Rule #1

Jared: part 2

Know with whom you fucketh.

Our follow up coffee talk didn’t happen immediately. Sensing that it would be a  point of no return, I was reluctant to schedule it at first. When I was younger, I would do things just for the scandal and to have something to write about. Now, in my older age and with higher stakes, I don’t make a move without a personally compelling reason. So many weeks had gone by marked with awkward verbal exchanges and unanswered texts that I became convinced I had made the whole thing up. 

Except I didn’t.

One day in the Spring, we were both speaking with other people after our networking event until we found ourselves with no one left to talk to..

“Hey”, he said. “I have a few minutes if you’d like to continue with our discussion”. I agreed but it was also the bad day of my period. By “bad” I mean a tidal wave like what spilled from the elevator doors in The Shining. It’s a good day to keep my clothes on so I suggested we stay at the restaurant, you know, since we were already there.

We sit across from each other at a small table. Jared leans in and says, “So where were we?” 

I’m cautious, still thinking that I had grossly misunderstood our previous interaction. 

“I don’t know, we covered a lot of topics.”

Jared isn’t one to mince words and cuts straight to the point. “You said ‘it’s not necessarily something to be proud of but I’m really good at flying under the radar”. 

That is in fact an exact quote from nearly eight weeks earlier. He pays attention. I’m impressed.

“Yes, I did”.

He looks right at me  and says, “I’m really good at it too but don’t want to ruin my life because of something like that”. 

Holy shit.

The blessing and the curse of being right all the time is never being wrong. After weeks of questioning my grip on reality, all the voices in my head are clamoring, “told you so”.

I should know better than to question myself. 

Caught off guard, I pause for a moment and say, “Amateurs”.

He looks at me quizzically

“Amateurs will ruin your life because the one who’s gonna fuck things up is them. If you’re going mess around you need to find someone who knows what they’re doing. I have next-level skills.” 

Several people we know are sitting at the surrounding tables. They are easily within earshot but distracted with other things.

“I should teach a workshop. I would be revered and hated all at the same time.”

Jared laughs.

We continue talking about patterns of opportunity and plausible deniability but, despite the things I’ve already said, there are a few cards left unturned.

He asks me if I still practice Tai Chi. I say no but that I once saw a Tai Chi teacher get beat up by a mime. The topic is turned to martial arts and he says “The more intimately involved you are with someone, the greater your ability to heal or to hurt them. It’s a double edged sword.” 

It’s also the most profound statement I’ve ever heard. The thing that happens when we talk is happening again. It’s how we got here in the first place. 

I say, “So I’m not losing my mind? We’re on the same page? I was sitting there in your office and had the realization that I was talking to someone almost exactly like myself.”

Jared : “Right? I thought to myself, “this is  really dangerous but also very exciting”. 

Me: “What tipped you off?”

Him: “There was a little tremble in your hand and you started to twist your hair.” 

I twist my hair worse than a thumbsucker. It doesn’t always mean anything, but sometimes it does.

Me: “I was already considering which desk was sturdier.”

“Which one do you think?” he asks

“Definitely the big wooden one.” 

“That one is good but the metal one is fun too. I already thought about it.” 

I meet his gaze and say “I know”. 

And I do know, way too much.

He goes in for the kill, “Do you think we should explore this further?”

I can’t even believe this is a real conversation happening in a restaurant full of people we both know.

I say, “Yeah, I think we should”. 

“Would that make things awkward here?”

“We’re talking about it here”.

And just like that, we are once again out of time.

We leave the restaurant with no plan and with so many things still left unsaid.

I drive home with an almost panicked level of uneasiness. Twice in a row now, this feeling grips me for days when I leave his presence. It’s not about the normal things. Nothing to do with guilt or fear of getting caught, it’s something deeper than that.

It’s unfinished business.