Pictures of Houses with Water Damage: Stories Read Online Free Page B

said.
    “Just like that?”
    “People come.”
    “You didn’t make him wear a condom?”
    “I don’t like the taste of latex.”
    “That's dangerous,” I said.
    “He seemed pretty safe,” she said.
    I sat down.
    “What did I do?” I asked.
    “You didn’t do anything,” Lisa said. She didn’t look at me. “Our marriage has dulled. You know that. There's no—excitement. I’m a bad person, I know. We have a good marriage.”
    “Have there been others?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many?”
    “I won’t answer that,” she said.
    “How many?”
    “I guess I should pack some stuff,” she said.
Second Phone Call
     
    The phone rang while I was watching television. It was the news. Bill O’Reilly on Fox.
    “Hello,” the woman's voice said. “I called the other day. From San Diego.”
    “Andrea Redman?”
    “Yes,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”
    “Your husband met my wife at a bar,” I said.
    “I know,” she said. “He told me. He said they didn’t sleep together.”
    “No,” I said, “Lisa only gave him a blowjob.”
    “What?”
    “You know what a blowjob is?”
    “I know what it is,” she said. “I don’t believe it.”
    “That's what my wife told me,” I said. “She's gone now.”
    “With Barry?”
    “They hardly know each other,” I said, “I doubt they have anything romantic going on,” I said.
    Silence.
    “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Andrea Redman said. “He's done this before. I’d hoped it stopped.”
    “Ask him what it was like,” I said.
    “What?”
    “What it was like,” I said, “getting his dick blown by my wife.”
    She hung up.
Lisa's Call
     
    Lisa called me from a hotel room. “What should we do?” she asked.
    “What will you do?”
    “I’m not sure what to do,” she said. “Do you want a divorce?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “I love you,” she said, “no matter what.”
    “I want to know how many?”
    “Is it important?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Six,” she said, “I think. But they didn’t mean anything.”
    I hung up.
Los Angeles
     
    Andrea Redman called in the afternoon.
    “I thought you might call,” I said.
    “I’m in L.A.,” she said.
    “Why are you in L.A.?”
    “It's only a two hour drive up,” she said. “I was hoping—I was hoping maybe you’d meet me.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    She arrived forty minutes later. I watched for her. She drove a small station wagon. She was tall and slim, with short blonde hair and a thin face, too gaunt. Maybe it was the glasses she wore. She rang the door bell and I answered.
    “Andrea Redman, I presume.”
    “Hello.”
    “Did you find my house okay?”
    “I got lost once, but I’m here.”
Coffee
     
    I offered her some coffee. She said that’d be nice. I got us both a cup of coffee and we sat in the living room. The television was on, sound off. We sat there quietly, sipping coffee.
    “Well,” I said.
    “Well,” she said. “I don’t know what to say. I was rehearsing all kinds of things in my head on the way down here. My mind is blank now.”
    “Relax.”
    “I am relaxed. I just can’t think . I don’t know why I’m here. I got into my car and started to drive. I thought you had some answers. I don’t know what the questions are. I woke up this morning and my husband was gone. I don’t know where he is.”
    She added, “I wasn’t surprised.”
    “I don’t think he's in L.A,” I said.
    “No,” she said.
    “But you are,” I said.
    “Yes,” she said.
    I looked out the window.
    “Listen,” I said. “It's starting to get dark out. You want to go to a bar, or something?”
    “Sure,” Andrea Redman said. “Or something.”
Tequila Tonics
     
    We took her car. We went to a little bar I like, one Lisa and I used to go to. We’d been here last week. Andrea and I sat at the counter. “What would you like?” I asked.
    “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Whatever you’re having,” she said.
    I ordered two tequila tonics.
    “Strong,” she said.
    I