Wall of Kiss

Also by Gina Ranalli

Novels

Chemical Gardens Suicide Girls in the Afterlife Mother Puncher Swarm of Flying Eyeballs Sky Tongues House of Fallen Trees Praise the Dead Peppermint Twist (forthcoming) Still Life with Vibrator (forthcoming)

Collections

13 Thorns (with Gus Fink) Winner of the Wonderland Award

Published by Afterbirth Books P O Box 6068 Lynnwood, WA 98036 www.afterbirthbooks.com

Originally published in trade paperback by Afterbirth Books (2007)

Wall of Kiss ISBN-10: 1-933929-15-4 Copyright © 2007 by Gina Ranalli. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

Cover art and design copyright © 2005 by Indio

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author or publisher.

PART 1

The woman held the phone receiver in both hands, as if she feared dropping it, pressing it to her ear hard enough to hurt. “You can’t mean that,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t mean that!” She paused, listening, then screamed, “Well, fuck you too, you fucking bastard! I knew as soon as you got what you wanted, you’d leave! I hate you!” She slammed the phone back into its cradle, then rose from the floor of her living room where she’d been sitting. She looked down at the phone and considered kicking it, but her feet were bare and she didn’t feel like breaking it. That would have only made things worse. Instead of screaming, which is what she really felt like doing, she burst into tears and sagged against the wall, covering her face with her hands, as though ashamed of crying. She sank into a sitting position, and curled sideways, her head against the wall, which cooled her burning cheek and forehead. The wall felt so good. Cool and strong and comforting. She raised a hand and ran her fingertips across the wall’s rough surface. The feel of it soothed her and before she even realized it, she was no longer crying. She felt the wall with both hands. Her palms rejoiced and she smiled, the tears not yet dry on her cheeks. Getting to her feet, she pressed her entire body against the wall, arms and legs spread wide and far. It was a big wall, about six feet across and easily twelve feet high, due to being in her sunken living room. The wall would have continued horizontally but for the door that lead out to the back yard. No matter. The wall was perfect just as it was. The woman was suddenly glad she’d never decorated this particular wall with some boring old painting or tapestry. Decoration would have only demeaned the wall, make it embarrassed and too effeminate, like a man who wears jewelry. The woman despised men who wore jewelry. Pressing her body to the wall made her feel strong again, made her forget all about that asshole Troy who had just dumped her. She knew she never should have fucked him, especially on the first date, but he was so masculine and irresistible. Well, now she was paying the price for her stupidity. Now she was wiser and next time she would make a man wait until she was ready to do the humpty hump. But, who knew when that would be? For now, she was perfectly content with her wall. Since it was Saturday, her normal cleaning day, the woman set about her chores with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. She didn’t know why this would be true, having just been dumped the previous evening, but it was true and she was not about to argue with being happy. Only a fool would do that. So, she went about doing the dishes and folding the laundry, both chores she normally hated but for some reason, today she didn’t mind it at all. When it came time to dust the living room, she hesitated on the threshold, one hand holding the duster, the other caressing her lower lip, like a nervous school girl. Then her smile widened and she went down. She knew why she was grinning like a fool but couldn’t help it.

She did her best to avoid looking at the wall, but every time she saw it out of the corner of her eye, her smile grew wider still and she had to turn her face away quickly, a blush coloring her cheeks. Dusting as fast as she could, she finished quickly and then raced from the room, relieved to be done with that particular chore. But, of course she’d have to return to the living room to fluff the pillows on the sofa and chairs, not to mention vacuum the rug. She tried not to think about it. Thinking about it made her nervous, it made her palms tingle and her belly do somersaults like an excited little child, learning to tumble for the first time. When she had cleaned every other part of the house and could no longer avoid the living room, she took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to neaten it as best she could. She didn’t want to look like a slob in front of the wall, but she also realized that it couldn’t be helped. She was in cleaning mode after all, wearing old sweatpants and a T-shirt advertising Rolling Rock beer. Simultaneously nervous and excited, she plunged down the three steps into the living room and got to work, once again doing her best to avoid eye-contact with the wall. Eventually, though, it became unavoidable, as she had to vacuum the floor directly in front of the wall’s feet. When she got to that part, she was calmer than she expected to be and slowed her pace significantly, moving the vacuum back and forth leisurely, being careful not to bump the wall’s baseboard. She smiled shyly at the wall, her eyes fluttering without her even realizing it. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she shouted over the sound of the vacuum. “But, it’s cleaning day. What are you gonna do, right?” The wall made no response, but she giggled and dropped her eyes to the floor, happy because she knew the wall didn’t care what she looked like, didn’t care that her hair hung in stringy tangles and she was wearing dumpy clothes. Didn’t care that she wore not a single smear of makeup. It was then that she knew she was already—against her better judgment— falling in love with the wall.

*****

That night she decided to eat her dinner downstairs in the living room. She made a simple meal—macaroni and cheese and hot dogs—and brought out the TV tray so she could eat comfortably and watch a movie. As the meal progressed, she began to feel more and more uncomfortable about eating in front of the wall. Eventually, she put her fork down and looked at the wall straight on. “I feel so stupid,” she said. “It never even occurred to me that you might like to share my dinner. I’m such a knucklehead sometimes.” Looking down at her plate, she saw that she was almost finished and that made her feel a little sad and even more foolish. She picked the plate up and held it out to the

wall. “You’re welcome to it,” she said and tried to smile. Quickly, the smile slipped from her face and she put down the plate. “I’m sorry,” she said, without looking up. “I feel terrible.” She put the plate aside and tried concentrating on the movie, but the situation was just too awkward. She turned the TV off. “I guess I’m just too tired from all that cleaning,” she lied. She stood up with the plate, regarded the wall with regret. “Well, I guess I’ll just say goodnight then.” She stared at the wall. It stared back and made no response. “Ok,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” And she sadly trod up the stairs, put her plate in the sink and then went to bed. She spent the night tossing and turning, wondering how on earth she could have been so unthinking. It would be a miracle if the wall wanted anything to do with her again after the awful display of rudeness that she had shown. She prayed the wall would forgive her and vowed to make it up to him tomorrow. She would make it a very special day for the wall. He would see. And after that, he would have no choice but to realize how sorry she was and he’d have to forgive her.

*****

The following day, she was up bright and early, showered, put on her best dress—the yellow one with the purple flowers—applied makeup and did her hair the way she knew most men like it: thick and wavy and able to be tossed over her shoulder or tucked behind an ear, especially to convey a deep interest in what they were saying. Deep listening. That’s what that gesture meant to men and there was no denying that most of them found it incredibly sexy. Once she was ready, she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down into the living room at the wall. “Hey you,” she said with a smile. “I have quite a day planned for us.” She waited a moment, then said, “No, it’s a surprise. You’ll see.” She grinned at the wall, gave it a coy little wave and then spun on her heels, causing her dress to twirl sexily.

*****

First, she went to the museum and, handing her digital camera to strangers, asked them to take photographers of her with various paintings and sculptures, especially the ones she knew Wally would enjoy. She spent well over an hour in the museum, getting several shots of her posing beside a Pollock painting. It was such a lovely day, bright, clear and warm. Though it wasn’t in her

original plan, once she left the museum, she drove over to her favorite park and walked among the public gardens, again having people take her picture in various places and with various objects, the main one being the beautiful cherub fountain that decorated the center of the park, all four little cherubs peeing into the sky. When she was certain no one was looking, she snapped a few of the roses and surreptitiously tucked them into her purse, being as gentle as she would have been with a newborn chick. She tried to think of what else Wally would enjoy. A movie? Probably a sports event but as far as she knew, there were none happening in the city that day. With no other options, she chose the movie, opting for an action-adventure flick. She was sure Wally would enjoy it. Once seated in the theater, she took pictures of the popcorn and the soda, did her best to capture herself, seated and smiling, sipping from a straw and then when the movie began, she started taking pictures of the screen. She had considered taking pictures of the previews too, but decided that Wally wouldn’t care if he missed those. But, once the credits began, she started snapping away, much to the annoyance of those seated around her.

*****

When she returned home, she was carrying Styrofoam boxes and called down into the living room: “Hi, sweetie, I’m home! You wouldn’t believe what a fabulous day we had! I can’t wait to show you the pictures.” She set to the task of getting out plates and silverware, a wine glass for herself and a nice frosty mug for Wally. “Oh, you can wait a little longer,” she called as she filled their plates with lasagna from the best Italian restaurant in town. “Of course you can, Wally. Don’t be so impatient!” She cocked her head, listening. Setting down the utensils, she smiled a little, then grabbed her purse off the counter. She found her favorite blue crystal vase, filled it with water and arranged the flowers just so inside it. Once she was satisfied, she brought the vase downstairs, flicking on a table side lamp as she went. “Ok, Mr. Impatient, here’s your one treat before dinner.” Holding the vase out to the wall, she smiled and laughed. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t have picked them, but aren’t they gorgeous? It’s just the right time of year for them. They’re at their peak, you know. Soon, they’ll be wilting.” She plucked one out of the vase and pressed its blood-red head against the wall at a height just slightly above her own nose. She held it there long enough for Wally to get a good sniff before sniffing it herself and returning it to the vase. Placing the vase on the table nearest Wally, she turned back to the wall and wagged a finger at it. “Ok, now, if you don’t let me finish what I’m doing, you’ll never get to hear about our fabulous day.” With that, she gave the wall a stern look, feigning seriousness before leaving

the room to return to preparing their plates.

