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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