft spot for them. Do you have such a weakness, Mr. Anderson?

He actually had one: “wheat cents,” the ones with two ears of wheat on the reverse. He dreamed that someday he would come across a copy of the 1955 coinage, which...

But Darcy also knew this: the batch was minted with a defect - it turned out to be a “double die”, which made the date look double, but the numismatic value of such coins was obvious.

Young Mr. Anderson admired her knowledge, shaking his head of thick, carefully combed brown hair in admiration. They clearly found a common language and had a snack together at lunchtime, sitting on a sun-drenched bench behind a car dealership. Bob was eating a tuna sandwich and Darcy was eating Greek salad in a plastic container. He asked her to go with him to the weekend fair in Castle Rock on Saturday, explaining that he had rented a new apartment and was now looking for a suitable chair. And he would also buy a TV if he can find a decent one and inexpensively. “Decent and inexpensive” became a phrase that for many years defined their quite comfortable strategy for joint acquisitions.

Bob was as ordinary and unremarkable in appearance as Darcy - you simply don’t notice such people on the street - but he never resorted to any means to look better. However, on that memorable day on the bench, inviting her, he suddenly blushed, causing his face to perk up and even become attractive.

- And no search for coins? – she said jokingly.

He smiled, showing straight, white and well-groomed teeth. It had never occurred to her that the thought of his teeth might ever make her shudder, but was that surprising?

“If I come across a good set of coins, I, of course, will not pass by,” he replied.

– Especially with “wheat cents”? – she clarified in the same tone.

“Especially with them,” he confirmed. “So will you join me, Darcy?”

She agreed.

On their wedding night, she had an orgasm. And then from time to time I experienced it. Not every time, but often enough to feel satisfied and think that everything is fine.

In 1986, Bob received a promotion. In addition, on the advice and not without the help of Darcy, he opened a small company that delivered by mail collectible coins found in catalogs. The business proved profitable, and in 1990 he expanded the product line to include baseball player cards and old movie posters. He did not have his own stocks of posters and posters, but once he received an order, he could almost always fulfill it. Darcy usually did this, using the bloated rotating catalog with contact information cards that seemed very convenient before the advent of computers to contact collectors around the country. This business never grew to a size that would allow us to completely switch to it alone. But this state of affairs suited the spouses quite well. However, they showed similar unanimity when buying a house in Pownal, and on the issue of having children when the time came to have them. They usually agreed with each other, but if their opinions differed, they always came to a compromise. Their value system coincided.

How's your marriage?

Darcy's marriage was successful. Happy, you might say. Donny was born in 1986. Before giving birth, she left her job and never worked again, except for helping her husband with the affairs of their company. Petra was born in 1988. By then, Bob Anderson's thick brown hair had begun to thin at the top, and in 2002, when Darcy finally gave up the rotating card catalog and switched to a Mac, her husband had a large, shiny bald spot. He tried in every possible way to hide it, experimenting with styling the remaining hair, but, in her opinion, he only made things worse for himself. Twice he tried to get his hair back with some kind of miraculous healing potions that were advertised by crooked hosts on the late-night cable channel - after reaching adulthood, Bob Anderson became a real night owl - which could not but irritate Darcy. Bob didn't let her in on his secret, but they had a shared bedroom with a closet in which their things were stored. Darcy couldn't reach the top shelf, but sometimes she would stand on a stool and put away the “Saturday shirts,” as they called the T-shirts that Bob liked to wear around the garden on weekends. There she discovered a bottle with some kind of liquid in the fall of 2004, and a year later - small green capsules. She found them on the Internet and found out that these products were very expensive. Then she thought that miracles never come cheap.

Be that as it may, Darcy did not show dissatisfaction with the miraculous drugs, as well as the purchase of a Chevrolet Suburban SUV, which Bob for some reason decided to purchase in the very year when gasoline prices began to really bite . She had no doubt that her husband appreciated this and made a retaliatory move: he did not object to sending the children to an expensive summer camp, buying an electric guitar for Donny, who in two years learned to play very decently, however, then suddenly quit, and against Petra’s horse riding lessons .

It's no secret that a happy marriage is based on a balance of interests and high stress resistance. Darcy knew this too. As the Steve Winwood song says, you need to “go with the flow and don’t flounder.”

She didn't flounder. And he too.

In 2004, Donnie went to college in Pennsylvania. In 2006, Petra went to study at Colby College in Waterville. Darcy Madsen Anderson is forty-six years old. Forty-nine-year-old Bob, along with building contractor Stan Morey, who lived half a mile away, still led young scouts on camping trips. Darcy thought her balding husband looked rather ridiculous in the khaki shorts and long brown socks he wore for his monthly outdoor excursions, but she never said so. It was no longer possible to hide the bald spot on the crown of his head, his glasses became bifocal, and he no longer weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, but two hundred and twenty. Bob became a full partner in the accounting firm, which was no longer called Benson & Bacon, but Benson, Bacon & Anderson.

