Chapter 6
Lyft returned her to school; mom’s car was waiting. She didn’t have to look at her phone to know she had a dozen messages: I’m here… Where are you?... Casey?!
“Damn it, the one time I needed her to be late, she’s on time…” Casey said.
“Maybe she won’t notice you getting out of the car,” Heath said.
“I don’t think I live in that world,” she said and got out of the car. By the time Heath had managed to catch up to her, she was already in her mother’s car.
“What the hell?” mother said.
“I skipped school today,” Casey said, straight to the point.
Heath arrived in time to hear “You skipped school to go where?” “A book store,” Casey said. “And I had tea with friends at Tea Cats.” “What friends?” mother asked.
“You are always pressuring to reach out and make friends. I made friends, we had tea and discussed books,” Casey said.
“I want names, young lady,” mother said.
“Peter, Paul and Mary. How would a name help you not be angry? I skipped school today. I have never skipped school ever. Deal with it,” Casey said.
“Consider yourself grounded,” mother said.
“Wow. Seriously? How would that be different than any other day of my life?” Casey asked.
Mother put the car into gear and began to drive. The entire drive home was in silence.
Mother’s phone rang but she ignored it. Until she got home. Once the car was parked, she took the call. Casey got out of the car and entered the home, expecting to go right to her room, but found her father in the kitchen with a stranger. He was cooking. He smiled and came at her to hug her. The stranger did, too. They moved as one.
Casey retreated from the stranger.
“I have heard so much about you,” the stranger was saying.
“Who are you?” Casey asked.
“I am Tiffany. You’re father and I are having an affair,” Tiffany said.
“What’s wrong?” father asked.
“You’re having an affair?” Mother entered.
“What?”
“And you bring her t our home?!” Casey asked.
“I don’t think they can see her,” Heath said, slight whisper.
“You’re acting crazy,” mother said.
“I am not acting!” Casey said. “Maybe we’re supposed to be a little mad from time to time. Maybe we’re supposed to be having tea on the ceiling with cats and be jumping through pavement chalk paintings to go on outing in the country, saving foxes and seizing merry go round horses to win the Darby. Maybe we’re supposed to fly kites, and go fishing, or fly away on balloons. Maybe there is a place where reality and fantasy blur and the subtle, lingering smell of her perfume on you has made her manifest to me. Maybe her name isn’t Tiffany. Maybe Tiffany is the name of the perfume she wears. I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is there is a stranger between us and that’s blocking me from getting close to you. And I don’t like it.” “Go to your room, come back when you’ve calmed down,” her father said.
“I am not going to calm down!” Casey said.
“Go to your room,” mother said.
Casey spun on her heels and departed for her room. Heath reached out a hand to shake hands with Tiffany… “Nice to meet you…” he began, before jumping rooms. He arrived in the bedroom.
“I like her,” Heath said.
“You can have her,” Casey said.
“She’s a person. I think she has a say in that,” Heath said. “Maybe,” Casey said.
“May I sit by you?”
“Uh?”
Heath pointed to the bed. She nodded. She actually liked that he asked.
He sat next to her, looking straight ahead. His hands in his lap. They sat quietly. They both tried to be somber. Heath smiled. Casey giggled.
“Stop that,” Casey said.
“What?” Heath said. “I am not doing anything.”
“I am trying to be mad,” Casey said.
“Maybe that storm is spent,” Heath said. “Maybe you can’t be sad or depressed around me for long because I am such a ray of sun.”
Casey laughed. “You really think highly of yourself,” she said.
“Or you do,” Heath said.
“Thank you,” Casey said.
Casey got up and went to the computer. She googled ‘tulpa’ and began reading everything she could find. Heath watched her as she was writing down words and concept she thought were important, such as forcing, imposition, and wonderland.
“What’s a wonderland?” Heath asked.
