The Date
Bob was increasingly despondent. Bob hadn’t dated anyone since his divorce. He was too traumatized and he really didn’t know how. He had met Stacy at the restaurant where they worked and married her and was really never into the bar scene. Now without a job, he felt even more worthless. He was scared but lonely and finally after a lot of researching, he decided to hire a prostitute. He felt he could control the situation better and maybe then work up his courage to go on a date. He did not have to worry about Ethel. She was deaf and barely mobile. There was a working horse ranch a few miles away and the illegal immigrant Jose who worked there came by once a day to check on Ethel and do the chores and Ethel paid him some cash. Jose was in his mid fifties. He had been an illegal immigrant for a long time. Had family back in Mexico. In the old days, when the border was more porous, Jose would go back and forth easily. Now it was strict and it took a lot of money to pay the coyotes to lead them through the desert and you could still get caught. So Jose had not gone back in quite a while. Another illegal who worked with him at the ranch was Maria and she was his lover. Jose was an alcoholic and walked the few miles back and forth and often passed over drunk on the way, when he was done with his chores. But he was a good worker. He had a huge beer belly, was strong as an ox and worked very hard, but was paid a pittance and no benefits of any kind-all under the table. Bob wondered if this was the future American workers were staring at?
Bob knew when Jose came - it was an established routine. Ethel was deaf and rarely ventured out, except to sit in the back of her house and stare at the creek running through the property. Her only son lived in Boston and rarely visited. Bob was on good terms with both of them. Bob even helped Jose connect with his family in Mexico by opening an email account and allowing Jose to communicate with his kids and send photos. They had grown so much. Jose was even thinking of going back to Mexico. Bob wished he had some place to go back to-but he was all alone and out of options.
Bob scanned the webs for prostitutes and he was obsessed. He started sending them emails and chatting and really enjoyed it. Of course he had to start a separate email account for these activities! Bob was too paranoid after the Patriot act passed and the government had used parts of it to catch New York Governor Elliott Spitzer hiring a prostitute. His good self was now paranoid, but because of the way his life had turned out, it had no hold on him anymore. He was now functioning from some deep, dark space, something he never knew he had. Then finally he plucked up the courage to make an appointment with Candace. Candace looked to be a woman and not a girl. She was shapely, blonde, wore a lot of makeup and strangely resembled Stacey a lot. Perhaps that is why he liked her. He talked with her a lot about things they would do and she agreed to come and meet him at his place for her regular fee and some extra money for gas. This frightened him immensely. It was one thing for it to be a fantasy, but this was a small town and he was terrified. He did not respond for a day and then it was like that deeper space in him took over and made the appointment. What was happening to him? He was no longer in control of his actions. It was almost like something in him became strong, took over and pushed him aside and started to do things. He no longer had full control over his mental faculties. This was extremely horrifying, as he always was very controlled, very logical and very quiet person and now he was turning into some strange creature that functioned from primal instinct.
He thought about cancelling the appointment, but couldn’t get himself to do so. He made some food and took it over to Ethel. He loved this area. He had a meat grinder at home and made sausages and the area had a large number of small organic farms, that he bought meat from. He was used to butchering and dealing with carcasses as a kid. He often cooked for Ethel who usually only ate junk food otherwise. Ethel could talk but could not hear and would launch into one of her tales that she had already told a thousand times. She had bred Paint horses and had three stallions of very good lines and a thriving business. But slowly her son moved out and her husband died and she had to sell them. She always had so many tales about horse shows and talked about color patterns –overos and tobianos she called them- bloodlines, judges. “Hello Bob, brought me some home cooked food?” said Ethel. “Yes Ethel” said Bob. “What was that? You are always so soft, I can’t hear you” said Ethel and burst out laughing. “Did I ever tell you how my stallion won so many ribbons? I slept with the judge. He was a married man and I slept with him-a good-looking guy. He always placed my stallion first and so I always took my horse across the state to wherever he was judging. Now of course my stud was a good horse, but this just gave him something extra. Oh those were the days. My husband suspected something, but never could put it together and ya know.” Ethel went on and on and this was like the hundredth time she had repeated the same tale. She did not even look at Bob when she was talking, just off in her world. Except Jose and Bob, nobody really came by anymore. The owner of the horse ranch down the road was a former student of hers and they graciously sent their help Jose to go over to check on her. Ethel paid him extra and he enjoyed it as it involved light chores and some free junk food and free alcohol. Bob helped Jose with his email and to connect him with his kids in Mexico.
