Authors: Gina Ranalli
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?”