My Husband

Ariane is in a bad mood because Wednesday, like a clementine, is unpleasantly orange-colored. She wishes her husband had compared her to a blackberry, cherry, or peach in last night’s game, rather than a common clementine. To make matters worse, she has accidentally worn an orange scarf while getting dressed for work. 

Once she gets to school, she yanks off the scarf and throws it on the lawn. She blames her husband for the orange scarf, as she was forced to dress in the dark because of his insistence on the shuttered windows. Sleeping in utter darkness may seem like the sort of compromise her mother would say all married people make, but Ariane reflects that, in her marriage, she is the one who acquiesces most often. What is more, sleeping poorly for every night for 15 years (since their first date) is not a small compromise—it has possibly affected her health. She has a vague suspicion that her husband wants to control the shutters as a play for power in their relationship.

Ariane also dislikes Wednesdays because the children are home for the afternoon. The children make too many demands on her, which exhausts her. Her ideal state is just her and her husband alone together, like in the heady first days of their relationship.