Claudia gathers the letters. Each one had been sealed with a signet and a blotch of wax. Red wax. Claudia had opened each one with a letter opener shaped like a mini-sword. She had been careful. They still look unopened. She feels the weight of the letters in her hands, holding them like a sandwich. She could eat them. Truthfully, she already has, for the contents of every letter was already deep inside of her. She fed off the memory. The thrill of opening each letter and reading what was inside. Poetry. Unrhymed. Formless. But poetry.
Jack flips a card over. It wasn’t the card that the man was expecting. It never is. Three card Monte. The camera captures it perfectly. The camera captures the man’s reaction. Stunned. He is stunned.
Claudia sits on the floor. She’s wearing tights and a long pair of basketball shorts. She places the letters back in the zipper pocket of her dance bag. She pulls a red sweatshirt over her head. Like the wax. Red. Red is her color. Her skin is almost porcelain. She’s literally white. Dark black hair. Black Mexican hair. First generation. Born in Sacramento. At 29, she still sleeps in the bed at her mother’s house but rarely. She lives in so many different places, though. She hardly sleeps at home.
Jack deals more cards. This isn’t three card Monte. This is a full blown out magic trick. A day later. Same camera. Same light. A new group of strangers amazed with their jaws hanging open. He can turn the cards into water. He can turn the cards into ducklings. He can turn the cards into god. He has over 100,000 followers. Fans. Lovers of magic. Jack of Hearts. That’s what he calls himself. The one-eyed Jack. Quite literally. Jack was born with only one eye that worked. They eventually took out the dead eye. Everyday he squeezes a shell of an eye into the hole where his eyeball used to be. But look carefully. The fake eye is often printed with the image of a jack of hearts. Sometimes.
Claudia is once again destroying her pointe shoes. It seems like at least once every 3 months she gets new demands. It’s probably the most popular thing she does. Peeling apart the sole. Pulling the nail out. Bashing the shoes on the Marley floor. This is what she does to all her shoes. Sews the elastic that will hold the shoe on her foot. Shoots jet glue into the sole. It dries quickly. It helps keep the shoe alive. She gets a new set of shoes every month. 30 pairs a month. She’s sponsored. She has close to 700,000 followers on her YouTube channel. Millions of views. She’s a consistent influencer. She puts out videos four times a week. Three shorts. One vlog. She edits them carefully. She drops shorts throughout the week. Just a few minutes long. Just enough time to show off what she’s eating that day. To talk about Pilates. To talk about retirement. (At 29, she might be running out of time.) She has talked about menstruation. She has talked about how thin she is. And today she is destroying her shoes. Left. And then right.
The woman looks up after Jack finishes his trick. She notices his eye. She can see that it’s a jack of hearts. Why didn’t she notice this before? She puts her hand to her mouth to hide her shock. It’s a bit unnerving to see somebody with a fake eye. It’s downright disturbing to realize the fake eye has something painted on it. But what makes it even worse is that the card she had pulled from the deck and held in her hands was a jack of hearts. How did you do that, she questions. And then she laughs. And he says…magic. The woman has no other explanation, and so she nods her head. He is magic. Her thought. He says open your purse. Look inside. Don’t let me see. She opens her purse. Don’t say what you see. But put your hand on the thing that’s in your purse that wasn’t in your purse when you left your house. It wasn’t in your purse when you were driving here to this theater. And it wasn’t in your purse just a few minutes ago when you had thrown your hand to your face and realized my eye was…. creepy. Reach in your purse. And she does.
Oh my god, she says. It’s a small white box. But the walls of the box were brittle and thin. He tells her to crack it open. Just like an egg. She does. She screams and nearly drops the box. What do you see inside? What is in that is in the brittle box? It drops back down into her purse and she reaches down to pull it out, holding it like it was a dead mouse. She struggles to speak, but once she gets her voice she says it and then the crowd is amazed. It’s an eye. It’s a plastic eye. And what’s unusual about the eye? It has the jack of hearts painted on it! And where had you seen this before? Well my card was a jack of hearts. And where else had you seen it before? He waits.. A pause. In your eye. What is in my eye? You had this…you have this thing in your eye. You have a jack of hearts painted on your eye. I do? He looks around at the crowd. Does anyone else see a jack of hearts painted on my eye? No. It’s blue like the other one. It even moves. Now the trick is on her. She sounds like a crazy person. Look, I didn’t put that box in my purse. And I certainly didn’t put this eyeball in my purse. Well then there’s only one explanation, Jack says quietly. He looks up at the crowd. He closes his eyes. And when he opens them there is the jack of hearts. Painted carefully in the middle of his right eye. People usually fall down at that point. People sometimes faint outright. But they always make that sound. That swishing sound. When all the audience sucks the air into their lungs at one time. One man’s voice squeaks out of his mouth…he is magic. That was magic. Right? Jack looks at the man. Yes. That’s correct. I am magic. I am the jack of hearts.
His brother chuckles from behind his iPhone. He’s been recording this whole scene. Tonight Jack will edit it, and tomorrow they will drop it. Everyone signs the release. Everyone except the woman with the purse. She’s just not convinced. They’ll have to blur out her face. That makes the trick better to be honest. She’s a victim. She’s a victim of magic. And we don’t always want to see the victim’s face. Do we?
Claudia unscrews the top of her thermos. Inside she has a delicious vegan concoction. A mixture of sweet potatoes and lentils and peas and tofu and sauerkraut. Perfect. She starts to pick at the food. She can only eat about a third of it. She’ll dump it out and edit it later. She doesn’t want everyone to keep accusing her of having an eating disorder. Especially since she does. But she’s better. Her body is like a machine. It’s not food to her. It’s fuel. Calories go through her. Eight hours of dance will do that to you. Practice practice practice. Fouetté à la seconde. 32. 42. 60. She could do this all day. Magic. That’s what her classmates would say. Hard work isn’t magic. She scolds them softly. Hard work is hard work. She drinks from her giant water bottle and then returns to the center. A few years ago she almost lost her body. She was almost forced to eat with a g-tube. She almost lost her freedom. And she certainly wasn’t going to be able to dance. A counselor made that point clear to her. That was the day she started to believe she could get well. And that’s just what she did. She got well. And she’s well now. Thin? Naturally. Eating disorder? I guess it never goes away. But she did eat. She did fuel herself with the only fuel available. Food. She ate food. She would edit the videos to be just a little bit of a lie. But she wanted to be healthy for her 700,000 followers. She wanted them to stop. That was the second most popular topic on her channel. Eat a hamburger. Have a burrito. I hear they make great burritos in Mexico. I envy your body, a 12-year-old said. That’s about the right time for it to start. Claudia told her to eat. Claudia told her that food is fuel. Food makes the pirouettes go round and round and round. She learned that the hard way. She knows she’s much better. Just digging a fork into the food used to make her shut down. Now she eats. Not as much as her followers think she eats, but she eats. She eats enough.
