THE POLICY

by Bentley Little

  Beth noticed with annoyance that the boy was throwing gravel right at the spot where she’d be backing up, but she didn’t say anything. She unlocked and opened her car door.

  “Hey!” the kid yelled at her. “What’s wrong with your teeth?” He laughed and his father laughed, too.

  Beth was suddenly filled with anger. She slammed the car door shut and walked over to where the boy sat on the curb. “That’s not very polite,” she said to him.

  Ed Brett threw down his hose and strode over. “You can’t talk to my boy like that!”

  “He was being rude.”

  “He was just being honest. That’s what kids do.”

  She should have left it alone, but she couldn’t help herself. “Someone has to teach him some manners,” she said. “He’s certainly not learning them at home.”

  “What is wrong with your teeth?” Ed Brett squinted in mock puzzlement.

  Beth closed her mouth and turned away, striding quickly back to her car, trying to keep back the hot tears that were stinging her eyes, trying to ignore the laughter of Ed Brett and his bratty son.

  When she told Hunt that evening, he was furious. He wanted to go straight over there and make the man apologize. But antagonizing their neighbors wasn’t going to make things any easier, and she convinced him to drop it and just let things slide.

  “I’m oversensitive,” she said. “I shouldn’t let things like that get to me. It’s just… these… teeth.”

  “I’d love you if they were green or brown or red, white, and blue.”

  “I know,” she said, and gave him a quick kiss. “That’s why I keep you around.”

  TWELVE

  1

  Saturday, they awoke late, grateful for the chance at extra sleep. Hunt was up first, and he reached between Beth’s legs, rubbed her, but she grumpily pushed his hand away. “Later,” she mumbled. So he reached for the remote, turned on the television, and changed it to a channel that showed cartoons. SpongeBob SquarePants was on Nickelodeon, and he watched it for a while before heading out to the kitchen to feed Courtney and pop a bagel in the toaster for breakfast. Beth got up while he was reading the newspaper. She poured herself a glass of juice and, since her teeth still hurt, cooked some soft Cream of Wheat.

  After breakfast, they planned to go to Home Depot and get a new rake and a couple of hanging plants for the back patio. Hunt showered and shaved, then quickly combed his hair and slipped into a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt. Beth put on her own weekend yardwork uniform. They opened the door—

  —and the insurance agent was standing on the porch.

  “I’m glad I found you home,” he said, smiling broadly. “Your insurance policies have arrived. This is a big day indeed. May I come in?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pushed past them into the living room.

  They followed him. He seemed taller, Hunt thought. Something else was different about him, too, although it was not anything he could put his finger on.

  The agent stepped between the couch and the coffee table, placing his briefcase on the tabletop. He looked at Beth, frowning in an exaggerated manner. “What in the world happened to your mouth, Mrs. Jackson? No offense, but it’s a disaster area in there.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed, a hot flush blooming on her cheeks.

  “Now, wait a minute,” Hunt said angrily.

  “That problem would not have occurred had you availed yourself of our supplemental dental insurance, as I suggested, and it could be fixed tomorrow should you sign up for one of our many excellent dental plans. We work with only the best dentists and oral surgeons. In fact, we audition them. Ordinarily, it’s the doctors and dentists who decide whether or not they will accept insurance coverage from a specific carrier. But in our case, we decide whether or not we will allow our customers to be seen by a given practitioner. That’s why we have access to the best and the brightest in all of the medical and dental disciplines.” He smiled engagingly. “We’ll get to that, though. Don’t worry. First, let’s look over your brand-new, freshly issued policies, shall we?” He was already opening his briefcase and taking out two slickly printed booklets, laying them out lovingly on the coffee table. “I’d like to go over this with you, if I may. You might have a few questions regarding your coverage that I would be more than happy to answer.” He motioned toward the couch. “Sit, sit.”

  Compliantly, they sat down. The agent handed them each a copy of the first booklet, perfect bound and with an olive green cover. “This is a copy of your new homeowner’s policy. I’d like you to turn to page one and make sure that your names are spelled correctly, then we’ll go on to page two and begin looking at the terms and conditions of the policy and how they will affect you.”

  Curious, Hunt opened the booklet and looked at the top of the page for the name of the issuing company.

  The Insurance Group.

  The Insurance Group? That was it? He riffled through the pages, scanning the documents for another name or a more detailed description but found none. He’d thought that knowing the name of the insurance company for which the agent worked would make him feel better, would put a corporate face on their new policies and allow him to feel more secure, but the name was so generic as to be suspicious.

  “You work for The Insurance Group?” Hunt asked.

  “Yes, indeed I do.” The agent grinned. “And a finer organization I could not ask to be affiliated with. Now, let’s turn to page two, paragraph one…”

  It took nearly fifteen minutes for him to describe the information on that page. Hunt’s eyes glazed over after the first fifty seconds, but the agent was rapturously delineating the variety of benefits they would receive under different scenarios, speaking so quickly and forcefully that neither he nor Beth could get a word in edgewise. Hunt flipped to the end of the booklet. There were thirty-five more pages to go. Not to mention the other policy booklet lying on the table.

