For the first time in an embarrassingly long time, Jordan’s apartment was completely clean. It had taken hours, but Jordan finally got it done. It wasn’t that Jordan was a messy person; he was just a low-maintenance person. He’ll do most of his cleaning, but not all of it, and the cumulative effect slowly encroaches across the apartment, gradually transferring the home of a responsible, mid-30s adult into the warzone of a 16-year old boy.
But the place was clean now, just in time for the group. This would be the first RPG session in Jordan’s own home. After kicking out Mark, everyone agreed it was time to change venues. The unspoken fear was that Mark would show up uninvited. That seemed like a ridiculous notion to Jordan, but better safe than sorry.
It was the mid-term elections that pushed Mark over the edge. Who gets that worked up over mid-term elections? thought Jordan. Not to mention the elections were on a Tuesday, and Mark was that stressed out on a Sunday. If he was that bad on Sunday, how furious was he on Wednesday?
And, really, thought Jordan, how could he not see it coming? After he almost got into a physical altercation with Kinsey, and argued so vehemently with Samantha it put her in tears (which, predictably, pissed off Steve, even though they weren’t dating at the time), how could Mark not understand that it was time for him to move on?
In the weeks leading up to Mark’s last session, Jordan had fielded a flurry of emails from the others saying something had to be done about Mark. Jordan, who loathed such a confrontation, was hesitant to act, until Samantha started talking about leaving. That was an unacceptable loss to Jordan, partially because he liked Sam so much, and partially because that may have set off a chain-reaction that would cost him Steve, as well. Further sealing the deal was Heather’s rabid enthusiasm for the game. Jordan knew if he kicked Mark, he could easily pick up Heather to replace him as a regular, and not miss a beat.
Of course, none of this would have been an issue if his stupid idea for the NoVa IFC had panned out. But it didn’t. All his campaigning and hard work resulted in four new gamers, three of whom didn’t work out. All of his efforts had yielded only Heather. Heather was great, and Jordan was glad she’d joined them all, but the extensive social media campaign he launched only to produce one member seemed to Jordan, in a word, pathetic.
Anyways, Jordan, after discussing the matter at length with the others over email, knew it had to be done. The only question was how? Ultimately, Jordan settled on an email. Jordan felt like it was a coward’s way out, but it seemed to make the best sense to him. If we sprung it on him before a session, now he’s driven over to the library and committed to an afternoon with the group only to find out he got kicked out. That seemed like a dick move, to Jordan. And if we allowed him to stay for that last session, that would be even more awkward, assuming Mark would even want to.
A meeting during the week was nearly impossible to coordinate with everyone’s schedules. Jordan was too nervous to talk to Mark alone, face-to-face, which humiliated Jordan and just made him feel bad about everything else. So email it was.
And so Jordan composed a lengthy email describing the situation (“your anger is out of control and you’re beginning to scare others in the group”), elaborating on that position (“here are a number of incidents when your anger became a problem”), and finally stating the bottom line (“we wish you the best of luck, but we think it would be for the best if you didn’t continue playing in this game with us. Please don’t take it personally.”) If Jordan was going to do this via email, he was going to do it right, giving Mark plenty of time to think on it, and change his plans for Sundays. Jordan got straight to work on the email after he came home from the office on Monday night, and after an entire evening of drafting it and going over it online with Steve, he finally sent it at 11:04 p.m.
Mark took it about as well as Jordan expected he would. Mark’s response, sent at 12:14 a.m., was an equally-lengthy, court-room style rebuttal of nearly everything Jordan wrote about (“I was just assessing the situation, it’s not my fault Samantha started bawling about it”), chock-full of barely-contained anger, hurt, and digs at nearly everyone in the group, especially Jordan himself (“you’re kicking me out because some people complained about me, dude. How the FUCK am I NOT going to take that personally?”)
The whole thing really upset Jordan. His response, sent at 1:28 a.m., was a refutation of everything he had previously said (“Man, Mark, how do you NOT see where everyone is coming from? Look at the fucking email you JUST WROTE BACK TO ME!”), and a doubling-down of his position (“I really think this is for the best, Mark. Considering how pissed you seem now, you’re probably going to be happier, too.”)
Jordan’s phone rang at 1:56 a.m. It was Mark. Jordan didn’t pick up. Mark did not leave a voicemail.
This back-and-forth emailing continued until Thursday evening. It ended as unceremoniously as it began, with Jordan un-friending Mark from Facebook and filtering all further retorts from him directly into his spam folder. The entire exchange left Jordan emotionally exhausted, and depressed.
“I can’t believe he’s being so terrible about this,” Jordan wrote in a chat to Steve, Thursday night.
“Yeah, he’s something else. But you did the right thing, man. Good on you for taking the initiative and getting him out. He was being a toxic influence on the group,” Steve wrote back.
Depression, once experienced, spread like a festering wound throughout Jordan’s soul. He had been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) when he was 21, and has been on various antidepressants throughout his life since then. Though the medications typically work, especially troubling events would allow the depression to break through the medication, and bring Jordan low for days, often weeks, at a time. He could feel it now, this week, working it’s way in...the falling out with Mark, the failure of the NoVa IFC, the brewing jealousy of Steve’s relationship with Sam…
Jordan called in to work on Friday. He spent the entire weekend on the sofa, playing video games half-heartedly. He left the apartment only once, to get food. He did no prep for this week’s Numenera game. Jordan snapped out of it Saturday night, just in time to get his apartment cleaned for the session the following morning.
* * * * *
The session went poorly, according to Jordan. Though everyone seemed to have fun, and his apartment proved to be suitably comfortable, his lack of prep left Jordan scurrying for even the most basic details as the session progressed.
The low-point for Jordan was when, after a long pause to go over some notes, Jordan looked up and saw Steve and Samantha cuddling on his couch. The only thing that allowed Jordan to recover and carry on was the look of discomfort on Samantha’s face as she shifted nervously on the couch. Was she as not into Steve as Steve was into her? thought Jordan. Might she be more into someone else?
At this point in his life, Jordan was a pro at dealing with his depression, and he knew sometimes riding even the faintest glimmer of hope allowed him to emerge from his personal darkness and carry on. And that is exactly what Jordan did, subconsciously entertaining thoughts of Samantha’s disappointment in her boyfriend, feeding off that hope, using it to climb out of his black hole of depression.
The session, which Jordan personally declared a loss, at least ended strong. Pulling out of the depression, he described a rousing action sequence as the players escaped from a collapsing tunnel while they simultaneously fought off wild beasts. It was exciting, and a few good laughs were had at Kinsey’s expense, thanks to some timely natural 1’s on some choice dice rolls.
As Jordan cleaned up after the others left, he pondered the short-term future of his gaming group. The latest depressive spell left him feeling disillusioned with the game he was running. Jordan didn’t know, however, if that disillusionment was just the depression, or actual disillusionment revealed by the depression. It’s happened both ways, in the past. Jordan knows his interests can shift and fade by a bout of depression. Things that had no appeal can suddenly consume Jordan, and things that were exciting and fun can become mundane, as if the depression washed away all the joy that was once found there, and deposited it somewhere else.
Jordan’s feelings for Samantha continued to rankle him, as well. He felt undeniably attracted to her now. But she was dating Steve, who Jordan had grown close to over the past several months. Jordan knew he didn’t have it in him to break up a relationship (even if he had the charisma necessary to do so, which he believes he does not), and even if he did, he wouldn’t want to hurt his friend. Jordan resented this drama brewing inside of him, but felt powerless to stop it. He didn’t know what he was going to do, and he certainly couldn’t turn to his usual confidante...Steve...about it.
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