It was taunting me from across the room. It appeared innocent enough, but who gave out physical invitations anymore? The only good reason I could think of was to keep something a secret, something that someone didn’t want online. So why would Alex give me one, let alone one that looked so fancy?
The whole thing was suspicious, giving me conflicting feelings on what to do.
I was going to open it eventually. I knew myself well enough. There would be no way I wouldn’t give in to curiosity. And would I really be able to stop thinking about it long enough to fall asleep?
The answer was no.
I groaned, throwing my covers off and stalking over to the unassuming envelope that sat on a small end table across the room. Without ceremony, I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the matching card inside.
Callie,
We would like to formally invite you to meet with us to learn about the support we provide for individuals with the same LaShoul’s symptoms we’ve been informed you have. At your earliest convenience, please use the code below to submit your response.
The scannable code was embossed in the same gold leaf as the rest of the design.
It felt…pretentious.
I read over the short letter again, noting the lack of signature or any information explaining who this was from. The backside was blank save for my full, legal name.
It was almost for sure an invitation for the same group Alex was a part of, the one with no name and lots of information not shared with the public.
I wanted to know more, that was for sure. Maybe this would be one way to do it.
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Scanning the code led me to a simple form, asking for my full name, as well as offering a number of days and times available for me to meet. I picked two, per the directions, before scrolling down to what looked like a list of terms and conditions. While I normally just accepted them without reading, something in my gut told me not to this time. Maybe because I wasn’t purchasing anything or agreeing to a service, just a meeting, and it didn’t make sense.
Three paragraphs in, I realized that it wasn’t a list of terms and conditions.
It was a non-disclosure agreement.
Starting over, I read through the six paragraphs carefully, noting the important details.
Participation in the meeting is optional. By submitting this form, you agree to the following terms outlined below.
Anything discussed during the meeting is confidential information not to be discussed with anyone outside of the meeting, including but not limited to…
Personal information disclosed during the meeting may be used for the following purposes without limit, including but not limited to…
You have the right to discontinue the meeting at any time, with the above statements still applicable.
Any violation of the above terms, whether accidental or intentional, may result in legal ramifications, including but not limited to…
I didn’t like it. At all. Because it legally meant that I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to Leo about anything I learned.
Would it really stop me, though? No, probably not. Though we would be limited to talking about it only at home and not in public, ever.
A new thought popped into my head; how much more did Alex know that he wasn’t allowed to tell me?
If I agreed to these terms and went to this meeting, I would be able to talk freely with him about it. In theory, at least.
I had questions. My fingers itched to send a message to Alex, but I’d just told him I needed some space to figure out what I wanted to do about the relationship.
And wasn’t that a mess? Alex and I had been together for four weeks, if I was counting the day we met and went on our first date. And I was. These thirty-some days was my own personal record for longest relationship. Was I a little inexperienced, yes, but I wasn’t clueless. There should be no reason for me to feel like Alex was distancing himself from me unless he was already done with our relationship.
Did I already have my answer?
I couldn’t answer that without feeling conflicted, just like I couldn’t submit the online form just yet. Deciding to sleep on these decisions and reassess tomorrow, I moved my phone charger to the other side of the room and left my phone there so I wouldn’t be tempted to commit to any decisions tonight.