The doorbell rang. The doorbell never rang, and Casey sat there a moment wondering if it had really been the doorbell or if it had been another auditory hallucination. Her phone chimed and she saw the text from her mother; she could read it from where it was on her desk. “Come to the front room now!” That seemed real enough. She got up and proceeded to the living room, tentatively, in case she had just imagined a text. Her father and mother were there. So were two police officers. One male, one female. Heath arrived. He stepped back to be unobtrusive.
“These officers wanted to lay eyes on you,” mother said.
“Seriously?” Casey said. “I have never been in trouble in my life and skip half a day of school and you call out the National Guard?”
“We’re not the national guard,” the female officers said. Her badge said Malone. ‘Could she be more cliché,’ Casey wondered.
“We’re just doing a wellness check, mam,” the officer with the badge saying ‘Brady,’ said. “You have had a sudden change in behavior. People are worried about you.” “Let’s step outside and have a talk,” Malone said.
“Whatever you need to know I can say in front of my parents,” Casey said.
“Okay,” Malone said. “Are you being abused? Physically? Sexually?”
“No!” Casey said. “Would anyone ever answer that in front of their parents?” “Would your answer change if we stepped outside into private?” Malone asked.
“No!” Casey said.
“I believe her,” Malone said to Brady.
“Me, too,” Brady said. “Do you realize, if we were truancy officers, your parents could be fined for your delinquency?”
“I only missed four classes!” Casey said. “I get good grades.” “Could you tell us where you went?” Malone asked.
“Is it relevant?” Casey asked.
“Answer their questions,” father said.
“Nothing I have done warrants this level of scrutiny,” Casey said.
“What did you do?” Brady asked.
“I went to Tea Cats, had a cup of mint tea while petting a perisan. Petting cats is actually therapeutic. I needed to chill. I also went upstairs to the Discovered Alcove and found a Michael
Crichton book called ‘Travels.’ It’s in my backpack if you want to see it. Got their logo stamped on it and everything. You could also look up my Lyft app and see who delivered me, the time stamp, and who brought me back, and their time stamp. If you want to know anything else, you can speak to my lawyer.”
“Casey!” mother said.
“I have rights, too,” Casey said.
“You do,” Malone said. “This is really just a friendly wellness check.”
“Please. There is no such thing anymore. The days of Andy Griffith coming out to talk someone into sensible peace and keeping it all in-house is over. I am not peaceful. I am really upset by this infringement on my freedom,” Casey said.
“Casey, you assume freedom. Until you’re 18 and out of my house, I have the right to know where you are and who you’re with, at all times,” mother said. “What if something had happened to you?”
“No one would have noticed,” Casey said.
“Lots of people have noticed,” Malone said. “It’s why we’re here.”
“I think we’re done here,” Brady said. “Thank you for allowing us insight into your lives.”
Father showed them to the door. Mother pointed to a chair and Casey and went and sat down. It so happened Heath was by that chair. Mother sat on the couch. Father returned and sat in the chair next to the couch. They couldn’t have been more distant.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” father said.
Casey crossed her arms and stared at the floor.
“What has gotten into you?” mother asked.
“You’ve made some pretty poor choices today,” father agreed.
“What about your choices?” Chasey asked.
“Where not the ones being examined,” father said.
“You were being examined since the moment I arrived in this world and you’re still under review. Besides, it’s not the choices you make that bother me. It’s the secrets. How do you expect me to normalize things when I only have pieces? I am tired of all the secrets,” Casey said.
“What secrets?” father said.
“Did you send her the wrong text?” mother asked.
“No,” father said.
“You’ve done it to me; maybe you sent her something she shouldn’t have seen,” mother said.
“I haven’t sent her any texts at all,” father said.
“Well, maybe that’s the problem, then,” mother said.
“If she wants to talk to me, she can call me,” father said.
“Wait,” Casey said. “You are seeing someone.” She turned to mother. “And you know about it? You’re okay with it?!”
“Casey,” mother said. “We are adults, you’re the child. We are the parents, you’re are the daughter…”
“I get it! Your big, I am small, you’re right, I am wrong,” Casey said.
