Chapter 7

There was quiet. Casey was confused. She felt like she had been gone for a whole a day, but the clock showed only an hour had passed. That in itself was noteworthy.

      “You okay?” Heath asked. “I should have asked permission…”

      “I am okay. We are okay. Contextually, it felt like the right thing at the right moment, and I, we! were both caught up in something amazing and…” Casey voices changed to a boundary enforcing tone. “And don’t do it again until I am finish sorting this!”

Another sound of something breaking came from a distant room. On investigating, Casey found her mother in her office library. The grandfather clock lay smashed upon the floor. That was probably what had drawn her out of her wonderland. She was happy to discover that; it suggested she could go away and not worry about her body being harmed because she had tuned out the world. Books and papers and all sorts of things were settled in a disorganized, tornado sort of way. There was a broken vase. A rather expensive vase. Heath picked up one of the pieces and sounding like Sean Connery from ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,’ ‘AH, it’s a fake.’ Casey bit on her lip, trying not to laugh, avoiding eye contact with Heath. It didn’t take much effort to get herself together. Her mother was on the floor crying, her back against the desk. She looked up, and appeared to be angry by Casey’s amused look.

“Good for you,” Casey said. “You want help cleaning up?”

Her mother shook her head no. Casey nearly turned and left but Heath pushed her to go deeper into the room. She frowned at him but he nodded to her mother. Casey went and sat down next to her mother. She drew her knees up and hugged them. ‘Talk to her,’ Heath said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” her mother said.

“Okay,” Casey said.

Mother looked at her daughter. “Okay?”

“What? You want to negotiate?” Casey asked.

“Maybe,” her mother said.

“That’s not how this works,” Casey said.

“How does this work?” her mother said.

“Imperfectly,” Casey said.

“What?”

“Mom, you said it earlier, you’re the adult, I am the child, you’re the parent…”

“I am sorry I said that,” mother said.

“You were right to say that,” Casey said. “We are not friends. You’re the parent. I am not supposed to carry your load. If you had me to fill an emptiness, well, that was a mistake. If you had me to capture dad into staying, that was a serious mistake. It’s okay. Humans make mistakes.

If we’re particularly clever, we learn from those mistakes.”

“People don’t stay together forever like they used to,” mother said.

“People also don’t die like they use to,” Casey said.

“Why are you always so morbid?” Mother asked.

“I thought it was common knowledge that most people didn’t live as long as they do today. I suppose that could be a popular myth reinforced by all the Disney movies featuring orphans. Assuming it’s a real thing and that we are actually living longer, the first true high school kind of romances shouldn’t last because we don’t live in high school the rest of our lives. Most people graduate and move on. Maybe we’re supposed to have more than one partner, the high school one, the midlife one, and the one who walks the final path one. We all mature and change and it seems unreasonable that we mature and change together. It hardly seems fair to expect someone not to change or to change in the same way. That doesn’t sound loving…” Mother glared at her.

“But what do I know,” Casey said. “I am not unhappy that dad is leaving. Quite frankly, he was rarely here. I’m not upset that you and he had an open relationship. I am upset we never talk about this stuff and that I have carried this idea that I am broken because I’ve worried I have had too many crushes when I am only supposed to have one. I worried that you would split up because I wasn’t good enough or because I wasn’t interesting enough or I didn’t the like same movies. And now that we are talking about it, or, no, now that I am talking about it, it seems to me that literature rarely captures precisely how unhappy women were in their relationships in the past. So isn’t it interesting that we have more freedoms and luxuries today than we ever had, and yet we’re still relatively unhappy? Is that because women were happier in the past than we give than credit for? Or is it that we still cling to this idea that there is one man for all time that satisfies all our needs and we’re disappointed when we discover there are no knights in shining armor because we’re not princesses? And if you been following the Royalty in the UK seriously,

I don’t think people really want to sign up for that drama.”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my daughter?” mother said.

“Mother. I have been telling you there is something wrong with me and you never listen,”

Casey said. “I want the relationships Eddie has with his father. I am that kid.” “The courtship of Eddie’s father?” mother asked.

“Yes, precociously existential, that’s me,” Casey said. “I want to walk on a beach with you and ask you impossible question that even God can’t answer. No one is on my page.” “Are you unhappy?” mother asked.

Casey pondered. “I don’t know.”

“That sounds unhappy,” mother said.

