Mini-Episode: Farewell Phil

[“Charlie on the MBTA in D” plays.]

[Sound of an envelope getting ripped open and a letter being removed abruptly cutting to:]

Philip West–Michael Melia

Bernie?! Bernie the mailman! It’s you!

[Sound of a furniture store in the background.]

Bernie–Josh Rubino
Oh, it sure is, Officer West!

Phil
I’ve been looking all over for you! I checked every post office in Boston, and even tried just hanging out around blue boxes for a few hours. After all that, I can’t believe I’m just randomly running into you at a furniture store. 

Bernie

Well now, I’m not so hard as all that to find, am I?

Phil
I looked everywhere!

Bernie
Oh, no, you’ve got it backwards! You don’t look for me. I look for you. Just mail yourself a letter, and then wherever you are, that’s where I’ll have to be. It’s as they say, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” We always go where we need to be. It’s our finest quality, and a reliable comfort in uncertain times–all for the price of a stamp.

Phil
That’s nice.

Bernie

So, what was it you needed?

Phil

I think it’s time I read that letter. But I don’t think I want to be alone, and you wanted to hear it, so I thought…

Bernie

Oh! Well, alright, when were you thinking of doing…?

[Phils tears into the letter.]

Phil and Michael Tate–James Oliva

Dear Phil,

Bernie

Oh, just jumping right in, okay.

Michael

I am writing to you in what I presume will be the final hours of my life. I would tell you where to find my body, but I don’t need to, do I? You know exactly where I am. You probably even know the passcode that would enable my escape. Or perhaps not. Perhaps your uncle never trusted you with that information.

Bernie

Oh. Wow. Uh… kidnapping, huh. You probably shouldn’t let me hear this.

Phil

Doesn’t matter. I’m protected.

Bernie

Protected?

Phil
I’m the mayor’s pet cop, dude. What, am I gonna arrest myself?

Bernie
Well, I suppose not…

Michael

I noticed your attempt to dissuade Oliver from inviting me into that elevator. You knew what fate awaited me, and you tried to intercede. Feebly. Ineffectively. But you tried. It’s not wholly your fault that you failed. I think your uncle would’ve seen the folly of abducting me if I hadn’t consciously sewn chaos into that moment. That’s something I’m good at. Chaos. It’s not usually helpful. But… sometimes it’s handy. It allowed me to get into that elevator, to find the information that I needed.

While here, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. I’ve explored every inch of the office. In one drawer, I found a stack of correspondence–letters from Autumn m West. I read all of them.

Bernie
Oh no, Mr. Tate, you can’t do that! That’s a felony!

Phil
Nah, they never went through the postal system. No stamp, no felony.

Bernie
Oh, thank goodness! Whew!

Michael

From those letters,I learned that Oliver rarely went home. His wife missed him. His son missed him. But somehow he just never had time to see them. But… you did, though. Your aunt mentioned you regularly. How you’d helped her repaint the kitchen. Or stopped by just to visit. How you were at every one of Ada’s crunking competitions. You were there for them.

Something else I suspect is that you brought me food while I was locked away. I don’t think your uncle intended that. You kept me alive when leaving me to die would have been easier and safer. You’re bad… but not that bad. And yet… you never just opened the door. Even after you were arrested, you never told anyone how to save me. So what am I to make of you, Philip West? Which is the real you? Are you the loving nephew who takes time to care for everyone around him, even the weirdo behind the kombucha machine? Or are you the villain’s lackey who watched the kombucha machine slide back into place and stayed silent?

[“Archie MacDonald” plays.]

It’s all the same thing, isn’t it? The best and the worst of you. It’s about love. You love your family. And Oliver? He’s your family. Your aunt and uncle raised you, didn’t they? They took you in after… well, I don’t know after what. But you’ll do anything for them. You’ll try to be the person your uncle wants you to be.You think that’s what you owe him.

You’ve met my friend Leon. Well… you’ve seen the crystal ball that contains his spirit. He was very important to me. I couldn’t have made it this far into my life if not for him. I looked up to him so much. He seemed whole in all the ways I was broken, clockwork in all the ways I was chaos.  But he died. And I felt like if he wasn’t there to keep me from destroying myself, then I would have to become him. But… trying to become him was the very thing that brought me the closest to destroying myself that I’ve ever come. I was trying to live in the mold of someone who only ever wanted me to be the best possible me. He never wanted me to be anything else, but still, I put myself in his shadow. How much worse, then, to live in the shadow of someone so intent on keeping you there? So I get it. I understand why you love your uncle. But you don’t owe him that much. No one ever owes anybody that much.

Phil, I could forgive you for the ways you’ve harmed me. Even now, as I’m dying, knowing full well that you could have saved me. Maybe I’m too forgiving. I’ve never really been able to hold a grudge, even when I tried. You haven’t earned forgiveness–there’s nothing heroic in being less bad than you could be. Not when you have the option of, you know… just not being bad. But. There is an impulse towards kindness in you, and I can see it. I think it wants to come out. I think that’s closer to who you want to be. So if that happened, if you let that out, if you became that better person, well… I could forgive you for the things you did to me.

