The Introvert

by Michael Paul Michaud

  Then Donna started to cry, so I figured it was the wrong thing to say, even though it was the truth, so I told her that the subject just made me uncomfortable and she stopped crying a moment later.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I see.”

  I thought of how I was still repeating what the police officer kept saying and it made me want to laugh, but I felt it might not be appropriate in the circumstances since she’d just been crying and was now confiding her feelings to me, so I resisted the urge to laugh and instead took a sip of my beer.

  “Don’t you have anything to say about it?” she said.

  “Like what?”

  She didn’t answer right away and it looked like she might cry again, but she didn’t. Donna cried an awful lot and especially when she’d been drinking, and I thought about how we were quite different in that respect because I don’t remember crying once in my entire life. I thought this was funny and it made me want to laugh, but then I thought maybe it was sad that I never cried and that depressed me sufficiently enough not to laugh but still not enough to cry, but I thought maybe it would have been ironic if I had.

  “Don’t I mean anything to you?” said Donna.

  “Of course you do.”

  Then she started to cry again anyway and I thought I’d said something wrong again until she started to talk.

  “I’m sorry. I should respect you when you say it makes you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that I have feelings for you, and I’m scared that you don’t have the same feelings for me.”

  “Feelings are funny things,” I said.

  The seventh rule of The Company Culture Handbook was to “Always Diffuse Discomfort.” The company had taught us that ambiguous or generalized statements were good at this, and though I wasn’t sure if it would work on Donna because she’d read the same manual, it did seem to work because she started to nod and smile.

  “You know I’ve liked you for a while, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

  I’d wondered the same thing myself sometimes but then I always just preferred to go home and walk Molly and watch television, but I thought she might not like to hear that, so instead I thought again of the seventh rule of The Company Culture Handbook and just said, “It’s hard to know why anything happens the way it does” and again she nodded and smiled. The fact was that I’d mostly liked to be alone growing up, and there were other incidents between me and other people with me wanting to see them red and open, so I usually didn’t spend more time with people than I absolutely had to.

  We sat drinking beer and were mostly silent when Donna finally said, “Sometimes I like that you don’t talk a lot. It makes it more meaningful when you do speak.”

  She’d said the same thing on other occasions and I could tell that the alcohol was affecting her because she sometimes repeated herself when she’d been drinking, but it was still nice to hear it because I knew that some people thought I was weird because I didn’t talk very much, and I always wanted to tell those people that I just didn’t talk much with my mouth but that my mind was always talking, but then I usually didn’t tell them this because the few times I did they usually walked away from me with a funny look on their faces.

  I also remember once when I was in the fifth grade and a few of us walked to a convenience store at lunchtime, and though I don’t remember much about the clerk or the layout or the prices, I do remember that it wasn’t much of a convenience store.

  Once we got inside, two of the kids bought licorice and the other one bought gum, but I didn’t buy candy at all and instead decided to buy a small jar of honey, and even though it was just as sweet and tasty as what they’d bought, it didn’t seem to matter because when we left the store the three of them went off on their own and I could hear one of the licorice-eaters saying, “There’s always been something a little off about him” to the others. I also remember how I’d brought it up to my parents later that night and how they just told me that in a world where most fifth graders bought licorice or gum or chocolate that if another kid bought honey they might think that’s “a little off” because most people are only comfortable when everyone is eating and wearing and talking and acting the same as everyone else, but that I should never change who I was just because most people changed the way they were to fit into a pattern. I don’t remember exactly which parent said what or even the precise words they used, but I do remember that was the gist of it.

  “I’m glad you like it,” is all I said, after I’d finally come out of my remembering.

  “Have you always been that way?”

  “Mostly,” I said. She’d asked me the same thing at least once before, but I didn’t mind answering it again.

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Why what is?” I said.

  “Why are you so quiet?”

  “It’s hard to say,” I said.

  This wasn’t me trying to invoke the seventh rule of The Company Culture Handbook but was in fact the simple truth. I thought about maybe telling Donna about the police officer and how he’d asked me questions about Molly and Sherman Dempsey, but then I thought better about it and instead I asked her if she’d like me to come back to her place, and she said yes and so, after we finished a couple more drinks, we did.

  CHAPTER 18

  Last night I was unable to achieve it even with Donna’s help and she said not to worry about it and that it had happened to most of her boyfriends at one time or another, but none of that was very comforting to me for various reasons.

  She said that maybe it was stress related and though I didn’t feel particularly stressed I did have some awfully strange dreams during the night and woke up still thinking about the police officer and the landlord and Sherman Dempsey and so maybe Donna was right.

