Wall of Kiss

by Gina Ranalli

  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 l
ived 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, m
oving 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?