But I can only forgive what you’ve done to me. I can’t forgive what you did to Louisa.

I don’t think you understand how you hurt her. Not really. You know you made her feel foolish. But you can’t imagine anyone outside of your family ever caring enough about you to be hurt by your betrayal. But she did, Phil. And she was. Because the thing is, it didn’t even take that much. The smallest possible amount of love is still enough to break someone’s heart.

I can see the regret that you feel. But it’s a regret for possibilities lost, not a regret for harm caused. You regret that you lost a friend. That you lost a relationship with someone who saw the better possibilities within you. And that’s what you want from her, isn’t it? You liked the better person you were pretending to be! You want to be that person all the time, every day. But you think you need her if you’re ever going to be him. You regret that you lost your chance to be your better self.

But what did she lose, Phil? Do you ever ask yourself that question? You should. Some people say they don’t believe in regret. I believe in regret with my whole heart. A person who truly has no regrets is either a saint or a sadist, because regret is how we know when we’ve really fucked up. It’s what drives us to be better. But you have to regret the right thing. You have to regret the harm you caused, not the things you lost. And you’re not there yet.

Here’s how I know you’re not there yet: you’re still trying to “fix” your relationship with her.

Now, here’s the good news, Phil: you still have your chance to be your better self. If you truly care about Louisa, then you will accept that the best possible version of your future relationship with her is the one where she never sees you again. I know that’s hard. I know that’s not what you want. But that’s the chance you have: let what she needs be more important than what you need.

But in the end? That’s how you get what you need, too. You think the only way to break out of Oliver’s mold is if Louisa reshapes you in hers. You know who you want to be, but you’re waiting for instructions. You’re waiting for a director to tell you how to play that role. And you know what? Here you go. Because I guess that’s what I’m doing right now. Just this once, Phil, I’m going to help you out. I’ll tell you how to be better.

You take a look at yourself. A good, honest look. Not to denigrate yourself, or to flagellate yourself like some sort of medieval penitent. You look hard, just to see what’s there. You take in the choices you’ve made, the harms you’ve done, and the good you’ve done too. And if you don’t like the proportions you find, then you ask yourself: “If I were the better person I want to be, what would I do?” And then? Just do that. And once doing that becomes a habit, then that’s who you are. But then, that better Phil will stop and look again, and ask: “Okay, now what would an even better version of me do?” And you never stop asking.

If you do all that, knowing that it’s not going to change anything–not one single thing!–about the relationships you’ve already lost. Louisa still won’t be your friend, and she still won’t forgive you. You don’t do it for her. You do it because you don’t ever want to hurt another person that way again.

I love you, Phil. Not for the person you are, but for the person you want to be. Just remember, the better Phil isn’t Oliver, or Louisa, or Leon, or me. The better Phil you hope to be is still just Phil, because that’s who you are and you’re stuck with him. But if you look hard enough, I think you’ll find a Phil worth being. I believe you can find your way there. I hope that you do.

[Music fades out.]

Goodbye.

Your friend & abductee,

Michael Tate

Michael and Phil

P.S.–The correct pluralization is “hippopotamuses.” 

Phil
Fuck. I mean… fuck.

Bernie
Are you okay there, Mr. West?

Phil

I’m… not.

[Phil breaks down, crying.]

Bernie
Oh! Oh, no… oh, Mr. West, don’t you go crying now, it’s alright. You can, uh…well you got some good advice in there, didn’t you? So…

Phil

Could I have a hug?

Bernie
Oh. Well, I suppose… can’t say I anticipated hugging a kidnapper today, but one does as needs must…

[Bernie gives Phil a hug.]

Phil
[Sniffling on Bernie’s jacket]Thank you…

Bernie

Oh, boy, guess this jacket’s gonna need a wash. But that’s just fine. You’ll be alright there, Mr. West.

Phil

I’m just… I’m so glad…

Bernie

Hm?

Phil

When they arrested me, I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to leave him there. I was so scared, and there was so much, and then my uncle, and, god, fucking Bespin, and then I just… I just forgot. There was so much happening all at once, and he almost died because I forgot.

Bernie
Oh. There, uh… there.

Phil

But now… he got out! Fuck! Mr. Postman, I’m just SO GLAD THAT HE’S OKAY!

Bernie

Oh! Well, yes, I am too. He seems a good fellow, and I’m glad he found his way out.

Phil

I’m so bad… so bad… but I’m not a murderer. Almost. I almost… but I didn’t. I’m not. But I still… fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Bernie
Okay. Okay there, Mr. West. It’s alright. You didn’t kill anyone. It’s okay. No murdering for you. It’s not as bad as all that…

COOKIE

Josh Rubino

I hope that sounds like a hug and not like… pooping.