The Mulaney Paradox

On a cold, rainy morning there are a few places no one wants to be -- the DMV, an outdoor wedding, and above all else: work. Personally, I’d rather be enduring the festivities of some chick’s, “big day”, or trapped in line behind the counter waiting to pay a ticket I definitely deserve than spend another day wrapping a tie around my neck and faking smiles from behind a desk. But, alas, here I sit. Seconds passing by like hours and coffee table conversations sounding like Freddy Krueger using his chalkboard scratching post. 

Today, I was happy to see that the usual unending ramblings about Janey’s friend’s daughter’s soccer team and Todd’s eminent divorce were replaced by a loop of people stumbling through the open door and exclaiming, shocking everyone in earshot with their revelation, “It’s raining!”. Thirteen years here and I still don’t know who I must have pissed off to get moved to the desk right outside the breakroom. Each day I’m guaranteed at least twenty minutes every hour where someone slips out from behind their computer and slithers into the breakroom, sure that absolutely no one will be able to tell of their disappearance. Surely their shouted whispers between each other are the epitome of espionage and their tales of he-said, she-said are going completely unheard by EVERYONE in the office!

“Okay? Honey I understand you had a stressful day but how does any of this -”

“I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it. Okay, I’ll move on.”

So I was sitting there, enjoying what felt like an iota of silence when Alex and Roger came in from their smoke break and went right into the break room for what I’m sure was their third break so far. So they’re carrying on when all of a sudden I hear them start talking about that thing from Sunday’s paper -- the article about how many old people go missing around this time of year. Y’know, getting dark earlier, kids messing around in the streets all night, no one would think twice if they small a geezer walking alone, especially right around Halloween.

“Yeah, I know. I’m the one that showed it to you.”

“Right, yeah.”

So they’re going on and on and as they talk I start thinking about Bill Yorn next door. I just kept thinking like, ‘what if he was the poor guy who the next article is written about? Everyone would come knocking on our door and start blaming us!”

“And there it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I knew it was weird that you were so concerned about Bill all of a sudden. You’ve never so much as mowed his lawn and today you come home all gung-ho about inviting him over for supper and being there for him. I should have guessed that this was all just about how it would make you look.”

“Hey, hey, what’s so bad about wanting to be nice to an old man?”

“Nothing at all. I was actually starting to be proud of you for not being so damn selfish for once and thinking of someone else for a change.”

“Hey, come on don’t walk away. I had more to say about work!”

And there’s the migraine again. Damnit, I should have never tried to involve her -- can’t ever win with her. I keep my nose out of other people's business and I’m callous. I try and extend my hand to someone and I’m selfish. I should just leave Bill’s door open tomorrow night and let him join the trick or treaters, that would show her. No… no I can’t do that. Think of all the witnesses. No way I wouldn’t get ratted on and then I’d be the one making the Sunday paper.

You know what? Screw it. I don’t need her help and I don’t need her permission. I’ll go next door my own damn self and I’ll bring Bill back here anyway. Last thing I need is for him to wander off. She’d never let me live that down. He’s probably asleep by now, but tomorrow morning I’ll go by on the way to work and tell him to come over in the evening -- have him hand out candy, maybe put some dumb costume on him. Yeah, that’ll show her. Selfish? Bah.

---

Damnit, why did I decide to do this? Stopping next door seemed like it would take two minutes -- in, hello Bill, bye Bill, out -- but now I have to wake up early, skip breakfast, miss the carpool, all so I can help a poor, feeble geriatric. Whatever, what’s done is done. I just wish he would answer the damn door. Fifteen minutes waiting outside in the morning rain and still no sign of him. Not even a cursory door slam or thud of cane hitting stairs to let me know that he’s making an attempt to come let me in. Twenty minutes… twenty-five… this is ridiculous. I’ve half a mind to just walk back home and tell her all about how I went out of my way to make a selfLESS gesture and I was left out in the rain. I suppose it’s not worth it in the end. Besides, if I don’t hurry I’m going to miss the mass rush to the coffee machine and then how would I possibly know if it’s raining?

