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Prose: The Magician
The Magician
She should just turn around and leave; she doesn't even know why she is here. Yes she does. At least, she thinks she does. But is it really a good enough reason to stay? Is it ever a good enough reason to stay? She could have all of the reason in the world, and yet she would never be able to justify walking into that door.
She can recall when she first saw him work his magic. He had stolen her heart then, with some sort of a secret spell. Even years later, she can still remember how he played the audience, pulling its strings and replacing stray thoughts with rapt attention. Even then, he had been able to shine.
He had this way on stage. She had never been able to figure just what sort of spell he had worked as he acted his part. What was she doing here? She should leave; nothing good could come from this--could it?
Ah, but it's too late now. The ticket taker (isn't there a better title for that sort of job?) is smiling at her and the youngest child of the family behind her is beginning to fuss. She gives in. She hands her ticket to the...whatever you call him.
The interior is beautiful. She hasn't been to New York since she was in high school, and it seems that she's forgotten what beauteous things hide away within the confines of the theatres there. It's enough to almost make her momentarily forget why she has come--but only momentarily, and only almost.
She finds an usher to help direct her to her seat. The plush cushioning is a stark contrast to how uncomfortable she actually is. Why is she here again? She doesn't have any way to justify being here. It's been over for years at this point; nothing can change the past, regardless of how much anyone can wish it. Why is she here?
The lights blink. It's starting.
She sits very still throughout the show. Despite the fantastic costuming and stunning stagework, her eyes are drawn only to him. How could they not? He's the reason she's here. Her eyes belong to him, but her mind is elsewhere.
When had they met? She couldn't remember. Try as hard as she might, she can't recall the first things they ever said to each other. Aren't you supposed to remember these sort of things? But this isn't some cheesy movie. There will be no emotional flashback montages or tearful reunions in the rain. These sort of things have been lost in time. She remembers the last time she saw him. She remembers his kiss goodbye. Those are the things that stay with you--the endings of things. Never, ever the beginnings.
She can recall how he told her that her friends weren't right; that no one should ever bring her down like that. She got new friends. He told her that she was beautiful, and she held her head a bit higher--she still does. He told her not to take any crap from anybody ever again, and she tries very hard not to. But sometimes, you just have to take the crap that comes with the gold.
She had tried to keep in touch, but it had felt like he was avoiding her--purposely running and always in the opposite direction. She should have taken that as a hint, anyone else would have. Instead, her thoughts followed him. She was like a stupid puppy dog--hit her a few times, and she just came back so you could hit her harder.
How many years had it been? That had been the summer of her freshman year. She had her degree now. A degree--but no job. He, on the other hand, was doing what he had always wanted. And who was she to come here--what was she expecting to happen? That he would forget that it was over and just allow her to fall into his arms as they embraced and kissed and swore everlasting love to one another? That was the thing of novels--cheesy ones, at that. Did she really expect her life to be like that? Did she really want her life to be like that?
Look at these people! Her fellow theatre-goers were entranced by his performance. And what was she doing here? They were so easily captured because they never knew him. He was a stranger to them, and that was what caught them up in his act. But she knew him. She knew him and she would never be able to forget that it was him upon that stage and not the character he played. In that way, his magic had died for her. It would never transform her world again.
Why was she here? What was she hoping would happen? All dressed up like she was--as if she thought it would be some kind of fairy tale reunion. She wouldn't even get a chance to see him! Not unless she hung around the stage door, pining away for hours after the performance. It was pointless. Why even bother? He had made himself clear and now her chance had passed. She couldn't justifying staying here.
But how often had she thought of him over the years? She could just hear him now, telling her how pathetic it was that she had wasted so many years of her life pining away over someone who had clearly forgotten all about her. What little opportunities had she passed up on her way here, caught up in thoughts of him?
She was leaving. It was pointless. She would never be able to justify coming here. Even though the show wasn't even halfway over, why should she bother staying? She couldn't spend the rest of her life thinking of him (even though she would). There was no point in waiting for him to magically reappear in her tiny, insignificant world. He was too great for that.
She knew why she had come here tonight. She had been hoping for one last touch, one final taste, of his over-powering magic. She wouldn't find it here. His magic had worked all of its wonders for her. There was nothing left of it in her life.