Father and Heath chuckled. Mother looked at father and he quit, covering his mouth.
Heath bit his lip.
“That’s not what I am saying,” mother said.
“It’s exactly what you’re saying,” Casey said.
“You’re not privy to everything. Your father and I have an arrangement,” mother said.
“What sort of an arrangement?” Casey asked.
“They have an open relationship,” Heath said.
“He can do what he wants, I can do what I want, the caveat being it doesn’t interfere with this operation of this household,” mother said.
Casey was sorting it, her eyes shifting to and fro as if she were dreaming. She focused.
“Well, news flash, its affecting the operation of this household. Did you ever consider maybe it’s not the ‘open relationships’ that hurt families, it’s the secrets and lies that hurt families. You both are absolute idiots.”
“Casey, I will not be spoken to in this manner…” father said.
Casey nodded. “How about I not speak to you at all? It’s not like we’ve had a real conversation since what, I was six? You want silence, I will give you silence, but I will not stop seeing what I see. Jumanji’s version of Pandora’s Box has been opened. There is a storm here.
There are invisible elephants in this room and I have no intentions of cleaning their litter boxes.” “Stop. Explain your observation,” father said.
“You’re not entertaining this…” mother said.
“She was right about the Tiffany perfume. That’s fairly perceptive. Now, I want to hear her logic train,” father said.
“You think you’re smart dad. And maybe you are, at 33 thousand feet. You can spot a fleck of dust on the horizon and compute trajectory and aircraft type, but you don’t see people, unless they have a skirt,” Casey said. “Did you know Brian is gay? Did you ever wonder if it’s really biological thing, or maybe it’s a psychological thing where his psyche is lamenting the absence of kind paternal figure? Really doesn’t matter to me; it might be both or more complex than we want to realize. The problem is he is also a religious nut and tortures himself about not being straight, and in the process he is making his wife crazy because she doesn’t understand why he doesn’t love her the way she expects other people love their spouses. TV really has fucked up with expectations. Speaking of TV, Jenny is on drugs. Some of that is due to drugs being prevalent in the industry, but it is mostly due to the fact she was molested by her step dad. A step dad that was brought in to fill the vacuum you left when you deserted the second wife. She blames you. Right or wrong, I agree with her. Maybe if you had stuck it out with her mom a little longer she would have had better footing in this world. Maybe she wouldn’t have witnessed domestic violence. And if you think Diana is doing better because she’s a successful doctor, well, you really aren’t paying attention. She’s a cutter. She’s hidden some of that under her tattoos, and her daughter, your granddaughter, she’s also cutting. Maybe you don’t see this stuff because you never stick around long enough to actually experience people, much less family, on a deeper level. Or, maybe you do and maybe that’s why you’re always off to somewhere novel, with new adventures and romances around every corner. Low threshold for drama. I share that. I duck and run every chance I get. But mother, I don’t understand you at all. You’re a mental health professional! How could you not see any of this crap? How could you not see I am carrying all of this because you two are not picking up your share of the load? You’re more concerned about your people and employees at the clinic than you are about us. About me. Both of you should turn off your cell phones, takes your heads out of your asses for a half a minute and realize things aren’t just okay. You have money. Your kids have money. You and they are successful by every measure of modern society. But they are broken. I am broken. It’s time you stand up and take responsibility for your own shit.”
There was silence. Heath put a hand on Casey’s shoulder. She didn’t brush it off. “I need time to sort all of this,” mother said. “You can go to your room while I think.”
Casey stood. “I feel like it’s time to act, not think. I feel urgency. I want to run. I want to hide. I feel like something bad is about to happen.”
“You always feel like that,” mother said. “You always feel like there is something wrong.
Go to your room, breathe. Let me think.”
Casey turned to go, but stopped when father said her name.
