We Are the Light(60)

I couldn’t answer Isaiah because I just felt like I had to go back into the Majestic Theater and I really hoped winged Darcy would be there waiting for me. I also wanted to know what the sound deep inside me was. But I was still sane enough to realize it would have been bad to say any of the above, so I said nothing.

“I just don’t think you’re ready for this, buddy,” he said. “I don’t know if any of us are fully prepared, but you, Lucas, in particular seem… I don’t know.”

“Isaiah, I’m right as rain,” I said, and then tried my best to maintain eye contact, but the pressure built in my eyes again and I ended up looking away before he did.

I’m sure Isaiah didn’t let me off the hook that easily, but in my memory now, I only see me silently helping my best man friend finish his round of golf, after which he and I showered and changed in the locker room. Then he treated me to an early dinner, saying he had to spend his monthly minimum.

During all of that, I remember sort of not really being there with Isaiah and his sensing that I had drifted far away, but at the same time I could tell he didn’t know what to do about any of it. I was the person who helped people with their mental health problems. Isaiah was the guy who ran the high school and trusted his God to do the rest. Before we ate our early dinner, he prayed, asking Jesus “to help get the brave and good-hearted Lucas through the premiere,” but this particular prayer didn’t seem to work as well as his previous prayers had. My skin didn’t tingle. I didn’t start shaking. I didn’t really feel anything at all. I also didn’t eat any of my food, which seemed to upset Isaiah. He kept saying, “You have to eat, Lucas.”

Back at my house, Isaiah and I changed into our tuxedos and sat in the air-conditioned living room watching the Phillies on TV while we waited for Bess and Jill to return from their day of pampering and beautification. When they finally walked through the door they were almost unrecognizable because they had on so much makeup and their hair was done in ways I had never seen before, but Isaiah and I were smart enough to tell them they looked fantastic as they rushed up the stairs to put on their dresses.

“Last chance to back out,” Isaiah said to me, but I shook my head and then that was that.

When the limousine pulled up out front, Jill and Bess were still getting dressed, so Isaiah yelled up and told them we had to go, which we did, because Mark and Tony and Eli were waiting for us. And then before I knew it we were all in the back of a stretch limousine. Tony was pouring everyone a glass of expensive champagne. Eli was grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning. Bess, Isaiah, and Jill were marveling at the luxury of our vehicle. And Mark was congratulating everyone over and over again, until Tony said, “Just how many glasses of champagne have you had already?” which made Mark’s face turn red.

“Can we open the sunroof?” I asked, thinking maybe Darcy might already be with us, only flying up in the air above.

Mark said it was a little hot to open the sunroof, but Tony yelled for the driver to “crank up the air-conditioning and let the sunshine in!”

I stared up at the sky for the rest of the ride, but I never saw winged Darcy. I tried very hard to paint her with my mind, but it didn’t work. I started to feel so lonely I thought I was going to burst into tears, so I began to pinch the loose skin between my left thumb and forefinger, digging in with my nails so hard I wondered if they’d cut through the skin and actually touch. The pain was just enough to keep my emotions at bay.

Then Jill was whispering in my ear, saying I didn’t have to do this if I wasn’t ready, so I said, “I’m ready!” only I yelled it—I know because everyone’s face went white and then it was very quiet in the limousine. When I saw that Eli was frowning, I kind of pulled myself together enough to say, “This is a lot for me, but it’s also really special and important.”

Everyone nodded back reassuringly, but I could tell I had ruined the limousine ride for my friends, which made me feel lower than I already did.

When we pulled up to the theater, the Majestic Police Department had everything blocked off. There was a heavy police presence—officers in uniforms everywhere. There was also a real red carpet roped off by smiles of red velvet that were connected by shiny gold posts. I could see many of The Survivors lined up to get their pictures taken as reporters yelled questions and tried to get them to pose.

As we exited the limousine and joined everyone on the red carpet, I was pleasantly surprised to see Sandra Coyle. She was dressed in an elegant black evening gown and matching black gloves, accented with dangling diamond earrings and a diamond choker. Willow was there carrying the large headshot of Greg Coyle—the one that I had seen on the wooden easel in the Coyles’ sitting room. When we finally got within earshot, I heard Sandra pontificating on the transformative power of the movies. And how she was a hundred percent behind our monster project from the very beginning. And she was honored not only to be here but to have helped fund the project.

“Sometimes we vote with our dollars,” she said while staring directly into a camera lens, just before flashing a blindingly white smile. The reporters seemed to be hanging on her every word, which they diligently captured with the small recording devices that they were extending toward her.

I gave Mark and Tony a questioning glance.

“Sandra was a late financial backer,” Mark said.