We Are the Light(55)
Mark says that Eli will also have a handler to protect him from the press. I think all of The Survivors will have handlers, which probably makes everyone feel okay about the whole red-carpet deal, but I don’t know for sure because I haven’t been talking to too many people lately.
We still don’t see Eli as much as we used to, but he’s dropped by for a few dinners with Jill and me and we sometimes go to Tony and Mark’s, where the boy now lives full-time. Everyone keeps saying how proud I’m going to be when I see the final product. Mark and Tony offered to screen it for me early, but I decided I wanted to experience it for the first time with the other Survivors and the rest of Majestic. Go full circle—reclaiming the Majestic Theater, like Jesus Gomez’s T-shirts suggest—in unison with everyone who was there that night.
We’ve sold out the Majestic’s Grand Viewing Room—which is massive—even though Mark and Tony listed floor tickets at $250 a pop and balcony seats at $150. All of the proceeds will be donated to a national charity that helps the victims of gun violence. We all voted on which one we thought was the best and it was nice that the vote was unanimous because it meant that no one felt bad about where the cash was going. The Survivors got tickets for free, of course, and I’ve enclosed your pair within this envelope.
When I attempted to drop off Sandra Coyle’s tickets, her assistant, Willow, wouldn’t invite me inside. She was nice enough and even somewhat apologetic as she said, “Sandra says your clock expired,” whatever that means.
When I explained I only wanted to give her boss complimentary tickets, Willow said, “I can’t accept them on Sandra’s behalf.”
After some quick thinking, I asked if Willow could accept the tickets on her own behalf, which made her puff out her cheeks for a second before she said, “I like you, Lucas. I like what you’re trying to do. I like how nice you’re being to Sandra. But she’s my boss.”
Finally, I extended my hand like I wanted to shake hers in defeat. But when she reached out, I pressed the envelope into her palm and then darted away before she could give the tickets back. As I was shutting the iron gate, I glanced back and the young woman was covering her mouth with her free hand and clutching the tickets to her chest with the other, which made me think I’d won her over a little.
Who knows?
Maybe she and Sandra will show up at the premiere out of curiosity or FOMO, as my students used to say. (Fear of Missing Out.) I think attending the premiere would be good for Sandra Coyle’s soul. I’m pretty sure her deceased husband, Greg, would agree.
Fellow Survivor Tracy Farrow organized meetings with a behavioral psychologist who volunteered to help all of us prepare to reenter the Majestic Theater, aka the scene of the trauma. Everyone met at the library again. I went to the first session, thinking it might help, but it was pretty much cognitive behavior therapy, which I know you look down on because it treats the symptom without really getting at the root problem. You’ll be pleased to know I left halfway through the meeting and didn’t go back, even though the rather kind psychologist had volunteered her time and therefore it didn’t cost The Survivors any money to attend. They’ve been meeting every night and will continue to do so until the premiere. Some of The Survivors tried to talk me into rejoining their therapy group, but I kept declining politely until they stopped asking.
Jill was upset when I told her I wasn’t going back. She kept insisting that reentering the Majestic Theater for the first time since last December could be psychologically difficult, but Jill has never been exposed to Jungian analysis, and therefore doesn’t know that it is superior to all other forms of psychological treatment.
At one point, during what seemed like our first real argument, Jill said, “If Jungian analysis is so healing, where has Karl been?”
I didn’t have a good retort in the moment, but after reflecting a bit, I’ve told myself that you will reengage at the appropriate time and that maybe your sudden withdrawal was even part of my treatment. I mean, it forced me to write all these letters, which have definitely been therapeutic and medicinal. The town of Majestic probably wouldn’t even be having a movie premiere if you had simply resumed my analysis after the tragedy. Sandra would have gotten her way and The Survivors would be obediently working on a political campaign instead of happily and therapeutically making art.
I have to admit that I didn’t understand your genius at first, but I see it today. So, mission accomplished. You can come out of hiding and attend the premiere now that I’ve learned what you were trying to teach me.
Just now, in the middle of writing this letter, someone banged on my front door. When I went downstairs and answered, I was surprised to see Tony, because it was close to ten at night and Jill was already asleep, or at least she didn’t come out to see who was knocking, which she most likely would have done if she were still awake. Because he had walked in the rain, Tony was soaked to the bone, so I invited him in and gave him a few towels from the powder room. When we sat down on the couch, I noticed that his eyes were red, which seemed to indicate that he had been crying.
I asked what was wrong, but in a nice way, leaning in toward him, using all my natural listening skills that I have often employed with troubled teens. Tony resumed crying right there on my couch, so I reached out and patted his shoulder, meaning, It’s okay; I’m here. That released a great river of words, which rushed forth fast and furiously.