They sold their old house in Pownal and bought a more prestigious one in Yarmouth. Darcy's breasts, so small, firm and high in her youth - she generally considered them her most important asset and never wanted to look like the busty waitresses of the Hooters restaurant chain - have now become larger, lost their elasticity and, of course, have sagged a little, which immediately it was noticeable as soon as she took off her bra. But still, Bob would creep up from behind from time to time and lay his hands on them. After some pleasant foreplay in the upstairs bedroom overlooking the peaceful strip of their little property, they still made love from time to time. He often, but not always, reached orgasm too quickly, and if she remained unsatisfied, then “often” did not mean “always” anyway. In addition, she always experienced the peace that she felt after sex, when her husband, warm and relaxed after the release he received, fell into sleep in her arms. This peace, in her opinion, was largely due to the fact that after so many years they were still living together, approaching their silver wedding, and everything was fine with them.

In 2009, twenty-five years after their wedding ceremony in a small Baptist church, which by then had been demolished and replaced with a parking lot, Donny and Petra threw a real feast for them at Birches Restaurant in Castle View. More than fifty guests, expensive champagne, sirloin steak, a huge cake. The celebrants danced to the sounds of “Free,” the same Kenny Loggins song they performed at their wedding. The guests applauded in unison when Bob made a clever step - Darcy had already forgotten that he could do this, but now she couldn’t help but envy him. Even though he had a paunch and a sparkling bald spot on the top of his head, which he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about, he managed to retain the ease and flexibility of movements so rare for accountants.

But all the brightest things in their lives remained in the past and were suitable for farewell speeches at funerals, and they were still too young to think about death. In addition, the memories did not take into account the little things that made up married life, the manifestations of care and participation, which, in her deep conviction, was precisely what makes a marriage lasting. When Darcy once poisoned herself with shrimp and, bursting into tears, shuddered all night from bouts of vomiting, sitting on the edge of the bed with her hair wet from sweat and sticking to the back of her head, Bob did not leave her one step. He patiently carried the bowl of vomit into the bathroom and rinsed it so that “the smell of vomit would not provoke further attacks,” as he explained. At six in the morning he had already started the car to take Darcy to the hospital, but, fortunately, she felt better - the terrible nausea had gone away. Calling in sick, he didn't go to work and canceled his Scout trip to White River so he could stay home in case Darcy got sick again.

This manifestation of attention and participation was mutual in their family, according to the principle “Good is repaid with good.” In 1994 or 1995, she sat up all night in the emergency room at St. Stephen's Hospital, waiting for the results of a biopsy of a suspicious lump that had formed in his left armpit. As it turned out, it was just a prolonged inflammation of the lymph node, which went away safely on its own.

Through the loosely closed door to the bathroom you can see a collection of crossword puzzles on the lap of the husband sitting on the toilet. The smell of cologne meant that there would be no SUV in front of the house for a couple of days, and Darcy would have to sleep alone, because her husband would have to handle accounts for a client in New Hampshire or Vermont: Benson, Bacon and Anderson now had a clientele throughout New England. Sometimes the smell of cologne meant a trip to check out a coin collection at an estate sale: they both realized that not all the coins for their side business could be obtained by relying on the Internet. A shabby black suitcase in the hallway, which Bob did not want to part with, despite all her persuasion. His slippers are by the bed, always inserted one into the other. A glass of water and an orange vitamin tablet are on the latest issue of the monthly Coins and Numismatics, which lies on the nightstand on his side. This is as invariable as the fact that when he belches he says: “There is more air outside than inside,” or: “Beware! Gas attack!” when it spoils the air. His coat always hangs on the first hook of the coat rack. The reflection of his toothbrush in the mirror - Darcy had no doubt that if she did not change them regularly, her husband would continue to use the one he had on his wedding day. His habit is to wipe his lips with a napkin after every second or third piece of food. Methodically packing their gear, with the obligatory spare compass, before he and Stan lead a group of nine-year-olds on the Dead Man's Trail, a perilous trek through the woods that began behind the Golden Grove Mall and ended at Used Car World. » Weinberg. Bob's nails are always cut short and clean. The smell of chewing gum is always clearly felt when kissing. All this, along with a thousand other little things, made up the secret history of their family life.

Darcy had no doubt that her husband had formed a similar image of herself. For example, the cinnamon scent of the protective lipstick she used in the winter. Or the scent of shampoo that he caught when he rubbed his nose against the back of her neck - this happened rarely now, but it did happen. Or the clatter of the keyboard on her computer at two in the morning, when a couple of days a month she was suddenly overcome by insomnia.

Their marriage lasted twenty-seven years, or—as she calculated for fun using a calculator on her computer—nine thousand eight hundred and fifty-five days. Almost a quarter of a million hours or more than fourteen million minutes. Of course, from here we can subtract his business trips and her own rare trips - the saddest was with her parents in Minneapolis, when they buried her younger sister Brandolyn, who died in an accident. But the rest of the time they were not separated.

Did she know everything about him? Of course not. Just like he does about her. For example, Bob had no idea that sometimes, especially on rainy days or sleepless nights, she greedily devoured chocolate bars in incredible quantities, unable to stop, although nausea set in. Or that the new postman seemed attractive to her. It was impossible to know everything, but Darcy believed that after twenty-seven years of marriage they knew the most important things about each other. Their marriage was successful and was one of those fifty percent that do not break up and last a very long time. She believed in this as unconditionally as she believed in the force of gravity, which kept her on the ground and did not allow her to fly up when walking.