Ethel was her usual self, talking non-stop and eating at the same time. Jose came by at his appointed time and did the few chores and left. Sometimes Jose passed out on the way and woke up later. But he was strong as an ox and dressed for the weather and it never seemed to affect him. The rain usually woke him. Bob was worried he would die someday as it could get cold some days, but he always seemed to be ok. Bob usually was sweet and listened to Ethel, but now he was beginning to get very angry for some reason. He was raging all over and extremely angry. He couldn’t bear to listen to her voice and was fuming. He could not figure out why and pretended he had to go somewhere and left in a hurry. What was happening to him? What did sweet old Ethel do to him? Perhaps he should consult a mental health specialist? But at some level, he was beginning to enjoy this. It was some part of him that he never knew he had. He had spent his life never listening to his feelings, never caring about himself and his needs. Always putting his family, office, career, and friends beyond him. His brain could hold it all together, as he was successful and so there was a narrative. There was meaning and purpose to the whole thing. But now there was no meaning anymore. Everything he had worked for in his life had gone up in smoke and to top it off, there was nothing to look forward to. But his conscious narrative was still wired to the concept of working hard, paying your dues and rising to the top. If anything bad happened to someone, it was their fault. Now it was him in his 50s, no job, broken family, no brighter career prospect despite doing it all right and yet broken and alone and lonely. He could not come up with an argument, a meaning, and any sense to explain his predicament. All the bandits who had made this economy a mess were still getting millions in bonuses and flying in private jets. What had he done wrong? He had always done the right thing, why was this happening to him?
Bob’s mental state was in a continuous state of flux. His well-worn patterns that had served him well for decades did not serve him anymore. But for decades he had suppressed so many things and they were bursting forth like a volcano and the more he tried to put a lid on it, the more it wanted to burst forth. It was a furious battle. Some might say a battle between good and evil, others a battle between ego and soul-but Bob was just in too much flux to notice. His old tired personality tried to reassert itself and the new resurgent one increasingly pushed it aside.
It was getting closer to the date with Candace. Bob was increasingly nervous. There was a part of him that just wanted to have sex, lots of it and in a crude, crass way. This was a part he had never explored. He and Stacey were the typical married couple who barely had time for each other and in the four years after divorce, he had walled himself off. But this brought on all the inner cravings outside and his limited persona did not know how to handle it. It felt like an immense battle and Bob tried his best to run away ?
??but how do you run away from a battle waging deep within yourself?
Candace was a prostitute since her early teens. She had run away from her abusive home and lived on the streets. She was only 29, but looked late forties. Years of drug and alcohol abuse had taken its toll. Candace usually insisted on a condom, when she was not high. She had not gotten herself tested, as she was too afraid to find out what she had. She also had a long arrest record for numerous offenses, which made getting a regular job almost impossible. She knew she was getting older and did not know what to do as the clients stopped calling. She had nothing to live for. She had been robbed, beaten and had customers run away without paying her. It came with the turf, especially now that she was not walking the streets anymore. The Internet was her friend and she posted a younger version of herself for her ads. Most of the time she got away with it, as she raised a huge scene and she at least got some money. 29 is pretty young, but she looked mid forties and so people felt cheated.
Candace was getting ready. She had a beer and got into her car. She was feeling good. She had been to Marin county many times –many beautiful homes. Many of the men would refuse to pay once they saw her and realized she was not the person in the ad. Some she would just bully and have sex. Others were too meek to bring it up, although their eyes would show their confusion. Then others would refuse and she would start creating a ruckus. Most paid her, as they didn’t want their neighbors to know. She enjoyed this game, it was the only power she had over others. Sonoma County was another story. More rural and some houses were on acreage. Many did not care if she raised a ruckus, especially if they were in a remote location. Sometimes she could not swindle them. But she took those bookings on slow days.
