HERMAN

Herman

His chair was uncomfortable, odd for a psychiatrist’s office. Herman’s fingers played with Dr. Shaws’ business card. She was a psychiatrist, Herman’s co-worker Marge had recommended her. Marge said she could help. Herman sat there, hoping she could.
Herman Scheph sat next to his wife Enya, watching as she texted nonstop. Herman knew that work kept her busy, but lately it had completely consumed her. Herman tried to take her hand in his, but she slapped his hand away.
“Herman don’t touch me.” Enya spat his name out with disdain.
“Honey you promised.” Herman sniveled, not daring to meet her eyes.
“I swear Herman…grow a pair.” She caught his gaze and glared at him with such hatred that he quivered. At that show of weakness Enya smiled and returned to her phone.
Herman placed his hands in his lap and slowly shook his head. Settling back into himself as he had so often done. The air conditioner was running, so the room had a slight chill. Herman found comfort in this. It seemed to numb his senses and make reality less painful.
“Mr. and Mrs. Scheph? I am ready to see you.” Said Dr. Shaw as she came out of her office and gestured towards the couple. Her eyes registered a kind of surprise, and then she seemed to find understanding. Most people questioned the couple at first sight.
Herman stood taking his wife’s hand. Enya let him, for appearances’ sake. She had not wanted to attend this therapy session, but Herman had begged her to. Willing to do anything for her, and he had.
“Mrs. Scheph, please turn off your cellphone.” Dr. Shaw said it so calmly and politely that Enya simply did as she was told.
Powerful, thought Herman Scheph.
The couple stepped into the room and took a seat on a couch opposite Dr. Shaw. The air was much warmer in here, there was a small window and the walls were a soft yellow. It was a very peaceful space. Enya crossed her long legs, her curves settling beautifully into the couch cushions. Her hips were perfectly delicious. She had long blonde hair, pouty red lips and glittering blue eyes. She was an angel, exquisite in detail and powerful in execution.
Herman Scheph was taller than her, with dark brown hair that was thinning and muddy brown eyes. His complexion was pale and he was constantly sweating. Herman Scheph was unattractive, and had been for the last 47 years. How he got Enya was a mystery to all, unless you really knew Enya. For 17 years, they had been married and all that time Herman had been a slave. A slave to all her needs and wants, he enjoyed it too. Relished in the possibility of finding favor in her eyes, though he never had.
“Herman, I understand that you arranged this session. Would you like to tell me why?”
Herman glanced nervously at his wife. She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Well Dr. Shaw, my wife and I just need to talk and we felt that this would be a good place to do that.” His voice was low and it quivered pitifully.
“What is it that the two of you wish to talk about?” Dr. Shaw observed the couple and took notes; her face a mask of calm awareness.
Herman waited for permission and Enya granted it.
“I just want us to talk more, so that we don’t fight anymore.”
“And what is it that you fight about it?”
“We disagree about certain things.”
“Herman, what kinds of things?”
Herman fidgeted in his seat, than took a breath and gave himself permission to speak.
“All kinds of things, we disagree about everything.”
“Herman!” berated a now engaged Enya. She smacked his hand and whispered in his ear.
‘Shut the hell up you idiot.’
“Mrs. Scheph, this is a safe place for both of you to talk. You need to hear how Herman feels.”
Herman visibly shook and bowed his head yet again.
“Fine.” Said Enya tersely.
“Herman what do you want to say to your wife?”
“I just need you to stop yelling at me, please.”
“What else Herman? This is the time to tell her.”
“And maybe you could not hit me…”
“Don’t hold back Herman.”
“And maybe we could do things that I want to do…you know…private things.”
Enya looked at Herman and leaned in close. She kissed his lips and snuggled in close to him. She kissed his neck and whispered fantasies in his ear. She took her leg and laid it suggestively across his lap.
“You see Herman, all this and it’s still too much work to do what you want.” Enya sneered in his ear. She pushed away from him and pulled hand sanitizer out of her purse. She coated her hands in it and went as far as to put a layer on her tongue. Herman looked utterly embarrassed at his inadequacy.
“Mrs. Scheph that is vastly inappropriate.” Said Mrs. Shaw, her voice and manner struggling to be impartial.
“Then you do him.” Spat Enya.
Herman watched as his wife pulled out her cellphone, turned it on and began texting again. He looked at Mrs. Shaw pleading for her help.


I watched as Mrs. Scheph tortured her husband Herman. It was hard to see such dominance. I took notes of all of my observations, hoping to figure out the situation. I had never dealt with such a severe case as this. Herman was an obvious victim. A pitiful man, the way he sat there cowering on the coach; shying away from his wife’s picture in a wooden frame.
Herman spoke his wife’s cruel words, as if she truly haunted him. From what I had observed Herman Scheph believed that his dead wife was alive. Living on through her picture in the wooden frame that he took everywhere with him. I listened as he spoke and then berated himself with her words.
‘God we women are powerful’, I thought. ‘Poor Herman Scheph,’