The Waterproof Bible by Andrew Kaufman Read Free Book Online

mood?”
    “A little.”
    “Recently?”
    “Shouldn’t you know?”
    “It doesn’t work like that.”
    “How does it work?”
    “Tell me how she died.”
    “It was just, you know,” he said. He stood up and walked back across the carpet to the mini-bar. With his head inside it, Lewis continued to speak. “I couldn’t find her pulse.”
    On the morning his wife died, Lewis had decided to let her sleep in. He got the newspaper, made coffee and relished the day’s normalcy. Ninety minutes later he went back upstairs to wake her. But she did not wake up. Lewis stood over her, counted to fifteen and then shook her. He checked for a pulse but couldn’t find one. Her skin was cold.
    He then walked downstairs and began reading the business section of the newspaper. It was the only part of the paper he never read. Tales of mergers, takeovers and investments all felt like secret information, the code of a world he’d never been invited to join. He began reading the stocks alphabetically. He’d reached the Gs when he set down the paper and walked back up the stairs.
    In his mind he rehearsed the conversation he would have with her. He pictured her stretching, her arms overher head.
You’ll never believe it
, he’d say.
I thought you were dead
. With a small, embarrassed smile on his lips, Lewis opened the bedroom door, but Lisa was still lying in bed. He checked for a pulse. He still couldn’t find one. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched daylight brighten the room. He checked once more and then dialled 911. The receiver was still in his hand as he sat down beside her.
    “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, having already begun to believe that his failure to find a pulse had been what killed her.
    Lewis looked up from the carpet and tried to smile. She walked over to him, put her hand over his and squeezed, but Lewis did not squeeze back.
    “Really?” she asked. With her other hand she lightly touched his face. Lewis looked down and pulled his hand away. “Lewis, I can’t tell you how unique an opportunity this is for you. Can we at least sleep beside each other? That’s always nice.”
    Lewis was struck by her use of the word “nice,” which seemed to be without sarcasm or irony. It had been a long time since he’d heard anyone use it that way.
    “Yes,” Lewis said. “That would be nice.”
    Holding hands, they walked across the carpet and into the bedroom. They undressed. They climbed into the bed and pulled up the white cotton sheet. Lewis enjoyed the stillness, but then she began violently kicking. He sat up. She kicked and kicked and kicked. When the sheet was untucked from the foot of the mattress, she stopped.
    “Why do they do that? It just makes my skin crawl,”she said. She was asleep before Lewis could reply.
    The next morning Lewis was woken by the sound of a door opening. Surprising himself with his agility, he leapt from the bed. Pulling off the white cotton sheet, he wrapped it around himself and poked his head out of the bedroom. The woman was dressed and was taking the chain off the door.
    “Where are you going?” Lewis asked.
    “I gotta get to work.”
    “You have a day job?”
    “You sound surprised.”
    “Being God isn’t a full-time gig?”
    “Who would I invoice?”
    “What’s your name?”
    “There are so many.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Pick one.”
    “Satan?”
    “Come on. Take this seriously. Not many people get to do this.”
    “Lisa?”
    “Not very grand. But okay,” Lisa said. She left.
    Lewis closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the door as it shut. He heard the brush as the bottom of the door met the frame. He listened to the ridiculously concise melody of the lock mechanism sliding into place. Then he dropped the sheet. He picked up his pants. He was surprised to find that his wallet was still there, with his money inside it. He checked the inside pocket of his jacket, but the envelope remained, seemingly untouched.



7
The theft of a white Honda