  He put his foot down. “We’re a little busy here today,” he said. “Why don’t you just leave the policies with us, we’ll look them over and if we have any questions, we’ll call.”

  The agent seemed disappointed. He was clearly enjoying giving them his in-depth description of every minute detail. But he recovered quickly and collected the policies, handing the booklets to them. “I understand,” he said. “Sometimes, with something like this, you’d just like to experience it for yourself in the privacy of your own home. Perfectly understandable.

  “Now, let’s see what we can do about solving your other problems.”

  As before, he took out a single-spaced form and a piece of scratch paper. He muttered unintelligibly to himself, wrote furiously, then looked up at them, beaming. “Okay. We can provide both of you with a comprehensive dental/medical package—Denta-Med, we call it—for what I think will be a fraction of the cost charged by our closest competitor.”

  “That sounds great, but even if we wanted to switch, we couldn’t,” Hunt said. “I get my health and dental through work. She does, too. And both of our open enrollment periods aren’t until fall. We’re stuck with our plans until—”

  “Wait a minute!” the agent said, shocked. “You two haven’t even consolidated your policies? The moment you got married, the spouse with the most desirable package should have added on the other person as a dependant, and the other person should have taken those benefits deductions and switched them over to a deferred comp plan.” He sorted through his briefcase, took out a sheaf of papers and several pens. “Now let me go over this with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hunt said. “We’re not interested.”

  Beth put a hand on his arm. “It won’t hurt to listen.”

  “But we get our insurance through our work—”

  “And you still can,” the agent interrupted. “That’s what I want to show you. For pennies more a month you can have the satisfaction and piece of mind that comes with knowing you are insured by the best, that you have the most comprehensive insurance available. And
you don’t have to wait for open enrollment. How it works is this: we take over your existing policies, collecting the premiums paid by both you and your employer. We then send you a modest bill each month for the difference, and—voila!—you’re enrolled in the best program available at any price. Deregulation has allowed us to offer a wider variety of services than ever before and to utilize creative approaches to recruitment. It’s a boon for the consumer, and men and women like yourselves who were previously locked into plans that might have turned out to be unsatisfactory when put to the test can now partake of the foremost insurance coverage in the county as documented by the AAIO twenty-five years running.”

  “Look,” Hunt said firmly. “We’re not looking for new insurance. You can stop with the hard sell.”

  “You’re not the one with silver teeth,” Beth pointed out. She nodded toward the agent. “Go on.”

  He withdrew from his briefcase two small booklets and handed one to each of them. “This is the package of which I was speaking. If you’ll turn to page one…”

  It took nearly an hour for him to enumerate the benefits of the Denta-Med insurance, and after he was done, Hunt had to admit that it did sound like far better coverage than what either the county or Thompson Industries provided. Plus, if what the agent said was true, they would actually be saving money by consolidating their policies. Although they’d have to pay part of the premiums themselves, Beth would see substantially more money on her monthly paycheck because she would be on Hunt’s plan and an employees’ contribution to her insurance benefits would no longer be taken out.

  “I like it,” she said.

  Hunt sighed. “Yeah. It sounds good.”

  “Excellent. I just happen to have the application right here. So if I could just get you to sign and initial it, we’ll get the ball rolling.”

  Pen in hand, Hunt paused. “What if we change our minds? What if we want to opt out?”

  “Ah,” the agent said. “Well, in that case, I’m afraid you would have to wait until your usual open enrollment period as determined by your employers.”

  “So we’re rolling the dice here.”

  “Not at all, not at all. Our customer satisfaction—”

  “And your AAIO rating. I know, I know.” Hunt met Beth’s eyes, saw the determination there and, breathing deeply, signed the form. What did he care? He was hardly ever sick anyway. He probably wouldn’t even use the insurance before the open enrollment period. Beth would be the guinea pig, and she’s the one who wanted it.

  They signed and dated four pages apiece, then traded and signed the others.

  The agent took the forms from them, put them in his briefcase and closed it, placing the briefcase next to the couch. “Thank you very much. Here’s my card, and, like I said, if there’s anything I can do for you or if you have any questions, feel free to give me a call.”

  It was the same card he had given them before, QUALITY INSURANCE. Phone number. No name.

  “If we do call,” Hunt said, “whom do we ask for?”

  “Why me, of course.”

  “No, I mean what’s your name?”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be the one to answer the phone.” He stood, shook both of their hands—

  not quite so leathery

  —and started toward the front door.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Beth pointed to his briefcase.

  He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Sometimes I think I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. Last week I forgot an application for term life and had to go all the way back to my office to get it.”

  “Absentmindedness is always a good quality in an insurance agent,” Hunt said. “Inspires confidence.”