*****

She unfolded a card table in front of the wall, with a single chair opposite it for herself and placed their fabulous Italian dinner on it, complete with one burning candle in the center. She gave Wally an especially large helping because, God knows, men love to eat big, and poured beer into his mug for him. As she bit into a piece of Italian bread, she asked him about his beginnings, but he wasn’t very forthcoming with that information. The woman assumed it was a sore subject, which was something she could relate to and instead proceeded to tell him about her own upbringing. Her parents were monsters she said. Abusive and neglectful monsters. School had been nothing but a torment to endure, though she’d somehow managed to get decent grades. She’d left home the minute she’d been old enough and fell into a wild torrid romance with a young handsome artist, whom she eventually married. “Of course, that turned sour faster than a cup of milk in the sun,” she said. “But, oh well. We all go on and recover from these little setbacks, don’t we? What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger, so they say.” She sipped her wine and tucked her hair behind one ear. Nodding, she said, “That is so true! Let’s drink to it.” She held her wine glass to the wall. “With age comes wisdom!” Smiling, happier than she dared admit, they finished the meal chatting and laughing until her plate was completely clean of even a speck of red sauce. “Whew! I’m stuffed! I think I’m going to have to hold off on the pistachio ice cream for a bit.” She watched the wall, then laughed. “I think someone is trying to get me drunk.” She made a tsk tsk sound, made a valiant attempt to hide her smile, then drained her glass of wine and helped herself to another. She stared at the wall, tilting her head just so, hoping she looked attractive. When nearly a minute passed, she realized they had slipped into an awkward silence. She cleared her throat and said, “Well, you sure didn’t eat much. Is Italian not your favorite?” Pause. “I always thought it was everyone’s favorite, but Chinese is definitely up there too. Next time it will be Chinese, I promise.” Pause. “Oh, you don’t have to say that! My feelings aren’t hurt at all.” Pause. She laughed. “Okay, okay. I believe you. Italian is your second favorite.” She hesitated then said, “Well, why don’t I put on some music for you to listen to while I get this cleaned up?” Without waiting for a response, she rose from her chair, went to the stereo, and,

still feeling in an Italian mood, chose a Frank Sinatra CD and put it on. While Frank crooned, she gathered up the dirty dishes and piled them atop each other with an expertise that could only mean she had at one point in her life been a waitress. She did, however, leave her glass and the bottle of wine and asked Wally if he’d care for another beer, even though he’d barely touched the first. “Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble at all. Besides, that one must be warm by now.”

*****

By the time she returned to the living room, the CD was half over and Wally seemed to be snoozing. “Wake up, sweetie. I have to show you the pictures of our day.” Pause. “I know. I’m sorry. I had to print them first and while I was waiting for them I figured I might as well load the dishwasher.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, playfully tapping the wall with one hand. “Oh, you wise guy!” She removed the drinks from the card table, placing them instead on the end table beside the roses, and pulled the table away from Wally. Leaning against the wall, almost snuggling into it, she held the stack of photos up next to her left shoulder, the images facing the wall. “See? Here I am in the park with that fancy fountain. Oh, and this is that Jackson Pollock painting I thought you’d like. I’ll tell you, a lot of people linger around that one.” She showed the wall all the photos that had been taken that day, including the ones of herself in the movie theater. “And this is where the hero rescued the girl from the burning car.” She dropped the stack of photos to her side. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any more of the movie or even know how it ends because that’s when the manager threw me out. Some ridiculous rule about cameras in the theater apparently. Not to mention, I think that bitch beside me complained to him about the flash irritating her.” She shook her head in disgust. “It’s not like I didn’t pay for the damn ticket, just like everyone else.” She tossed the pictures on the table and snuggled up to the wall, running her fingers across it at chest level. “Oh, I know. I just get so annoyed.” Several minutes passed with just the sound of Sinatra finishing up his last number. She closed her eyes, relishing the firm steadiness of the wall. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “I feel so safe and comfortable here. You make me feel so…alive.” Her eyes flew open and she moved away from the wall. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” she suggested. “To make up for the one today?” She didn’t wait for Wally’s response, just started going through her DVD’s and tossing various titles over her shoulder at the wall. “How about Pirates of the Caribbean? I just love Johnny Depp. No? Ok, what about Slingblade? Beyond the Walls of Sleep?

Really? I think that one is so strange, but if you’re really in the mood for it…” She turned the television towards the wall and pulled over one of her chairs so she could sit beside Wally. Then she turned off all the lights and they began watching the movie. “Someone gave me this, actually,” she said. “It’s not the kind of movie I would normally buy.” She stopped talking abruptly, then whispered. “Oh, ok. Sorry.” Curling into her chair, she absently reached out now and then to touch Wally, and when there was a particularly scary or gruesome scene, she turned her face from the TV and did her best to press it into the wall. Not an easy feat from her arm chair but she still managed it fairly well. The movie was intensely bizarre and often she found her mind wandering, looking past the TV and out the window opposite Wally at the night beyond. Settle down, girl, she thought to herself. Don’t get too carried away. Remember what happened with the last one. You’re not even sure how he really feels about you yet. Oh, sure, he says he thinks you’re beautiful and he’s never known anyone quite like you before, but isn’t that what they all say when they want a piece and nothing more than a piece? You’ll just have to be patient and see what happens. And see how patient he is. That will be the true test. If he’s willing to get to know you—the real you—if he’s willing to wait. Then and only then will you be able to give him your heart. She fell asleep in her chair, hopeful thoughts in her head, and a vague smile on her face.

*****

Sun shining through the window into her eyes jolted her awake and she immediately looked at the clock. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I’m going to be late for work!” She leapt out of the chair and faced the wall. “I’m so sorry I have to rush out like this. Will you be okay on your own? You have the TV and of course you can help yourself to anything in the refrigerator. I’ll call you later, ok?” She blew the wall a kiss and then hurried upstairs to shower and get ready for work.

*****

As it turned out, she wasn’t all that late, which seemed to make the day drag on and on. Several times from her desk, she called her home phone number, listened to her voice on the outgoing message, and talked to Wally. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “How’s your day going, baby? Mine is ok. Busy as usual but still dragging. Every minute I’m not with you seems like an eternity. I know

how silly that sounds, since we just barely got together, but that’s just me: a silly schoolgirl type. I promise this ridiculous stage will pass soon. You don’t have to get all panicked, thinking I’m trying to snag a husband or something like that.” She laughed nervously. “I mean, come on. You haven’t even met my parents yet! Even though we don’t get along, I’d still like to get their approval, you know.” She burst out laughing. “Oh, calm down! I’m only joking!” She paused, then said, “Well, okay, I’d better get back to work before my boss finds out I’m making personal calls again. I’ll be home a little after five. See you then, sweetie. Bye!” When she hung up, she noticed the woman at the desk next to hers watching her. She smiled and said, “I have a new beau. Nothing serious yet or anything, but…” She giggled and showed the woman her crossed fingers. “A girl can hope, can’t she?” The other woman, much older and rather stodgy, returned to her work with a slight shake of her head. She never smiled.

*****

She returned home that night fairly exhausted from dealing with people all day. Not only were people tremendously boring but most of them rubbed her the wrong way, being so judgmental and self-righteous. Wally, of course, was nothing like that. Wally calmly listened to her complaining and never once complained himself. He was always there for her and she was beginning to suspect that he always would be. He was so strong, so loyal. She doubted that he would ever stray; he just didn’t seem like that kind of guy. In fact, the more she got to know him, the more she suspected that the strong silent type was really more of an act than anything else. A way of protecting his own heart. She began to sense that he was actually quite shy and sensitive, deep down. Maybe, like her, he had been hurt one too many times and was cautious about giving himself to someone. Maybe he feared betrayal, just as she did. These thoughts made her even more fond of Wally and after spending a week or so with him, she finally decided to call her one friend about him. She hadn’t seen the woman since college, more than ten years ago, but they still kept in touch. Well, truth be told, the friend didn’t actually call her—ever—but the woman understood how her friend wasn’t much for talking on the phone and didn’t hold it against her. She knew a lot of people were like that. She brought the cordless down to the living room with her and sat in the chair next to the wall. “Now, normally,” she said, “I’m a person who thinks it’s healthy for a couple to have a few secrets from each other and respect each other’s privacy, but since I know how insecure you are, I’m going to let you listen in on my conversation with her. But—you have to promise to be quiet. No interjecting or interrupting. Deal? You promise?” She smiled at the wall. “Okay, then,” she said and began to dial. When the phone was picked up on the other end, she could barely contain her