---

Hours after being stood up by a man who can barely stand, I find myself staring glassy-eyed at my computer screen and thinking about the fight yesterday. As curt as she might come across when we argue, the occasional text from her is the only thing that keeps me sane through the day. She’ll usually tell me to stop being so judgey and to mind my blood pressure, but she enjoys the gossip of my idiot coworkers as much as I do. I’ve gotten pretty good at texting under the table without needing to look at the screen.

“Wentt to sea bill this mourning. Dudnt come to door.”

Her response to a while to come through. “Okay, cool. Who is Bill? Have I met him?”

Oh ha. Ha. Ha. Someone woke up on the right side of the bed to be making jokes after clawing out my eyes last night.

“Neiggboor Bill. Not funny.”

“Neiggboor? You mean ‘neighbor’? Wait, are you talking about Mr. Yorn? Wow. You’re the one being not funny right now.”

I pulled my phone up to my chest and slouched down behind my monitor.

“I’m confused. This morning I went to Bill’s house and tried to invite him to supper tonight, but no one ever came to the door. He’s probably just away. The whole house was dark.”

Minutes and minutes went by without a response.

“Look, I know we were both just pissed off and made this way bigger than it needs to be, but it would mean a lot to me if you would just take one for the team and invite them over tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” My fingers were tapping as fast as they could. “I told you: I tried to invite him over. Bill wasn’t home. And what do you mean, ‘they’? Bill lives alone, doesn't he?”

“Okay, quit it. You’re being a jerk. I know you don’t get along with Jerry, but I really like Sarah and I need you to suck it up and invite them over for Halloween dinner. Just please do this for me. And please stop bringing up Mr. Yorn. That’s a really messed up thing to bring up just because you don’t want to spend an evening with the Kralls.”

What the hell is she talking about? Who the heck are the Kralls and why is she so mad at me for bringing up Bill? I mean, I know we had a little fight about it, but we’ve had way worse before and laughed about it the next day. The time between her responses is dragging on and on and on and I’m going to get caught if I keep staring at my phone like this. Just a few hours left and I’ll figure out what the heck she’s going on about.

---

“I cannot believe you. You’re such an asshole when you don’t get your way!”

Okay, not exactly the greeting I had hoped for as I walked into the door but I’ve had worse. “Back it up, alright? So first things first, I don’t remember you talking about anyone named, ‘Krall’ before.”

“Stop being stupid.”

“Who are the Kralls?”

She didn’t say anything in response, but instead walked out of the front door and out towards the street. With an open hand she turned and gestured towards the decorative stone that Bill had at the end of his driveway. I don’t know what she’s getting at because --

“Wait what? How did… what?”

“The Kralls. The best neighbors we’ve ever had. Sarah is the only woman on this block that is actually fun to spend time with. So will you just drop this whole act?”

Wow. That was loud. And very much a scene. Quick, wave and smile to the neighbors that are watching. No need to worry Man-walking-dog, just a little lover’s quarrel. 

She yelled from the porch, “And stop bringing up Mr. Yorn. That’s really screwed up.”

“Yeah, hey, wait up. What’s that about?”

Yes, inside fighting is much better than outside fighting. Don’t want the neighbors thinking that I’m some loon who beats his wife. Can’t have that. Then they’d never let me back on the annual yard sale committee.

“What’s what about?”

“The whole Bill thing. Why are you talking about him like he’s not right next door?”

“Because he’s NOT! What are you not getting?”

“What are YOU not getting? I saw Bill just the other night mowing his lawn. Remember? You were all mad ‘cause I didn’t want to do his job and mow his lawn?”

“No, I do not remember that. I don’t remember much at Mr. Yorn at all, in fact. I never spoke to the man. I’m honestly surprised you did speak to him enough to be on a first name basis.”

“Why are you talking about him in the past tense? What is going on? I feel like I’m losing my damn mind. This morning, the rock outside that house said, ‘William Yorn’. Nothing about this ‘Krall’ stuff!”