Bob was a mess. He hadn’t had sex in four years and had never hired a prostitute. He was terrified, had an upset stomach and was very nervous. He thought of calling it off, but it was too late. He was terrified his neighbors may find out or the police and that he may be hauled to jail. “What have you got to lose?” said his inner, resurgent self. “You did everything right and you have lost your job, your family and are a 52 year old unemployed man with diabetes and don’t have a home. All your jobs have been off-shored and you only have the small time jobs that you started your career with. What have you got to lose?” Bob did not have an answer. Bob was also alarmed that he was increasingly talking to himself. He remembered all those homeless people talking to themselves. On his daily commute by bus, there was a commuter who talked to himself almost all the way. He never could figure out why this person commuted to San Francisco everyday. But he was too polite to stare or ask. Was he going crazy? But this strange inner self made so much sense. What did he do wrong? He was a good son, a good husband and father and a very good employee. He had ended up with nothing. His professional experience meant nothing and his personal life was hell. He had nothing to show for it and all the people who did not care and who were ruthless seemed to be ahead in this new world. His sense of self and how the world functioned did not make any sense.
Candace was approaching the Marin/Sonoma county border. Traffic was easing up. Some days she felt sorry for herself. But her mother was a drug addicted abusive woman, with a knack for choosing violent, abusive boyfriends. She ran away at fourteen and lived on the streets. She started working the streets early and took drugs and alcohol and never really recovered from there. She did not have a kid, but otherwise she turned out to be a carbon copy of her mother. She did not know how to get out or even wanted to get out. At this point, life was just one big merry go round of drugs, sex, stints in jail and rehab and men paying for it. She was coming to the exit now and slowly pulled into the house. It was beautiful and she loved the woods. She had grown up in the city and as a child had dreamed of working on a farm and wanted to be with animals. But now was too far-gone. She pulled up close to the cabin in the woods and knocked on the door.
Bob was trembling with fear. He did not know what to do. He stared from the window and Candace had caught his stare. When she stepped out of the vehicle, he was stunned. This was not the woman he had agreed to hire. There must be a mistake, perhaps the woman in the ad was sitting in the car and this was the pimp or her friend?? This made him even more nervous. Would the woman/pimp be waiting outside while they were having sex? This would make him really uncomfortable. But Candace knocked on the door, while calling from her cell. Bob answered the door, in his most submissive self and with a great big smile. “Hello I am Candace,” said Candace. “Candace, ah, ah Candace-you are Candace, but, but, ah, ah” Bob struggled for words. “Aah, ah, what? Listen you hired me for an hour and if you want to spend an hour stuttering and talking, that’s fine by me.” said Candace as she pushed her way in. Bob was stunned. This was not the woman in the ad, this was three times the size of the woman in the ad and he still wasn’t sure what had just happened-she looked horrendous. “You, ah, don’t look like your ad,” said Bob. “You ain’t all that yourself, so sit your ass down and let’s have some fun,” said Candace in response.
The previous Bob would have complied. But now he could feel the anger welling up and the rage. He had hired a prostitute and he couldn’t even get that right. He was fuming, “Why has the world conspired against me? What have I done wrong? Can’t you just give me one hour of sex and fun?” Bob was fuming inside, although he looked to be his meek, demure self on the outside. Candace barely noticed. She was used to this. She did look good when she was younger, but not anymore. She had developed a nasty personality to match and except for the new client calls, she did not get many calls. This was her way of making more money and most men just paid her something for her to shut up and get out-provided she raised a big ruckus. Sometimes she wondered if someone might harm her-but it had never happened-she seemed to be a magnet for the meek ones. In a big city, there were plenty of new fish and tourists out having a good time and cheating on their wives back home. They did not want the publicity either. Candace lit up a cigarette and took a puff, “You just gonna stare at me the whole hour. That’s fine by me as long as you pay me. I will do whatever you want.” Bob was fuming. His normal self was trying to shut down the dark storm clouds emerging, but could not do so. “I think you had better leave, I will pay you the gas money, but, but, ah, this is not right, I booked with the ad in the “Bob said, before being cut off. “I don’t care what you booked for, you little weasel, you pay me the full and I leave or else, I am warning you, I will bring your neighbors running here.” Candace had seen Ethel in the main house and so she was a little braver. She figured Bob wouldn’t want his neighbors to know. What Candace hadn’t figured out was that Ethel was deaf and barely moved. “Listen, you better get started or just pay me to leave, you silly little men can’t get it up and have to hire women to get it done and you think you can stiff me?” Candace asked, raising her voice all the time and increasing her insults.
