We Are the Light(20)
I did, however, talk Eli into covering the monster with feathers, arguing that feathers on the shape of a man who has no wings is quite the metaphor. “Kind of like a clipped Icarus,” I said, which made him laugh, and then reply, “Okay, Daedalus,” which I took as progress, since that’s Icarus’s dad, which—like any myth-studying Jungian—you already know. Also, a feathered man was something we could create ourselves. Eli eventually accepted the genius of my idea and soon we were ordering the supplies.
As I mentioned before, we were able to buy twenty feathers for $13.32—including shipping and taxes—via the internet. We guessed we’d maybe need one thousand feathers, so fifty orders of twenty feathers. When we ordered that amount, the bill came to exactly $666. This pleased Eli greatly, as he initially thought our movie would also be a psychological horror film, although cleverly disguised so that it will present as something much less sinister. Apparently, according to Eli, 666 is the best number when it comes to horror tropes. I thought you’d appreciate that little bit of synchronicity.
Because we would need to ask for volunteers to populate and help bring our film into existence, I’ve been encouraging Eli to write something a little less sinister and even perhaps upbeat, arguing that maybe the good citizens of Majestic, PA, could use a pick-me-up, considering all that had transpired. He was, of course, resistant to that idea at first, but after we downloaded Final Draft—a script-writing software—onto my computer and began to flesh out an actual story, I was able to begin pressing on the more tender parts of Eli’s heart and I do believe that we are now headed in the right direction.
It was Eli’s idea to use a wetsuit—with gloves and booties—as the base layer of the monster costume, so we purchased that off the internet as well. Arguing that it would be “killer,” he also talked me into ordering a springbok pelt for the monster’s “back piece.” It arrived in the mail with an actual bullet hole in it, which left no doubt about how the fur had been acquired. For obvious reasons, I found this detail quite disturbing, but Eli quickly countered, saying the bullet hole would only add to the metaphorical realness of the monster, whose psychology was inspired by Majestic’s post-tragedy collective unconscious, and therefore the monster must be a visual representation first before it would sink down to “the deeper level of metaphor.”
It’s been heartening to watch the boy come alive as he strides toward the target he’s set up for himself. The synapses of his brain have been firing away. And the early days flew by like seconds as we took turns typing up our ideas. The same sense of timelessness continued when we sewed the pheasant wing feathers into the wetsuit, wrapping the quills with thread, and then pushing the needle through the tough, thick neoprene with our even tougher silver thimbles, both of us alternating between the jobs of feather-liner-upper and tailor. All of this we mostly did in the living and dining rooms.
Jill kept us fed well, but otherwise gave us a wide berth, often saying, “I can literally taste the testosterone in this room,” before going out back to lay in Darcy’s hammock and watch movies on her phone. Well, I guess she was also always trying to get Eli to sleep indoors, but he ended up in his tent most nights anyway.
There are times when I feel as though Jill might be a little jealous of—and maybe even threatened by—the attention I am now giving Eli. I sometimes catch her standing in the doorway watching us at work and the look on her face—just before she realizes she’s being observed and, therefore, consciously forces a smile—well, I’d classify it as reluctant resentment. It’s almost as if she now too sees a little bit of monster in Eli—maybe the type of consuming monster who steals your housemate away from you. So I have been trying to reassure Jill, asking her opinion on various plot points and costume design choices, but she always rebuffs me, saying, “I’ll leave you men to play monsters,” overemphasizing the last word, which makes me sad, because the judgment in her voice feels oppressive. I sometimes wonder if she doesn’t understand the necessity of what Eli and I are doing because she wasn’t in the Majestic Theater when the shooting happened. But then I think, neither was Eli, and I’ll be stumped again.
I’ve consulted Darcy multiple times about all of the above, but she’ll only say the same six words to me these days: “The boy is the way forward.” It would just about kill Jill if she knew that her best friend was refusing to even discuss her concerns, because—back before my wife sprouted wings—Jill and Darce discussed every single feeling and thought either of them had. No matter how serious or trivial. Now Darcy doesn’t seem concerned with Jill’s well-being in the least, which even I feel is a bit harsh, given all Jill has done to take care of me.
Sometimes I even say to Darcy, “Jill went to all of the funerals with me. She took care of the insurance paperwork. She pays the bills and keeps my checkbook balanced. She even does my laundry.”
But no matter how many times I list all that Jill has done for me since my wife became an angel, Darce says nothing to acknowledge her best friend’s efforts. She only repeats the same six words: “The boy is the way forward.” Which is driving me a little nuts.
Eli and I purchased a stock boogeyman mask and then sewed the remaining feathers into the green rubber with the bone-white quills pointing upward, so that the monster would be wearing a nest-like crown.
When Eli put the costume on for the first time, he looked in the mirror and proclaimed himself “Prince of Monsters!” which made me laugh, but also feel a little dark deep down inside. I’m ashamed to admit this, but something within started screaming, No! You, Lucas, are the true Prince of Monsters! It did not feel like the best part of my soul saying that, and so I tried to push it back down, swallowing it, hoping that my psychic stomach and liver and intestines would break the idea down and then dispose of it completely.