  I got home just in time to take Molly for a walk and feed her and get to work. I received a phone call midway through the day, and since Donna put it through to me, I thought it might be a lay-down. Instead it turned out to be the officer that I’d spoken to on two occasions and he asked me if I could come down to the police station and meet with him and his inspector and I told him that I was working and he said that it could wait until after work was finished so then I told him that I had to walk Molly after work was finished and he said that it could even wait until after that so then I finally agreed to meet them.

  After I hung up the phone, Donna asked me why the police were calling me, and I told her that they were probably hoping to get help from the tenants in figuring out what happened to the landlord and that since I’d been one of the last to see him I likely had some clues or leads they might be able to follow, and she smiled after I said this but it was a weak smile.

  I met with the inspector and the officer at the police station at eight o’clock. They took me into some type of interview room where there was a plain steel table in the center and a few chairs though only myself and the inspector sat down.

  “We started to think you weren’t coming,” said the inspector. He was an older gentleman and he was wearing a hat that I thought was a fedora.

  “Why did you think that?” I asked.

  “We thought you’d be here right after work,” answered the officer, who was standing off to the side of the table and leaning against a wall.

  “I said I had to walk my dog first,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said, “but we thought you’d come after that.”

  “I did,” I said.

  “Did you walk your dog to the next city?” said the officer.

  “No,” I said. Then I told them that I had dinner first, but since my kitchen sink is still not working I have to get my water from the bathroom and that takes longer and that I watched the news while eating and only left after the news was over.

  “Sir, do you know why we’ve asked you to be here today?” said the inspector. He took off the hat that I thought was a fedora and rested it on the table.

/>   “You need my help to find the landlord,” I said.

  “Do you know where he is?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. I didn’t much like lying to police officers, but this was one of those times that I felt it was absolutely necessary.

  “You should know that you’re not under arrest, and we’re not detaining you. You are free to come and go from this room at any time, do you understand that?”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “But you should also know,” said the inspector, “that we are investigating a murder and a disappearance and that they both have some connection to you.” He pointed his finger rather accusatorily in my direction as he finished the sentence. I felt this was somewhat rude, but then I figured this was probably just his way or maybe even part of his training, so I wasn’t too fussed about it.

  “Because I found the dead man’s dog,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “And because I live where the landlord lived,” I said.

  “Yes,” he repeated.

  “Is there a reward?” I asked.

  “Come again?”

  “I said ‘is there a reward?’ For finding the dead man’s dog?”

  I watched as the inspector looked at the officer and the officer shrugged and smiled, and I thought it was weird since I’d asked the question but they were the ones looking at each other and nobody was looking at me, but then soon they were both looking at me.

  “There was never a reward for the dog, sir.”

  “I see,” and then I laughed because I’d said “I see” again, and when I did that they both looked at each other again.

  “Sir, are you quite all right?” asked the inspector.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I wonder if you’re well. Have you been to see a doctor?”

  “Why would I need a doctor?”

  After a moment he said, “You understand that we are investigating a murder, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Possibly two,” he said.

  “Yes,” I repeated.

  “And you have now confessed to having the murdered man’s dog?”

  I suppose I had, although I didn’t much like him using the word “confessed” since that made it sound like I was guilty of something, and even though I was in fact guilty of something, he couldn’t know this for sure, so it seemed rather presumptuous of him to use that word.

  “I told this officer that I found the dog and took it home and fed it and then took it to the veterinarian.”

  “Yes, we’ve verified that with the neighborhood vet,” said the inspector. “He confirmed that part of what you told us.”

  “That is good police work,” I said, and though I meant it sincerely, I suspect maybe they thought I was being smart because both of them smiled in a way as if they hadn’t really just received a compliment, which is truly what it was meant to be.

  “Thank you for your faith in us,” said the inspector.

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  “Sir, I’m going to come right out and say it,” said the inspector, “I believe that you know more about both the murder and the disappearance, but you’re holding something back. What do you have to say about that?”

  Again I tried rule seven of The Company Culture Handbook which says “Always Diffuse Discomfort” and said, “What could anyone say to that?” but it didn’t work because they just repeated the same question, so then I said, “I don’t know what I could possibly tell you that I haven’t,” and I felt like this wasn’t a full lie because even though I did know more, I knew I couldn’t possibly tell them more, or else I’d be arrested and lose my job and lose Molly and Donna and would have to go back to achieving it on my own, perhaps forever.

  “Do you have any family?” asked the inspector.

  “Both of my parents have died,” I said.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and he seemed sincere about it. “Anyone else? An aunt or an uncle, perhaps?”

  “I had a very small family.”