Normally Bob would be cowering down, bending over backwards to please Candace. He hated being in the spotlight, hated being picked on and always wanted to be the good guy. Candace had judged him to be that too. These men were all big company people and yet couldn’t handle people like her-they were like zoo animals that could only perform and live in their cages. Their constructed cages of reality, with their procedures and their hierarchy and their decision making process. What fools! All their fancy doctorates couldn’t prepare them to deal with a woman like her! She enjoyed it and she was enjoying it even more today to pick on this mousy old man. But today was different. Bob’s inner forces took over, “shut up,” he said. “Excuse me?” said Candace. Maybe it was the way she said it or the sum total of all his frustrations, but Bob lost it completely. He attacked her with all he had. Bob punched her and broke her jaw. Candace was stunned and bleeding and fell. Bob had become an animal, like a savage hyena ripping apart its prey and beat her with everything he had. Candace reached for her gun she had in her purse. Bob noticed it and they fought for the gun and in her weakened state, Candace was no match for Bob. Bob got the gun
and started pummeling Candace with the gun. Candace tried to fight, but Bob got up from the floor and started to kick her. Candace was begging,” Please let me go, I don’t need the money, just let me go” but she was getting weak. Bob felt so good, so alive. He felt like a living breathing life form and not a machine, not a computer that was supposed to perform as per the programming. He was alive and the adrenalin was surging through him. He noticed his metal lamp, grabbed it and bought it down on Candace’s knee. Candace screamed in anguish as she felt intolerable pain in her knee. ”You were going to bring the neighbors down weren’t you-you dumb bitch?” Bob roared tauntingly. “Well she can’t hear and is deaf,” said Bob smiling and laughing. Candace was rolling on the floor with blood all over the carpet; she was delirious and struggling to hold on to consciousness. Her attention was trying to go to many places, to keep a hold on reality. She had flashes of her mommy and realized she still loved her.
Bob was like an enraged bull. The more Candace screamed and begged for mercy, the more he attacked her. Candace was begging, screaming, and threatening him and this only enticed Bob even more. He was transported into this primal plane and felt like a predator ripping his prey apart. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Suddenly there was a loud noise and Candace did not feel anything, she felt peace and her consciousness was fading. Bob looked down at Candace; he had shot her in the head. He felt his normal self-coming back and yet he stood there laughing at this whole thing. He howled like a wolf and then roared like a lion. “I am going crazy,” said Bob and he laughed. Then he saw Candace and more of his normal self-started to come in. His fearful self started to come in and he wondered if she was really dead. The other part of him rushed out and he shot her again, through the head and the heart and felt her pulse just to be sure. She was gone. Bob sat down, adrenalin still rushing, but beginning to slow down. He was covered in blood and brain matter was splattered across his carpet and walls. He did not know what to do. He sat down for a few minutes. Jose had left before Candace’s appointment and would not be coming till tomorrow. He was nervous, angry, pacing, fearful with multiple voices all talking within him. “Shut up” he screamed at himself. “Relax and everything will be fine”, “Fine, what do you mean fine, we have a dead body and blood and brain matter all over the cabin.” “So what, we can clean it up and make it go away, how many animals have you gutted?” Bob’s different selves started conversing with himself. He was panicky, still angry at Candace, fearful, terrified at being caught and yet supremely relaxed and he was feeling them all at the same time. Instead of experiencing life sequentially, he was experiencing all things at once. He did not what to do, then just sat there and turned on the TV. For a while, he watched the TV.