  The agent fixed him with a look so venomous, so completely at odds with the friendly, enthusiastically helpful persona he’d been cultivating, that Hunt was taken aback. Beth, too, seemed startled. But the look was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the familiar cheerful expression they’d come to expect, and Hunt thought of a human mask being pulled over a monster’s face.

  For an instant, he thought, they’d seen behind the mask.

  “I hope you enjoy your new policies,” the agent told them, picking up his briefcase. “Look them over, read them at your leisure, let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

  He turned just as he was about to step out the door. “Did I mention that we now offer employment insurance?”

  Neither of them responded.

  “It’s not like unemployment insurance, it doesn’t guarantee an income if you are temporarily out of work. Rather, it ensures that you will not be out of work, that your job will remain stable and secure, that you will not, let’s say, lose your job to budget cuts or privatization.” He smiled at Hunt. “Or resent your job because of extraneous factors at work.” The smile turned toward Beth. “With this coverage, you will be guaranteed happy tenure in the job you love. And who can ask for anything more?”

  Before either of them could respond, he was walking out the door. “I’ll let you two talk it over. I have some other clients I’m supposed to meet with, but I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “No,” Hunt insisted.

  “We’ll talk about it and we’ll call you if we decide to take it,” Beth promised.

  He waved them away. “No problem at all, I’ll be glad to do it. You’re on my route back anyway. I’ll stop by sometime after one.”

  “We might not be home,” Beth cautioned him.

  “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

  “We’re busy,” Hunt said firmly. “Today is not a good day.”

  He finally seemed to take the hint. “Some other time, then.” He waved and walked up the cement path to the street.

  A pickup went by at that moment, so Hunt could not be sure, but he thought he heard the agent whistling.

  2

  “Employment insurance,” Jorge said. “You ever hear of such a thing?”

  They were in a remote part of a remote park where they very seldom worked, clearing a dead palo verde and four mesquite trees that had been uprooted during a flash flood several weeks ago. Jorge was using a shovel to dig an intransigent branch out of the solidified mud. Edward and Hunt were repositioning the logs that lined the hiking trail so they’d be able to bring in some heavier equipment.

  “What kind of scam have you gotten yourself into?” Edward asked. “Next you’re going to be telling us you’re going to lose weight by taking pills you bought from an infomercial.”

  “I know,” Jorge said. “Now I’m thinking we should’ve bought that supplemental health policy from someone else. Anyone who offers something like employment insurance can’t be on the level.”

  “You can always cancel.”

  Hunt was being awfully quiet, and they both looked over at him, “Hey, bro,” Jorge said. “It’s not like you to be so silent. You’ve got to have an opinion on this.”

  “I was offered employment insurance, too.”

  “No shit?” Jorge was surprised… but at the same time not. Hunt’s unusual behavior resonated with him, and he realized that his friend’s uneasiness mirrored his own. “Who’s your insurance agent?”

  Hunt shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know his name. The company’s called The Insurance Group.”

  “Did he just… show up? Walk in off the street and invite himself in your house and just stay there until you bought something?” Jorge was feeling chilled for some reason, discomfited.

  “He didn’t invite himself,” Hunt said, more quietly. “We invited him in.” There seemed something ominous about the way he said it.

  “Some guy off the street? What’s wrong with you guys?” Edward asked. “Jesus H. That’s Consumerism 101. Never buy anything from a door-to-door salesman.”

  “We didn’t buy employment insurance,” Hunt told him.

  “But you bought other insurance from him. Mark my words, nothing good can come from patronizing solic
itors.”

  “As opposed to buying things off the Internet?” Jorge countered.

  The big man shrugged. “Do what you like, it’s your money. But don’t come crying to me when it comes up and bites you on the ass.”

  Neither of them answered. Jorge didn’t know about Hunt, but for his own part, he was more than half-convinced that Edward was absolutely right.

  “He was here,” was the first thing Ynez said when Jorge arrived home. She was upset, but he couldn’t tell if she was angry or frightened or both. “He came at lunchtime.”

  “Who?” Jorge asked.

  “That insurance agent.”

  This was getting weird. “What did he want?”

  “He said we needed to buy more insurance, that if there are complications, we won’t have enough to cover the delivery and all the related expenses.”

  “So what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I’d talk to you about it. He gave me this pamphlet.” She handed Jorge a slickly printed brochure.

  It was the photo on the cover that caught his eye rather than the bold exclamatory words.

  A newborn infant with an oozing gaping hole in its chest and batlike wings where the arms should be.

  “This Could Happen to You!” the text proclaimed.

  He looked up, sickened. Ynez started to cry. “I didn’t know what to do. He sat there and made me read it, and he wouldn’t leave. He said I might have some questions, and he wanted to be there to answer them.” She threw her arms around Jorge and held onto his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

  Jorge was filled with a white-hot rage. He opened the pamphlet and inside saw a photograph of a shrunken purple infant with an oddly bulbous head.