“Kirwan,” the woman said with a lovely and tranquil voice, “I welcome you and your guests.”
She smiled at them all and added, “To a point.”
“Thank you, Lisa,” Kirwan said, bowing again. “My friends, this is one of the Castle’s librarians, my good friend Lisa.”
Kirwan smiled at the party and yelled.
“You can only go as far as that big desk over there! THAT’S SIX FEET FROM THE DOOR! AND WE’RE ONLY ABLE TO DO THAT BECAUSE LISA IS MY FRIEND AND SHE IS WELCOMING US IN! OKAY?”
“Yikes,” Lala whispered.
Kirwan handed everyone little paper cups.
“Eat! Eat!” Kirwan said. “I’m sorry I yelled. I take this all very seriously.”
Lisa gave Kirwan’s face an affectionate little smack.
“You are adorable,” she said. “Yes, please enjoy. Members bring in snacks, sometimes it’s pretzels, sometimes, like tonight, it’s a sumptuous mélange of Chex mix and what looks like an addition of some serious amounts of salted peanuts.”
“Yum,” Kirwan said. “The cups are so we don’t just shove our fists into the jug because that would be, like, yuck. So scoop and eat and enjoy!”
“Yes,” Lala chimed in without thinking that she might be speaking out of turn and perhaps unintentionally taking the thunder away from their charming host and the equally charming librarian. “Because we will—well, I certainly will—be doing a lot more drinking and—”
“Yes,” Kirwan said, “and if one is, it’s good to—”
“. . . have a base,” Lala and Kirwan said in unison.
Great minds, Lala thought.
“Great minds,” Kirwan said.
“Uh huh!” Lala said. “What’s that room over there?”
“Ohhh,” Lisa whispered. “It’s locked. That’s where the historic books are kept. Some date back a couple of hundred years. There are also several books in the locked room that belonged to Houdini. They’re not books that he wrote, but books he owned and annotated, quite humorously, in the margins. I believe one of the books is one of Conan Doyle’s spiritualism books, and Houdini’s notes are hysterically dismissive and rather smug and nasty.”
“And you certainly can’t go in there,” Kirwan added. “Sorry. Not for civilians.”
“Cool!” Lala said.
“Indeed!” Kirwan said. “Okay, we must be on our way. Thank you so much, Lisa. Time for drinks. Because we can’t linger here, as ninety percent of the books are about methodology and we are not taking any chances with our secrets.”
“Indeed,” Lisa said. “They’re grouped on the shelves by subject. Cards, coins, large illusions, which are books that contain construction plans for, say, sawing a person in half, tarot, mysticism, mentalism, and just about any other magic effect there is. That’s what they’re called. Effects. Not tricks. Effects.”
“Very cool!” Lala said.
Everyone thanked Lisa, and Lisa wished them a lovely evening, which she said she was sure they would have.
Kirwan led them back through the crowded main room and up a flight of stairs to a small bar that was essentially the entirety of a half floor between the first and second levels. A very pretty young woman with a full head of gorgeous curly black hair piled on top of her head, secured with a circle of small silver skulls and crossbones, yipped when she saw Kirwan enter and motioned toward a row of empty barstools with the cocktail shaker she was wielding like a handle-free, cylindrical maraca.
“Hi, punkin’! I saved your seats!” she announced.
“I love you, Janeen!” Kirwan trilled. “Okay, you’re all having Janeen’s signature cocktail. It’s called a Magic Bullet and it will wax your bikini line!”
Lala loved the cocktail, she loved the many appetizers that Kirwan ordered for them all to share, and she thought that Janeen was absolutely delightful.
“Janeen,” Lala said, “what’s in this cocktail? It is heavenly.”
Janeen told her. Lala wrote it down. She made the cocktail several times in the ensuing years, to great acclaim at her parties and of course always giving Janeen full credit. And then the slip of paper was lost. Whenever Lala would, in her extreme and delightfully vibrant old age, try to remember the ingredients, after a few sputtered insistences that “Simple syrup is involved in some capacity, I’m quite sure . . . I think . . .” Lala would then smile and tell her great-niece or great-nephew, “Fuck it. Let’s just throw some vodka into some lemonade and call it a party, shall we?”
Janeen entranced them all with a history of the bar.
“It was built in the 1880s by Brunswick Bowling, one of three bars they built. Sometimes, after hours, we set up nine empty bottles at one end and roll oranges down the bar. Don’t tell anyone. The bar was shipped by boat around Cape Horn before arriving in Crescent City, where it survived a tidal wave. However, it was water-logged. A friend of the Castle’s founder, Milt Larsen, called him about the bar, and Milt had NBC pick it up. The bar was restored and was on a TV show that I don’t remember, but then it was used on Dean Martin’s Gold Diggers show before it was installed at the Castle. And the backdrop was the original nighttime backdrop for The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, a long-time member of the Castle. Who’s ready for a refill?”
“I am! I am!” Lala chirped.
“Let’s ask Archimedes some questions,” Kirwan said.