Bob fixed himself dinner. When he came back to the living room, Candace was still there, dead. Bob was surprised, almost not expecting to see her there. For some strange reason, he chuckled. He ate dinner, while watching TV and then sat on top of Candace and watched some more TV and finished up dinner. His innards were still buzzing, almost like a diesel engine that is still warm after running for a while. He fell asleep there, on top of Candace. The next morning, he woke up with a nasty headache and with Candace still there. His cabin stunk. He was in a daze. He showered and came back, Candace was still there. Bob now realized that he had to get rid of the body. He just did not know how. He had watched too much of those crime scene dramas and was scared of being found out. But in a couple of hours, Jose would be here and he might notice the stink-not to mention all the coyotes and maybe the neighborhood bear too. Bob’s cabin was a nice setup, a living room, a bedroom and a kitchen. It had electricity, a shed where he kept wood and a garden. It was in the woods and he loved it. Bob suddenly remembered his meat grinder and the ax and decided that would be the best way to get rid of the body. He was afraid that otherwise, someone may find it and it may lead back to him. Those crime scene dramas made it look very easy. Bob brought the ax in and started chopping Candace up. He put her remains in the freezer. He was halfway through it and suddenly remembered Candace’s car. If Jose saw it, he might unwittingly tell someone. He had to get rid of it. Candace had the key in her purse and Bob started the car. It was a newer Honda car. Bob wondered how she could afford such a new car? Bob drove it down into a mud road behind his cabin and under some dense branches and parked it there for now. He would still have to get rid of Candace, before worrying about her car. Bob finally finished clearing up Candace, although her blood and her pieces remained splattered across his living room.
Bob could see Jose walking up the path from his employer’s horse ranch. Jose went straight to Ethel’s and started his chores. Bob was mortified. What if Jose decided to come knocking? He did that sometimes to check the Internet and see if his kids had sent him any emails. Not often, but maybe once a week. Bob was nervous, he didn’t have time to clear the blood and then he looked at his shotgun in the wall casing. He hadn’t used it in a long time. It was from his childhood days. He took it out and waited for Jose. Jose finished his chores and left. Bob heaved a sigh of relief. Bob really liked Jose. Jose always treated him with respect and he had gotten to know Jose’s family. But at the moment Bob felt like an animal and all that did not matter at all. But as Jose left, Bob started to feel a little fearful and a little bad about what he had done to Candace. But then the other part of him took over and he did not feel bad at all. He savored it and relished it. He felt like a man, a human, something with feelings. But now he would have to get rid of all evidence. He had used odor neutralizers during his childhood days. But Jose was gone and so he opened the windows a little and then went out and bought an odor neutralizer. He chatted with Charlie the shop owner for a while, who was his usual jovial self. Charlie and his sons went hunting and fishing often and reminded Bob of his neighbors while growing up. He came back and sprayed the neutralizers. He meticulously vacuumed his entire living room and bleached the whole cabin. He cut up the carpet and burned it . He then went to work on the body with the meat grinder. His friend Lex a few miles down had three big rotties. His friend Lex was out of town and Bob had agreed to feed them for a few days. Bob fed them the mashed up remains of Candace. The dogs seemed to love it. Soon Candace was no more. Bob checked the dog poop, just to make sure nothing turned up, but it was ground up and so it looked ok. Bob cleaned it and now relaxed.
Once the danger ceased, Bob returned to his usual self again. Yet now it was almost like there were two parts of him. One was Bob the submissive person and the other the caged animals that had broken free and were not going back in any time soon. Anytime Bob felt a little bit of guilt, that part unleashed itself and Bob became quiet again. He actually began to enjoy that part of himself more. A few days passed and Bob hadn’t decided what he would do with the car yet. He had removed the license plate and the VIN number. He also found that Candace had a stash of three thousand dollars in the glove compartment and another thousand in her boot. He laughed, almost taunting her in the other side. Bob was slowly getting back to his quiet existence, but now the uncaged animal side of him refused to sit down and be quiet and started to nag him. Bob tried to go the library and surf the Internet and join forums. But he was not the same and nothing worked. There was a restlessness in him, something he had not experienced before.