“It sounds hopeful,” Casey corrected. “Look, if you had asked me yesterday if I was unhappy, I would have said yes.” Heath corrected her. “Yeah,” she agreed. “No. I would have lied and I said I was okay. If you caught me ten minutes ago, I was joyful. I don’t remember the last time I felt joyful. I heard the grandfather clock fall. That scared me. But now… I don’t know. I think I am in a neutral space, a space where I can listen, where I can be sensitive…”

“When did you get so smart?” her mother asked, tearing up.

“When we watched Pleasantville together,” Casey said.

“That’s why you were crying?” mother asked.

“When have I not cried during a movie?” Casey said.

“I really wish you would stop crying during movies,” mother said.

“You want me not to feel things? The whole reason we watch movies is to feel things and to explore things, like feelings we wouldn’t normally meet in our everyday life,” Casey said.

“Except for today. This has been one hell of a day.”

“It has,” mother agreed.

“No way we’ll ever have worse than today,” Casey said.

“Don’t challenge Murphy,” mother said.

“We should go get some ice cream,” Casey said.

“I don’t want ice cream,” mother said. “I don’t want to use comfort food to feel better.” “Pizza?”

“You’re a devil child,” mother said. “Go get your shoes on.”

 

The pizza palace next to Tea Cats was spectacular, like a real palace. No, like an old Speakeasy that later became a jazz bar. Even without the instruments on the stage being played, the ambiance of the room was tingly alive. The room had a pitch. It held an expectation of magic. A hostess greeted them at the door.

      “Do you have a reservation?” she asked.

      “We need a reservation?” mother asked.

      “On Thursdays…”

      “Casey?”

      Loxy rushed up and hugged her. “I got them,” she informed the host. “Come with me.”       “We can come back another time,” mother said.

      “Nonsense,” Loxy said. “You’re both my guest. You’re Cassandra’s mother, I presume?”       Mother and Casey nodded.

      “How do you two know each other?” mother asked.

      “Oh, I subbed at her school,” Loxy said, bringing them to a table. “You’re in for a treat tonight. Mr. Mars himself has agreed to do one song.”       “Mr. Mars?” mother asked.

      “Bruno Mars?” Casey and Heath asked simultaneously.

      “The one and only,” Loxy said.

      Casey and mother were invited to sit. Alish arrived with water. “Would you both like a salad surprise? I make the best salads,” Alish said. “All the produce from my own roof top garden.”

      “Um, yes,” mother said.

      “Eggs or no eggs?” Alish asked.

      “We’re omnivores,” mother said.

“She’s an omnivore. I am a vegetarian, but eggs are okay, as long as they came from cage free hens,” Casey said.

      “Our hens are the happiest, healthiest hens in the entire universe,” Alish assured her.

      “Do you want to share a pizza, or your own personal pizzas?” Alish asked. “Or, if you prefer, we have a variety wings, served with sticky rice. We have the best Thai styled chicken wings in the world.”

      “Not the happy hens I hope,” Casey said.

      “My hens are pets,” Alish assured her. “They have great lives, Casey. Everybody dies.

Even happy hens.”

      “Do they die happy?” mother asked, going for humor.

“Mother!” Casey said, frowning. “I want my own cheese pizza. Alfredo sauce, not tomato sauce.”

      “You got it,” Alish said.

      “Why even bother having pizza if you’re not putting anything on it,” mother said.

      “I want what I want,” Casey said.

      “Bring me a meat lovers, pan style?” mother said.

      “You bet,” Alish said, walking away without taking notes.

      Fersia screamed and rushed the table. “Casey!” Casey jumped at the cat rushing her. Her mother was a little offset by the charge, but also by the ‘human’ cat.

      Jon and Lester were right behind her. They also said ‘hi,’ to Casey and her mother.

      “How is it everyone knows you?” mother asked.

      “We met today above tea cats,” Casey admitted. “Technically, we’re not friends, because we just met and all, but I really like them.”       “You still having a rough day?” Jon asked.

      “It’s been a day,” Casey said.

      “Then that clinches it. You must sing and dance with us,” Fersia said.

      “Umm, I don’t sing,” Casey said.

      “Yes you do,” Heath and mother both said.

      “Shower and car singing doesn’t count,” Casey said. “And I definitely don’t dance.”

      “I bet Heath does,” Fersia said.       Lester shoved her.

      “Heath?” mother asked.

      “Oh, just an inside joke,” Fersia said. “Sorry I brought it up. If you change your mind, you just come up. Maybe today we will pretend to be Casey and the Sunshine band…”

      “We so will not. There is a reason Disco died,” Lester said, making his way to the stage.

“Why we even agreed to this alternative revenue scheme is beyond me.” “Excuse us,” Jon said, and followed Lester.

