the mystery of the fireplace

on wednesday morning tripp awakened at his usual obscene hour of 6:30 and wandered into the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. as he stood on the cold tiles, pondering his options, he noticed a hissing sound coming from the direction of the living room.

it sounded like gas, coming through an appliance pipe. indeed it was. the fake fireplace was on, burning brightly, shaded only by the cardboard box in front of the protective screen. the switch flipped off, tripp returned to his task of deciding what to eat.

prior to leaving for work, tripp briefly rousted rachael, questioning whether she had left the fire on. she half sat up, confused and bewildered as only those woken early by a strange question in their ear are. she denied the accusation and fell back asleep for the requisite two hours.

upon waking, rachael remembered the interrogation and wrote to tripp, who was online at work, to make sure her brain, full of sleep, had registered the question accurately. it had. the fireplace had, indeed, been on that morning.

the hours ticked by. rachael thought and thought, wondering how the fireplace could have been turned on. the switch, located on the wall behind the tv, was unlikely to have been bumped against accidentally. she knew she hadn't turned it on, and tripp had no reason to lie about his part in the affair. the apartment door had been locked even during her brief absences the day before. she had left the room briefly to shower, and during that time the balcony door had been open with only the screen door to blockade any intruder. it was possible, she surmised, that perhaps an agile monkey could have scaled the building and opened the screen door, scampered in, hit the switch, and climbed back out, leaving everything else in the apartment in place.

tripp returned after a twelve hour work day. rachael briefed him on the monkey scenario she had carefully developed. he declared that it was much more likely that she herself had hit the switch. her belly began to boil with anger, and she again denied this suggestion. turning the tables, she offered up the other cards she was holding– she had not seen the fireplace on at all. perhaps he was being untruthful. or, perhaps he had turned on the fireplace himself!

tripp deftly dodged the accusations, by suggesting, yet again, that rachael was responsible for the fire, and the danger it posed.

tears poured out of rachael's eyes as she denied repeatedly the teasing attacks. she stamped her foot in anger, to no avail.

together rachael and tripp strode into the living room, to the scene of the crime, to contemplate whether the fire had been on for longer. if it had been, would rachael have noticed the sound? would the glow on walls and ceiling be noticeable? perhaps when kurt, tripp's roommate, had moved out on saturday the switch had been hit and no one had noticed the fire until that morning.

rachael pressed the switch. tripp and rachael waited, staring at the pilot light. nothing happened. she pressed the switch off, then on again. the fire roared to life. there was no way it would not have been noticed before.

a thought occurred to them. perhaps the switch had been hit, but there was a delay, just as they had seen– the fire had not gone on immediately for them this time, perhaps over the weekend it had been hit and only lit days later.

they realized that, unlikely as the scenario was, there would be no way to prove or disprove it. it would remain no more likely or unlikely than the monkey scenario.