“Archimedes?” Lala said.
“The owl,” Kirwan said.
“Owl?” Lala echoed.
“Over the bar,” Brenda said.
“That huge owl,” Geraldine said. “Right there. Over the bar.”
“Ohhh,” Lala said. “See, this is why I could never be a detective. I am essentially oblivious to all the details surrounding me. Just about all of the time. Did not see that owl. Would have bet good money there was not an owl anywhere near here.”
“It has to be a yes or no question,” Kirwan said. “And I can’t tell you how he answers, so don’t even ask me.”
A question leapt into Lala’s mind, and it startled her to hear it in her unspoken voice.
Will I die of sadness?
“Questions! Questions, people!” Kirwan said.
“Will we all be delightfully hungover tomorrow?” the Birthday Boy asked.
All eyes looked to the imposing owl. Very slowly, Archimedes nodded his head.
“I knew it!” Monty said. “Clever bird!”
Die of sadness? Lala thought. Where the fuck did that come from?
“Will we get up before noon tomorrow?” Geraldine asked.
After a pause, the owl solemnly shook his head “No.”
Everyone nodded and applauded the bird’s wisdom.
“Am I going to,” Lala began.
Lala paused and took a big gulp of her Magic Bullet.
NO! she silently yelled at herself. That is not an appropriate question for a birthday celebration! I can’t think of any celebration for which that would be an appropriate question, for god’s sake!
“. . . frantically search for my glasses tonight when they are, all the while, right there on top of my head?”
Archimedes did not hesitate to nod quite confidently. Everyone giggled. Lala took another big gulp of her Magic Bullet and smiled.
Saved by the booze and the glib banter, she thought.
After more appetizers and more drinks, everyone said good-bye to wonderful Janeen with Lala declaring that Magic Bullets were “THE best things EVER!”
Kirwan led them to a small theatre, one of many at the Castle. The chairs were covered in red velvet, and the etched black and red paper on the walls was reminiscent of what Lala imagined a New Orleans house of very ill repute might have. Kirwan was going to do his magic act there, and he warned Monty that he would be called on to be a volunteer for the show.
Shortly after they settled in
their seats, the room filled to capacity and the lights were dimmed. Kirwan swept onto the stage to applause. He was carrying a classic briefcase with hard sides, about four inches in thickness.
Kirwan put the briefcase on a table that had a round surface and a completely visible pole supporting it. Nothing was hidden from sight. Kirwan opened the briefcase and pulled out a bowling ball. Lala smacked her cheeks with her palms in a universal gesture of amazement.
“How is that even possible?” she gasped.
Lala leaned toward Brenda and whispered in her ear.
“Yeah, he had me at takes a bowling ball out of a briefcase. This show could end right now, and I’d be in eternal awe.”
“Thank you, thank you all so much,” Kirwan said to the applause and hoots. “I’ll need a volunteer and there’s no point in raising your hands, because my dear friend’s father has a birthday today, so please welcome Monty to the stage.”
Monty ran up the side stairs to the stage and Kirwan gave him a big hug. Kirwan then took two decks of cards, in their unopened boxes, out of his briefcase.
“How is there room for them in there?” Lala asked quite loudly and with a tone that bordered on mild hysteria. “There was a bowling ball in there, for god’s sake!”
“Monty, would you please select one of these decks.”
Monty tapped the deck in Kirwan’s left hand.
Kirwan put the other deck on the table and pulled out the cards from the deck that Monty had chosen. Kirwan shuffled the deck, and then held the cards in a fan behind his shoulder.
“Now, Monty, unless I have eyes in the back of my head, I can’t see the cards, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” Monty agreed.
“Excellent. Would you please pick a card, not from the deck, but in your mind? Just think of a card. Okay?”
“Yes,” Monty said.
“You’ve got it?”
“I’ve got it,” Monty said.
“Excellent. Please take the deck from me.”
Monty did.
“Excellent. Please spell out the name of the card you selected, silently, as you count out a card from the deck to correspond with each letter, placing the cards face down in my palm. When you get to the last letter and thus the last card, please turn that card face up in my palm.”
Monty slowly counted out nine cards, placing them face down in Kirwan’s hand. He placed the tenth card face up.
“Are you done?” Kirwan asked.
“Yes, I am,” Monty said, smiling as he looked at the card that was face up in Kirwan’s palm. Kirwan held that card up toward the audience.
“Is the card you were thinking of the Ace of Clubs?”
“Yes,” Monty said, “it is.”
“How is that even POSSIBLE?” Lala exclaimed, applauding wildly along with the audience.
“Thank you so much,” Kirwan said. “Monty, would you please open the second deck of cards.”
Monty did.
“Excellent. Would you please shuffle the deck?”
Monty did.
“Thank you. Now, would you please once again count out the number of cards corresponding with the card you picked.”
Monty counted out nine cards and placed the tenth one face up. Kirwan held up for the audience to see. It was the Ace of Clubs.
