“Take a good look, a$$hole,” She yelled as she put on her bra, “this is the last time you see my bare black ass again.”
Herb had to stifle a chuckle. She was getting a little, um, urban, now.
“I’m really sorry, Torrance. You’re a terrific girl, really. I obviously have some issues.”
“You’re damn right you have issues!” She said, still outraged. “What kind of person pulls this crap?”
Yes, yes, yes, my darling,” Herb thought, “Let’s get through this ANGER stage together, shall we? I’ll be your guide, now let it alllll out.”
Torrance continued this chain of obscenity-laced observations about Herb’s character while she hopped around on one foot or leaned awkwardly against the television angrily trying to dress herself. Occasionally, she’d stop and look up into space to marvel at how good he was at duping her, as if she were a General admiring a skilled enemy tactician. Finally, after hearing enough agreements and apologies by her target, she began to calm down.
Herb knew what was next and prepared himself for the BARGAINING stage. “Here we go...” He said to himself.Herb had figured out long ago that this was the hardest stage of grief. It is where the heart is finally and irretrievably broken.
“Please tell me this not you, Herb.” Torrance pleaded. She sat back down on the bed now, fully dressed with her purse in her hand. “Please tell me this is just one bad night. I really thought you were the perfect guy, Herb, warm, smart, witty. You spoke my language. Please tell me this isn’t who you are.”
“Whatever I was taking last night must’ve worked pretty well.” He quipped to himself. He thought about asking her if she’d happened to noticed what it was.
“Yes, it’s me Torrance. I’m horrible. My addictions are almost completely in possession of me. Even when I’m sober I’m pretty awful. And I don’t mean that in a this-is-a-guy-I-can-fix type of awful. I mean it in a ‘Hey, I got to get as far away from this guy as I can’ type of awful.”
“You’re an insurance investigator, really?” Torrance pleaded.
“Yes,” Herb responded, “sort of. I do corporate investigations. Quite a few are insurance related.”
“An insurance investigator.” She said, as if she hadn’t heard him. She made it sound like he manually inseminated pigs for a living.
“Yes - sort of,” He repeated. He was getting a little irritated now. “For what it’s worth I’m a goddam good one.”
“Sorry,” she said, realizing what she’d done.
“Don’t sweat it.” Herb said. “I got accepted to Stanford’s Masters in Applied Mathematics program fifteen years ago. I declined the invitation and it’s been all downhill from there. My career hasn’t exactly gone in the trajectory I’d hoped. I’m a little sensitive about it.”
“I won’t bring it up again,” Torrance said. She made a mental note that if she ever saw this prick again, she’d be sure to bring up his career. His weakness made her feel less vulnerable.
She looked at the wall, then put her head in her hands. “Why me?” she asked to no one in particular. “I can never find a decent, man. They always turn out to be jerks.”
Herb took this as a hopeful signal that she’d moved from the uncomfortable BARGAINING stage and into DEPRESSION. He was a bit relieved, thought for a moment that he should put his arm around her. He decided not to as that could possibly bring her back to Stage One.
“I meet a guy,” she went on, “he seems perfect. Handsome, well-educated, successful. Then he always ends up being a complete a$$hole in the end.”
“No offense, Torrance” Herb replied, “but eventually you have to consider the town you’re living in. I mean, I’m the worst person I know, literally, but I probably have more ethics in my thumb than 90% of the self-important douchebags in this town. All of them think they’re doing God’s work down here, making deals with other people’s money and shoving it up the ass of the American public. This is all for the “greater good” of getting some career politician re-elected or funneling money into some mega-corporation. Honestly, Herb Atwood, ‘insurance investigator on a bender’ must look like a prince in comparison to these trolls.”
The unintentional insult snapped her out of her depression. Torrance stood up. “Well it’s been a pleasure, Herb, whoever or whatever you are. I hope you find some help and beat whatever this is that makes you such a truly despicable human being. I’ll say this for you, you’re pretty good. And don’t sell yourself short by calling what you are capable of a ‘parlor trick.’ It’s pretty damn impressive. I’ve dealt with quite a few agents and you could match up with the best of them on pretext.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t hypnotize you,” Herb said half joking. He’d read quite a few books on the subject.
She didn’t quite know how to take that. “In any case,” she said, “give me your card.” We will absolutely never be ****ing each other again, I can assure you that, but I do have a project I want you to work on if you’re interested.”
“Well, I guess that blow job you were about to give me this morning is out of the question then.” Herb delivered the boorish wisecrack to her along with his business card.
She rolled her eyes in disgust and opened the door to leave. “And stay away from my sister,” she said as she pointed a long finger at him.
Herb held the door open for her and watched her walk down the hall. She wasn’t walking as fast as he would’ve expected. He wondered if she was getting some delight in knowing he was admiring her physique. “Ah, ACCEPTANCE,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
He noticed a maid opening the door across the hall. He leaned over toward her, still holding his room door.
“Perdóname, Señora” Herb asked her, “¿Qué día es hoy?”
The maid looked at Herb, than down at the towel he had wrapped around his waist. “Jueves,” She replied, and went back to work.