excitement. “Hey, it’s me,” she said. “How are you?” Listening, she waited a minute before cutting in. “I have good news,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I met someone special.” She reached out to touch the wall, ensuring Wally that she was indeed speaking of him. “No, no,” she said. “That guy was a loser. This one is amazing. Truly. He’s so kind and gentle and funny! Oh my God, you wouldn’t believe how funny he is.” Her friend said something and the woman nodded. “That’s nice. But anyway, his name is Wally and I’d really love for you to meet him sometime.” She glanced over her shoulder at the wall and whispered “Shh!” at it. Into the phone she said, “Yeah, he’s here right now. And very shy. I think he’s afraid you’ll disapprove.” She listened again and suddenly frowned. “Really? Well, okay, I guess I’ll let you go then. I just wanted to give you the good news. Say hi to Mike for me.” She paused and smacked her forehead. “Right! Mark! Sorry about that. Say hi to Mark for me. Okay, bye now.” Clicking the phone off, she tossed it onto the sofa and then turned to Wally. “See? That wasn’t so bad was it? I told you I’d say nothing but wonderful things about you. And I kept my word, didn’t I? And do you know why that is? It’s because every word of it is true! You honestly are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.” Smiling, she rose from the chair and did her best to hug the wall. Murmuring into it, she said, “I’ll always be honest with you, I promise. I don’t know who hurt you before, but I know what that feels like and would never intentionally hurt anyone, ever. I’m just not that kind of person. You can trust me and on that you have my solemn word.” She snuggled up to the wall, pressing the full-length of her body against it. Then, rather unexpectedly, she felt her nipples stiffen against the wall and she let out a low surprised groan. She rotated her chest against the firm surface, relishing the movement. “Mmm,” she moaned. “That feels good, baby.” She turned her face against the wall and kissed it softly, her lips barely parted. Her hands clenched into fists and tentatively, her tongue slipped out from between her lips and ever so gently tasted the wall. “So sweet,” she whispered, and abruptly kissed the wall with more force, probing it with the tip of her tongue before opening her mouth wide and lapping at it, gyrating her entire body against it, grunting loudly. “Oh my God,” she cried suddenly, pushing away from the wall and turning her back to him. She folded her arms across her tingling breasts and said, “I don’t think I’m ready for this. It’s not that I don’t want to…it’s just…” She trailed off, unsure of how to explain herself. “I just don’t think we should rush into it.” Facing the wall once more, she said, “I mean, don’t you agree? Anything worth having is worth waiting for, right?” She watched the wall expectantly with more than a little fear in her eyes. This was the test after all. The test to see if Wally was, in fact, everything she imagined he was. If he was worth her time…her trust…her love. A tense moment passed and the next thing she knew she was weeping with relief and gratitude. She rushed back to the wall and hugged it once again. “Oh, Wally. I’m so glad you feel the same way. We’ll have plenty of time for all that other stuff. Right now, we need to get to know everything about each other and not be too hasty, no matter how strong the attraction is.” She let her happy thankful tears stain the wall until they ceased falling and her

breathing returned to normal. Taking a step back, she winked at the wall and poked it with her index finger. “And on that note, you big stud, I’m going to bed Alone!” Laughing joyously, she turned and ran from the room, knowing what a dirty tease she was and loving every second of it. It became harder and harder for her to think of anything but Wally. From the office, she took to calling him as much as eight times a day, leaving demure messages of love on the machine, sometimes being sinfully flirtatious, hoping it turned him on as he stood there listening. It certainly turned her on. She knew the time was rapidly approaching when neither of them would be able to wait any longer. Their lust became more undeniable with every passing day, and their make-out sessions grew longer and more intense. Breaking apart became increasingly difficult and, she knew, would soon be impossible.

*****

The night they finally made love was not exactly spontaneous. Maybe to the wall it seemed that way, as she did feel a sense of surprise from him, but she had the entire thing planned. She had wanted to call the shots, to be the one in control, the one who decided it was time. The whole thing made her feel empowered and delightfully naughty. Together, she and Wally had shared a meal, as had become their custom and then watched a movie, this time of her choosing. She’d picked one of her favorites: Sleepless in Seattle. Wally didn’t seem all that interested and she knew that he thought he was being forced to watch a ‘chick flick’ but he perked up when she compared him to the ever-so-romantic and sweet Tom Hanks. After that, he paid close attention and the woman could tell he was even amused at the funny parts. She sighed contentedly, munching popcorn in the dim glow of the TV, her big strong man beside her. And even if he didn’t care that much for the movie, she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it because she knew that afterwards she was going to give him something he would like very much indeed. When the end credits began to roll, she muted the TV and politely excused herself. “I have to use the ladies room to…” She smiled mischievously, “…to powder my nose.” Leaving him to wonder, she went into her bedroom and changed into a lacy black teddy bought just that afternoon for this very occasion. She returned quickly enough, pausing at the top of the stairs to let him take all of her in. “Like what you see?” she asked in her most sultry voice. “It’s all for you.” Barefoot, she slowly made her way down the three steps and crossed the room towards the wall, doing her best to swing her hips the way women in the movies did. Once she arrived at the wall, she tried to glare at it fiercely, imagining herself as a large jungle cat in heat. She jabbed it with a finger. “You have to do as I say, is that

understood, mister? I’m the one in charge around here. I call the shots. You just stand there and be a good boy.” Fighting against a smile, she could tell her words excited Wally to the point where he was close to bursting. She briefly considered toying with him some more, prolonging his agony, but in doing so, she would be prolonging her own as well, and frankly, she just couldn’t wait another single moment to have him. To taste him. To feel his rough touch down there. She threw herself into the wall hard enough to cause bruises but all she felt was the electricity between them. She ravished the wall with her tongue, clawed at it, tried to climb it, sunk to her knees and licked and lapped and sucked and scraped against it until there were gouges in it and clumps of white paint between her teeth. Panting, she rose to her full height, a smoldering gaze on her face as she slipped the teddy off her shoulders and let it fall to her ankles. Very lady-like, she stepped out of it and then kicked it forcefully across the room and resumed fucking the wall. She raked her bare nipples back and forth until she cried out in pleasure and pain. Pulling back a little, she slid her hand over one breast and down her body, over her slightly rounded tummy, before dipping it into her moist aching pussy. She slid her fingers inside, groaning loudly, before pulling them out and smearing her juice on the wall. “You like that?” she growled. “You like the taste of that, don’t you? Who’s the bitch now, huh, big boy? Who’s the fucking bitch now?” Ramming her crotch against the wall, she had to reach down and spread herself open to get the full effect. She ground her body against Wally, moving up and down on the balls of her feet, the side of her face smashed into the wall, her hips pumping faster and faster as her voice rose and rose until she was nearly screaming. Her body exploded into an orgasm so intense that she could no longer keep herself standing. She crumpled to the floor and curled into the fetal position, her hands between her legs, coaxing out every last little spasm, her bare ass against Wally’s baseboard. It was a long time before she was able to speak and even longer before she could move her body. She felt as though she’d turned to jelly right there; a puddle of jelly. “Jesus,” she finally said, chuckling a little. “I told you it would be worth the wait, didn’t I?” She smiled at Wally’s response and made a soft cooing sound. “You’re the best I ever had too, darling. The absolute best.” A little while later, she went upstairs to fetch her pillow and a few blankets. She came back down and made her bed at the foot of the wall, sighing contentedly. Finally, she felt brave enough to say the words, though they were barely above a whisper: “I love you, Wally.” She fell into a blissful afterglow sleep and in the morning felt the happiest she’d ever been in her life, despite an aching back and a badly bruised pelvic bone.

*****

Weeks passed and the woman could not believe her good fortune. She felt blessed. Who knew that true love would ever find her? She’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would be one of those people destined to spend their lives alone, sometimes having a few meaningless flings here and there, but always ultimately ending up alone and unsatisfied. In the past, she had often wondered if she was just being too choosy or perhaps she had no concept of what love really was. Now she knew that was wrong. She was neither too choosy nor too ignorant. She just hadn’t met the right guy. But now she had. Wally was the right guy. The perfect guy. Oh, sure, maybe not perfect for just anyone. But definitely perfect for her. They were perfect for each other. No one had ever understood her the way Wally did. No one had been as patient, as kind, as loving, as sweet, as strong. He was everything she’d ever hoped to find in a man—but she had become convinced that such a man didn’t exist except in her imagination. God, how wrong she’d been! Now she had finally found him and she had no intention of ever letting him go. They would build a happy life together, with a deep foundation of love and trust and friendship above all other things. Of course, the fact that the sex was fabulous didn’t hurt either. She was no fool! Every couple has to have an element of attraction in order for the relationship to work. Otherwise, like it or not, you’re really nothing more than best friends. But that was not a worry for her and Wally. They could talk and listen to each other, appreciate and respect the other’s feelings and therefore, they had all the right ingredients to make a long, happy, healthy relationship. And happy she was. More than once during this idyllic time, that old dirty word had crossed her mind: marriage. The thought made her happier than she could have ever imagined, but, as aggressive as she could be sexually, she was an old-fashioned girl at heart. She would wait for Wally to pop the question and she was quite certain he would and sooner, rather than later. She grinned to herself, fantasizing about their wedding day. What a handsome groom he would make. And she would, at long last, be the beautiful blushing bride. Oh, what a wondrous day it would be!

