Grief and Temptation Walk Into a Bar

Grief and Temptation walk into the dimly lit bar.

At first glance they make a confusing duo. Grief is wearing a baggy college sweatshirt and jeans and has pulled her hair loosely on the top of her head. Temptation, on the other hand, has never met a mirror she didn’t love. Her makeup is flawless, not smudge in sight, layers of hair cascade down her back and rest perfectly on her razor-sharp shoulder blades and her crop top hits all of her curves in a way that lets everyone know it’s not by accident.

Grief parks herself on an empty stool and signals to the bartender. Like magic, two drinks appear before them – a whiskey on the rocks for her and a dirty vodka martini for her friend. This is not the first time they’ve paid this place a visit and it’s far from their last.

Grief takes a giant sip and turns her full attention to Temptation.

“I can’t believe you tried to go home with the guy at Hemlock tonight,” she says in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Why couldn’t you just leave him alone?”

Temptation laughs and takes a sip of her martini.

“What’s the big deal? He was nice enough and cute enough...He was low-hanging fruit. No stress, no mess. Personally, I think I deserve a little distraction after all the work I've put in this week.”

Grief lets out an involuntary snort, spitting out half her drink in the process.

“I think you mean all the work we did this week…”

Temptation rolls her eyes and puts down her own glass.

“Fine,” she relents. “I'm always one to give credit where credit is due...it would have been slightly more difficult to convince that 34 year-old, sorry-excuse-of-a-girl to screw her married co-worker if you weren’t right next to me to confuse her moral judgment.”

Grief lets out another involuntary snort but keeps her drink intact this time.

“Her husband cheated on her with an 18-year-old he met through a food delivery app," Grief says and throws her head dramatically down on the sticky counter. "I have a feeling we’ll both be hanging out with her for a few more years."

She sits up and tries to wipe the residue off her face but quickly gives up.

“Ugh, can’t big pharma just take over and mask her pain already so I can take a day off?”

Now it’s Temptation’s turn to let out a snort.

“Because sweetie,” she says in a sing-song voice that Grief has come to despise, “the second she discovers antidepressants, we’re out of a gig. Besides, I honestly didn't think she was going to go through with it. 'I don’t want this to ruin our working relationship.' ’What if your wife finds out?’ ‘I’m not on birth control’...ugh I was like, Jesus, get on him already. It was exhausting!”

They both sit in silence and let the week’s activities settle in. Temptation pulls out her phone, adjusts her top to get her cleavage just right and starts taking selfies while Grief continues to stare down into her now empty glass.

“You really have no room to talk about exhaustion. I’ll tell you what’s exhausting,” she mumbles. “Supplying emotional support 24/7 for all those families affected by that fucking school shooting last week.”

Temptation rolls her eyes.

She continues: “I didn’t think I had enough tears to go around for that group. And that woman whose husband just left her for a Miami pool boy he met at an insurance conference...a FREAKING insurance conference. 26 years together and then *poof* one day the life you thought you were living is a complete lie.”

Temptation is now making fish lips for the camera, trying to find that perfect angle.

“And then, to top off this entire freakin’ week, I get a call about a girl who keeps having night terrors about her brother’s plane crash...she wakes up sobbing so hard her skin is literally peeling off her face. Deal with that then get back to me about exhaustion.

“You just shake your tits, pour back shots and sleep with people who don’t appreciate prestige television.”

Temptation freezes mid-pouty face, slams her phone down on the counter and swivels her stool so she’s nose-to-nose with Grief.

“I can’t help it if not everyone can get on board with White Lotus,” she sighs. “Now I know we’ve been friends for a long time…”

“Childhood, Temptation, we’ve known each other since childhood…”

“Some would say too long,” Temptation continues, cutting Grief off. “Sure, we hung out a little in high school and college, but I can’t believe we’re still having these conversations here...now...weekly.”

Grief doesn’t break eye contact even as slight beads of sweat start forming on her forehead, threatening to roll down her face and into her lap.

“But in all seriousness, what is your problem? Are you just jealous that my job is to help people let loose? To forget their troubles for one drink, one line, one night? To make them remember what it feels like to be alive when this world can be so, so cruel?

"You just remind them of all they’ve lost...of everything they never even had to begin with.”

Now it’s her turn to signal the bartender who is more than happy for the distraction.

Grief sits up a little straighter. There's no way Temptation is going to throw around that attitude with her.

“You know," she says in a voice so calm it even surprises her. "I’ve often wondered: when does something stop being a temptation and just becomes a habit? How do you sleep at night?”

“Xanax, duh. Ugh, you and your dramatics. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Grief rolls her eyes as Temptation saunters off. She's just about to settle into the silence when a guy in a dark hoodie slides into the seat next to her.

“Why the long face?” he asks his new friend.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time do you,” Grief says. “This is just what I look like.”

Hoodie drunkenly stumbles as he tries to get himself situated. Grief takes this welcome break in their very brief conversation to take him in.

Then quietly she whispers, “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Hoodie pauses and then slowly turns his head to face her.

“What did you just say?”

“Your son. It's his birthday today, right? You know, it's okay to miss him...it's okay to cry.”

The color drains from his face as he tries to place her.

“What in the actual hell is going on here?” he screams and scrambles to stand up. He trips on the chair as he continues to shout. “Who sent you? How do you know anything about me and my problems? What do you know about my son?”

Then without missing a beat he slumps over the stool and lets out a huge guttural sob.

The bartender appears out of nowhere and silently slides two whiskeys their way.

“I know he loved you very much,” she continues. She can't help it.

“Stop, stop, STOP” Hoodie shouts between sobs. “What is happening?”

“I'm sorry we met under these circumstances,” Grief says as she awkwardly rubs his back. “Trust me, I wish just once I could meet someone and not make them cry.”

“I thought back rubbing was my shtick,” Temptation says as she makes herself comfortable next to this new and intriguing person. Her tiff with Grief is old news. She's ready to play.

She can tell right away it won’t take much work on her end to convince this sad sack to buy a shot of Jameson and then another one until he blacks out and forgets where he lives. She can’t wait to rub this small victory in Grief’s face.

“Is my friend bringing you down?” she continues in a sultry voice that always gets the job done.

Hoodie wipes his nose on the back of his sweatshirt and takes in Temptation.

“Who the hell are you people?”

“My friends call me Temptation. What’s your name, cutie?”