Dinner with the Madigans

“Could you see who’s calling me, hon?  The shade’s going to fall if I let go of it right now,” Ryan called from the living room.

“That’s not how I want our first day in this house to go,” I called back.  I set down the plates that I was putting away in the cupboards and made my way over to the island.  It was a selling point for me, I’d always wanted a big island like this in my kitchen and I found it hard to contain my excitement when the realtor showed it to us on our first open-house visit.

I grabbed Ryan’s phone, “I don’t recognize the number.  I think it’s our new area code, though.”

“Might be the realtor.  Just pick up, I guess,” Ryan said through a strained voice.

I picked up the phone and said a casual, “Hello?”

A very warm voice responded from the other side of the phone; “Is this Mr. Yates?”

“This would be Mrs. Yates,” I answered, a little offended that my voice didn’t come off feminine enough to make this clear.  “Mr. Yates is busy, currently. Who would this be?”

“Of course, where are my manners?  This is Mark Madigan, from across the street.”

I froze for a moment.  The Madigans, the family that the former homeowners had warned us about before moving in.  They’d heard disturbing rumors about the Madigans while living in town but did not share these with us because they felt that they were just that; rumors.  They had still made it a point to steer clear and said that the Madigans never bothered them at all.  They had told us not to worry about it but that, as long as we left the Madigans alone, they would leave us alone as well.  

I guess that wasn’t true.

“Oh, well good afternoon, Mr. Madigan!  So nice to meet you, well, over the phone that is,” I laughed.  “What can I help you with?”

Mark chuckled heartily before continuing; “Actually, I was thinking that we could help you out.  I know that you’ve only just moved into town and I’m sure that your day will be filled with heavy lifting and other work of the sort.  So, my wife and I thought that you might appreciate not having to cook a meal for yourselves.  We’d love to have you over for dinner, if you’d like to come.”

My thoughts immediately harkened back to what the previous homeowners had told us about the Madigans.  They had never even met the Madigans, though.  They hadn’t even given them a chance.  Mark seemed very nice; the people who made up those bad rumors about the Madigans must’ve never taken the time to talk to Mark.  I figured that, because no one really saw them out of the house (the previous homeowners had included this in their description of them), the kids must have made up some stories just to spook the others with.  

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Madigan!  Thank you so much for the offer, we’d love to join you for dinner,” I responded.

*****

“I don’t know, Violet.  You heard what the last people who lived here said about them,” Ryan spoke through his raised arms.  His eyes were intently focused on the screw holes of the window shade. 

“They never even talked to the Madigans!” I said a little too loudly, making the rod for the shade drop a little as I held it.  “How could they know who they are if no one has ever really conversed with them?  They just sound like nice, older people who are trying to make some new friends.  Come on, it’s just one dinner.”

Ryan sighed and looked down toward the floor.  He paused for a moment before nodding his head to the side, as if he had just made a good point in his head.  He sighed, “Fine.  Just because I know neither of us are going to want to cook tonight.”  

“You’ve got that right,” I said, planting a kiss on his lips, causing the shade to fall again.

*****

“Welcome!  It’s so nice to meet the both of you.  Please, do come in.”  

Mr. Madigan looked to be around 50 years old, older than us for sure but definitely not old.  He had a bulky build; he was probably a football player in high school.  Maybe even in college, I thought.  He had a kind face, with aging lines beginning to show.  His black hair had streaks of grey beginning to show.  

Ryan and I stepped into the house and brought in the atmosphere.  The interior felt cozy, the deep red furniture and accents throughout the visible portion of the house only served to add to this.  They made their way forward into the center of the house, passing through the living room.  The deep red aesthetic seemed to continue throughout the house.  In this room, there were two deer mounts.  I found this peculiar; Mr. Madigan didn’t seem like the type to hunt.  He was too kind, I couldn’t see him hurting animals.

We continued onward, finding ourselves in the dining room.  Mr. Madigan pointed us toward the dining room table and told us to take a seat and get comfy.  He sat down across the table from where we took our seats.  

“So, what brings you guys here?  I could imagine that this little ol’ town wasn’t one of the first that popped up in your home searching process,”  Mr. Madigan smiled.  

Ryan and I both laughed.  He responded: “Well, I actually got a job around here at the local college.  This house was pretty close, so it worked out well for us.”  He put his arm around me and smiled.

“Well, I am so happy to hear that.”  He paused, his gaze fixing on a spot behind us.  “Oh and look here, the lovely Lady Madigan herself.”

“Oh, stop it,” Mrs. Madigan chuckled flirtingly.  She looked to be roughly the same age as her husband, possibly younger.  She had gorgeous brunette hair that was styled in an out-of-date fashion but that didn’t detract from the vibrancy of hair.  Her smile looked genuine but I noticed that she didn’t smile with her whole face.  Her eyes didn’t shrink a little when she smiled, the expression in her eyes seemed to stay the same.  