Fersia side hugged Casey and whispered, “I am actually better than Josie,’ and rushed to the stage, beating Jon and Lester.

      Loxy returned from seating another guest. “You okay?” she asked.

      “Can we talk?” Casey asked. “In private?”

      Loxy shrugged, looked to Casey’s mother, offering a curious smile.

      “What can you ask her you can’t ask me?” mother asked.

      “You got your stuff. I got my stuff. Both of our stuffs are way too heavy to sort together at the same time,” Casey said.

      “Go ahead. I will just sit here alone,” mother said.

      Casey blinked. “Do you really want to put that on me?”

      “I am sorry,” mother said. “Go ahead.”

      “Come, we’ll make the pizzas,” Loxy said.

      Loxy and Casey went to the open kitchen together. They started by washing their hands, putting on aprons, and then Loxy introduced her to dough kneading. The heat from the fire stone oven was tangible. They were visible to Casey’s mother the whole time. Not that she seemed to notice. The moment Casey walked away she was on her cell phone. She put the phone partly away to eat one of the salads Alish delivered.

Lester on drums gave a beat. Jon added base with a guitar. Fersia filled it out with her guitar and sang something fun, a parody: “Cats just want to have fun…” Somehow, in the lyrics, she managed to work in the name ‘Rainbow Dash’ and a double rainbow. After the song, Fersia spoke for the ‘palace’ and to the hidden cameras, thanking their online audience. She recommended people hang out for their mystery VIP artist for the night, cause tonight was going to be awesome. They were live streaming the performance and apparently Fersia could see a screen with people texting.

“Everyone is a Loxy fan,” Fersia said. “Where are my fans?” “Toddthestar likes you,” Jon said.

“Oh!” Fersia said. “We do ban people for not being polite, Sir!”

Loxy excused herself and ran over to the stage. “What did they say about me?” she asked.

“Jimmytheknife33 wants you to perform ‘Words,’ by Missing Persons again,” Fersia said. “Says you nailed the squeak.”

“I love the squeak!” Loxy said.

“Everyone loves the squeak,” Fersia said. “I can do it. Mew!”

“Oh, thank you, Memphis-lover. I don’t think anyone’s ever compared me to Joan Jett,” Loxy said, glancing over at Jon. He was looking for Joan Jett in her. “Jon, did you have crush on her?”

“Wasn’t that Pinky Tuscadero?” Jon asked.

“No, Jon,” Loxy said. She returned to reading. “I like your Egyptian eyes, especially the lingering side glance. You remind me of Suzanne Hoff…”

“You have the nicest fans,” Fersia said.

“They’re angling,” Lester said. “Speaking of angling, check out the pussy cam. Several new cats at Tea Cats are up for adoption.”

“Jon, do you think I look like Suzanne?” Loxy asked.

“Um, let’s talk later,” Jon said.

“You always say that, and yet, we never really talk,” Loxy said.

Lester did a ‘ba-da, dum,’ on the drums.

“Nice,” Jon said.

“Who else do you think I look like?” Loxy asked.

“That haircut? Duma Lipa comes to mind,” Jon said.

“Oh! Serious no talking tonight,” Loxy agreed. Lester did the drum thing again.

“Next number?” Lester pushed.

“Joan jet version of Love is All Around it is,” Loxy said. “You got it Fersia. I got pizza duty. You can tune into kitchen cam if you want to watch!” Loxy ran back to the kitchen.

      “Heath, can I have a moment alone with Loxy?” Casey asked.

      “Sure. If it’s okay with you, I think I will retire to our wonderland,” Heath said. “Send me an order of wings with sticky rice.”

      “How can you be in my head and ask that?” Casey asked.

      “I want wings,” Heath said. “And you can eat sticky rice with your hands and it taste good with chicken.”

“Okay,” Casey said. “I am sorry for imposing on you.” “It’s okay. We’re okay, but I am starving,” Heath said.

Heath disappeared through an invisible door. It reminded her of Al, from Quantum Leap.

“So, we’re alone?” Loxy asked.

      “OMG, I didn’t think I’d ever be alone again,” Casey said. “That sounded bad. I didn’t mean it like that. I actually don’t know if I am alone, or it’s an illusion.”

      “If you think you’re alone, you’re alone. You give your companion access to what you want to share. It’s okay, Casey. I get it,” Loxy said. “Cause you’re intuitively right; no one is ever truly alone. We’re on cam now, probably a thousand people watching. Don’t worry. They can’t hear us from this cam. Anyway, reality, social reality, is much more intricately involved in and around us than anyone cares to believe. It seems to me, though, you’re doing better than just dog paddling.”