PART II

One day that summer, the woman came home to find an odd patch on Wally. She regarded him with suspicion at first, wondering just what the hell he’d been up to while she’d been toiling away at the office, but upon closer inspection, she saw that the patch was greenish-black and somewhat fuzzy looking. A fungus of some kind. “Oh my God,” she said, pressing her hand to the wall a little higher than her own forehead. “Are you feeling okay, sweetheart? You don’t look well at all.” She noticed that the fungus was right around the same level as her own crotch and her heart skidded momentarily, but then she remembered that she and Wally hadn’t had sex for a few days so whatever it was, she had a pretty good feeling that she was safe from it. To make light of the situation, she said, “You haven’t been fooling around on me now, have you, sweetie?” Wally wasn’t amused. He stared back at her blankly. “Aw, honey, I’m sorry. I know you’re probably worried. No need to put on that macho act for me. It’s probably nothing a little topical ointment won’t clear up. But, first, we should wash the area with some good old fashioned soap and water.” She did just that, scrubbing the area very gently with a warm wash cloth and saying reassuring things to Wally all the while. “There—how’s that?” she asked, as she scrubbed the fungus away. “Feel better?” She smiled lovingly at the wall. “Now what do you say I make us some dinner? Pork chops sound okay? I know they’re one of your favorites.” Stopping at the top of the stairs, she turned around and looked at the wall. “Of course you don’t have to wait for dinner to have a beer! I’ll get you one right now, baby. Don’t you move a muscle!”

*****

They ate while watching sports on TV. Well, Wally watched while the woman daydreamed. They’d been together for several months now and while, admittedly, some of the fire had gone out of their relationship, she was still just as happy as she’d ever been. They didn’t need to have sex every night, after all. Of course, watching something besides sports would be nice too. She thought about mentioning this to Wally, knowing that he would be his kind and understanding self, but then, given the scare with the fungus, she didn’t have the heart to bring it up just then. Tomorrow or the next day would be perfectly fine. There was no hurry.

*****

But, the next day the fungus was back. The woman did her best to remain outwardly calm, but inside she was growing more and more concerned. What exactly was wrong with Wally? Should she consult a doctor? Broaching the subject to him though, turned out to be a mistake. “Honey,” she said. “No one likes to go to the doctor. But sometimes it’s unavoidable. Wouldn’t you feel better finding out exactly what it is, especially since it’s most likely nothing serious? I mean, how could it be? You never even leave the house!” Sitting on the couch, listening to his protests, she realized that getting him to a doctor would be next to impossible. “Okay,” she said. “How about a compromise? How about I just call my doctor, who incidentally is a very nice man, tell him your symptoms and just see what he has to say. Does that sound fair to you? Not too scary?” Wally didn’t like that idea any more than the first idea but, she decided, that was just tough noogies for him. She was worried about him and wanted some answers. Convinced it was just some weird virus that was going around, she simply wanted to put their minds at ease. He wouldn’t even have to know about it until after she’d spoken with the doctor and learned that, as she’d known all along, it was nothing to be concerned about. Nothing a little cream couldn’t fix. She resolved to call the next day from work.

*****

Explaining the problem to the doctor turned out to be more difficult that she’d imagined. For starters, the receptionist would only give her a nurse. “That’s right,” the woman said into the phone, trying to keep her voice down to prevent eavesdropping. “It’s a fungus of some type. Or maybe a…well, I hate to say it, but maybe a mold.” She tapped a pen against her desk as she listened. “Well, it’s sort of…um…at crotch height I’d say. Yes, my boyfriend.” There was a slight ruckus on the other end of the phone and she frowned impatiently. When the nurse came back, the woman said, “Listen, I just want to make sure it’s not an STD or something. Can you at least tell me that?” Rolling her eyes at the ceiling, she said, “I cannot believe you just suggested consulting Home Depot! Is this some kind of a joke to you? Let me speak to the doctor! Oh, he isn’t available, huh? How convenient for you! I bet you don’t even work there! Are you just some random patient who picked up the phone?”

The laughter in her ear was more than she could bear. She slammed down the phone, enraged. “Just wait until the doctor hears about this,” she muttered.

*****

But Wally wasn’t getting any better and even a call to the landlord didn’t do her much good. He could only suggest a good solid scrub with hot water and a can of Lysol and as much as she hated the idea, she was running out of ideas of her own. She poured the Lysol into a bucket and hoped the smell wouldn’t give her away as she told Wally to stand still and let her scrub him yet again. When he asked what was in the bucket, she lied and said it was a medication she’d received from the doctor, who knew all about this type of fungal infection. As it turned out, the Lysol did work best of all, but not for very long. Not for forever, which was the cure she was searching for. With no options left, she went to Home Depot, though not for any sheetrock as the moron on the phone suggested, but for a gallon of paint. A beautiful red paint—blood red, the color of passion and heat. She was smiling as she left the store, thinking that this could be just the thing they needed to get a little of the old spice back.

*****

Even Wally was happy about the solution she’d come up with. As she stroked him with the brush, laughing because he kept saying how much it tickled, it was the best she’d felt in quite a while. Eventually, she brought the brush down around his “sensitive spots” and before she knew it, her clothes were off and she was rolling against him, leaving claw marks in the wet paint, covered literally from head to toe in blood-red. She looked like a murder victim. Even her labia appeared to be bleeding. Afterwards, as she lay panting on the drop cloth, half-asleep and listening to Wally’s whispered sweet nothings, she realized just how bland their relationship had become and how happy and relieved she was that it was now back on the right track. Every relationship has its little bumps in the road, she thought, on the verge of her snooze. But, it was nothing serious. Maybe I just became too preoccupied with my job. I need to make more of an effort. He will be my husband after all. Through half-lidded, sleepy eyes, she gazed up at him and felt the love gushing from her heart. He stood so tall and handsome in his new red suit. A beautiful, loving mate, and just before she fell completely into sleep, she found herself wondering what

kind of father he would make. The thought made her smile while she dreamed.

*****

The next ‘bump in the road’ was a long jagged crack, zigzagging up from the baseboard of the wall to nearly seven inches above it. It wasn’t a wide crack—hair-thin actually—but nonetheless, the woman freaked out when she saw it. “How the hell did this happen?” she asked, bending over to examine the crack. She was trying not to sound angry, but it was difficult at first and then became impossible. “Oh, don’t you blame this on me,” she snapped at the wall. “I’d never do anything to hurt you and certainly not on purpose!” She plopped onto the sofa, arms folded across her chest, lips pressed together in a hard tight line. Glaring at the wall, she simply could not believe her ears. For nearly a full minute she was speechless. When she finally spoke, her voice was nearly as cracked as the wall. “Fine!” She leapt up from the sofa and pointed an accusatory finger at the wall. “I will put up with quite a bit, but I will not put up with this! I love you and you damn well know it and for you to hold me responsible—well, forget it, Mister! If that’s how you really feel, then maybe we just shouldn’t be together!” Bursting into tears, she ran for the stairs. Just as she reached the top, she stopped, whirled around and looked at the wall from her higher vantage point. “I am calm!” she screamed. “I’m perfectly calm!” That night, she slept in her bed, rather than on the floor beside the wall.

*****

The following day was a Saturday, so she was stuck with the wall. She did her best to ignore him, going about all her regular cleaning chores with barely a glance in his direction. She pretended not to hear him over the loud hum of the vacuum when she was in the living room and she certainly could not be bothered to give him his weekly scrub that he claimed to love so much. Instead of watching any TV that night, she stayed in her room and read a tattered old paperback. She could hear him yelling down there, pleading with her to at least turn on the television for him, but she ignored it. Let him stew, she thought. Let him stew and really think about the consequences of his words and actions. Maybe next time he won’t be so quick to place blame.

*****

Sunday was a little better. Wally was full of apologies and she finally forgave him, though she did her best not to look at his crack and wonder where it had actually come from. They shared dinner and small talk before watching a movie he let her pick out. Naturally, she chose Sleepless in Seattle again. Nothing could cheer her up more than sweet sexy Tom Hanks. Now there was a man a girl could marry! By the end of the movie, the chill had gone out of the air and they shared a few laughs and things felt almost normal again. And though she slept downstairs beside him once more, she still refused to fuck him.

*****

The crack remained but was seldom thought about, much less discussed. The woman came to think of it as a scar on his beautiful body and, like some scars, you do not ask where they came from unless the scar-bearer brings it up first. He didn’t, so she didn’t. They had a mutual unspoken agreement to put it behind them and get on with loving each other unconditionally. Sometimes, this was easier said than done. For instance, there was the day when, seated in her armchair next to the wall, reading aloud to him, she glanced up to look out the window. Outside, wearing skimpy cut-off jeans and a halter-top, their neighbor from across the street was washing her car. The woman shook her head, about to say something about dressing like a tramp in public, when she looked at the wall, her own eyes widening. “You’re checking her out, aren’t you?” She tried to sound playful, but knew right away that the wall could sense the tension in her voice. “Don’t deny it! I just saw you totally checking her out! You’re busted, Mister!” She listened to the wall, her eyes narrowing. “You’re only making it worse for yourself by denying it so adamantly. If you hadn’t been checking her out, you would have just laughed at me.” Pause. “Oh, bullshit!” She stood up and threw the book across the room. “If you think she’s so hot, then why don’t you just go get some, huh? If she’s so much better than me, then just go get her!” This time, she refused to let the wall see her cry and waited until she was safely in her bedroom with the door closed before burying her face in a pillow and wailing

herself hoarse. That same night, however, she crept down the stairs and quietly seduced the wall. She did it not because she was horny, but because her self-esteem needed it. She needed to know that he still found her attractive and, judging by his reaction, he definitely did. She realized that, once again, she’d flipped out over nothing and apologized to him, whispering, “I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I know you love only me. Must have been my crazy female hormones getting the best of me again. Forgive me?” And with a little playful coaxing, he forgave her several times over.

