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
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
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