      “Is he really Heath?” Casey asked.

“My opinion? He is a tulpa,” Loxy said. “He is more your imagination than actual Heath. I suspect, the more time you spend with him the more you will discover what makes him uniquely different.”

      “He likes girls. Does that mean I like girls?” Casey asked.

      “Oh, I can’t answer that for you,” Loxy said, flipping the pizza and pushing into it. She stopped. “Is it okay to like girls?”

      “Yeah,” Casey said. “Why not?”

      “You sounded worried,” Loxy pointed out.

      “I am interested in both, I think,” Casey said. She didn’t push into the dough as vigorously as Loxy was attacking hers.

      “There you go,” Loxy said.

      “Heath kissed me,” Casey said.

      “Oh?” Loxy asked.

      “It was impulsive and surprising and perfect and I don’t know what it means,” Casey said.

      “That does sound rather perfect,” Loxy said. “You could take years unpacking one, perfect, solitary kiss. Way better than a hundred imperfect kisses.” Loxy had to look up because the next song was a song from the ‘Sound of music;’ Fersia was singing a punked up version of

‘I am sixteen…’ Joan Jett couldn’t have rendered this better. She smiled as Fersia rubbed up against Jon, still clinging to her guitar, sharing a mic with him. Jon responded to her call. “That’s funny,” Casey said.

“It’s perfect,” Loxy said.

      “Can I love an imaginary friend?” Casey asked.

      Loxy gave her full eye contact. “Can you love, or can you be intimate?” Loxy asked.

“You can love anyone and everyone, there is no limits to love. You can be as intimate with yourself, or anyone, as you like. That is your call. No one can really tell you otherwise… Well, society will tell you stuff. Your parents will definitely have expectations on stuff. You know, Casey. Just based on our talk alone, I suspect whatever you decide will be right for you. I trust you.”

      “Why is this happening to me?” Casey said. “And why now?”

      “You are really a smart girl. Smarter than anyone dares expect. You’re a product of your family. They’re smart. A bit off, but many smart people are. And, you’ve been influence by some really core media and art. ‘Harold and Maude!’ How many of your friends know that one?

‘People Will Talk,’ Carry Grant, Jean Crain. That’s Patch Adams before there was a Patch Adams. Society really knows what it wants, just not how to get there, and you’ve assimilated that aspect. You own that. Most people that can tune into tulpas, they’re off the map in terms of intellectual capacity, imagination, and empathy. You’re a rock star. You have also fared better than most tulpamancer. People tend to get bullied for being different. You’ve escaped that partly because you’re stronger than you give yourself credit and you redirected it early on by laughing it off. I suspect that was your influence from ‘Welcome Home Loxy Carmichael.’”       “You mean Roxy,” Casey corrected.

      “Yay, you’re listening,” Loxy laughed. “Anyway, it’s hard to shoot at a target when there is no target. That, and most people are too into themselves today to really focus on others; or stay focused. People today are more hit and run. I think you will find it is never just one thing, though. We don’t exist in a vacuum. Everything exist simultaneously in relationship to every other thing and separation is an illusion.”

      “No one ever speaks to me like this,” Casey said. “How do you know all of this stuff?”       “I am Jon’s tulpa,” Loxy said.

      Casey’s eyes got big.

“You’re already in the deep end; time to swim,” Loxy said. “Spit spot.”

Casey’s mouth went agape. “What?”

“I am a tulpa…”

Casey stared in disbelief. “I can see you! Other people see you! Mother saw you and spoke to you! Wait wait wait. Everyone sees you differently,” Casey said. “You’re a shapeshifter!”

      Loxy laughed. “No, I am as you see me. Everyone’s perspective is a little different, so they see what they see. Everyone reminds somebody of someone. I am a Dakini. A force of nature. An archetype made manifest, only I am much more complex, and a composite of all the loves and crushes Jon has ever had, so it shouldn’t be surprising that his vision of me is grander than anyone. I am everywoman.” She sang this.

      Casey pushed past the humor, still in her head. “But, how is it you can interact with others but no one sees Heath?” Casey asked.

      “Partly experience, partly a consensus reality block,” Loxy said. It was clear Loxy lost her on that. “Look, your world knows about tulpas…”       “My world?” Casey said.

      “Your world knows about it because of Tibetan Monks and Alexandra David-Neel,”

Loxy said. “They see it as primarily a psychological tool for exploring consciousness. Your world will not accept magical explanations. If you spoke directly to Alexandra, and the monks that taught her, they would tell you this is magic, and the Friar Tuck tulpa