*****

Things were okay for a while. Better than okay, really. Things were back to the way they were when they’d first discovered each other and fell in love. The woman was back to sharing every possible moment with the handsome red wall; together they looked at the photos she’d taken that long ago day of what she considered to be their first “real” date. She went back to calling home from work whenever she had a spare minute or two, just to remind him of how he meant the world to her. And their sex life had exploded into galaxies colliding and stars going supernova. It was fireworks every night and still they were just barely satiated. It was as if they’d become adolescents again, something they’d never had the joy of being together. The woman was certain that a marriage proposal would be forthcoming in mere days; weeks at most. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of telling Wally that she’d become pregnant. It wasn’t such an impossible notion, really. They never practiced birth control. But, in the end, she decided against stooping to the level of some other women, so desperate as to trap a man into marriage. That was just low-down dirty playing and besides, she had no intention of breaking the vow of honesty that she’d made to him so far back in the beginning. A lie was no way to begin a happy, healthy marriage.

*****

Several months passed and he still hadn’t popped the question. Though she denied it, even to herself, she was becoming crabbier with every passing, un-proposed-to day.

“Would it be so much to ask for a little help around the house once in a while?” she bitched at him. “I mean, for Christ’s sake, you’re home all fucking day! Can’t you just once get off your lazy ass and do something of use around here?” She stood before the wall, hands on hips, awaiting a response. The wall just stared back at her, expressionless. “Oh, don’t give me that innocent look!” she yelled. She started to leave the room and then turned back and snarled, “You know, you can be a real son-of-a-bitch sometimes!” Even the name-calling—something she’d never done before—did not get a rise out of him, which infuriated her even more. “Okay,” she said. “Have it your way. But don’t ever expect me to dust your fucking baseboard again, do you hear me, asshole? Am I getting through that Mr. Macho tough exterior? I’d love to see you try to dust it. Just once, I’d love to see you try!” She absolutely could not believe that he was giving her the silent treatment at a time like this, when she was so clearly upset. She threw her hands in the air. “Okay, fuck you too!” Once again, she started to walk away and once again she stopped, this time to grab her favorite blue vase, which had once held such gorgeous stolen roses, and hurl it at the wall as hard as she could. It shattered on impact and left a deep ugly wound in the center of the wall. So deep, the old white paint was clearly visible through the red, but in that second she didn’t care. She was glad and hoped she’d hurt him badly. Even if he needed to be patched up, he still wouldn’t be in as much pain as she was. Not even close. Her teeth bared, she screamed a final “Fuck you!” at the wall and this time she did leave, though not to her bedroom. She stormed out of the house, slamming the door as hard as she could and when the slutty neighbor from across the street smiled and waved at her, she screamed, “And fuck you too, you fucking whore!” She got into her car and sped off in a cloud of pissed-off scorn.

*****

It wasn’t until later that she wondered if the police might become involved. Was she now guilty of being a batterer? Even though she was a woman, she thought she probably was and the law wouldn’t care that he’d had it coming to him. That he’d been antagonizing her. She could only hope that if the bastard did decide to press charges, the judge would go easy on her. She’d never had a history of violence before and what were the chances that she’d done any real damage to Wally? He was 12 feet tall, for crying out loud! He was much bigger than she was—maybe she could claim self defense? Either way, she felt certain that he would wonder where she’d gone and, even better, wonder if she was ever coming home. Good, she thought. Let him wonder. Let him worry. Let him see what it feels

like to walk in my shoes! She spent that night in a motel and went to work from there the next day, dressed in the same clothes she’d been in the day before. She ignored the strange looks from her co-workers and she most definitely did not call home to leave a message of love.

*****

When she did arrive home, she was distressed to see a stack of bills waiting for her in the mailbox. She snatched them up, went inside, and marched right up to the wall, waving them in front of it. “You see these?” she asked. “You know what these are? They’re shut off notices! And do you know why we have shut-off notices? Because I’ve been footing all the bills on my measly salary from the crappy-ass job that I hate, that’s why! But do you care? No, of course not! You’re more than happy to let your woman bring home all the bacon while you just hang around all day, watching TV, watching that goddamn slut across the street, doing God only knows what else! Don’t you think I’d like a chance to kick back once in a while? Has that ever even entered your selfish little mind? Maybe I’d like to hang around doing nothing all day, while you go earn some fucking money and then come home to find me doing what? Hanging around, of course! And then, when you’re exhausted and aggravated from your shitty job, you could run around and make me dinner and dust my fucking baseboard! Now, wouldn’t that be a great change! Huh? ANSWER ME YOU BIG FUCKING RED ASSHOLE!” But, of course, the wall didn’t answer her. It just stood there looking bored and disinterested and not even slightly worried about the bills. She was just about to lunge at it, slam her fists into it, when the telephone rang. Glaring at it, she briefly considering ripping it out of the wall and throwing it at Wally. Instead, she snatched it up and yelled, “What?” Her face bloomed nearly as red as Wally’s as she listened briefly. “Who the fuck do you think I’m screaming at, you nosy old fart? My stupid fucked-up boyfriend! Who the hell else would I be screaming at? Mind your own goddamn business before I come over there and shove a cattle prod up your wrinkled old ass!” She pressed end and then threw it at the wall, where it bounced off, hit the floor and promptly broke in half. “Fuck all y’all!” she screeched at the ceiling before grabbing the stereo remote and cranking it as loud as it would go, intentionally trying to annoy the neighbors.

*****

When the police showed up twenty minutes later, she hadn’t calmed down in the least and was immediately arrested. She continued to scream and insist that they should just go talk to her boyfriend who was “being a lazy-ass as usual” in the living room, but upon inspection, the officers found no boyfriend and assumed he’d fled through the back door (and who could blame him?). They did however, find evidence that there had been some kind of domestic disturbance and brought the woman to the county jail and treated her to an entire night’s stay due to her extremely agitated state. They didn’t want her to hurt herself or anyone else, they said, and she couldn’t much blame them. At that point in time, she didn’t trust herself not to murder Wally.

*****

Everyone knows—or should know—that after an incident of domestic violence, a household can never quite be the same and thus it was true for the woman and Wally. Even later, when she honestly regretted her actions and did her best to make it up to him, to apologize, to swear it would never happen again, she didn’t think either of them truly believed that it wouldn’t. She grew quiet and distant, not because she didn’t love him anymore but because she feared saying the wrong thing. For his part, Wally became sullen and uncommunicative, most likely resenting the things she’d said out of anger more than the actual violence that had been perpetrated against him. He didn’t seem afraid of her, she suspected because he knew that, try as she might, she couldn’t do that much damage to him. They lived in this way—each in their own world—until it became intolerable to the woman and then, despite all her promises, she began complaining about things again. “Do you realize,” she said one night while watching a football game with the wall, “that you have never brought me flowers? Not even once.” She shook her head sadly. “It boggles my mind. I mean, every other guy I’ve ever dated has at least brought me flowers at one time or another. Once,one of them gave me one flower. Just one. But you know what? That flower meant the world to me.” Suddenly, she shot him a dirty look. “Oh, so now you’re gonna sigh at me? Now I’m boring you?” She sighed dramatically herself and pushed out her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking out loud. Don’t pay any attention to me.” She barely spoke to him for the rest of the evening.

*****

The next weekend while she was dusting the baseboards in the living room— not just Wally’s but all of them—she abruptly stopped, straightened up, and looked at Wally with a sour expression. “Oh, you can’t be serious,” she said to the wall. Tapping her foot, her head cocked, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She threw her dust rag on the floor. “Ok, fine! So I was looking at the other wall. Big deal! You stare out the window at that slut across the way all damn summer and then I’m told it’s disrespectful of me to look at another wall? You can’t possibly be serious!” She had to bite her tongue in order not to interrupt Wally, but she let him have his say and was proud of herself for doing so. When he was finished, she marched up to the wall and poked it with her finger. “You have some nerve! What the hell would I want with that other wall? Don’t you think I have my hands full with one wall? Christ, it’s like taking care of a baby! Cooking for you, cleaning for you, entertaining you. And what do I get in return? Nothing, that’s what! Complete and utter silence from you except for the rare occasion when you deem me worthy to change the goddamn channel on the TV! And now you have the audacity to be jealous of some other wall? Are you crazy?” Letting him rant and rave endlessly was not what she was prepared to do, so after listening to him go on for another five minutes, she held up her hand in a stop gesture. “Okay, you know what? This conversation is finished. I’m going to make us some dinner—which you probably won’t eat and I’ll have to throw away your portion— and I just don’t want to hear another word about that other wall. Can we please have an agreement not to discuss this matter again?” As she left the room, she was muttering under her breath: “Who the hell would really blame me if I did think the other wall was hot?” Then suddenly she shouted, “Which I don’t!”

