“Did you want to set up a party?” he asked. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“No,” she said, “I’m... I’ve come...” She couldn’t find the words, so she simply pointed at the handbill again, “Magic,” she said at last. “Aren’t you Mr. Krowchek?” His face got soft, a look of pity flashing over it. He looked at the handbill and then back at her.
“Sit down,” he said and she did. He turned lights back on, lit candles and then, he sat down across from her. “What’s your name?”
“Katherine Doak. Everyone calls me Kate, though.” He smiled and nodded.
“Well, Kate, what exactly is it that you’re looking for?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice very soft, very patient, like someone talking to a child...or a potentially crazy person.
“Magic,” she said without hesitation. “I am looking for magic. You see, I think that’s what I need in my life.”
And then, she told him about her and the other woman, the coffee shop, the job, the large cat, the day to day. Things were not bad, but they definitely lacked something. She didn’t know exactly what that something was until she saw the handbill. “It just clung to me,” she said, “it clung to me, wouldn’t let go and I knew... This was the answer.” When she had finished, when she had told him the entire story she took a deep breath and she felt... lighter. It’s starting to work already, she thought and waited for wisdom, comfort, insight and, above all, magic.
He listened closely, nodding along, making listening noises, giving her all his attention. When she stopped talking, he sat back in the chair and looked at her.
“Kate,” he said and she sat up straighter, anticipating some magical insight, “did you really read this handbill?” She nodded vigorously. “Really,” he said and held it out to her. She took it, read it over again.
Your love destiny, decoder of the spirit world, questions answered.
Yes, she had read this, of course, she had, she had read it and had known that this was where she needed to be, this was... She stopped. At the bottom of the page, a sentence she had not seen:
A Museum of the History of Occult Entertainment.
She read the sentence again and then, she looked up at the man. “You didn’t see that, did you, Kate?” She folded the handbill up and looked away from his gaze. She looked around the room. This time, she saw the little signs on the tables with dates and explanations of the books and cards, the candles.
“It’s a museum,” she said.
“It is.”
“So, you’re not... I mean, there is no Mr. Krowchek.”
“Yes, I am Theo Krowchek. The museum, everything in here was owned and used by my great-grandfather, Abner Theodore Krowchek. This was his place, his shop. He held séances here and did tarot card readings. It’s been in my family for a long time. My folks still work here, keep it open, and run the gift shop.”
“Gift shop,” she said, the idea of that made her feel even more ridiculous, more pathetic.
“We give tours, do shows,” he went on, “Halloween is big for us. We also do birthday parties, theme parties, you know. It’s fun.
“Yes,” she said, standing up, needing to leave. “I am sure it is fun.” She moved to the door, and he stopped her.
“Wait,” he said, “don’t... I feel bad... would you like a cup of tea?” She thought about it for a moment. Tea did sound nice. She was suddenly exhausted and ashamed. This bit of kindness, this gesture was much needed.
“All right,” she said and she sat back down. He left the room and came back a few minutes later carrying a tray with tea cups, a tea pot, milk, sugar and some cake. He set it down and served. She sipped the tea and started to feel better. He really was a very kind man.
“So,” she said, feeling less ashamed, “what about you, what do you think of all this?”
“I love it. I have a Ph.D. in psychology and I think magic is a very important part of our lives, our culture. I’m also an amateur magician. I do some shows here, in the museum and there is a club in the Fenway where I do an act.”
“Really,” she said, becoming interested. “What kind of magic do you do?”
He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He opened the deck and shuffled, moving cards around, cutting the deck in halves then quarters. His fingers were nimble, quick and skilled. She leaned forward and watched him work. He fanned the deck, she picked a card, he made it disappear then reappear. He pulled it from his pocket, he pulled it from the teapot. For about half an hour, he did card tricks for her, and she laughed with delight. He was very good, very engaging. She felt the shame and disappointment drift away with each turn of a card.
“So, you know,” he said putting the deck down on the table, “that’s the kind of stuff I do.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she said, truly meaning it, truly amazed, fascinated and excited. “It’s real magic.” He smiled and then, his smile faded. “What is it,” she asked him. He leaned forward.
“It’s tricks, Kate. It’s just tricks. Anyone can learn to do them, so it’s not real magic. There is no real magic.” The shame came rushing back. She felt stupid, her face beginning to flush, and her head starting to spin.
“Of course not,” she said, trying desperately not to seem insane. “It’s... magical, is what I meant to say. You are very good, very gifted... very magical.” She waited, hoped he bought it and... He did. He relaxed, smiled and sat back.
“That is the best compliment I can ever get, thank you,” he said and picked up the deck. “One more?”
She nodded, even though she knew it was just tricks, it took her away for a moment, it gave her hope for a moment. Again, he fanned the deck, and she picked a card, the queen of hearts, how fitting she thought. Once she had looked at it, she slipped it back into the deck. He made a pass over the deck with his hand, showed that her card was not on the top, not on the bottom and then he fanned the deck out across the table. One card was face down in the deck. He pushed the card out, away from the other cards and smiled at her. He flipped the card over and...
“That’s not my card,” she said, looking down at the ace of clubs. His smile dropped.
“It’s not,” he said, completely shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He sat back, looked at the cards and laughed.
“Okay, well, that one needs work. Tell you what, next time you come by, I will find your card.” She agreed but inside, she knew there would be no next time. Why bother? It’s just tricks.
