We Are the Light(35)

“You really didn’t know that was my mom?” Eli said.

I looked through him, unable to make my eyes adjust and bring Eli’s face into focus, as we lay there next to each other on the living room rug, which is when Bobby rang the doorbell and said, “Mr. Goodgame, you in there?”

Eli and I remained silent for a long time and then my phone began ringing.

The screen said: Bobby The Cop.

He had my cell phone number from all the times he’d picked me up in his cruiser and also from the investigation the police had done right after the Majestic Theater tragedy. I sent Bobby to voicemail and he left a long message, which I deleted later without listening to it.

The boy and I hung out on the floor for another half hour or so, just kind of staring at the ceiling, and then Eli broke the long stretch of silence by saying, “Mr. Goodgame, can I ask a favor of you?” When I said sure, he said, “Don’t ever tell me what really happened the night my brother died, okay?”

My heart started pounding and my throat closed like a clenched fist. I couldn’t have spoken if my life depended on it.

“I don’t want to know. Like, ever,” Eli said before standing up and walking out the back door.

It took twenty or so minutes for me to calm my heart rate and slow my breathing.

When I went into the kitchen and looked through the window over the sink, I saw that Eli’s tent had been re-erected to its original shape. Somehow, I knew that Eli was inside, recovering from his mother’s assault on whatever sanctuary it was that we were building. And—as a person who often finds refuge in the medicinal qualities of solitude—I also knew it was best to leave the boy alone out there.

Best for Eli.

Best for me.

Best for our film.

Bobby must have gone to the Cup Of Spoons, because he soon returned with Jill, who let him into our home and then made me sit down across from Bobby at the dining room table. He asked a lot of questions regarding how Eli came to be living with Jill and me. At first, Jill tried to answer all the inquiries on my behalf, but Bobby said he had to hear my version of the story, which let me know Jill had already told hers. When I finally spoke, I was honest about everything, telling him exactly what I have already told you here in these letters. And when I finished speaking, he said, “The boy is eighteen and therefore officially an adult. But I’m going to need to speak with him. Alone.”

We led Bobby out through the back door and then scrambled back into the kitchen to watch through the window over the sink. Our favorite cop crossed the lawn and made his way to the tent, calling Eli’s name the whole time. When Eli didn’t answer, Bobby bent down and slowly unzippered the front flaps. He squatted like a catcher for a minute or so, before disappearing into the orange fabric.

Jill started talking too quickly, guessing what Eli might be saying to Bobby and also reassuring me that neither she nor I had done anything wrong. “Quite the contrary!” she declared, working herself up into a heightened emotional state. “After what happened to Darcy, we should be given medals for taking in that boy.” As she went along like that, her face turned deeper shades of red and her voice got louder and more agitated, until I was worried she might actually go out into the tent and try to physically remove Bobby from our property, which was when I reminded Jill that I had helped Bobby when he was just Eli’s age. Then I said, “He’s one of the good ones,” meaning Bobby truly does seem to want to protect and serve his community. You can see it in his eyes whenever he talks to someone while he’s in uniform. It’s almost like he’s trying extra hard to say, Yes, I have a badge and a gun, but I will only use it for good and never to make you feel lesser than anyone else.

Bobby emerged from the tent twenty or so minutes later and made his way back to us.

“What were you talking about out there?” Jill asked with a frigid bite in her voice that I knew was meant to protect me, but made me wince a little on Bobby’s behalf.

“Just needed to make sure Eli was here of his own free will,” Bobby answered, which was when Jill got even more upset and started using words like “ridiculous” and “invasive” and “humiliating.”

Bobby humbly absorbed Jill’s tirade, allowing her to spend all of her energy as he nodded and maintained eye contact with a natural ease that would make even the best mental health professional envious. Even you, Karl, would have admired his ability to cultivate what you call the objective ego.

When Jill finally finished giving Bobby a piece of her mind, he said, “The boy says you two are literally saving his life,” at which point he took off his policeman’s cap. Then he said, “I have to follow up on all calls and accusations no matter who they come from. We realize that Mrs. Hansen is grieving in her own way and it can’t be easy when the only child you have left won’t speak to you. I’m sure you understand.”

That seemed to take all the bad steam right out of Jill, who quickly shifted to asking Bobby if he wanted an ice tea, which he graciously accepted.

We all took a seat at the kitchen table, at which point Bobby said, “What’s this I hear about a monster movie? And a need for police participation?” I realized that our new producers were working quite speedily. Bobby confirmed that by saying Mark and Tony had left him a voice message. Turned out that Bobby had already pledged his help to Eli in the tent.