*****

They ate, not facing each other as they used to, but while watching the evening news. The president was on and explaining why it was in everyone’s best interest if they bombed the living fuck out of some tiny defenseless country who was busy minding its own business and trying to prevent its citizens from starving. “That guy is such a moron,” she said, pointing at the television emphatically with her fork. “How did we get such a buffoon in the White House?” She chewed and listened to the wall, but before her mouth was empty, she exclaimed, “Oh my God! I cannot believe you just said that! Please tell me you aren’t serious.” A moment later she was staring at the wall as if for the first time. Her jaw hung open, half chewed food in plain sight. She was baffled that this was the same wall she’d chosen to live her life with.

“People are dying over oil and that’s okay with you?” Her fork clattered against the plate when she dropped it. After a moment, she tilted her head back and asked, “Please, God, tell me who I’m living with!” They went back and forth, eventually muting the television and coming just shy of one of their now famous shouting matches. Finally, she threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, Wall, I guess we’re just going to have to agree to disagree. I just wish I had known this about you before.” Pause. “What do you mean, ‘why’? Don’t you think it’s at least slightly important that we be of the same political mind?” Another pause. “Well, yes, I suppose it is true that you’re in the same boat as me. But, the difference is that I’m right!” She was actually trying to make a joke, but, like most Republicans, he failed to see the humor. He raved on and finally she felt a little sorry for him. She got up and went to the wall, stroked it with the back of her index finger. “Oh, come on, honey. Let’s not fight. I’m sorry if I offended you.” She didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling a bit randy, but she suspected it might be the very fact that they were of different political parties. Opposites attract, after all. On the other hand, she did always have a soft spot for the big dopey ones and in the end, she decided that must have been it. She got him to forget about politics pretty quickly and that night, to her surprise, the old fire was back. In short, she couldn’t get enough of her big sexy wall.

*****

Why it should be so, probably no one knows, but once two people have talked politics, the subject of religion is never far behind. And once again, the woman found out her wall was of a completely different mind-set than she was. Sitting in her armchair, her eyebrows raised in disbelief, she said, “Well, if God didn’t make you, then who did?” His reply made her laugh and laugh, but once again, he was not amused. “Okay. I’m sorry.” She bit the inside of her cheek but still could not keep herself from snickering. “But, who’s to say that it wasn’t God working through others? That is how God works. You know that, right?” As she listened, she was more and more astounded. Finally, she said, “How could we have lived together this long and not known such important things about each other?” This time it was Wally who made a joke, but she was far more receptive to them than he was. She giggled and said, “You really think so? Come on! We were ‘too

busy fucking to care,’ huh? What kind of excuse is that?” The wall was prepared to show her what kind of excuse it was.

*****

For both the woman and the wall, their last days together as a couple were bittersweet ones. They made love frequently, but they also fought frequently, always about the same old things. Sometimes, the woman lost control of her temper and threw things at the wall, or punched or kicked it. She always felt terrible about her actions and made it up to him as best she could, usually in ways involving her tongue. But they both knew the end was near, looming on the horizon like a silhouetted vulture, hungry and anxious to pick over the carcass of their love for any little pieces still moist and juicy. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she sat down across from the wall and just stared at it, her eyes teary and pleading. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But you must know too that this just isn’t working between us. We’re too different. Way too different.” She plucked a tissue from the box on her lap and blew her nose while listening to the wall’s protests. “We’ve been trying to work it out, sweetie,” she said. “How long do you expect us to try? It just never gets any better.” For a long time, neither of them spoke, but they both wept freely and occasionally she would reach out a hand and touch the wall, doing her best to soothe it. She only wished there was something that would soothe her as well. When the silence had grown too long, she whispered, “For the longest time I thought you would be the one I’d marry.” To that, the wall made no response, which made her cry even harder. That night, she packed up all the pillows and blankets that she had laid at the foot of the wall and brought them back upstairs to her bedroom where she would be sleeping from now on. They discussed how they should remember the good times and definitely remain friends. After all, they were roommates and there was no indication that was going to change anytime soon. They would be strong and brave and lean on each other when it was needed, but gradually, they would learn to live together separately. “It won’t be so bad,” she said, trying to sound cheery. “We can still get drunk together and watch Sleepless in Seattle.” She cocked her head, listening to the wall with a sad smile. “Of course I know you always hated that movie, silly! And yes, I know you hate Tom Hanks, too. But it was still something special to me.” That night was the last night they had sex together and much to the woman’s surprise and regret it was better than it had ever been. She remembered hearing that goodbye fucks were even better than make-up fucks and now she believed it was true.

Still, it wasn’t enough for her to change her mind and when it was over, she went to her bedroom alone. She stared up at the dark ceiling and wondered if the wall was thinking about her or if he was thinking about anything at all. She supposed even that much was a fantasy: that he would be running their last time together over and over through his mind, as she was. Most likely, his mind was a complete blank, which she thought was his most common state. He seemed content to just exist, while she wanted to live. She wanted someone who would take her places, introduce her to his family, try a different sex position now and then. She wanted Mr. Right, not Mr. Stoic.

*****

The following day, she had the urge to call home, even though she hadn’t done that in quite some time. But she had a bad feeling, so she called and, as was always the case, Wally didn’t pick up the phone. She listened to her outgoing message and then said, “I hope everything is okay over there, Wall. I just have a feeling…I don’t know. I’m worried about you.” She hung up and stared at the phone for a minute, hoping the wall wouldn’t do anything drastic. He had seemed incredibly distraught the night before when she’d gotten up to return to her room, more so than she’d expected. She shook her head and reminded herself how she felt before she’d fallen asleep. That he probably wasn’t even thinking about the breakup. More than likely, he was just hanging out, relaxing, enjoying the sun from the front window and maybe, if he was lucky, the tramp across the street. Chewing her lip, she continued to stare at the phone. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her and, as usual, everyone was. She had no idea why they all found her so fascinating but it was rather annoying when she craved some privacy. Putting all thoughts of the wall out of her head was the way to go. She was being silly. Ridiculous even. But tapping her keyboard a few times, trying to concentrate on work, did no good. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Five long minutes passed before she gave up and gave in. She told her boss she wasn’t feeling well and hurried home, certain that something tragic had happened to Wally. Running red lights and narrowly avoiding two different car accidents got her home in just under twenty minutes, fifteen faster than usual. She raced through the house, already certain that she could smell smoke, shouting the wall’s name. Practically falling down the stairs into the living room, screaming, “Wally! Wally, are you okay?” she immediately saw that he was. He was fine. Just hanging out, like always, exactly as she thought he’d be when she was managing to have a rational thought in her head. Her response to finding him intact and uninjured was to go over and kick him

as hard as she could. The wall didn’t seem particularly surprised. He showed no pain whatsoever. He just stood there, placid as ever, as if she were completely invisible to him. Her eyes narrowed into hard little slits and then she simply turned and walked away.

PART III

They did their best to live together as roommates but things that had never seemed to bother Wally before suddenly irked him to no end. “Since when don’t you like the air-freshener I use?” she wanted to know. She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Oh, give me a break. I think you’re just trying to find things to complain about.” She tried to change the subject but the wall wouldn’t have it. “Listen, I’ve been using the same air-freshener for years. If it bothered you so much, why didn’t you mention it before?” Exasperated, she flung herself down onto the sofa. “Yes, I’m sure you didn’t tell me every little thing in your life story, but to say you were just being polite is a crock of shit. You never had any trouble complaining about how I cook or the movies I like.” When the wall disputed this statement, she grew tired of arguing and decided to tune him out by putting on the stereo. She jumped to her feet and danced in place for a few minutes. “No, I will not turn it down,” she snapped at the wall. “And the louder you shout about it, the higher this volume knob will go.” Throwing the wall an occasional smug look, she danced until she’d exhausted herself before finally turning off the stereo. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, that’s right. I was dancing to tease you.” Pause. “Oh, pardon me—seduce you.” Her tone was one of icy sarcasm. “You’re absolutely right. I have nothing better to do with my time than to ensure your sexual frustration. Give me a break!” With that, she stomped up the stairs and refused to listen to another word of his whining. She wondered if they would ever reach a common ground and be able to live together in peace.

*****

Determined to make things friendlier between them, she brought out the card table that they used to share meals on and tried to teach the wall to play chess. She figured positive interaction between them would help mend any hard feeling either of them might be having. “That’s right. The knight moves in an L shape.” She studied the board, moving his knight for him, before moving her own rook into pouncing position. Glancing up at the wall, she said, “Are you sure you want to make that move? I really wouldn’t advise it.” She wanted him to learn, so did as he asked and then promptly put him in check. She sighed loudly. “Well, I told you not to move it there!” Sitting back in her chair, she said,

“I most certainly did. It’s not my fault you always have to think you’re smarter than me.” Pause. “Oh, great! Now I’m being accused of cheating! How dare you? And here I thought we could have a nice time together! Why do you always have to be such an asshole?” Refusing to look at him, looking up at the ceiling instead, she counted to ten to before speaking to him again. “Okay, would you like to just forget that little outburst and start a new game? We’ll pretend you’re not a sore loser and just get on with our nice evening together?” His response caused her to fling the chess board off the table. Knights, rooks and pawns all slammed into the wall and she spat, “Fine, then, you can teach yourself how to play and shove the queen up your ass while you’re at it!”

