The Meeting

Jamie meets with a strange man, who is he? does that even matter? No, the real question is who is Jamie?

Jamie opened the door to the little cafe that opened last week. He got a letter to meet someone here. He never gets anything in the mail except junkmail. Even from the beginning the letter was suspicious. Of Course he shouldn’t have followed it. No return address, his address wasn’t written on the envelope, it just said his name. The person must have delivered the letter straight to his mailbox. When Noah found it he thought it was suspicious, “you shouldn’t visit him” he said,
“It might be a love letter” Jamie perked up when he saw the inside.
Jamie, Meet me at Cafe Richardson down the street from your house. I have to talk to you.
It didn’t even have a name that signed it off. The letter was printed out on printer paper and was written in an arial font. It was completely anonymous. Like a machine wrote it. But he still followed it.
His curiosity always got the best of him his mother used to tell him.
But he still didn’t trust it.
A man was sitting alone by the window, Jamie did not recognize him when the guy ushered him over with his hand. Jamie wanted to run. He did not trust the man at all, something about him was…off.
The man was very fashionable. He looked like a model, it slightly intimidated Jamie a little bit, but maybe it was his expressions that Jamie did not trust. Or maybe it was specifically his smile.
“James!” The man said. “Over here!”
“Who are you?” Jamie demanded, sitting down across from the man. The guy laughed.
“Don’t worry about it darling. It’s really not that important.”
“No, it really is.”
The man’s grin grew even wider, he started tapping his fingers against the counter.
“Are you going to order?”
“Answer my question.”
“No.” Chuckled The Man, “I don’t have a name, not really. I am too—“ he thinks for a second, “busy, to have a “real name”.
“Now, do you want to order?”
“That’s not an answer—“
The man cut him off, “James. Please drop it.”
“How do you know my name, who are you?”
The man inched his hand towards Jamie, so slightly that Jamie didn’t notice it.
“I want to get to know you.”
“I’m calling the cops unless you tell me who you are and how you got my address.” Jamie slammed his hand on the table, making everyone in the surrounding tables look at him. The Man waved at them and they returned to what they were talking about.
“James Truman.”
Jamie stopped. His eyes widened.
“Son of Richard Truman. You were born 1978. Went to Some state college, University of Kansas, was it? Who am I kidding yeah, yeah it was.”
“How did you-“
The Man cut him off,
“Do you want me to continue? You were friends with the guys in the Fraternity weren’t you? You left two years ago because your friend’s company had a position open and you wanted to get closer to him.”
The man’s hand moved closer, crawling like a spider closer and closer.
Close.
Jamie scooted further away from the table.
Why isn’t he running? He asked himself, he could probably take this man in a fight, and it’s not like he’s physically being held here. So why isn’t he running?
The man leaned in uncomfortably close towards Jamie.
“Is my information correct?” The man moved his hand and swiftly grabbed Jamie’s hand. His hand was cold. And Jamie was paralyzed.
“How do you know those things?” Said Jamie. He tried to break eye contact but the man seemed to draw him in, like a moth to the flame. But the moth knew the flame was going to hurt him. He knew nothing good comes from letting The Man get to him. But Jamie couldn’t help it. “I’m not going to answer that.” The man teased
“What do you want from me?”
“I want nothing more…”
The man leaned in closer. His eyes were hypnotic and strangely calming.
“Then to get to know you, Jamie.”
“You seem to know a lot about me already.
Are you going to hurt me?”
The man went to touch Jamie’s arm, his hand was cold.
“Maybe.”
“I could easily kill you.” Jamie choked out a harsh chuckle.
“You got in fights as a child right? Middle school, someone made fun of your friend, named Chris or something and you fought them. You won didn’t you? Wow, you are so strong.”
“Stop that.”
Jamie whispered under his breath:
“Please.”
“Ooh this is an interesting development. You never say please for anything, right?
You always take but never ask. You are the type of guy to ask for forgiveness, not Permission. How out of character this is.” “Stop.”
“Chris stopped being friends with you some time ago, right? You two grew apart after he stopped responding to your calls. How sad.”
The man looked like he just remembered a good joke.
“How’s Maxwell?”
Jamie’s eyes widened.
The Man never broke eye contact.
“You love your friends don’t you?” The man got up and walked behind Jamie, holding him close.
Too close.
Like a hug.
But not like Noah’s hugs.
His hug was very cold.
The man whispered in his ear.
“You spend all your time with them, you take them to bars and do favors for them, you don’t stop calling them, you are always busy talking with your friends and you get really sad when they don’t pick up or can’t hang out. You never have time for yourself. Why is that?”
“Yes. I like my friends. I have time with myself. You should know this, afterall you watch me so much.”
“No, No you don’t. You don’t care for yourself at all.
Do you perhaps
Hate yourself?”
“No.”
“But you do. You say you don’t but deep down inside you despise yourself. You become friends with everyone else as a way to cope, but oh, you dread yourself.
Why is that?”
“Stop.”
“Maybe you tell yourself ‘I am nothing without my friends.’”
“Stop!”
“Maybe you tell yourself that you are unlovable.”
“STOP”
The Man whispered,
“And maybe you are.”
…
A tear fell down from Jamie’s face.
He was crying.
Oh god.
Not here.
Not in front of Him.
The man had struck a chord with him.
“Your friends know this too, you know,” he continued. “Especially Maxwell.
He’s using you.
Don’t you notice how manipulative he is? He loves you so much and is so close to you sometimes and then doesn’t talk to you for weeks when you piss him off. He only compliments you when you are doing something for him and–”
“SHUT UP.” Jamie yelled, now bawling.
Oh no oh no oh no. ‘Boys don’t cry’ he keeps telling himself, ‘Men don’t cry.’
‘This man is lying he is lying he is lying, he is–’
“Maxwell doesn’t love you.” for a moment the man seemed to have pity in his voice. He frowned. Almost like he actually cared.
Almost. But then the smile returned to the man’s face
“You have to kill him.”
Jamie held his face in his hands.
He hated how everyone seemed to look at him.
He hated how they didn’t seem to notice the man.
He hated their fake pity.
He hated how weak he looked.
He was a little boy again
A weak little boy.
The Man held him harder and patted his head.
“There there.” he said,
“If you kill him, this will all be over. He’s the cause for all of this. He’s the cause for your sadness.
Kill him, and you will love yourself.
You will be free.”
Never has Jamie have been so surrounded by people,
But felt so alone.