That was until that night in the garage.

The TV remote control stopped working and the drawer to the left of the sink didn't have the correct AA batteries. There were medium and large “barrels”, and even small round batteries, but there were none needed! Darcy went to the garage because she knew Bob was definitely keeping the package there, and as a result, her whole life changed. This is what happens to a tightrope walker whose only wrong step ends up falling from a great height.

The kitchen was connected to the garage by a covered walkway, and Darcy quickly crossed it, wrapping herself in a robe. Just two days ago, the unusually warm October Indian summer suddenly gave way to cold weather, more like November. The icy air stung my ankles. She probably would have bothered to put on socks and pants, but the next episode of Two and a Half Men was starting in less than five minutes, and the damn box was tuned to CNN. If Bob had been home, she would have asked him to switch to the desired channel manually - there were buttons for this somewhere, most likely in the back, where only a man could find them - and then she would have sent him to the garage to get batteries. After all, the garage was his domain. Darcy only came here to take the car out, and only on rainy days, usually preferring to leave it on the lot in front of the house. But Bob had gone to Montpelier to appraise a collection of World War II steel pennies, and she was left alone at home, at least temporarily.

Feeling for the triple switch near the door, Darcy lightly turned on all the lights at once, and the room was filled with the hum of fluorescent lamps suspended from above. The spacious garage was in perfect order: tools were neatly hung on special panels, and the workbench was wiped down. The concrete floor is painted gray, like the hulls of ships. No oil stains - Bob said that stains on the garage floor indicated either the presence of junk in it or the carelessness of the owner. Now there was a one-year-old Toyota Prius, which Bob usually drove to work in Portland, and he went to Vermont in an old SUV with God knows how many miles. Darcy's Volvo was parked in front of the house.

– Opening a garage is so easy! – he told her more than once. When you've been married for twenty-seven years, advice is given less and less often. “Just press the button on the sun visor in the car.”

“I like to see her through the window,” Darcy invariably answered, although the real reason was different. She was very afraid of hitting the lift gate when she reversed. She was terrified of driving like that. And she suspected that Bob knew about this... Just like she did - about his fad of carefully arranging banknotes in his wallet with images of presidents in one direction. Or never leave an open book with its pages turned down. In his opinion, this spoiled the spine.

It was warm in the garage. There were large silvery pipes running along the ceiling—it would probably be more accurate to call the structure a pipeline, but Darcy didn't know for sure. She walked over to a workbench on which sat a neat row of square metal containers neatly labeled: BOLTS, NUTS, HINGES, HOOKS AND CLAMPS, PLUMBING HARDWARE, and—this one she especially liked—SUNTS. On the wall hung a calendar from Sports Illustrated with an offensively young and sexy girl in a swimsuit, and on the left were two photographs. One was an old photo of Donnie and Petra in Boston Red Sox uniforms at the Yarmouth Children's Stadium. At the bottom, Bob had written "Local Team 1999" in felt-tip pen. In another, more recent one, taken in front of a seafood eatery on Old Orchard Beach, Petra, now grown and much prettier, stood hugging each other and her fiancé Michael. The inscription in felt-tip pen read: “Happy couple!”

The batteries were in a cabinet hanging to the left of the photographs, and on the adhesive tape was printed: “Electrical Equipment.” Darcy, accustomed to Bob's manic neatness, took a step towards the locker without looking at her feet, and suddenly tripped over a large cardboard box that was not completely pushed under the workbench. She lost her balance and almost fell, managing to grab the edge of the workbench at the very last moment. Her nail broke, causing pain, but she still managed to avoid an unpleasant and dangerous fall, which was good. It’s even very good, because she was left alone in the house and there would be no one to dial 911, even if she hit her head on a clean, but very hard floor.

She could have simply pushed the box further under the workbench with her foot and wouldn't have known anything. Later, when it occurred to her, she thought about it a lot, just like a mathematician who is haunted by a complex equation. Moreover, she was in a hurry. But at that moment she caught her eye on a knitting catalog lying on top of the box, and she bent down to take it with her along with the batteries. And underneath was the Brookstone gift catalogue. And underneath that are the catalogs of “Paula Young Wigs”... clothes and accessories from Talbots, Forzieri... Bloomingdales...

- Bo-ob! – she exclaimed, dividing his short name into two indignant syllables. She said the same thing when her husband left dirty footprints or left wet towels on the bathroom floor, as if they were living in a luxury hotel where a maid kept order. Not “Bob”, but “Bo-ob!” Because Darcy really knew him like the back of her hand. He believed that she was addicted to ordering from catalogues, and once even said that she had developed a real addiction. This is stupidity - she really was addicted, but only to chocolate bars! After that little skirmish, she sulked at him for two whole days. But he knew how her head worked, and in regard to everything that was not a necessity of life, she was a typical representative of the people about whom they say: “Out of sight, out of mind.” So he simply quietly collected the catalogs and slowly dragged them here. He was probably going to throw them in the trash later.