The Letter

As Mark pushed open the partition glass doors that lead to his office, he removed his jacket and hung it on the rack to his left. Shuffling to his desk, he was met with a notice on his desk, congratulating him on his third consecutive ‘salesman of the month’ award. As much as he expected the award, he was still proud of the achievement. He placed the sheet back down on the desk, almost exactly where he found it, on top of the massive day calendar that doubled as a mouse pad.

Before turning his computer on, Mark gazed at the reflection staring back at him from the monitor. Brown hair and a clean shave complimented his black suit and navy blue tie, and his jawline was impeccable enough to be chiseled out of stone. He had the look of success, and did not lack the attitude to match. He spun around in his chair to grab the briefcase that he had left behind the night before, and then placed it on his oak wood desk, cracking it open.

Inside held scattered piles of paperwork, documenting cemented deals from weeks prior. He rummaged through the brief case before being startled by a knock at the door. Mark closed the black briefcase and latched it shut, glancing at his boss staring back at him through the glass. Mr. Goldberg let himself in, standing tall, coffee cup in hand, looking down at Mark.

Mr. Goldberg stood a mere 5’6, an imp in comparison to Mark’s 6’3 stature.

“Chambers, meeting at 2:30 in the showroom, it’s mandatory. If you have any obligations, cancel them. New inventory coming in next week, so just be there, yeah?”

Mark shook his head in confirmation, “yes, sir. I have a meeting with a client at noon but I’ll definitely be back by then.”

“Alright then, well you’d better get going. It’s already 11:30. You’ve been in your office staring at that damn briefcase all day.” Mark grabbed his phone from his pocket and checked the time, and realized that his boss wasn’t pulling his leg.

“Are you ok, Chambers?”

“Huh? Oh… yeah. Just a big day is all.”

Goldberg stared back at him while taking a sip from his mug, and then wiping the residue from his salt colored moustache. He asserted his workplace superiority, taking a seat and putting his feet up on the desk.

“So, how are you dealing with your grandfather’s death?”

Mark’s face started to blush, feeling a small ball of anger expanding inside of his chest and into his stomach. Fighting back the urge to accurately address the disrespect displayed by his superior, Mark answered with, “Fine, as best as I can. I think I’m doing well.”

“That’s good, good to hear, son. See you at the meeting.”  Goldberg removed his feet from the desk and left the office as quickly as he’d entered. The scent of his cheap cologne lingered behind, which only made Mark hasten his departure from the dealership. Walking through the showroom, he passed by a forest green colored 2012 Ford Focus before acknowledging Mr. Goldberg on his way out of the door.

As Mark approached his car, he reached inside his pocket to grab his phone, but grabbed nothing but air and the suede that made up his jacket lining. He let out a grumbled, “shit,” and turned around to head back inside to grab his cell phone when he heard a voice from the door.

“Forget something, Chambers?!” Goldberg stepped toward him, holding the phone out in front of his body.

“Thank you, sir.” Mark reached for the device, but Goldberg pulled his arm away and stepped back a few feet.

“Your phone’s been buzzing like a beehive on that desk of yours. You selling a Shelby behind our back or something, kid?”

Mark passively laughed at the suggestion and again reached for his phone.

“No, I’m serious. What the fuck is up with you today? You’ve got to be adjusted to New York winter’s by now, son. I mean hell, you’ve been here four months now.”

Mark was starting to get pissed off, and showed it by snapping back at his boss.

“Yeah, and I’ve topped the sales chart each month, now with all due respect sir, give me my fucking phone.”

Mark lunged forward and grabbed the phone from his employer’s grip and stormed off, slamming the door of his white 2009 Infiniti. After peeling out of the parking lot and reaching a stop light, he unlocked his phone and sent a text message that read, “On my way. Got held up at work.”

As he drove on, he looked at the time shaving away, knowing that his credibility would be lost if he showed up even a minute late. They had decided to meet at the Trenton train station, as his expected guest would be arriving from Philadelphia. Mark normally detested crossing state lines, but the short trip from New York to New Jersey was a small price to pay to give his grandfather an eternal smile.

As pulled up to the train station, parking across the street, his phone buzzed.

“Camouflage jacket, navy blue tee shirt, blue jeans. Honk twice when you see me.” Mark lit a cigarette while he waited.  He was about half way done with it when he saw a man who matched the description given to him walked through the doors and stood outside, waiting for his signal.

Mark honked the horn twice and stuck his hand out the window, waving it back and forth to get his attention. The man in camo jogged towards the car and entered through the passenger side door. The car noticeably sank down once he sat down next to Mark. He had a scruffy red beard and green eyes.

“So is it true what they say about you people? You ain’t got a fuckin’ soul? You could’ve warned me that you were a ginger dude, man.”

The guest shook his head in disgust, “look man, just give me the money so I can get out of here. And yeah, we have souls. Asshole.”

Mark chuckled as he dug into his back pocket for his wallet.

“You take food stamps, right? I’m just messin’ with ya. Where’s the letter though?”

The red headed stranger reached into his jacket and pulled out a 12 inch manila envelope.

“Open it,” Mark demanded.

“Why are you so god damned pushy?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask me right now? Of all things, that’s the thing you just must know? I’m gonna give you a mulligan on this one. Ask me again.”

“Fine, yeah, I had another question I’ve been meaning to ask you anyways,” said the stranger.

Mark turned to him and gestured his hands in a flowing motion, basically telling him to get on with it.

“Why were you willing to pay so much over the asking price? I was selling it for fifteen, you offered thirty grand and wouldn’t hear of a lower price. Why?”

“Because it’s a priceless item, and the fact that you were willing to sell it speaks volumes about your character. There’s a lot of people who aren’t even aware that this exists.” Mark unfolded his wallet and removed a creased check for $30,000.

“What’s your name?”

“Jacob Anderson.”

Mark wrote his name on the check, using the steering wheel as a flat surface.

“30 grand is yours, my man.”

Jacob reached for the handle, but Mark mashed the lock-all button on his panel.

“Wait. I didn’t pay you for the item. I paid you to hear this story. So please, just listen.” Jacob released the grip from the door handle and sat back in the seat. “My grandfather died a couple months back. It fucked me up. On his death bed, he told me of the all of the horrible shit he did in his life. He was a scumbag Nazi sympathizer, but he was still my family, my blood. He was my grandfather, and he had one dying wish. Do you know what it was?”

“To buy that there document?,” Jacob asked with hesitation.

“That’s right. To buy this here document. He told me he wanted it destroyed, but what good would it really do? There’s more out there, isn’t there? You’d know better than I would.”

“Not many, but yeah, there are still some out there.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know man, like twenty or something."

“Well, anyways, to finish my story, my grandfather wanted me to read it and then destroy it. I don’t think I want to do either of them. How about you take this back with you?”

Jacob looked at Mark with a look of confusion.

“Oh no, yeah, you can keep the money. Go ahead. Go before I change my mind. Go.”

Jacob reached for the door handle once more, but this time let go by his own free will.

“So what did you pay me for? To meet with me? Is the check gonna clear?”

“The check will clear. Go.”