“Casey, I am sorry. Sorry for not seeing things better. Here’s a heads up, you’re hearing this from me, not the grapevine. I filed for divorce,” father said. “Maria, you will probably be receiving the papers Thursday or Friday from my lawyer.” “What?!” mother asked.
“Don’t worry, you will keep the house, the car, everything in the joint bank account, and I have never skimped on child support,” father said.
“I have given you everything you have ever asked of me and you’re leaving?” mother said.
“And I have given you nothing?” father asked. Casey interrupted. “When is the baby due?” Father seemed surprised.
“Being overly sensitive is a survival trait,” Casey said. “I really wish someone would sweep up these egg shells. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Casey left the room. Heath lingered, wanting to hear more and was torn out of the frame only to arrive in the bedroom.
“Talk about drama,” Heath said.
“Shut up,” Casey said.
Heath nodded. “I am sorry,” he said.
“Not your fault,” Casey said.
“Do you feel better? Saying all of that?” Heath said.
“Yes and no,” Casey said.
Casey turned to the browser and read more on wonderlands. Keith pointed at one of the tabs labeled Heath Ledger.
“I am reading this,” Casey said.
Heath reached for the mouse. Casey’s hand was on the mouse and it moved with his hand, clicking on the other tab.
“I didn’t do that,” Casey mused.
“I did that!” Heath said, excited. “Oh, look, I remember that picture… Wait.”
Heath sat down in the chair and took over her body. He clicked on a picture of his daughter and widow. He hated the cameras were following them, was tearful, but thankful for being able to see them. Casey found herself outside of herself watching her body move. She was partly euphoric, spinning and going around her room while clearly seeing her body at the computer typing. She came back to her senses when she realized the intent behind what he was doing.
“You can’t contact her,” Casey said.
“I have to! That’s why I am here!” Heath said.
“No! You’re not really him!” Casey said.
Casey sat back down, forcing Heath out of her. She resumed control of her body and began shutting down the pages he had opened. Heath jumped back in. There was a struggle. The mouse was pulled out of the computer and thrown. Stuff was thrown off the desk. The computer knocked over. The chair went over. They grappled for control and her body. They rolled across the bed, knocking stuff off the dresser, some of the contents being folded clothes that had not been put away. They tussled on the floor in a pile of clothes that were no longer folded. Mother entered the room. The struggle ended. Casey won control. She sat up. Heath retreated to the wall.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” mother asked.
“I am throwing a tantrum,” Casey said, in a very polite, reserved manner.
Mother nodded. “Good for you,” mother said. “Clean up when you’re done.” Mother went away, closing the door.
“That was unexpected,” Casey said.
Heath began to cry. He was sitting against the wall, banging his head. “I miss them so much. You just don’t understand.”
Casey crabbed crawled backwards to sit next to him. She put her hand on his and it went through it. Their hands overlapped. She waited till he stopped crying to speak.
“We’re going to have two conversations,” Casey said. “The first one is easy. Assume you’re not Heath. You have no right to contact them. You know how many people want to reach out and help them? Some with good motives, some with not so good motives; it really doesn’t matter what yours and my intention are, the Ledger family will be suspicious. And they should be. I am not psychic. I am not reaching out to them and telling them anything, helpful or not. It raises so many questions that I can’t answer. It brings too much scrutiny on me and I don’t want that. Contacting them is bad for them, bad for me, and bad for you. You will not get the resolution you want. They’re not going to invite me in for tea and cookies and make all of this alright.”
Heath seemed to understand that.
“Second conversation; this one is going to be harder to hear, but you need to hear it. If you are really Heath, then you forfeited the right to bring your daughter and widow any comfort.
They can’t hear your voice because you checked out. Right or wrong, for better or worse, you, Heath Ledger, are no longer allowed to influence the playing field directly. You have to own the reality that they no longer have access to you. That’s your biggest burden and you will have to carry it for a long way. Maybe their entire life times. Or maybe mine. Maybe this weight is so unbearable you needed someone to share it with. Maybe together you and I can carry this thing.