She should just turn around and leave; she doesn't even know why she is here. Yes she does. At least, she thinks she does. But is it really a good enough reason to stay? Is it ever a good enough reason to stay? She could have all of the reason in the world, and yet she would never be able to justify walking into that door.
She can recall when she first saw him work his magic. He had stolen her heart then, with some sort of a secret spell. Even years later, she can still remember how he played the audience, pulling its strings and replacing stray thoughts with rapt attention. Even then, he had been able to shine.
He had this way on stage. She had never been able to figure just what sort of spell he had worked as he acted his part. What was she doing here? She should leave; nothing good could come from this--could it?
Ah, but it's too late now. The ticket taker (isn't there a better title for that sort of job?) is smiling at her and the youngest child of the family behind her is beginning to fuss. She gives in. She hands her ticket to the...whatever you call him.
The interior is beautiful. She hasn't been to New York since she was in high school, and it seems that she's forgotten what beauteous things hide away within the confines of the theatres there. It's enough to almost make her momentarily forget why she has come--but only momentarily, and only almost.
She finds an usher to help direct her to her seat. The plush cushioning is a stark contrast to how uncomfortable she actually is. Why is she here again? She doesn't have any way to justify being here. It's been over for years at this point; nothing can change the past, regardless of how much anyone can wish it. Why is she here?
The lights blink. It's starting.
She sits very still throughout the show. Despite the fantastic costuming and stunning stagework, her eyes are drawn only to him. How could they not? He's the reason she's here. Her eyes belong to him, but her mind is elsewhere.
When had they met? She couldn't remember. Try as hard as she might, she can't recall the first things they ever said to each other. Aren't you supposed to remember these sort of things? But this isn't some cheesy movie. There will be no emotional flashback montages or tearful reunions in the rain. These sort of things have been lost in time. She remembers the last time she saw him. She remembers his kiss goodbye. Those are the things that stay with you--the endings of things. Never, ever the beginnings.
She can recall how he told her that her friends weren't right; that no one should ever bring her down like that. She got new friends. He told her that she was beautiful, and she held her head a bit higher--she still does. He told her not to take any crap from anybody ever again, and she tries very hard not to. But sometimes, you just have to take the crap that comes with the gold.
She had tried to keep in touch, but it had felt like he was avoiding her--purposely running and always in the opposite direction. She should have taken that as a hint, anyone else would have. Instead, her thoughts followed him. She was like a stupid puppy dog--hit her a few times, and she just came back so you could hit her harder.
How many years had it been? That had been the summer of her freshman year. She had her degree now. A degree--but no job. He, on the other hand, was doing what he had always wanted. And who was she to come here--what was she expecting to happen? That he would forget that it was over and just allow her to fall into his arms as they embraced and kissed and swore everlasting love to one another? That was the thing of novels--cheesy ones, at that. Did she really expect her life to be like that? Did she really want her life to be like that?
Look at these people! Her fellow theatre-goers were entranced by his performance. And what was she doing here? They were so easily captured because they never knew him. He was a stranger to them, and that was what caught them up in his act. But she knew him. She knew him and she would never be able to forget that it was him upon that stage and not the character he played. In that way, his magic had died for her. It would never transform her world again.
Why was she here? What was she hoping would happen? All dressed up like she was--as if she thought it would be some kind of fairy tale reunion. She wouldn't even get a chance to see him! Not unless she hung around the stage door, pining away for hours after the performance. It was pointless. Why even bother? He had made himself clear and now her chance had passed. She couldn't justifying staying here.
But how often had she thought of him over the years? She could just hear him now, telling her how pathetic it was that she had wasted so many years of her life pining away over someone who had clearly forgotten all about her. What little opportunities had she passed up on her way here, caught up in thoughts of him?
She was leaving. It was pointless. She would never be able to justify coming here. Even though the show wasn't even halfway over, why should she bother staying? She couldn't spend the rest of her life thinking of him (even though she would). There was no point in waiting for him to magically reappear in her tiny, insignificant world. He was too great for that.
She knew why she had come here tonight. She had been hoping for one last touch, one final taste, of his over-powering magic. She wouldn't find it here. His magic had worked all of its wonders for her. There was nothing left of it in her life.