*****

It was several days before they were on speaking terms again, but the woman still refused to let go of the idea that one of the things roommates did together to pass the time was play games. The wall stated flat-out that cards were out of the question, but finally agreed to give Monopoly a shot. To the woman’s shock and amazement, the wall actually seemed to enjoy the new board game and she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt about the chess incident. Maybe he’d been in a bad mood, perhaps still stewing over the fact that he was angry about his lingering attraction for her and her own refusal to get back together with him. Not that the wall made any statements about getting back together, but it was clear to her that was what he wanted. He was just too proud to come out and say so. Why else would he have objected so strongly to her dancing in front of him, insisting she was teasing him, and letting it be known that he was sexually frustrated? She had to admit that once in a while she missed the wall in that way, but she was wise enough to know that they’d done their best to make it work and it simply hadn’t. She was not stupid enough to try again and have to go through the agony of another breakup. No way. The first time had been hard enough and she needed to move on with her life. What he did with his life, romance-wise at least, was of no consequence to her. She forced herself to keep remembering they were better off remaining just friends, even though he was obviously having a harder time making the transition. She would just have to be firm with him, always showing him that she still cared about him, but being extremely careful about not sending any kind of message that he could misconstrue. For the time being at least, the board game was helping quite a bit. It at least kept them from going for each other’s throats.

*****

Things were going smoothly enough between them that the woman finally agreed to patch up the walls dings, dents and scratches from all their past brawls. This time, she bought spackle and not one, but two gallons of paint from the hardware store. She’d wanted to paint Wally a nice soothing shade of blue but he preferred a bright green. They made a compromise and she enjoyed letting her creative spirit loose while painting him in cheery stripes from baseboard to ceiling. He was the only wall in the house that was not eggshell white and for that alone, she couldn’t help but feel fond of him. It was times like this that she remembered why she’d fallen in love with him back in the day. When she was finished, she stood back and admired her handy work, speckles of green and blue freckling her face. She laughed. “Oh, stop it!” she said. “I seriously doubt that I look cute covered in paint and spackle!” Pause. She blushed and gave the wall a little curtsey. “Well, thank you, Wally. I must say your new colors make you look quite dashing yourself.” Then she remembered the mental line she had drawn. Sensing that she was close to crossing it, she quickly announced that she needed to clean up the brushes and cans and go take a nice hot shower. “I had fun too,” she said over her shoulder as she jogged up the stairs, anxious to get away from the wall, but to do it with tact. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, after all.

*****

As his roommate, the woman didn’t feel it was appropriate to continue dusting his baseboards and corners and giving him the weekly dab with a warm washcloth. Unfortunately, the result of her backing off from that particular chore caused yet more strife between them. During a commercial break one night, she couldn’t help but asking, “So, do you think you’ll ever get around to cleaning those cobwebs out of your corners?” She’d tried to sound as nice as she could, attempting to make it seem like nothing more than conversation, but the wall knew her better than that and immediately became defensive. “Well, what if we have company sometime?” she asked. “I’d be mortified if anyone saw you looking so grimy. They’ll look at me like I’m the slob. Besides, I keep

the rest of place clean, the least you could do is keep yourself presentable.” The program came back on and she quickly turned the volume back up to prevent an argument. But the wall didn’t forget. As soon as the next commercial came on, he was right back at it. “How am I supposed to know ‘what company’?” she said. “Just company. It could be anyone.” Knowing where he was going with this, she beat him to the punch. “And not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not currently seeing anyone new. That isn’t what I was implying. I’m simply trying to make the point that a little less dust and a little more cooperation on your part could make us that much happier around here. But, if you’re going to be so sensitive about it, just forget I brought it up. Sheesh!” The wall may very well have forgotten that she brought it up but the woman certainly didn’t.

*****

One of the shows that they had always enjoyed watching together was “This Old House,” and one day the woman, while searching for old VHS movies featuring Tom Hanks, came across a bunch of videos of the do-it-yourself fixer-upper show. Excited, she bought them all and raced home to show Wally. Curled up on the couch with a mug of tea, the woman pressed the play button and the first of the tapes started. She hummed along with the opening music, happy that she was able to find something that she knew the wall would enjoy. At least, she reasoned, it wasn’t sports. “Wow,” she said, halfway through the program. “Would you look at that wall! I had no idea there were walls like that.” Truly impressed, she continued to comment on the handsomeness of certain walls. For some reason, she thought doing so would almost be like complimenting Wally himself, as if all walls were related in some way, though they had never met. She went on and on, admiring the walls, and didn’t even notice that the wall was making no contribution to the conversation. It wasn’t until they’d watched three tapes in their entirety that she noticed the wall’s sullen demeanor. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you feel well?” When she received no response, she knew that once again, the wall was giving her the silent treatment. She questioned him for several minutes before she realized what she had done. “Oh my God,” she said. “You’re jealous!” Naturally the wall denied it. Quite adamantly in fact. “Of course you are! What else could it be? I swear, sometimes, I just can’t believe you. It’s not like I meant anything by it.” She rose from the couch to remove the tape from the VCR. “Now you’re just being paranoid. Do you honestly think I would be saying things to hurt your feelings on purpose?”

Doing her best to remain calm and not get angry at such preposterous accusations, she said, “Well, I guess we’ll save the rest of the tapes for another time. I think we’re both pretty tired right now. I should really hit the sack anyway. Work tomorrow, you know.” Giving the wall a quick peck goodnight, she hurried out of the room feeling as though she’d narrowly dodged yet another bullet.

*****

When the dust and cobwebs continued to build up, the woman didn’t mention it again. She simply followed suit and stopped cleaning the house. It wasn’t long before the wall noticed that dirty dishes were piling up on the coffee table and the rug hadn’t been vacuumed in quite some time. “Why should I” she said, when the wall asked her about it. “You refuse to do your share around here, so fine. I refuse to do mine.” All the protests in the world would not get the woman to change her mind on the matter. As a result, the two of them gained more roommates, namely swarms of fruit flies and armies of ants. The woman knew that cockroaches were probably not far behind, but she hoped that her point would have gotten across before then. In the meantime, she simply swatted the fruit flies out of her face and stepped over the ant trails. It didn’t take her very long to adjust to her new roomies, but the wall was another story all together. It turned out that he had a phobia of bugs and found the ants particularly disturbing. Throwing a used tissue on the floor, she said, “I can assure you, they aren’t termites.” The wall remained unconvinced and the woman was at a loss as to what to tell him. “You just have to trust me,” she said calmly. “I would never allow you to be eaten by bugs.”

*****

The second she came home from work the next day, she dropped her purse and ran into the living room, a panicked look on her face. When she saw what the problem was, she could have killed the wall. “Jesus, you scared me to death! All that screaming about a little ant crawling on you.” She couldn’t believe the wall was being such a baby. “‘Get it off! Get it off!’” she mimicked. “I swear you sound like a little girl.”

She couldn’t help but be slightly amused at the situation. The wall had always pretended to be so strong and macho, as if a tornado itself couldn’t harm him, as if he were bullet proof, and now here he was screeching like a banshee about an ant. “Okay, okay. Calm down.” She tried to shoo the ant, but it was a stubborn thing that started to head for higher ground the moment it sensed she wouldn’t be able to reach it. Quickly, she pulled off her shoe and squashed the thing with her heel. If she thought the wall was behaving like a wimp while the ant was alive, she quickly discovered that all the previous screaming was nothing compared to what he did with ant guts spread across him. Dropping the shoe, she had to cover her ears, scanning the floor for a tissue with which to wipe off the dead creature. The wall settled somewhat once she’d cleaned it up, but she still had to go and get his favorite washcloth and give him a thorough scrubbing before the whimpering stopped entirely.

*****

“I am not drunk,” she shouted at the wall one night. She waved a bottle of wine at it. “Look! It’s still half-full! And who are you to judge me anyway? You’re not the boss of me!” She twirled around in the center of the living room, pretending she was a ballerina. “Fuck lady-like,” she yelled. “Look who’s talking, Mr. I-Scream-Like-A-Girl! I don’t have to listen to you anymore! It’s not like you’re my boyfriend!” Continuing to dance and drink the night away, she woke up in a heap on the floor, her head splitting, her stomach churning and Wally bitching. She sat up, wincing at the sunlight, and coughed. Raising her bloodshot eyes to the wall, she croaked, “Don’t you ever threaten me with a fucking intervention again, you self-righteous prick! Just because you don’t drink—just because you’re Mr. StraightEdge—don’t think you’re so superior to me.” She wanted to lay into him even more than she did, but she had to race to the bathroom to puke and after that, she just didn’t have the energy anymore. Instead, she crawled into her bed, muttering, “A cry for help, my ass.”

*****

The woman could no longer deny that she was on the prowl for a new man. There was an errand boy at her office who was starting to look like he might have some

potential, despite being exactly 19 years younger than she was. She took to calling the kid at all hours, which was not okay with the wall. Sitting in her armchair, she covered the mouthpiece of the telephone and hissed, “Will you be quiet! Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Still glowering at the wall, she spoke into the phone: “Sorry about that. So, tell me about your graduation.” Pause. She screamed at the wall, “None of your fucking business!” Then sweetly into the phone, “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you. Go on, sweetie.” With one ear pressed to the phone and the other with her index finger inside it, she said, “Yeah, I live with my ex. That doesn’t bother you, does it?” Flicking a piece of lint off the knee of her pajamas, she asked, “Is that your mom in the background?” Abruptly, she pressed the phone to her chest and shouted, “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand there staring at me?” When she returned the phone to her ear, she was surprised to hear a dial tone. She jumped up from her chair. “This is all your fault,” she yelled, and for second time, threw a cordless phone at the wall. Instead of two pieces, this one broke into three.