Maybe some secrets have to be carried because it’s the right thing to do.” “Like your parents?” Heath asked.
“Yeah, maybe so. Maybe they really thought they were protecting me,” Casey said.
“Maybe that’s why I am a super sensitive, secret detector.”
“So you want to be a spy when you grow up?” Heath asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Casey said. “I am too easily enmeshed with the feelings of others. I would end up being sympathetic to all parties and be accused of being a double spy traitor… Seriously. Spies and people with Stockholm syndrome should be slotted together on the same continuum.”
“You have the best boundaries of anyone I know,” Heath said.
“You only know me,” Casey said.
“I know every one you know,” Heath said.
“Fair enough, but I use the mask to keep people separate so they don’t know how much I feel,” Casey said. “People get spooked when you read them and it causes trouble.’
“People are weird. They want to be understood and then freak when someone shows the least bit of insight,” Heath said. “You are psychic.”
“No. I am sensitive. Casey the sensitive, the next incarnation of Nancy Drew, mystery and crime solving heroine with her sidekick Heath.”
“I am so not just a sidekick,” Heath said, wiping his eyes.
“Maybe we’ll make a good team,” Casey said.
“So, you’re not kicking me out?” Heath asked.
“Nah. I think I’ll keep you about. You’re kind of interesting,” Casey said.
“How so?” Heath asked.
“Well. Uh. You didn’t know about your daughter and widow until you saw the picture. I thought you knew everything I knew. That’s interesting. You’re not Heath,” Casey said.
“I don’t follow,” Heath said.
“I would have thought my imaginary friend would have been perfect, but you’re flawed,” Casey said.
“That’ doesn’t mean I am not Heath,” heath said. “Everyone is flawed.” “Yes. That’s interesting,” Casey said. “You’re not an archetype, either.” “A what?” Heath said.
“A Jung thing. Never mind, I am sorting something,” Casey said.
“If I am not Heath, how come I feel so bad about what I did? What he did?” Heath asked.
“Heath or not, you’re supposed to feel bad about that,” Casey said. “Hell, I didn’t even know you and I felt bad. My feelings about it now are more complex. I know enough to feel bad about it and that we all share this emotion about it, but we also know that sometimes there are other emotions so much bigger and scarier that it over rides the emotions of feeling bad about it. People can get stuck there. Scary things happen when we get stuck there.”
“Have you ever been stuck there?” Heath asked.
“No,” Casey said. “I can only imagine…”
“Is that all I am?” Heath asked. “Something imagined?” Casey looked at her room. “You seem pretty solid to me.”
“Sorry about the mess,” Heath said.
“You’re good at making messes, aren’t you,” Casey said.
Heath laughed. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
Casey smiled, got up, and proceeded to clean her room, starting with the clothes.
“Ever think about acting?” Heath asked.
“Sure,” Casey said.
“You’d be good at it,” Heath said.
“Maybe,” Casey said, folding pants. “The thing is, I imagine I would lose myself in the parts. Hell, I can’t even read a book without becoming all the characters. The only way I have found to avoid feeling them is by inserting myself into the story line as a character.”
“That’s pretty insightful,” Heath said. “I think a lot more actors struggle with that than you know. Especially method actors. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio come to mind.”
“The Abyss, James Cameron?” Casey said.
“Did you ever see ‘The Pirate Movie?’” Heath asked.
“Kristy McNichols and Christopher Atkins?” Casey asked. “Love that. Really wanted
Glee to do a remake of that. Cameo with Depp.”
“Do you think I look like Christopher?” Casey asked.
“Umm, maybe a little,” Casey said. “You have that flare about you that he had. The same flare Jon-Erik Hexum had. From the TV show Voyagers.”
“I remember that show!” Heath said. “He also killed himself.”
“I think his was an accident, more stupidity than anything. He didn’t think blanks would hurt him. The gesture is still the thing, though. That’s a serious gesture and not something one shou