Jack and his brother pick up everything and pack it. His brother didn’t really like the magic. He knew how most of the tricks worked. But not all of them. Not the eye trick. Sometimes he might actually believe his little brother is magic. But that thought didn’t last long. It’s time for Harvey’s, he said. I need a drink and a burger and that waitress who loves to wait on you. You pulled a card out of her tits. I think she would have let you do a lot more if you tried. But Jack doesn’t try. Paul, I could never date a waitress. Yes. I know. The dancer. You follow her. You comment on every post she makes. But she doesn’t recognize you as being alive. She knows I’m alive. I doubt it. I don’t doubt it. Well that would be a hell of a magic trick if you could get her to notice you. To acknowledge you. I’ll do more than that. Paul picks up the camera stand and packs it into the bag. I need a beer.
They walk back to the van. Jack of Hearts is painted on the side. He’ll busk tomorrow. Make another video. He also had a system for posting videos. He posted more shorts than full videos. The full videos came whenever he traveled to a convention of magic. That’s when his vlog would always capture all the magicians who are not as good as he. He was the best. He didn’t need anyone to tell him. He didn’t need to win any competitions. He just needed that lady to suck all the air out of the atmosphere into her lungs with shock. How did that little box get inside her bag? Paul didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
He’s been living with his magical brother for a while. And now he works for him. Full time. Manager. Roadie. Magician’s assistant. He gave up his life a long time ago. Now this was his life. Filming his brother shocking the world. They both had a calling. Jack and Paul. Each one was following their fate. Jack sat in the back of the van like it was a limousine. This is when he dives into Claudia. She has a new video. He’d seen her break her shoes at least a dozen times. But he never got tired of it. He never got tired of the noise she made when she pulled the nail out. He never got tired of seeing the sewing or the bending of the shoe. The shoes. And he never lost a chance to write. He was never out of poems. That’s what beauty will do to you. When you follow beauty you realize it’s infinite. The feeling inside is forever.
He knows he is in love with her. What he doesn’t know…what his magic couldn’t tell him was whether or not she had any feelings for him. Did she even read the letters? She had a PO box just like he does. People like to send things to influencers. He didn’t know why. But he was glad she had a PO box. That way each one of his letters could get to her. Musical instruments. That was the theme of the stamps he bought. The last one was a cello. The one before that, a saxophone. Forever. Forever was printed on every one of the stamps. The prices would never go up. They were frozen in time. Forever. He understood. He felt frozen in time whenever he watched her videos. And watched. And watched. Commenting on every one. And every one of his comments would somehow include the word magic.
She knows who sent her the letters. She knows that he has a YouTube channel as well. She knows he does magic. She knows he’s rather good looking in a semitic way. She likes his jaw line and the way his cheeks run straight down to his mouth. She’s not alone. Women and girls clearly love a magic man based on the comments he would get. She had even seen the videos with the eye trick. She doesn’t believe that he has a false eye. But maybe. Magic is a lie, she tried to believe that. But he didn’t seem like a liar. Magic man? Hmpf.
He wasn’t going to explain his tricks, but he certainly wasn’t afraid to take the chance. He wants to turn off his comment section because he didn’t want some other magician trying to guess at how he did what he did. At least half the letters that he received in his PO box were people trying to figure out the tricks. Or people who DID figure out the tricks. Not the big ones. Not the eyeball trick. Not the levitation trick. Not the Don Juan trick. That’s the one where he would make someone in the audience fall in love with him. That was a hell of a trick. But now the letters. The letters weren’t a trick. And what he wrote in the letters wasn’t a trick. The signet and the wax…well they were brilliant ideas, but not a trick. He knows he can’t trick her. He knows she could break him just like her shoes. And that thrills him because no one else had ever broken him. No one else could figure him out.
He leaves the comments on just in case she wants to respond to his “tricks.”
Paul sits down at the edge of the bar and looks up at Mandy the bartender. Mandy knows his order. He wants a Corona with no lime. And a shot of Bulliett rye. Paul is undoubtedly an alcoholic. But his little brother saved him. Paul was maybe 2 moves away from being homeless when his brother came to him. He lifted his brother over his shoulder the way a fireman would save a little girl from a burning building. Jack is strong. He keeps himself in tip top shape. It isn’t enough to do the magic. He doesn’t have a cape or a top hat. But he knows that he has to keep his viewers, and he knows that a majority of his viewers are women. Jack has abs. An eight pack. The day he saved his brother was the day he struck a deal with him. Jack said that he needed an assistant.
Paul refused to wear a skimpy outfit. Jack said he didn’t need that type of assistant. He needed someone to help with the cameras. Someone to help with the setup and the breakdown. And someone to answer calls about Jack’s performances out in the world. The ones that paid him money. Jack told Paul that if he worked for him from 9:00 to 3:00, he could drink all he wanted after that. But from 9:00 to 3:00 he would have to be sober. Paul thought about it, but it didn’t take long to come up with the answer. No way. No way I’m working for my younger brother. I’ll pay for the booze said Jack. I’ll go with you to the bar, and I’ll pay for your booze. Paul paused. Paul only worked so that he could afford the booze and have the crappy bar food that kept him going. But working for his brother this way is a better gig than any he could find working the line at a diner. Riding his bike for Uber eats. He lost his license. His bike was the only way to get around on his own. Jack let Paul drive the van even though he knew Paul didn’t have a license. Jack’s magic was powerful. If they ever got caught, Jack would get him out of it. Every time. He tells the officer that if he could figure out a simple magic trick, then they both could be taken to jail. But if the cop failed, he would let them go. They were five for five. Still driving. Paul was still behind the wheel. The only time Jack ever drove the van was when he would dump his brother into the back, drunk, and then take the short ride to his apartment. That’s another thing that made Paul pause even after he had said no way. He lives with his brother rent free.
Claudia is dancing with a company in San Francisco. Not exactly next door to Sacramento but close enough that she could at least visit her family for a day or two. And more importantly, she got to see her little sister. Her little daughter, to be honest. She helped raise her. There was a significant difference in age. Claudia was 17 when Isabel was born. Claudia was dancing in school at the academy. She wasn’t traveling yet. And so for the first two years of Isabella’s life, she looked to Claudia as her actual mother. Her first words, Mama, were directed at Claudia. Not their mother.
