We Are the Light(52)

It’s okay that Eli is with Tony now.

Jill’s still here with me.

To be honest, I’ve lost the ability to match Eli’s excitement about our creative project. I haven’t been able to summon that other stronger, more confident Lucas to cover for me. And I’m pretty sure winged Darcy has flown up into the white light without even saying goodbye. I don’t blame her. I mean, the sixteen other victims couldn’t resist for a single moment, let alone the months that Darcy made it through, just to make sure I was okay.

I don’t know if I ever told you this before, but every night, just before we’d fall asleep, in the safe darkness of our bedroom, Darcy and I would talk about the things we were grateful for. Our cat, Justin, would often be curled up between our heads, purring out his gratitude as well. Darcy was always grateful for her students, saying they gave her purpose and hope for the future. She was a speech therapist, so she helped kids get their tongues and lips around slippery vowels and hard consonants. She’d talk about these little guys and girls all the time, and with so much enthusiasm that you couldn’t help falling in love with my wife. I’ve often wondered who is helping Darcy’s students now and whether he or she loves those kids with as much generosity as my wife had. I’ve thought about going to Majestic Elementary just to let the new speech therapist know how important the job is, but I’ve only ever made it to the elementary school’s parking lot. It’s like someone’s put a force field around all the schools in Majestic—a force field that keeps me out.

Lying in bed at night, during our gratitude sessions, I’d tell Darce I was grateful for my students too, because it felt good to help them through their problems, just like I was grateful for the chance to help Eli when no one in this town was paying him any attention.

Darcy always said she was grateful for her empathetic husband and I always told her I was thankful for my kind and wise wife.

We’d both list things like food and shelter, and the names of our friends, and the ability to take long walks, and living in a safe and loving community, and the medicine that Darcy needed for her diabetes, and the contact lenses that gave me the ability to see. And we always said your name, Karl, because you were helping me so much with my mother and father complexes and my childhood wounds. Your healing me, of course, benefited Darcy as much as it benefited yours truly. You were initiating me into the world of men because my father didn’t know how to do that. And so, shortly after we started working together, Darcy began saying your name every night when we made our gratitude list there in the dark, with Justin the cat purring between our heads.

As I sit here writing you this letter, Jill’s in the next room. Only six inches of wall separate my wife’s best friend from me. Maybe two inch-thick pieces of drywall sandwiching some insulation. I could punch my way through with my bare hands. And yet I feel so painfully alone, which I realize is ungrateful, especially considering how many people in Majestic have rallied around Eli’s monster movie.

Before we started shooting, Tony gave us a warning, saying, “The first few minutes you’re on a movie set are very exciting. The following weeks will bore you to tears.” I didn’t understand how that could be possible, but once I experienced how long it took to set up even a thirty-second shoot—blocking and lighting the scene, getting the sound guys in place, deciding on camera angles, making sure actors are dressed correctly and are wearing the proper makeup; and then shooting the same scene over and over, saying the same lines a million times in a row—I began to understand that making movies was a lot of hard work and not at all as glamorous as you’d imagine it to be.

A funny thing began to happen too. Everyone was cooperative and kept a good attitude and seemed happy to have something to take their minds off the tragedy that we were all still mourning. And so this intense sort of bonding kept breaking out everywhere on set. People hugging, laughing, even singing and dancing. It was like we had all become children again and were eager to please some unseen version of our parents, if that makes any sense. We were all being good boys and girls, taking instructions and directions from Eli and Tony with good cheer in our hearts. And Jesus Gomez even had these white T-shirts made with the words “Reclaiming the Majestic Theater” written in gold across the chest. Everyone wore them whenever they weren’t in an actual scene, which required wearing the appropriate costume from Arlene and River’s Wardrobe Mobile, which dutifully followed us around Majestic as we filmed. And even people who hadn’t been in the Majestic Theater on the night of the tragedy came out and watched us respectfully and curiously. Some began offering to help, while others gave Tony and Mark cash donations to offset the growing cost of the film.

But the more people started showing up for Eli, the more the town began to heal, the lonelier I began to feel, and then it was like I was really disappearing again. I started avoiding mirrors because I was afraid I would no longer be able to see my reflection. Thankfully, everyone was so busy with the shoot that they didn’t notice my withdrawal. The only one who said anything about this was Jill, who started asking me questions every night on Darcy’s hammock. Somehow it became our nightly ritual to swing out there, shoulder to shoulder.

“Are you really okay, Lucas?” Jill would say.

“Yep,” I’d say.

Then she’d grab my hand and squeeze it, as if to say, I know you’re lying, but that’s okay, because I got you.