At their wedding, people said Armin was the head and Jasna the heart of their relationship. He taught philosophy; she led morning fitness classes. They found the joke charming then. Armin wrote speeches for family celebrations, while Jasna remembered birthdays and lifted everyone's spirits. His books occupied the living room; her equipment filled a small closet beside the bathroom.
Then the university reduced its number of teaching appointments. Armin lost half his income and began helping Jasna in her studio. He discovered he was excellent at explaining movements to people ashamed of their bodies. His class filled quickly. For the first time, he went to work without a bag full of papers and returned satisfied with something he could see immediately.
Meanwhile, Jasna began writing short pieces about people she met. At first, Armin corrected them so heavily that she stopped showing him new ones. She sent them to an editor she had met in class. A year later, a book appeared. Critics praised her precision, warmth, and ability to find a whole life in an ordinary conversation.
At the launch, Armin stood beside the book table. A professor he had wanted to meet for years approached only to ask whether he was Jasna's husband. Then he asked Armin to photograph them together. Holding the phone, Armin felt an ugly, petty urge to mention his own unfinished study. The photograph came out blurred.
At home, he said the book was good but was attracting too much noise. Jasna removed her earrings and asked whether he was really worried about the noise or about the fact that this time it was not centered on him. He tried to explain the difference between serious work and popularity. As he spoke, he realized he was attacking precisely the attention he had wished for himself.
The next day, he brought her the book with a page marked. She had written about a man who learned to listen only when he stopped being the most educated person in the room. Armin recognized himself, although the character was not based on him. He asked to read the whole book again without a correction pencil. Jasna told him she needed a husband who was happy for her, not a new editor.
For the second launch, he volunteered to hand out books. Afterward, they went to dinner with his studio class, celebrating a year of exercising together. Jasna toasted his patience. When someone repeated the old joke about the head and the heart, they both laughed. Armin said they would need a new one, because in the meantime both had learned to use both.