*****

Out of desperation, a co-worker asked the woman if she would dog-sit for a week. The woman happily obliged, stating that she loved animals more than she loved people and had considered getting a dog herself. When she brought the little poodle home however, Wally did not share the same sentiment. “How can you hate dogs?” she asked him, honestly bewildered. “Look at this little guy. He’s as cute as a button.” The dog struggled free of the woman’s arms and raced around the room, sniffing everything in sight. “You are not allergic, you big liar,” the woman said. “Do I look like I just fell off a turnip truck?” Complaints, complaints. It seemed like that was the only thing the wall was capable of doing these days. The woman assumed the dog sided with her because for the entire week it peed on Wally’s baseboard, which he never let her forget.

*****

She suspected the wall was up to no good. “A cat?” she asked. “Why do you suddenly want a cat?” She was munching Doritos and watching a “Boy Meets World” rerun. “No way. It’s out of the question,” she said. “For one thing, I just don’t think you’re responsible enough to have a pet.” Licking her fingers, she replied, “Yes, it’s true that cats are fiercely independent but I know you and I know that I would be the one cleaning its poop box and making sure it got fed and had its shots and all that crap. So, you absolutely cannot have a cat.” But the wall wouldn’t let up. It was starting to remind her of all the times when he had wanted sex and she hadn’t, and how he’d somehow had a way of just wearing her down until she gave in and put out. Most men had that knack, it seemed. Nag, nag, nag, until you’ll do anything just to get them to shut up already. The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to not give in. It turned into an argument of course, like everything between them always did, until she was finally able to get him to agree to a compromise. She would get him a goldfish. “That should keep you entertained while I’m at work and if you prove that you’re responsible enough to take care of it for, say, six months, then we’ll talk again about you getting a cat. Deal?” They had a deal, but the fish died a week after it arrived and the wall never mentioned pets again.

*****

A thunderstorm startled her awake one night. Sitting up, she peered across the room, trying to see the time, but the power was out. Frowning into the dark, she called, “Wally? Are you crying?” Downstairs, armed with two candles, she sat on the floor and did her best to comfort the wall. “I had no idea you were afraid of the dark. Why didn’t you mention this while we were together?” She listened, a concerned look on her face, then said, “Oh, sweetie. We all have traumas from our youth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Patting the wall, soothing it as best she could, she remembered her own childhood traumas, like being left alone for long periods of time, which in turn gave her an intense fear of abandonment. “But, look at me now.” She smiled in the candlelight. “All grown up and completely recovered. I’m living proof that you don’t have to let those old fears and hurts rule your life forever. You know what they say: living a happy life is the best revenge.” The smile abruptly slid off her face. “What do you mean, you have no idea what I’m talking about? I’m talking

about…” She trailed off. “Oh forget it. You’ll never understand. Proving yet again why we weren’t meant to be together.” Drumming her fingers against her knees, she waited as the wall stammered around, trying to make excuses for his rudeness. But the woman wanted no part of it. She stood up and said, “I’m sure the power will be back on soon enough. The street light will come on and you can have your little nightlight back.” She blew out the candles. “No, you can’t keep them. That would be a fire hazard because, frankly, I just don’t trust you with fire.” Satisfied that she had really stuck it to him, she went back upstairs and fell asleep without giving another thought to his fearful whimpers.

*****

She no longer felt comfortable being in the living room in just her underwear and told the wall so with more than a twinge of annoyance in her voice. “Yes, I know you’ve seen it all before, but now it’s different. I mean, you don’t even have the common decency to look away, for crying out loud. That’s not very gentlemanly, if you ask me.” Wearing a robe despite the fact that the temperature was pushing 90 degrees, she stood in the center of the room, a bottle of nail polish in her hand. “It’s not very fair that a woman can’t even paint her toe nails in the privacy of her own living room if she feels like it. Did that ever occur to you, Wally? That I might enjoy having the damn living room to myself once in a while? No, I’m sure it didn’t. Because you are truly the most selfish ex-boyfriend and current roommate that I have ever known in my entire life. Just once, I’d like to be comfortable down here without you ogling me. And don’t try to deny it. We were together for quite a while, if you recall. I can sense when you are ogling me in that way.” Disgusted, she took her nail polish up to the bedroom, where it was at least five degrees hotter, but at least she didn’t have to feel like a sexual object or listen to the wall’s pathetic denials. The way he insisted he was so innocent was almost enough to make her puke.

*****

Trying out a new hobby seemed like just the thing to get her spirits up and this time, the woman chose meditation as her latest endeavor.

Since the living room was the biggest open place she had, that was where she settled herself, on a big pillow in the center of the room. In one corner, incense burned, while in another a candle flickered though it was still early afternoon. She assumed the lotus position and closed her eyes, trying to find her center. After a moment, she said, “Shh.” Straightening her back, she inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly, concentrating on the air moving in and out of her lungs. She’d managed another two breaths before once again saying “Shh.” Focus, she thought. Just ignore him and focus. Less than 30 seconds passed before her eyes flew open. “SHHHH!” Trying a different technique, she began counting her breaths to herself. She was just starting to find the rhythm when she suddenly screamed, “Will you please shut the fuck up? Can’t you see I’m trying to meditate here?” But the wall refused to shut up. She knew he was doing it on purpose, trying to piss her off and she hated herself for showing him exactly how well his little game was working, but she couldn’t help it. She felt the old rage boiling up inside, her pulse racing, the blood pounding in her head and when she opened her eyes, all she could see was red. “You motherfucker!” she screamed, leaping to her feet and lunging at the wall, kicking and punching and scratching just like she used to do when he was the one who was red and she’d chalked up her anger to passion. Now she knew differently. She flat-out hated the wall. Despised it. Wished death upon it. “I’ll show you, you motherfucker!” she roared. “I’ll shut you up forever!” Her first instinct was to run and find her hammer and bash the wall into rubble, but instead she calmed her nerves, gathered her car keys and left the house. Her destination: the Home Depot.

*****

When she returned, she grinned maniacally at the wall, showing it the plastic sack with the store’s logo on it. “You know what’s in here, you fucking prick? Something to really fix your wagon, that’s what. You won’t be Mr. Macho tough guy when I’m through with you.” With more delight than she could ever have imagined, she pulled out the roll of wallpaper and held it up to Wally. She was so happy, she felt like dancing. “And that’s not all,” she said. “Look at it, Wally. It’s got flowers. It’s a floral pattern. Big pink flowers!” She laughed uproariously when the wall begged, pleaded, apologized and promised. “Fuck you, Wally,” she said between her fits of laughter. “I’m going to emasculate you forever. I know for you, that’s a fate worse than death.”

And she immediately got to work doing just that.

*****

Unfortunately for the woman, the floral print wallpaper only made the wall furious. She could no longer sleep at night, even after covering her head with two pillows. On and on he raged, never giving her a moment’s peace. Somewhere around 2 am, she sat up in bed and screamed, “Shut up, you motherfucker! I am NOT crazy! You’re the crazy one! You’re the one who needs a shrink! You hear me, motherfucker? It’s YOU who’s crazy! YOU!” There was no shutting him up, though. Once again, what she had thought had been a brilliant plan had gone astray. There was just no fixing that wall. Finally, she jumped out of bed and did what instinct had told her to do before she’d gone to get the wallpaper: she went for her hammer. She charged into the living room, hammer held high above her head. “I’m crazy?” she screamed at the wall. “I’m crazy? We’ll just see who’s fucking crazy!” In the dark, she slammed the hammer into the wall as hard as she could. Wallpaper tore. Sheetrock shattered. Three layers of paint disintegrated. Again and again, she hit the wall. Her hair hung in tangles across her face, her eyes wild and rolling. She smashed the wall until her muscles ached and then she kept on smashing it. Blinded by sheetrock dust, spitting wallpaper glue and paint chips, she was a killing machine and still the wall wouldn’t shut up, wouldn’t stop yelling that she was insane, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop…

*****

Eventually, though, the woman had to stop. There were men there who made her stop and then they took her away somewhere but even after that, she swore that she could still hear the wall. It was faint, speaking to her from far away, that was true, but still, it was speaking to her. Telling her that it loved her, that she was the most beautiful woman it had ever known, that it could make her happy, and she would know that if only she would give it a single sweet kiss.

About the Author

Gina Ranalli is an author of bizarro fiction, including the novels House of Fallen Trees, Sky Tongues, Swarm of Flying Eyeballs, Chemical Gardens, Suicide Girls in the Afterlife, and Mother Puncher. Her short story collection 13 Thorns (with outsider artist Gus Fink) won the Wonderland Book Award for best collection of 2007 Her short fiction has appeared in Bits of the Dead, Horror Library Vol. 3, Northern Haunts, The Dream People, Dead Science, and The Bizarro Starter Kit (Orange). Visit her online at www.ginaranalli.com