Claudia’s mother was a good woman but she had a difficult time with men. Even though she had been married twice, each marriage only lasted until the babies were potty trained. Then she said the men could leave. And that’s what they did. It wasn’t a magic trick, but it could have been. Disappearing husbands. Disappearing men. Claudia never minded. She would go to see her stepfather, Isabel’s biological father, who had been a decent person and who had driven her to the academy and picked her up from the academy even though it was an hour away. She didn’t talk to her real father. He was a man who sold his soul. A gangster. A criminal. And currently a convict. He was serving his time in Folsom. And she was never going to go there to see him. That would have been a real magic trick. That would have been real magic.
Jack sits down at a table in the bar. He never sat with his brother. He needed a different kind of decompression. He ate the same thing every time he came to this bar. Raw oysters. Iced tea. That’s it. Two dozen oysters was his standard order. But sometimes he would get a third. There was just something about having oysters after he had performed magic. He could convince anyone that he got his magic from the oysters. Like finding a pearl. He found all of his techniques in the oysters! Ta da! This wasn’t true of course. What he found in the oysters was that he loved not having to chew. You pick one up. You hold it into your mouth. You slurp. Oyster disappears. Magic.
When Claudia unpacks her Uber in front of the house, Isabel who is now 12 comes charging out to hug her. Claudia is a tall girl. Taller than most ballerinas. Her muscles were long and lean, but she has muscles. She could lift her sister up with one arm while she is carrying her ballet bag in the other.
Once they get into the house, Isabel grabs Claudia’s heavy bag and drags it into the living room. This was also a ritual. One of many rituals that they had in this house. Rituals are good things when you’re trying to be a great ballerina. Claudia learned about rituals probably from the day she was born. Isabel tears into the bag. She carefully puts the thermos on the coffee table. She knows the trouble she would get if she spilled anything on the carpet. White shag. Who buys white shag? She pulls out the shoes. A big bag of them. A mesh bag. She takes out the clothes that she will wash for her sister. She takes out the envelopes clandestinely because she knows that Claudia did not want her mother to see them. The only person on earth other than Claudia who could read the letters was her little sister. Claudia needed a witness. And she knew she had Isabel’s undying loyalty.
Isabel is more devoted to Claudia than to her mother or her father. The only good man who had ever lived in that house. The pecking order basically is Claudia, Tyrone, a long empty space, and their mother. They had a dog but he died. If Bo was still alive, he would be the empty space right after Tyrone. She got to see him every other weekend. But Claudia’s schedule was always so hectic, it wasn’t easy for her to be around to visit with Tyrone. He was a tall man. Strong. He didn’t care much about ballet, but he attended a lot of Claudia’s shows when she was still living in Sacramento full-time.
Isabel digs deeper into the bag and finds a folded up piece of paper. It is a call sheet. It is from a New York company. A small but growing company for contemporary ballet. Isabel knows that means it is weird. She knows that they would do unusual things wearing pointe shoes. Or maybe they wouldn’t wear pointe shoes. Or maybe the men would wear pointe shoes. You’re not going to see Swan Lake. And you’re definitely not going to see Nutcracker. Claudia’s favorite role other than Giselle was the sugar plum fairy.
Isabel balls up the call sheet and throws it away. It disappears. Like magic. But Claudia wants that piece of paper. It isn’t because she suddenly wants to give up classical ballet. It is the location of the company. New York, New York. The town so nice they had to name it twice. The postmarked stamps on every letter from Jack was New York. That’s why she wants to go. She wants to find the jack of hearts. She wants to see the man who wrote the poetry. She wants to see the tricks up close. She watched his videos over and over again, and she thinks she knows how he did some of the tricks. There is only one reason why Claudia wants to dance modern choreography in New York, New York. The magician.
Paul and Jack were from Boston, but they relocated to New York. Busking in New York is better than busking in Boston. The tourists. Jack always goes to the spots where he knows there will be tourists. A matinee at any show on Broadway. He hits them up before they go into the theater. He amazes the patrons who come out to smoke. And he can always draw a crowd after the play is over. It is shocking how he did it. Someone just slowly walking down the steps of a theater might find a card sprouting from his shoulder. Cards that would sometimes stick in the lapel of the man’s overcoat or pierce the side of a woman’s purse. It inspired anger, but then Paul had a way of healing the holes he made in people’s clothing. When he pulled the card out, there was no hole. He couldn’t do this trick in Boston. He would get punched before he ever got to pull the cards out. People in New York don’t punch. Not at the Met. Not in Manhattan. And definitely not on Broadway. In New York, they wanted magic. In New York they knew it all and had seen it all. And so Jack’s performances sometimes amounted to the only thing they had ever never seen. They liked being fooled. They liked being tricked. Everything in New York was everything. You could get anything you want in New York.
And so here was this man giving them something that they had never seen. It made him incredibly popular in New York. He could get a gig in New York quite easily. But he liked busking. And it gave his brother something to do to keep his mind off of the drink. Of course Jack knew Paul could never stop thinking about the drink. But with his hands full of the stands that held up the cameras and loading up the box that Jack had to use as his plinth, there wasn’t much time to get drunk. That would come later. Every time they went out. And if they weren’t going out, Paul would fill the day with alcohol. Jack hoped he was saving his brother’s life one card trick at a time. But the only magic left for Paul was to go to meetings. Which he refused to do. Turning his life around would not have been a trick. It would have been a miracle. And Jack didn’t work in miracles.
Jack didn’t think he could fool God. Maybe. it depends on what God was looking at at the time. God was omnipotent, but Jack was good. Maybe the best. Why would God give Jack the talent to become a magician if God didn’t believe in him? And no one doubted Jack after they saw him perform. Not even Paul who pretended as if he had seen it all and he knew all the tricks. Paul only knew the tricks that Jack wanted him to know. He knew that Paul would need to be behind the scenes. He knew that Paul would need to feel important. An insider. The only person alive who knew how Jack did his tricks didn’t really know how Jack did his tricks, but he believed he did. And that’s all Jack needed.
Belief was the underpinning of what Jack did. Now if only he could convince Claudia. If only he could get Claudia to believe his magic was real.
Claudia takes the red eye with her cavalier James. They have been partners for 2 years, but they have good chemistry together. James is very strong but he has a bad back and so many of the moves that they did have to be adjusted for James and his back. But it didn’t matter. James is dancing with Claudia. And everyone looked good when they danced with Claudia. James knows he is lucky. They get bumped up to business class because she has so many miles. James orders some champagne. There is a reason to celebrate. Claudia is turning 30 on this trip. James knows that this was a tough time for Claudia.