“Because Bill’s dead, you insensitive asshat! You want me to spell it out for you? See if it jogs your memory?”

Oh Shit. 

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“This makes no sense, none at all. On a scale of basic addition to the plot of a Nolan movie, this makes zero sense. Bill’s been on this block forever. We’ve only lived here for six years, so what you’re telling me is that Bill has been dead for the entire time we have been here, and was long gone four years before that?”

But she was already gone. She slapped headphones into her ears and was already drowning me out. Okay, relax. Relax. She’s just trying to get you riled up. Tonight, she’ll roll over and go, ‘You’re so stupid, of COURSE Bill isn’t dead! Sarah’s his granddaughter and you’re a moron.’ And we’ll both laugh and everything will make sense again… Unless… Unless she’s not kidding. What if I’m the wrong one and she’s actually right? Before I could even finish that thought I found myself standing in front of Bills -- or not Bill’s?-- house. No matter how hard I stare, I just can’t seem to understand what I’m looking at. The open curtains show a happy family enjoying a perfectly happy meal. Nothing is even remotely wrong with the picture, except for the middle-aged man staring at them alone in the dark.

I have to know...  I HAVE to know. Wait, did I say that out loud? I could have sworn I heard that with my ears. I mean, it could have been me but it didn’t seem like me. I suppose it could have been me speaking without --

While I debated the origin of my own voice I happen to notice that my fist is currently wrapping on the front door of not-Bill’s house. So now, not only must I think about my own voice in my ears but I must see deal with the situation I now find myself. Even after the door had opened, my hand continued slamming into the now open door.

“Oh, hello… uh… Simon! How - how are you Simon?”

Simon? Oh, I suppose that’s me. To be honest, I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought.

“Where’s Bill?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bill Yorn. I’d like to invite him to supper.”

“Umm… that’s very nice of you. I'm sure that this, ‘Bill’, would very much appreciate the offer. Um, would you like help finding Bill? If I’m being honest, I don’t think I know any Bills. Well, I mean, of course I know Bills. Who doesn’t right? Haha. Haha.”

I should laugh.

“Hahahahaha. YES! Exactly!”

“Ha. haha. Ha. Yeah, so I’m actually in the middle of dinner right now so I’m just… just going to… yeah.”

How rude, slamming a door on a neighbor and interrupting their continuous knocking. This Sarah person must just be playing dumb. Or maybe she’s really dumb, that’s an option too. Definitely an option. But perhaps none of this is real? Perhaps all of this is just a big. Fat. Lie! Something confounded. Something contrived! WHat would you do then, huh? NOTHING! Just like the people at work! Just like my wife! You’ll sit there and do nothing while I do ALL the WORK! But I won’t have it, you hear! Bill is alive, I tell you! He’s alive!

---

“Sir, I understand that this is urgent, but I’m going to have to ask you to please leave. He needs his rest.”

“Fine, I’m not getting anywhere anyway. How long till we can come back and try again?”

“As his doctor I can’t say that any time will be a good time, but I understand the pressing matter of this case. Give us an hour to calm him down. Maybe go grab some lunch downtown?”

“Alright, ma’am. We thank you for your help in all this.”

“Of course, detective. Charlie, can you please restrain Simon’s arms and sedate him? Sir, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure you can’t share any of the confidentials… but just between you mean and the floorboards, do you think he did it?”

“I’m sorry ma’am but, I can’t give my own opinion on things.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just can’t get that old man’s face out of my head. I mean, I’ve treated wounds of every kind, but this was just… just inhuman.”

“I don’t understand why this man ended up the way he did. I don’t know what led him to snap like this. And I assure you that I don’t know who is behind the double-homicide. What I do know is this man is not well, and I suggest you up that dosage of whatever the hell you’re putting into him.”

“Is anything he was saying true? Did all that really happen or was it just some fabrication of his mind?”

“I expect I’ll figure that out.”

“Oh, and Happy Halloween.”

“Ha. Yeah, sure. You too, Doctor. You too.”