  “I see,” he said, and even though the inspector had just said “I see” like the officer, I didn’t want to laugh because at that moment I was thinking about my parents and about the pets we used to have and how they were all gone now and how it made me rather sad to think of it.

  Suddenly the inspector got up from his chair.

  “Thank you, sir, that will be all for now.”

  They walked me out of the police station and watched as I drove away and I drove home thinking that the meeting had gone fairly well and was surprised that I hadn’t been more nervous. I then took Molly for a walk and watched some television and then achieved it on my own and then went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  The next day I was called into Mr. Peters’ office and when I walked in, Donna was already sitting there, and he asked me to take a seat beside her and then closed the door.

  She had one of her legs draped over the other and it was rocking up and down.

  “I spoke to human resources,” Mr. Peters said, “and they told me that for the protection of everyone involved, we may need to transfer one of you to another office, in order to diffuse the potential for conflicts.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “What it means is that there exists a reasonable apprehension of bias if we have two employees intimately involved in the same location. And neither of you have denied that you’re seeing one another.”

  “What’s to deny?” said Donna, and I thought that maybe she was trying to invoke the seventh rule of The Company Culture Handbook with an ambiguous phrase, but then she added, “Is it so surprising that employees might date?” and that seemed very much like a confession.

  “It isn’t,” said Peters. “We’re all just human. But again, human resources thinks that it would be best for everyone if one of you moved on. I’ve already been in touch with our next closest office, and they have a spot for a full-time administrative assistant.”

  “Me?” said Donna.

  “Well, they said that--”

  “This is such bullshit,” she added.

  Donna was clearly failing both the first rule of The Company Culture Handbook, which was to “Always Stay Positive” and the fifth rule, “Be a Humble Student,” which taught us that you could learn from every situation, and you ought to accept change or criticism or coaching with humbleness and understanding and consider it a learning experience.

  “You just want to ship me out because you can replace me like this,” she snapped her fingers, “but you can’t replace a good salesman so easily.”

  The ninth rule of The Company Culture Handbook was “Nobody Likes a Challenger” and I could tell that Mr. Peters truly believed in that rule because his face became tight and rigid when Donna said this and it was obvious that he didn’t appreciate her insinuation, but then it was just as obvious that Donna felt that the company was no longer being her friend and was thereby violating the tenth rule, so maybe it was a wash.

  “You know that we value you here, Ms. Wintergrass. You’ve been a fine asset to our company for the last two years, and you will not be as easily replaceable as you might think.”

  “And what if I refuse to go?”

  He didn’t say anything more and then Donna started to cry, which I found strange because she’d told me she didn’t like this job anyway, but then I figured maybe she’d just been blowing off steam since it was a difficult time to be unemployed, and she’d recently been complaining to me about her finances and how she hardly had enough money to feed Bob the turtle or to fix the strings on her viola when they snapped.

  “I can leave,” I said.

  I hadn’t really thought about it, but then I didn’t like seeing Donna cry, and I didn’t much care for most of my co-workers there anyway and I could sell vacuums all the same from anywhere even if I had to drive a bit farther to get to work and then I thought it might even be a good excuse to move from my apartment building and get away fr
om the officer and the inspector but then I figured just as quickly that it might make me look guilty to move so soon after I’d talked to them so I decided maybe I could just commute.

  “Well, let’s not be so hasty,” said Mr. Peters, and I could tell that he hadn’t expected me to volunteer to leave, and I saw Donna was smiling now and then Mr. Peters said he’d call human resources once more and investigate if there were any other options and we were both excused from his office and went back to work.

  ***

  By the end of the week the matter had been resolved, and it turned out that neither of us had to leave. Donna was merely moved to a cubicle farther away from my own and was from then on prohibited from processing any of my orders and swore that she would not give any preferential treatment to me and that was how things were settled, “on a temporary basis,” as Mr. Peters had put it.

  Donna was so impressed with me that she took me out for dinner Friday, and when we went back to my place she helped me to achieve it three times, which was something I hadn’t done since I was in college.

  CHAPTER 20

  On Sunday there was a knock at my door, and when I answered it I found the inspector and the officer there and they asked me if they could come inside and I asked them if they had a warrant which was something that I always heard people ask on television and they said that they didn’t but asked if they could come in all the same and then I thought that it was usually just guilty people who brought up the issue of having a warrant and even though I was in fact guilty I didn’t want them to think I was--which was funny because I knew they already did--but I invited them in all the same.

  Molly was excited to have guests and was whisking her tail in the air and I told them to make themselves at home and to keep their shoes on and they did.

  The inspector removed the hat that I thought was a fedora and walked over to my balcony window and slid back the curtain and looked outside. The officer was milling about my main entryway and finally joined the inspector in the main room.