30 is one of those numbers that gets stuck in your mouth when you’re talking about ballet. 30 is an age that is a turning point for many ballerinas. Oh they might still dance into their 30s, but when you cross that threshold you know you are moving downward. Down the mountain that you had built with sweat and hours of your life. If you added up all the time that a good ballerina spent either in the studio or on stage, it would stagger you. Between sleep and dance and working out, most ballet dancers barely had enough time to be real. To actually exist on this planet. To breathe air that’s free and fresh and not the air that you’re sucking down because you just did 20 pirouettes.
Not many could do 20. Claudia could do 20. In fact Claudia figured almost no one could do 20. One night she saw on a YouTube channel a young girl of maybe 16 or 17 being challenged by her teacher to do 20 pirouettes. He said he would give her $1,000. And so she worked hard. She tried many times. She was good at them, but her foot wandered. But she did them. And she got the money. If only those emotions could show up in her dance, she might make it as a professional. She had a pure emotional reaction when her teacher threw the money at her. Everyone laughed. She was all over YouTube. Someone will give her a job. She’s young and strong and eager.
But she won’t last. Because Dance is not about pirouettes. It’s not about how high you can leap. It’s not about how much you can bend your leg up to your ear. Dance is about emotion. Dance is a person. Another human being. And you have to become that person. And you have to feel what that person is feeling. People who compose music for dance always make it dramatic. So why would the dancers keep their faces stiff or fake their smiles or concentrate on the 20 pirouettes without a thought for why they are doing them?
No. That’s not why Tchaikovsky wrote what he wrote. The expectation was that the dancer would be as fluid with her emotions as she is with her body. And that’s what Claudia brings to every performance. And that’s why companies around the world try to entice her to leave California. She couldn’t imagine herself being planted in one spot. So she is a guest at many opera houses and theaters around Europe. Even in Russia. Even in South America. A featured dancer. Freelancer. A wandering prima ballerina.
Sometimes Claudia looked in the mirror and she didn’t see a person. She saw her only competition. And that was what worked best for Claudia. The only woman better than Claudia is the one in the mirror. And she can stand there in front of that mirror and fall in love. But of course there was no touching that mirror. Maybe the woman who looks back at her has a life. Children. A husband. A backyard with a swing. A date night at Chili’s where it didn’t matter how much she ate. Mountain lava cake. She would never even say that dessert’s name out loud, much less eat it. But she hopes that the woman in the mirror did eat it. Maybe she might order two. She could be thicker. Heavier. At home in her body. But Claudia has a business contract with her body. Claudia’s body signed on the dotted line many years ago and there is no fooling around with real life. Meal prep. Long walks. These were the things that Claudia did in her little bit of free time. For YouTube. Nothing real. At least not real to the faces that she could see from the stage who were in awe of her beauty. It was the emotion of the character that Claudia worked the hardest at. But the woman in the mirror was even more real. No tutus. No pilates. No ugly toes.
Claudia is real on stage. A smile would be more than a smile. It would be an expression of joy. The joy that the character felt. And she would make sure that she danced like a fairy. Like an angel when she was sugar plum. Because the sugar plum fairy’s emotions were greater than any human. The dancing was always superb, but the emotion that ran through her like an electric shock was the thing. It was the thing that made everyone drop their jaws and stare. It was a reason why Claudia would have a gaggle of girls around her asking to sign their programs. And it wasn’t just the girls. Their mothers wanted them signed as well. Even the men who were dragged to the ballet. They didn’t want her signature, but they wanted to say how much they appreciated her dance. They touched her shoulder. To make sure she was real. That was Claudia’s real life. Holding the flowers. Stepping off the stage. The giggles from the rest of the girls in the performance never made their way to Claudia.
Claudia isn’t one to giggle. She is a serious person with a serious job. She doesn’t expect the girls to stop their giggling; why would they? They aren’t her. But she is always in the frame of mind of a prima ballerina. That’s why she was invited to New York to dance at the Met. This is an opportunity she is not going to throw away. So when she sees her sister bawling up the call sheet, she reaches over to her arm and takes the sheet from her in a forceful but loving way. It’s because she loves her sister that she encouraged her to play sports and not dance. Her sister was a heck of an athlete. As tough as sports can be there’s nothing tougher than dancing ballet. She wanted her sister not to have to stare into a mirror and wonder about what is real life? And her sister listened to her and never regretted not doing ballet.
Paul is on his fourth beer and his fourth whiskey. Four is the magic number for Paul. The rest of the night would be drunkenness. Paul is a funny drunk. Literally. He tells jokes. He has a whole book full of jokes so he would memorize some of them. Of course once he was drunk he never told the jokes correctly, but he laughed so hard at the punchline it was hard for other people not to laugh, too. Four beers and four whiskeys was as long as it took Jack to finish his oysters. But once he was done with his oysters, that was the signal to leave. It didn’t matter how much Paul wanted to stay and flirt. He had Jack’s good looks, tool. He had them first.
He carries his brother as always out to the van. Lets him down in the backseat with all the equipment. And then drives the short drive to his apartment. He leaves Paul in the back of the van. Whether he sleeps in a bed or on a spare tire and a bunch of magic equipment, it didn’t matter. Also having him in the back of the car meant the car was seemingly protected. Usually his brother would wake up with the sun and then find his way up to the apartment. It really came down to how long it took Jack to eat his oysters. If he finishes them quickly, Paul might actually be able to walk himself up to the apartment. If Jack takes his time and enjoys each Oyster, he knows he will be carrying his brother.
Managing his YouTube channel was not something he let Paul do. He did it himself. Paul helped him with the edits of the videos. It turned out Paul was actually pretty good at it when he was sober. He has to be sober between 9:00 and 3:00. But Jack curates the videos once they are done. He searches. Forever. But no matter how much he searches, he never finds Claudia. What is she doing with the letters? Throwing them away? What did she think of his comments? He leaves elegant and beautiful comments that compliment her dance or her choice of wardrobe or her food that she prepped. He compliments her on her walks to the beach. Looking out at the Pacific Ocean. He invited her to come and see the Atlantic Ocean. But no response ever. Not one.
That’s why tonight is taking a different turn. Because right out of the gate at the top of the comments from today’s magic tricks, there is a brief but significant reply from Claudia. All that it says is, I’m coming to New York. That’s all it had to say. Now he knows that she kept all the letters. Now he knows that she was watching him on YouTube. I’m coming to New York. Where? When? Jack didn’t think she was going to say that in the public forum.
