We Are the Light(3)

That’s why I feel it’s important for me to say, “I love you too, Karl,” especially since I never managed to say that to you before now. I wanted to so many times, because you helped me clean up so many of my complexes. Darcy kept daring me to tell you I love you, but I obviously couldn’t before now.

I love you, Karl.

And I want to help you.

You can’t hide in your home for the rest of your life.

You are not a shut-in; you just can’t be.

Psyche keeps saying I need to break through your neurotic bubble of isolationism.

You need to help me, obviously, but you will also resume helping many other people once you have properly mourned Leandra’s murder and healed your heart. I’m absolutely certain.

Is there anything I can do to speed up the process?

What do you need?

I’m willing to do just about anything.

Your most loyal analysand,

Lucas





2.


Dear Karl,

I didn’t expect you to write back after only one letter, so rest assured, my determination has not been daunted by your lack of a reply. Quite the opposite, actually.

I didn’t, however, know the appropriate amount of time to wait before I wrote the second letter. Was one week too long or too short? Based on all the work we’ve done together, I’m guessing you might say something like, “Well, perhaps you shouldn’t make up arbitrary rules. Perhaps you should trust psyche to guide you. What does psyche want? Get very quiet. Close your eyes. Breathe. Drop down. And then listen.”

Just a few hours after I slid the first letter through the outgoing mail slot at the Majestic Post Office, I did exactly what I thought you’d recommend. Meditating on a public bench under the Japanese maple tree near the Wawa. And psyche clearly said to write you again right away, immediately—that very night! The impulse was commanding. But I figured I had better give you at least a fair shot at responding, just so our correspondence wouldn’t turn into an ugly Lucas-only monologue.

Darcy agreed, saying, “You don’t want to come on too strong when wooing widowers,” which she meant as a joke. She used to kid me about going to see “my boyfriend” on Friday nights and would jokingly tell Jill I was cheating on my wife with you. I didn’t ever tell you about that teasing before because of what you said about keeping our analysis sacred, meaning not telling anyone about it. You used to say it was like cooking rice with steam. If you take the lid off the pot, all the steam evaporates and then the alchemical process can no longer take place. But I had to tell Darce about my analysis because she balances the checkbook and Jill was her best friend, meaning that she told Jill everything, back when Darce was still human. I don’t think Jill told anyone about the therapeutic relationship you and I had and hopefully still have. I asked her recently and she said she had sensed it was private and therefore kept the information to herself. Jill’s all right like that, which is why I don’t understand Darce’s need to keep Jill in the dark now, regarding Darcy’s wings and her choosing to remain behind here on earth. I consult with Darce every single night, but I’m not allowed to tell Jill about that, which I think is just plain cruel.

But that’s who I’d like to talk about tonight—Jill. Because something bad happened and I’m not really sure what to do about it. This was primarily the reason why, even after Bobby the cop’s sternest of warnings, I started obsessively coming to your consulting room again, hoping you’d be willing to grant me an emergency session. I was pretty much able to handle the Majestic Theater tragedy—horrific as it was—on my own, but this thing with Jill has really eaten away at my conscience, especially since it’s the one secret I’ve kept from Darce. Since she’s no longer human, I sort of think she might already know what happened, but it’s hard to tell. Even if she forgives—or miraculously already has forgiven—me, I still don’t think I’m going to be able to forgive myself.

I wanted to tell you all of this face-to-face, which is why I didn’t include it in the last letter, but I just can’t hold it in anymore.

I can’t remember how much I’ve said about Jill in our sessions—honestly, I’m having trouble remembering all kinds of things these days—so I’ll just start from the beginning and assume you’ve never heard about Jill before.

Darcy absorbs the energy of others nicely and quietly, while Jill radiates energy. Darcy often de-escalates. Jill almost always escalates. Sometimes escalation is good and sometimes de-escalation is better, which made them quite the team.

To put everything in context, you have to understand that no one has done more for me in the past so many months than Jill.

Have you ever been to the Cup Of Spoons coffee shop? Across the street from the historic and now infamous Majestic Theater? Even though I’ve never personally seen you at the Cup Of Spoons, you definitely have eaten there, right? Everyone in town loves that place. Well, Jill owns it. She’s the blonde in the kitchen, the one who comes around and asks how your day is and knows your name and smiles at you in a way that seems to do more than the caffeine ever could. She was one of the few people in this world who could make Darce laugh until she cried. Darce once literally peed her pants when she and Jill were laughing one night after a few too many bottles of wine. Jill was doing impressions of me when that happened, spoofing on how careful I always am about everything.