Back home, she sat in the bathtub trying to wash away her disappointment. The large cat sat on the toilet watching her, not responding to her questions, not becoming, suddenly, a magic talking cat. She went to bed disappointed, sad and feeling a little foolish. The cat sat on her chest, looking deeply into her eyes. After a few minutes the cat stood, stretched and jumped down off the bed. She rolled over, turned out the bedside light and closed her eyes.
***
“Did you find it,” Mr. Miller said when he stuck his head into her cubical the following morning. She looked at him and suddenly remembered that she had told him what she was doing the night before, admitted to him that she was off in search of magic. The shame returned.
“Oh,” she said, laughing, trying to make light of it, “sure, the city is full of magic, isn’t it.” He didn’t believe her, she could tell. He stepped into her cubical.
“Kate, what happened?” She shook her head, not wanting to open her mouth, not wanting the truth to come out, not wanting the tears to start. “Tell me,” he said, and his voice was so soft, so warm so full of care, she couldn’t help herself.
“Nothing happened,” she blurted out, “nothing at all. There was no magic, there is no magic. Life is just work, home, a large cat that doesn’t care, friends that I don’t even like and you... You’re... You...”
She stopped herself. She dropped her face into her hands and cried. He stood.
“Me,” he said, “what am I?” She looked up from her hands.
“You’re... You are fine, you are the best boss anyone could hope for. I’m sorry, it was a stupid thing to look for and... I’m fine now.”
She assured him several more times that she was fine, and he left her cubical. She wiped her tears and laughed at her own stupidity.
“Well, now I know,” she said, “now I know there is no magic, and I can just... get back to my life.”
***
The door opened, and the world came into the coffee shop. The room pulsed with people, eating sandwiches, drinking coffee, talking about life. There was no magic.
“Maybe I need to get a life,” she sighed.
“It’s a myth,” the other one said.
“I need to use the ladies' room,” Kate said and got up from the table.
By the restrooms was a cork board covered with business cards and announcements. Classes in art and yoga, guitar lessons and the like. In and among all the names and phone numbers, dates and promises of a better life, she saw the red handbill. Mr. Krowchek, Your Love Destiny. She stopped and stared at it for a moment. Then, she took a pen from her purse and wrote, in large block letters, IT’S JUST TRICKS across the handbill. Pleased, she went to the ladies' room.
“Do you think it’s a myth,” the other one asked when Kate returned to the table.
“What do you think,” she asked Kate.
“I think,” Kate said, “that you’re both miserable, hateful, desperate, human beings and, furthermore, I think I don’t want to spend any more time with you. Maybe magic doesn’t exist, but misery does and there is no reason I cannot take steps to avoid it.” She got up, gathered her things and left the coffee shop.
“That one,” she said.
“She’s such a...” the other one said.
***
Back at the office, Kate found a note on her computer from Mr. Miller.
“I have a stack of papers that needs a little extra attention, if you have time tonight, would you be willing to put in a few extra hours?”
The note made her happy. He still needed her, didn’t think she was a complete nutcase, and he still relied on her alone. At least something was still right.
At the end of her shift, she walked down to Mr. Miller’s office. Everyone had gone home and only the carpet cleaners and the woman who tended the plants were about. She knocked on his door and stepped inside. He was standing, looking out his window, enjoying the incredible view. She waited for a moment and then, she stood beside him.
“Once there was nothing out there. Well, not exactly nothing. There were fields and farms, people living, existing. They were disconnected. Then, there were phone lines, and people could talk to their neighbors. There were lights, electric lights glowing all over the place. Then cars and buildings and elevators and computers and... There is more to come. So much that we haven’t even imagined yet, but it’s there. Out there, in someone’s head. Someone doodling on a napkin is about to introduce something new, something revolutionary. Something magic,” Mr. Miller said.
She sighed and, without thinking, she reached over and took his hand. He didn’t pull away. He took her hand, and he held it. They stayed that way, looking out into the night, looking out across the city, the incredible view. The lights, the ships moving along the river, the cars, the people.
“Why me,” she asked after a long silence. He understood.
“Because I like you so much.”
“You do,” she asked, surprised and thrilled.
“I do,” he said and pulled her to him, “I have no paperwork, I just, really wanted to do this.”
He kissed her, and her heart jumped. She kissed him back, and suddenly she felt as if they were a part of the wonderful view, a part of the lights, the sounds, and the magic of the city.
When they stopped kissing, when they finally came up for air, she wasn’t sure if she was in the office or floating outside the window.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked and she nodded, breathless, unable to speak. “Thank you,” he said.
He took his jacket from the hanger behind the door and put it on. She stepped to him and reached up to pull a thread off his shoulder. She tossed the thread in the waste bin and then she grabbed his lapels.
“You are almost impossibly handsome,” she said and laughed at her boldness. “So handsome.”
He pulled her in again and they kissed.
“We better go to dinner,” he said, “or we’ll end up doing this all night.”
“I don’t mind, I like this quite a bit.”
She patted his chest and then, she stopped. In the breast pocket of his jacket...
“What’s this,” she asked pulling it out.
“I have no idea,” he said and they both stared at it. “I have no earthly idea how that got there.
“Really, you’re not joking?”
“Honestly, Kate. I have no idea. I don’t even play cards.”
She looked at the card in her hands: the queen of hearts. And she laughed.
“Magic,” she whispered.
***
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