You give Jack a pack of cards, and he can be invincible. He can be as powerful as God himself. He might not be able to trick God with his tricks, but he could surely trick anybody else, and they might believe that he is a god. But when it comes to this moment, he feels very small. It is a feeling he knows all too well. For all his ability, he did have issues with his self-esteem. That dated way back to his childhood.
Paul and Jack were raised by a single father. He is a drunk, too. Boston born and bred; he was every stereotypical thing you expect from a Bostonian. He was a horrible father, that’s for sure. But his wife, The boys’ mother, died during Jack’s childbirth. No wonder Jack wanted to get into the business of making things disappear. His mother disappeared before he could even see her with his eyes. His one eye at least.
When their father got drunk, it seemed like the weight of the world was on the boys’ shoulders. They were responsible for every bad thing their father saw on TV. And they felt it. Their father’s frustration fell on them. It fell on them like an animal. A bear. A scorpion. It’s strange how their father had such a different impact on the two boys. Paul became a drunk. Like their father. And Jack became a master of illusion. One thing Jack could always say about his brother…He doesn’t hide it. He’s not going to pretend or lie that he’s not a drunk. There are no tricks with his brother. Straightforward. That’s Paul. Whereas Jack keeps a deck of cards up his sleeve. Sleight of hand. Nothing straightforward. Often leaving people bewildered and tricked. After all, they are called magic tricks for a reason.
Jack closes his laptop and wonders when he will see Claudia. Why would she send that message? And it’s public because it was the response to a post. Anyone could see that she was going to New York. Her following is much larger than Jack’s. There could be crossover. He opens his laptop again and finds her account. That’s it. She’s telling everyone she’s going to New York. She’s going to dance here. I don’t know what she will dance or where she will dance. But it’s somewhere in New York. If only Jack can figure that out, he will busk so hard at the place where he thought she would be. And there it is. A one minute short telling her fans that she was going to New York. This is real. Not a trick. His letters to her were real.
Somewhat.
The poetry was not real. Well, it was real but he didn’t write it. He could never write like that. He borrowed lines of poetry from the classics. He borrowed lines of poetry from contemporary writers. He only hoped that she would never figure it out. It wasn’t a magic trick. But it was a trick. The thought of meeting her in person swells his heart, but it drops through his stomach. What if she finds out that he had not written any of those poems? But that’s a risk he would have to take.
Claudia drops her bag near the front door and falls straight to the bed. The New York Contemporary Dance Company put her up in a hotel for the first night, but the next day she would be assigned her housing that included a roommate.
She wakes the next day to her phone blowing up. It just wouldn’t stop. Who is texting her at 6:00 a.m.? Somebody who wants to be punched in the face with a very powerful foot.
She looks at the phone. It’s her sister. The message is 911. Claudia texts back. Is someone dead? Are you in the hospital? Are you okay? The reply comes back quickly. No. I’m not in the hospital. But I have something terrible to tell you. I’d like to tell you about it on the phone. Can I call you now? What is it? Why do you need to tell me on the phone? There was a pause. I really want to talk to you on the phone. Please. Okay. Call me. The phone rings within seconds. What do you need to tell me?
So you know how much I appreciate that you told me the truth about those letters? I felt really honored that you would trust me, Soooooo I did something dumb. I took one of them. I took it out of the packet because I liked what it said. And I wanted to post it. I had a perfect picture to go with it. I wanted to make a meme.
You took one of my letters? Are you kidding? I’m going to kill you. I thought I could trust you. I know I know I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything with it. I wasn’t going to talk about where I got it, I just wanted to write the quote down. To put it in a picture. It was such a pretty thing that he said. Yes it was. And I shouldn’t have shown any of them to you. I know. I know. But you got to listen to me. I found out something terrible. What did you find out? What could you possibly have found that would involve the letters? Well, I posted it. I typed up what it said and I had this picture and I posted it. Claudia shouted into the phone. Are you kidding me? That was private. That was from him to me. I never should have trusted you! Maybe you’re right, but you won’t be so mad at me once you hear what I have to say. There was a long pause. Okay. Talk.
As soon as I posted it, I started getting some people leaving comments. I figured they were just haters. Why do you follow people who hate you? Oh come on you were in middle school once. Yeah but Instagram wasn’t a thing when I was in middle school. Instagram wasn’t even a thing when I was in middle school. True.
I didn’t pay attention to the first few comments. I even deleted them. But the third comment came from someone I know pretty well. A guy. A high school guy. What are you doing with high school guys? He’s the lifeguard at the pool. Okay, but why is he one of your Instagram followers? You know Mom would flip if she knew that. Yes I know. But that’s not the point right now. Well I think you better get ready because I’m not going to keep that secret. I’m going to tell Mom that you have high school boys following you on Instagram. Look you can do that but I’m willing to make that sacrifice. You have to hear what I have to say.
Claudia grabs her toiletry bag and heads to the bathroom. I’m going to get ready while I listen to you. I am going to put you on speaker. No, don’t put me on speaker. There’s no one here. Okay. You can put me on speaker. I know what the hell I can do. What’s the matter with you Isabel?
There was a long silent pause.
He didn’t write them. I don’t think he wrote any of them. The thing I posted on Instagram was written by a poet from a long time ago. Emily Dickinson. Oh come on, give me a break. I swear I saw it. Adam, the lifeguard, told me to go to a website with Emily Dickinson’s name and type in the phrase that I had copied. And there it was. Right there in the poem. Not the whole poem. Just a part of it. You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you serious? Try it. You’ve got all the letters there. Maybe it was just that one. Maybe he ran into a dry spell or writer’s block. So he borrowed that poem to send to you.
I’m hanging up. No, don’t hang up, Mamma! I’m hanging up. It’s 6:00 in the morning. I don’t have to be up until 10:00. Had a long couple of days. Okay. But when you wake up, check for yourself. Prove me wrong and I’ll be happy to take whatever punishment Mom’s going to give me because I have older boys on my Instagram. Older boys? Plural? Whatever. I’m trying to help you.
Goodbye. Claudia hangs up the phone. She gets her tooth brush and starts brushing her teeth. But even as she starts, she can’t stop thinking about what Isabel said. Maybe it was a writer’s block. Maybe he meant to send it to me and he was going to tell me it was for another poet. That would have been okay. Heck, I never interact with him. How could he tell me? Or maybe it’s just something that’s really important to him and he just wanted to send it to me. And all the other things were real. She spit. I can’t do this now. She washes out the toothpaste for her mouth. She goes back into the main part of the hotel room. She grabs her bag again and pulls out the smaller bag that was inside. And inside that bag are the letters bundled up with a beautiful ribbon. A ribbon that meant a lot to her when she tied it. A ribbon that came from a costume that she was wearing when she read the first letter. She pulled out her laptop and connected to the hotel’s internet. Quickly she went to Google. She pulled the first letter out from the pack and she opened it.
Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses.
I will study wry music for your sake.
For shut your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
John Frederick Nims
Her jaw drops. She pulled another one out from the pile.
In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
Fused in one sound
That mounts and mounts and then
Is split into the old selves,
The tired antagonism. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
Drift through the window.
Louise Glück
No. No no no. She doesn’t know if she is shouting or crying. It’s like one of those feelings is bent back all the way into the other. Pain. Anger. Liar. He’s a liar. I thought those poems were written for me. He just stole them from other poets. He didn’t give them any credit. Even in a fake English class for dancers, Claudia was taught not to steal other people’s words. She paces.
Forget him. Delete him. Go back to Sacramento. Don’t stay. Tell the company that you are sick. Break your toes. Break all your toes. Never dance again. I…I…I am a fool. How could I not see this coming? He’s a trickster. A fake. A magician who cheats people out of money. Cheats them into believing things that are not true. And they all laugh and laugh when it happens. With their jaws cracked open. But what about their hearts? Does he break their hearts, too?
She picks up the bundle of letters. She wants to throw them out the window, but it’s not the kind of window you can’t actually open. So she goes into the bathroom and fills the sink. She drops all the letters into the water. As they soften, she starts to pull them apart. She starts to destroy each one of them. Except for the one she looked up last. She wants to have one piece of evidence.
Isabel. I have to call her back. She dials her sister’s number. Isabel. I’m sorry. You were right. Please don’t speak. Just listen. You are my witness this whole time and now you are a witness to a crime. I hate that you told me but I’m glad that you did. Oh Claudia. Isabel was crying. I’m so sorry Claudia. No, don’t be sorry Isabel. I’ve always been able to trust you, and that will never change. Thank you Mama. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Will you text me later? Will you let me know what you’re going to do? Are you safe? Yes. I couldn’t open the windows if I wanted to jump out. They’re all sealed. I’m trapped in this room. I’m trapped.
She hangs up. All the anger she feels towards her sister shifts and falls down. She takes the soggy mess from the bathroom sink and she throws it all away into the tiny metal trash can that sits just beside the bathtub.
She goes back to her laptop. She copies the quote into a beautiful meme. She uses the image of a one-eyed Jack. And she combines the two. She goes and logs into her YouTube channel and without any video or audio, she posts that image. Just a picture. But one important thing she adds to the bottom is the name of the actual author. She turns off commenting. And she clicks. It’s done. It’s posted. She knows he will see it. It’s the first thing she ever posted that he won’t comment on. He can’t. So shut the fuck up, JACK!
Jack looks into his brother’s room. Empty. But the bed was made. Jack shuffles to the kitchen where he finds the reason the bed was made. There’s Paul. Sober Paul. It’s before 9:00, and he was surprised that the only drink he had was a cup of coffee. Sit down. Jack looks at his brother. This time Paul is more emphatic. Sit down. So he does. Where’s your phone? Charging. I’ll get it, he says. Paul gets up and goes into his brother’s bedroom. He picks up the phone and brings it into the kitchen. Take it. Log into her account. What? Do what? Log into her account. Login to YouTube and look up her account. You know what I’m telling you to do. Why? I don’t want to tell you. Is she leaving New York? Is she not coming? Did she post pictures with a boyfriend? Cavalier? What the fuck is a cavalier? Paul sits back down and quietly implores his brother. Go to her account. Look at her latest post. So Jack listens to his brother. He’s got her account bookmarked so he’s there in seconds. And then he sees it. He reads it. He puts his phone back down and tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling. He picks his phone back up and reads it again. If Paul didn’t know any better he would swear that he’s reading it over and over and over. That’s because Jack was speechless. There was no way out. She knew he was dishonest. Was he dishonest? He did sign the letters, which would make anyone think that he wrote the poems. He is trapped. There is no way out of these lies.
Jesus. He drops his head into his chin. I fucked up. Yes you did. You fucked up big time. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to talk to her. If she is still in New York, I’ve got to talk to her. And what will you say to her? That you lied. That every single one of those letters was ripped out a poem. A poem by some famous person. Did you use Shakespeare? Walt Whitman? No, I tried to use some modern writers. I tried to use contemporary writers because they would not be in the school books. They are not used in advertisements or anything like that. Plus the sound is more natural. It sounded like my voice. Sounded like your voice? Are you kidding me? You don’t have a poetic voice. Your comments on her post sound so fake. Like all the other dudes who post on her videos. No matter what you write, it translates to “you’re hot.” I just figured something was missing from our upbringing. I didn’t realize my brother was a writer. I thought he was a magician. You have been a magician as long as you’ve been out of diapers. You’re not still wearing diapers are you? Shut up Paul. My heart is breaking. Is that poetic enough for you?
Paul figures the best thing he could do for Jack right now is not make himself disappear. Jack needs him. Are you going to busk today? Yes. Well when we’re done I’m going to take you out to dinner. I’ll take it to that place up on Fremont. They have oysters. You’ll be too drunk. I’m not going to drink today. I’m not going to be drunk for you. You’re my brother and you need me. I don’t need you. I definitely don’t need you drunk. Even less, I don’t need you sober all day either. At least when you’re drunk, I get a break. There’s no need to attack me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t tell you to write those letters. I didn’t even know you were stealing poems. I assumed you were writing them. Paul, you’re the only person who knew I wrote these letters to her. But no one knew that I had been stealing poems from other people. It took me a lot of time though. A lot of evenings I was flipping through books of poetry or going online. I had to find the right thing. It wasn’t easy. But she won’t care about that.
No she’s not going to care about that, Jack. I know if I were her…
Thank God you’re not her. Okay. I’m going to busk. The dance company she’s with performs out of the Met. Maybe that’s where I can find her. We’ll go down there and we’ll busk. Maybe I’ll see her coming in or going out the doors. It’s a big place though. I imagine it has doors all around it.
Maybe she knows magic. Maybe she’ll just disappear. Paul regretted that last statement. But Jack was glad he said it. If I find her, I’m going to make her disappear. I’m going to send her to a magic place where there’s no other people and I can use my magic. I can go there and I can convince her that what I did wasn’t so bad. That I meant what the other people said; I just couldn’t say it myself.
Jack is too upset to eat, but he did have a cup of coffee. Within an hour they were all packed up and ready to go.
