We Are the Light(37)

So if you called Bobby the cop on me, it wasn’t necessary.

But don’t worry. I’m a resilient man.

And the best of my soul still loves the best of your soul.

Psyche continues to say, Reach out to Karl. Include him. Liberate him. Heal him.

Analysts are people too.

Please join us.

Your most loyal analysand,

Lucas





12.


Dear Karl,

Maybe we should get through the bad first, before we get to the good?

Bobby brought your manila envelope back to Eli and me, saying that I wasn’t supposed to be within so many yards of your house, even though I haven’t been peeking in any windows these past few weeks, respecting your privacy, which I explained to Bobby, who said that didn’t matter. Eli even tried to say he alone had delivered your script and my last letter, which wasn’t illegal at all—because there was no restraining order or anything like that taken out on the boy—which was when Bobby said there was video of both Eli and me standing on the porch and me sliding the manila envelope into the mail slot.

When did you put up recording devices on your house? And why?

I didn’t see any lenses, but Eli says they make them so small these days, and maybe it was a doorbell camera, which he says we could have easily missed, especially because we weren’t looking.

I don’t know why you’re so afraid of me lately—because I would never in a million years hurt you—but I have, once again, agreed to “stay far away from the property.” I’ve sworn over and over again to Bobby, who says he could get in a lot of trouble if I keep “breaking the law,” because he just doesn’t have it in his heart to arrest me. Jill emphasized the severity of the threat to Bobby’s career, which is why I’ll be sending this letter—along with your original watermarked copy of the script—via the U.S. Postal Service.

As you will soon see below, casting is complete except for the analyst role, which I’m keeping tentatively reserved for you, should you come to your senses. Isaiah has, however, graciously volunteered to be your understudy. He read your lines at the first table read and—dare I say—he’s rather convincing as a Jungian analyst. Must be all his religious training and his personal connection with the numinous.

Jill played the part we wrote for Sandra, which admittedly is kind of thin. We made her the mayor of Majestic, trying to appeal to Sandra’s ego, but the character only says things like, “This town is worth saving!” and “God save Majestic!” when everyone still thinks the monster is evil, and then, “You are the true sons of Majestic,” at the end when she places medals around the necks of the boy monster and his father figure during the ceremony of honor. Jill really isn’t officious enough for the role, but she gave it her all during the reading. The mayor character’s name is Sara.

So bad news part one is that you have some serious competition. Even after a single rehearsal, the other actors—including Eli and me—have gotten used to Isaiah playing the Jungian analyst, whose name is Carl with a C rather than a K, by the way. Isaiah now has some sweat equity banked, but there’s still a chance you could swoop in and reclaim the role if you act quickly. Maybe you’ll want to use one of the phone numbers listed on the last page of the script. You can talk to Mark or Tony if you’re more comfortable dealing with producers, rather than fellow actors or directors.

But you really don’t want to miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance to play a part written specifically for you while helping to heal your traumatized community. The rest of The Survivors seem to be getting something worthwhile from the project so far. That good feeling’s bound to multiply once we get into costume and makeup and start shooting.

Haven’t you ever wanted to see your face up there on the Majestic Theater’s big screen, beautifully framed by the parted red curtains?

Ticktock, Karl. Ticktock.

The second bit of bad news is that I haven’t seen winged Darce in a few days. The first night she failed to fly in through the window—I’m sad to say—I didn’t even notice. It was after the first read through, which I’ll tell you about below. Afterward, Mark and Tony met with Eli and me in our living room to discuss any possible last-minute role swaps and to tweak the script where necessary after hearing everyone actually saying the lines aloud. And I couldn’t believe it when Tony said it was almost three a.m. and we hadn’t even finished all that we had set out to do. We all agreed to continue in the morning over breakfast at the Cup Of Spoons. And then I was climbing the stairs to my bedroom. The second my face hit the pillow, I was unconscious. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized I hadn’t seen winged Darcy the night before, and then I began to feel hollow inside.

I told myself that maybe my wife really had been standing there in the corner when I had come to bed, only I was too exhausted to notice. Because she absolutely wanted me to make the film with Eli, I knew she’d be understanding, so I kind of shrugged it off as a weird hiccup in our otherwise healthy numinous relationship. But Darce didn’t show up the next night or the night after that and now I’m starting to worry that maybe she could no longer resist flying up into the light. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but I have to admit I’m a little terrified of that possibility too. I don’t think that angels can get hurt or sick or—God forbid—killed here on earth. But wasn’t the devil once an angel? And look what happened to him!