She came and joined the group at the dining table, taking a seat next to her husband.  They met each other with a smile and Mr. Madigan put his arm around her, pulling her in and kissing her forehead.  She smiled.  They looked genuinely happy together.  In my mind, I crossed ‘domestic violence’ off of the list of possibilities as to what the rumors could be about.  

Mrs. Madigan leaned forward in her seat and introduced herself.  She asked us for our names and how we met.  I was about to speak up but Ryan spoke first.  He’d been doing this fairly often lately, trying to convince me that he’s just as social as I am.  I teased him about his tendency to let me answer questions addressed to the both of us and he took that as a challenge.  He was never mad about it, he genuinely seems to enjoy taking the lead now and he has teased me about his answering questions first.  Little brat.  

While Ryan was explaining the story of how we met, my eyes glanced toward Mr. Madigan.  I did a subtle double take.  His eyes were wide and unseeing, his eyebrows slightly angled downward.  His head was facing toward Ryan but it didn’t look as though he was looking at him; it was more like he was looking through Ryan.  His mouth was slightly open.  He looked completely devoid of life, like he was in a trance of some sort.  I made a point to not make my observing too obvious.  His stare continued for what felt like a very long time.  

My attention was redirected when Mrs. Madigan sat up and said; “Well, I guess I should finish up supper so we can get to eating.” 

 Mr. Madigan’s stare was broken and he snapped right back to the man that I had seen at first.   He smiled and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Excuse me,” I said to Mr. Madigan, “Where might your bathroom be?”

“Oh, I should have pointed that out before we sat down, silly me.  My apologies.  It should be down that hall, on the left,” he answered, pointing off toward my left.  He added: “Oh, just don’t go in the door at the end of the hallway.  It’s a rather private room.”

I got up and tugged at my dress a little, making sure it wasn’t bunched up.  “Thank you,” I said with a smile.

I made my way into the hallway as Mrs. Madigan went to the kitchen.  I observed the hallway as I walked toward the bathroom. They had some immaculate taste in art.  I’m not familiar with art to the point where I can point out who each painting was done by, but I can appreciate beautiful artwork when I see it.  Art depicting landscapes of serene waves of grain, mountain ranges, and more.  My eyes caught something set on the top of one of the dressers in the hall.  A skull.  I got closer and observed it in awe.  It was pristinely kept and a very light color; unlike the slightly brown tint that I’ve seen in the movies.  The process that someone must have gone through in order to keep this skull intact and this clean had to have been very articulate.  

As I approached the skull, I realized that it was human.  I wasn’t sure what I initially thought it was but the shape and size made it obvious, now. 

That’s strange, I thought.  Who just keeps a human skull out on display like this?

I released the thought from my mind for a moment and looked up again, intent on getting to the bathroom.  There was another skull, this one on a separate dresser.  I walked past it, my breaths short.  A small chair, set out separate from a table or a desk; another skull on it. I peeked my head in the room to my right with the door ajar; two more skulls in that room.  

Okay… What the hell…

I pushed on, finally finding the bathroom and shutting the door quickly behind me.  I put both of my hands on the inside of the door and rested my head against it.  I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.  After composing myself to some extent, I blew out a long breath and turned around.  The bathroom seemed normal; no skulls.  I found the toilet and walked toward it.

As my head came up with the toilet lid, my eyes locked on the window shade.  It was not traditional, I noticed that much immediately.  Light seemed to be peeking through it, like it was translucent to some extent.  There were darker patches though that almost looked like… freckles.  Reluctantly, I reached my hand out toward the shade.  I had to; I had to know for sure.  I grabbed it between my thumb and pointer finger.  Thick.  Smooth.

I snapped down and threw the toilet seat up too.  I bent over and vomited.  I moved a hand to get my hair out of my face and out of the line of fire.  I vomited again.  My breaths drew very short and quick.  I got up and flushed the toilet, avoiding looking at the shade.  I washed my hands in the sink and bent down to wash out my mouth.  Tears had formed in my eyes.  I couldn’t let it look as though I’d been crying, so I sat there, leaning against the sink and took deep breaths.  In, out.  In, out.

Once the tears passed, I dabbed at my eyes, careful not to smear my mascara.  I turned toward the door.

I have to tell Ryan.  We have to get out of here.  I think I know what the rumors are and I think they’re true.

I entered the hallway and walked back toward the kitchen, careful to keep my composure.  I passed the skulls, noticing, in passing, that the lampshade was most likely made out of human skin as well.  I slowed my steps, making sure that I did not cause any alarm when I got back into the dining room.  

Oh my God.  The door at the end of the hall.  If this is what they’re displaying out here, what could be so private in that room? 

I finally reached the dining room.  In the room, Ryan was alone at the table.  I scurried over to him and sat down in the seat I had been in before.  I grabbed his arm and bent close to him; “Ryan, I think-”

“Dinner time!”  Mrs. Madigan shouted as she emerged from the threshold to the kitchen.  

Mr. Madigan chimed in with a wide grin on his face; “Our specialty dish: chili!  Cooked with our own secret ingredient!”

Mr. Madigan gave a wink toward Ryan and I.  The Madigans chuckled in unison.