Claudia knows that she has a class. All companies start the day with a class. A warm up. A chance to continue to make things perfect. Now what she thought was perfect just a few hours ago turned out to be a sloppy lie. But dancing isn’t a lie. In the studio or on the stage nothing is a lie. Not for Claudia. Not the way she dances. She loaded up her bag. She would have to eat out. She’ll probably look for her new roommate and maybe the two of them can go to lunch to get to know each other. Although the woman that would be her roommate was going to get to know a pretty ugly person in Claudia. But the show must go on.
Paul is setting up for the show when he is sure that he sees her. He had looked at her YouTube channel. She was a beautiful woman who danced in beauty. Like the night. Paul knows a little poetry. But he didn’t have a way with words either. He has an idea. She doesn’t know Paul. She doesn’t know anything about him. She doesn’t even know that Jack has a brother because Jack would never admit to having a brother to the public.
She is crossing the street and walking right towards him. He decides he’s going to stop her. Miss. Are you working here? He points over his shoulder to the Met. I have mace. No you don’t have to mace me. I just wanted to know because I’m supposed to be there today too. Paul was actually a pretty good liar. A lot of drunks are good liars. They lie to themselves all the time. Are you in the dance company? He points at her bag, Who are you? Leave me alone. I’m not from here. Paul says, neither am I. I’m from Boston. Uh huh. Claudia fingers the mace on her key ring. Do you smoke? No. I don’t have a cigarette or any money. Do you mind waiting for me for a minute while I smoke a cigarette? There were lots of people walking around so if this guy was going to try anything, some New Yorker would step in I’m sure. I play cello. I just got to the city, but I didn’t bring the letter that gave the address. He sits down on a concrete step. She says got another one? You smoke? I used to. Why now? Claudia answers the question in her head. Because I am an idiot. I’ll wait with you if you give me a cigarette. Paul pulls out two cigarettes from his pocket and lights it up and smokes Here you go, but he makes the cigarette disappear. That’s a pretty good trick she says. I learned from the best. Know any more tricks? Yes. I know one trick. What’s that? It’s a trick that was played on you. Suddenly the noise around her stops. Give me the cigarette or I’m leaving. People seem to go slower. Like a scene from a movie, she looks up at Paul. Why didn’t she notice the resemblance? Are you Jack? No, I’m his brother Paul. And the lit cigarette appears. I help him set things up. Do you know what happens in the tricks? Yes. I do. Paul takes the last drag of the cigarette and tosses it into the street. Call me a litter bug.
Paul admires beauty. She is awfully thin. But she looks very healthy. Maybe it’s makeup. Who knows? But she really did stand out. She had a shine to her.
He’s sorry. He knows what he did was wrong. I don’t want to talk about this with you. Well I’m going to talk because my brother is a good man. He’s the only person that’s ever stopped and bothered to help me. Everyone else in my life writes me off. But not Jack.
She gets up from her seat and pulls her bag tightly over her shoulder. I’m out of here. You’re a liar just like your brother. If you are his brother. What should I believe? That’s up to you. But I don’t lie. Neither does my brother. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to say it. So he would stay up for hours combing through poetry books looking at poetry websites trying to find the exact right words to say to you. Would you have been as upset if he had put the names of the authors? Would you still have been interested in him if he did that? He still had to do the work of finding the quotes. That’s enough.
Shut up. Tell your brother to go to hell.
She starts to storm off to the theater when he grabs her by the elbow. If you don’t let go I’m going to scream. Claudia this is New York. People scream for random reasons all the time. Everyone here has something in his or her ear that makes it difficult to hear anything but their music or their phone call. So scream all you want but I’m not letting you go. You’ve got to sit down with him and tell him what you think. And you’ve got to give him a second chance. Why do I have to give him a second chance? Because. It’s magic. What? Magic is fake. No it’s not fake… not like this. This is the one trick he’s got that I don’t understand. This is the one trick that he’s got that I don’t know how to do. He thinks I don’t know his tricks. I know every one of them. I even know the trick with the plastic eyeball.
Let me go. No. I’m not going to let you go. You have to meet with him. You have to talk to him and tell him what you’re thinking. Give yourself that chance. He’s not a bad man. Well he’s not a good man either. Claudia showed Paul just how strong she was and she ripped her arm away from his hand. Don’t touch me again. Paul never meant to actually keep her that long, but he knew Jack would be coming along. He had to find a parking spot.
Paul sees his brother crossing the street. Jack! Jack, she’s here! Get over here! Claudia turns to see Jack. For the first time in her life her feet won’t do what she’s telling them to do. They won’t move. She can’t turn and run. She needs to see him. She needs to hear this from him. And she needs to shout at him very loudly and publicly.
Jack slows down to a trot. He crosses the street against the light. He swerves in and out of the traffic jam that always happens at this point. The cars can’t move so he weaves himself through it all Like a dancer. Or a snake.
He goes to speak, but Paul shuts him up. No. You’re not going to say a damn thing. She is going to talk first. She’s got something to tell you I’m sure and she has the right to say it before you try to say anything. Put your cards away. Magic tricks are not going to work with this mess.
She scolds him. You made me feel like a fool. A love sick fool. I’m a disciplined dancer. I get calls from companies all over the world. The world! And you come along with your bogus love letters. Who are you? Why would you do that? Who the hell are you?
Jack goes to speak, but Paul puts his hand over Jack’s mouth. Shut up Jack. Make your tongue disappear. Don’t say a word.
The three of them stand there. Paul looks at Claudia. Claudia looks at the ground. Jack stares up at the air. The sky is never a friend to a magician. Maybe because it never ends. Magic is not forever like the sky.
Paul looks at his brother and then at Claudia. Let’s go get a drink. The three of us. I need a drink. But that breaks our rule, Paul. I don’t care about that right now. Let’s all drink together.
Claudia rocks back on her heels. She interlocks her fingers and turns her arms inside out. She was flexible. But not on this topic. I don’t want to be seen with you ever. Do you hear me? You broke my heart. You lied to me. I fell for some man who cut and pasted poetry. Who stole it and sent it to me as his own. You signed all of those letters. Jack of hearts. Jack of hearts. Jackass of hearts. I don’t want to have a drink.
Paul reaches out and puts one hand on one of Claudia’s shoulders and puts his other hand on the other. My brother’s a decent person. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Now you come with us and have a drink. I want to say to my grandchildren that I had a drink with the greatest living ballerina. I don’t have any kids. I don’t know how I’ll ever have grandkids, but if there’s some kind of twist of fate and I wind up an old man with grandkids sitting on my lap, this is the story I want to tell them. And I don’t want it to end with the sugar plum fairy walking away. Grandpa, she just walked away? Yep. That’s what she did. Why? Because your uncle Jack is an asshole. Everybody knows that Grandpa. Jack interrupted him. This is very funny Paul. Maybe one day you’ll be the greatest living comedian to ever walk on a stage, but right now you’re not.
