We Are the Light(43)

Was it wrong to let Jill hold my hand on the park bench?

Was it wrong to sort of like and maybe even need the touch of another woman?

Have you touched a woman since Leandra left the planet?

Knowing how you’d answer those questions might really help me.

Your most loyal analysand,

Lucas





14.


Dear Karl,

Right before the most recent full-cast read through of the script, something called the “Wardrobe Mobile” pulled into the Majestic library’s parking lot. In essence, the Wardrobe Mobile is a mini–tractor trailer, only the back has been modified into a storage container–slash-workshop packed full of fabric and sewing machines and costumes and props.

Mark and Tony had huge smiles on their faces when they introduced our entire cast to the driver and owner—a woman in a denim skirt and cowgirl boots whose name is Arlene. She had apparently volunteered to be our costume designer and manager. Arlene smiled as she introduced her assistant, River, a young, brown, androgynous-looking man with a headful of long braids.

“We’re really digging the vibe of what y’all are doing with this project,” Arlene said from the back bumper of the mobile.

“And we dig the script too,” River said. “Kind of Lovecraft-ish. With the perfect dash of early forties Jacques Tourneur.”

I didn’t know what or who those things or people were, but the comment lit up Eli’s face like a fireworks finale.

And then before we knew it all of The Survivors—along with Jill and Isaiah—were taking turns going into the back of the Wardrobe Mobile, only to emerge completely transformed minutes later.

They put me in jeans and a sweatshirt that read “The Majestic Magicians.” I told them our local school mascot was the Mavericks, but River argued that “Magicians” was hipper and kind of more accurate as we were obviously trying to pull off some magic with the project. “Trust me,” River said, and so I did, especially when I stepped out of the Wardrobe Mobile and Eli nodded his approval.

They dressed up Isaiah in a white linen suit and a straw fedora, which didn’t really scream “Jungian analyst” to me, but as my best man friend was so pleased with the outfit—going all Hollywood, if you will—I didn’t say anything about the lack of authenticity.

Jill was hilariously dressed in a robin’s-egg blue pantsuit that made her look like a much more beautiful version of a middle-aged Hillary Clinton. Jill can pull anything off, so she, of course, looked movie-star gorgeous and got a big cheer as she did a little catwalk across the bumper of the Wardrobe Mobile.

Arlene and River saved the best for last. When Eli emerged from the mobile covered head to toe in pheasant feathers, everyone applauded like we had just won a sports championship. The monster even looked tiger-striped, which meant our new wardrobe designers had lined up all the feather markings properly. Somehow, Arlene and River had managed to perfectly re-create our vision of the creature, aka the Majestic Prince of Monsters, aka the Mourning Monster. It even had a springbok backpiece! But their superior sewing skills made it possible for them to use a much more pliable and breathable lightweight spandex base layer.

“I’m agile and cool as a bird,” Eli yelled as he used the Wardrobe Mobile’s bumper as a springboard, launching himself high into the air, where he flapped his feathered arms and spread wide his feathered legs.

We returned to the library conference room for our second read through and the costumes really seemed to elevate our performance. No one got up to use the bathroom or answered a cell phone call or seemed distracted in any way as we read through the entire ninety or so minutes of the script. And when we finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room—well, besides the pair on my own face—even though everyone had, obviously, already experienced the last act.

River and Arlene, who were sitting with Mark and Tony at the head of the circle, were bawling their eyes out.

“I don’t know how you people are doing this after all you’ve been through,” Arlene said.

“I just can’t even,” River said.

Jill, Eli, Mark, Tony, and I stayed behind to help Arlene and River get the costumes back on hangers and deodorized and arranged according to scenes and all the rest. I didn’t realize how much time and effort went into wardrobe preparation and maintenance.

At one point when I was alone with River, he said, “So you’re the real hero around here, hey?” which made me feel like he was trying to suck one of my eyeballs out of its socket. I froze, which I guess he took for modesty, because he added, “I don’t think I could have done what you did or what you’re doing.”

Instead of replying, I turned around and started walking, which I realize was rude, especially after all River and Arlene were doing to make our movie successful, but it was like I was on autopilot or maybe I was a puppet and my arms and legs were connected to strings controlled by something I couldn’t see or understand. I was three doors away from home when Jill and Eli pulled up next to me in Jill’s truck.

“Hey,” Jill said through the open window. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head no.

“Whatever was said, River couldn’t stop apologizing. He felt terrible.”

I nodded, meaning, It’s okay.

I think maybe Jill sent Eli to his tent, because he didn’t follow us inside. When I sat down on the couch, Jill plopped down next to me. She let a lot of silence stack up before she said, “What do you need?”