I’ll have a drink with you Paul. Your brother can take it or leave it. But I’ll have a drink with you. Paul makes a gesture as if he is a cavalier. I’d lift you up but there’s no doubt one of us would get hurt. Claudia cracks a smile. Claudiia slips her arm inside of Paul’s arm, and the two of them walk off together. Jack felt invisible. That could be his new act. The disappearing ego of the jack of hearts.
He closes his one good eye and the darkness swallows him. He opens his eye and walks to the trash can and shakes all the cards out of his sleeves. He had cards hidden all over him. He shakes them out. He needed a day away from magic. Maybe a week. Paul the Amazing with his disappearing act. Jack watches his brother and the love of his life strolling down the street towards an open bar. Jack shouted to Paul. You’re fired! Paul stopped, and turned around. I know Jack. But I’ll never stop being your brother. Now catch up with us. Claudia takes her arm out of Paul’s arm. Paul says something to her that Jack couldn’t hear. She turns her back towards Jack, and Paul gestures for him to come with them. Without his cards, Jack was just a nobody. An anybody. The only thing he would be able to pull from her chest was her heart. He walks back to the trash can and picks up one of the deck of cards. He slips it into his front pocket and jogs to catch up to the two who seem so far away. Maybe there will be magic tonight. Maybe not. Paul doesn’t know poetry, but he knows jokes.
Jack knows one joke. Tell her your one joke. It’s a good one. Paul moves to block Claudia from Jack. Jack speaks from behind his brother.
Knock knock.
Silence.
Knock knock
A pause. Paul points at Claudia. Go on. Say it.
Claudia says who’s there?
Broken pencil.
Broken pencil who?
Oh forget it. It’s pointless.
Claudia laughs hard enough and long enough to consider the possibility of forgiving Jack. That was funny. And he is so pretty. Paul opens the door and skips into the bar, but Jack hangs back and opens the door and lets the ballerina enter first. That’s what it means. That’s what prima ballerina means. First. Best. The three of them pull up to the bar and sit down. And then Paul jumps up like a firecracker. It’s between 9 and 3. A deal is a deal. And this is your first date. I’m not going to fuck it up with my drunkenness! Talk to each other. It’s worth it. He didn’t write the poems, but he thought enough of you to send them. You didn’t write the ballet you danced last week. You just played the part. You played it with your heart. Trust me Claudia, my brother was speaking from his heart in those letters. I’ve never seen him so lovestruck.
Jack looks at Paul, his one eye going a bit misty.
Paul backs away from the bar. I won’t drink until 3:00 even if we don’t work today. A deal’s a deal. As he walks away from them, they stare at him and then they have no choice but to finally look at each other. Awkwardly. Jack with his one eye. Claudia with two.
I want to eat a cheeseburger. Everyone’s always telling me to eat a cheeseburger. So I want a cheeseburger now. And I’m going to eat the whole thing right here in front of you. And you’re going to pay for it.
I don’t think they serve vegan cheeseburgers, but I could ask.
Screw that. I want a greasy burger with the cheese slipping out. I want onions and pickles and ketchup, mustard, and mayo, Vegan Shmegan.
Do you want me to film it?
She laughs. Oh, Heck no. I only need one follower for this. Let the rest think what they want. You admitted a secret to me. Here’s mine.
When was the last time you ate meat?
When I was 12. Now get the bartender’s attention. I am heading to the bathroom.
Oh…kay…He feels the card that he planted up his sleeve. This would be the perfect time to show off. Surprise her. Delight her. But she seems so excited about eating he ignores his training and lets the magic of this moment die . A cheeseburger! A lucky goddamn cheeseburger. Jack laughs to himself. A new joke. He flips his hand up into the air. Bartender? Can I get two cheeseburgers with everything? Hey! Jack of Hearts! Show me a trick and you eat for free. A trick? He points over towards the bathrooms. What if she does twenty pirouettes. Can we still have them for free? 20 what? 20 spins. Nah, I want to see the magic. You will. Trust me. She’s more magical than I am.
Claudia comes back to the bar and sits down just about as gracefully as anyone who has ever sat on a barstool.
Okay, Jack. I see what you mean. The burgers are on the house. No spins required.
And for the first time, Jack felt Claudia’s shoulder rub against his.
In ballet we have French words for all of our moves. Have you ever heard of a Grande Allegro? No. Let me show you. Claudia moves away from the bar and heads to the large empty dance floor. She strikes a pose and then leaps through the air as if she were flying. That’s a Grande Allegro. A big leap. You see? She shifts gears and shouts, Oh, I want fries, too!
Is this sudden change in your diet the “big leap?”
No. it’s not. You are. She opens her eyes wide and leans her face into his. Dummy. Now do that magic trick that you’ve been dying to show me. Jack smiles sheepishly and pushes back from the bar and starts his trick.
“Bartender!” Claudia shouts. “Two beers, please. The one with a lime.”
“Two Coronas coming up!”
Jack did have a trick for her. He tentatively puts his hand on her back and smiles
“Pick a card. Any card.” He fans the deck perfectly.
And of course she picks the jack of hearts.
“Well now, that’s better than a stupid stolen poem.” She smiles like a teenager and takes a big swig of her beer. She looks at the beer, mouth open. Just as the bartender places the burgers in front of them. “And so is that! A greasy, messy, cheesy million calorie poem!” The two identical burgers were greasy. They ate them quickly. Devoured them. Every bite.
“If I keep eating like that, I’ll definitely retire. You think you might want to saw me in half? I’d look pretty good in one of those schmaltzy dresses.” She licks her fingers and pats her belly.
Jack thinks for a moment. “You can try on some of Paul’s. He never trusted me enough to let me saw him in half. And he refuses to wear the dresses.”
They both laugh at that. And when the bartender brings up dessert, Claudia asks for a lava cake.
“We don’t make those. How’s about a warm brownie with a scoop of ice cream?”
“Sold!” she shouts. “Make it two scoops and we have a deal”
Shockingly she grabs Jack’s chin and twists his head to face her. She squeezes his face hard. “Tell me how you do every single trick. And never lie to me again. These are my demands.” She is drunk from one beer, but Jack answers honestly, soberly. “Okay. I won’t lie again.” And as soon as he gets the words out, the dessert shows up. “Help me, Jack.” She pauses. “Film me eating this monster. Let’s shut up all the haters”
“Ok” He pulls out his i-phone and starts filming.
Every hungry bite erases the hate, and every bite is grande.
Leave a Reply