“NO!” Lala shrieked. “How is that possible! The second deck, too? What! I can’t BELIEVE IT!”
“Lala,” Geraldine said, “maybe you switch to club soda after this?”
Kirwan smiled and bowed. He then pulled a large manila envelope out of the briefcase.
“Okay, SERIOUSLY,” Lala yelled. “How much stuff can he fit in that freakin’ briefcase?”
Kirwan asked Monty to open the envelope, take out the piece of paper inside, and show it to the audience, all of which Monty cheerfully did.
Written on the paper, in thick black letters, were the words “ACE OF CLUBS.”
It seemed at that moment to everyone in the theatre that this wonderful piece of mentalism was the straw that broke the camel’s back of Lala’s vulnerable grip on composure.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” Lala yelled. “How? SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, how could he know that! He wrote that before the show started? HOW DID HE KNOW THAT WAS THE CARD BEFORE MONTY PICKED IT?!”
After the show, everyone went to the large bar on the main floor to share a lovely bottle of brandy that the manager on duty that evening had offered to Kirwan as a special gift for the birthday guest.
Lala sat on a bar stool between Kirwan and David and imagined that she was Vivien Leigh sitting between Laurence Olivier and Marlon Brando.
This is so sublime, she thought. Here we are in this entirely magical place, dressed to the nines, sipping impossibly smooth brandy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so elegant before.
“Kirwan, how the fuck did you know which card Monty was going to pick?”
Kirwan graciously declined to illuminate, and Lala repeated the question two additional times, each time putting the emphasis on a different combination of words.
“Kirwan, how the fuck did you know which card Monty was going to pick?”
“Kirwan, how the fuck did you know which card Monty was going to pick?”
When it became clear to Lala that she would not be able to wear down Kirwan’s resolve, she was seized with a sudden, overwhelming desire in a completely different direction.
“Guys,” she said, “can you excuse us for a bit? I’ve just now gotten a desperate urge to recapture my youth.”
Lala grabbed David’s hand and lead him down an arbitrary staircase to the right of the lobby.
Okay, this is looking a little spooky down here, Lala thought. I hope we don’t disappear forever into the vapor of magic. Or something like that.
“Let’s find a nook and make out,” Lala whispered to David. “And pretend we’re in high school.”
“Let’s,” he said.
They stopped on their way down a long and narrow hallway to admire a wall of indented glass cases that held an array of artifacts from the history of the castle, along with fetching details and explanations in intricate calligraphy.
Terrence would have loved this, Lala thought. It would have really appealed to his sense of drama.
Without letting herself think about that for one moment longer, Lala pulled David down the hall at a run and grabbed the handle of the first door she saw.
Please let it be unlocked. And please let it not be an unearthly portal to the vapor—whatever the fuck I mean by that.
The door was unlocked. It led to a very small, very dimly lit, empty theatre. Lala pushed David down onto the first chair in the first row and glided onto his lap.
David is definitely a way better kisser than my high school boyfriend Patrick. He’s really as wonderful a kisser as Terrence. Terrence never got to see the Magic Castle. We talked about moving to Los Angeles, but we always kept putting it off because I thought I hated LA and because we thought we had all the time in the world.
Lala managed to resist the impulse to start slapping herself in the face so she could get her mind to focus on something, anything else.
I can’t believe these ideas that are popping into my head. This definitely never happened after Terrence died when I was only dating men who lived thousands of miles away and whom I only saw on a stray weekend or two, every other year. Which is clearly why I never dated anyone in my same zip code until I met David. Like I would need a Ph.D. in psychology to have figured that out.
David continued to kiss Lala as he lifted her to stand. Then he stopped kissing her and held her at arms’ length for a full view.
“That dress is amazing. You look so beautiful. I’m so lucky I found you.”
“Ohh,” Lala whispered. She had been able to not cry until that moment, but at that moment it wasn’t
going to be possible.
David looked surprised to see her eyes overflowing with tears. He ran his index fingers over her cheeks to help wipe them away.
“Happy tears,” Lala whispered.
That’s not strictly a lie, Lala thought. I am happy. And I’m also so sad, I think I might die.
Change The Past
What was most painful for Lala to remember was the suddenness of it. And when she remembered it, she would chastise herself for not noticing that something was wrong, for not seeing the signs that were painfully clear in hindsight.
On that morning, it seemed to Lala, everything really did change in a blink. Yootza looked normal to her that morning. He ate his breakfast—as he always did—with gusto, standing next to his three siblings in the kitchen of Lala and David’s apartment. But it seemed that she only looked away for a moment, and suddenly Yootza’s belly looked horribly swollen.
“Honey!” she screamed out the front door at David, who was sitting in the courtyard working on his laptop. “Something’s wrong with Yootza! His tummy! Something’s wrong with his tummy!”
David ran up the stairs. He picked up Yootza and cooed to him.
“It’s okay, Little Man. Let Papa have a look.”
I love you, Lala thought. I love you for being a veterinarian. For being such a kind and good veterinarian. Omigod, my sweet little boy.
Lala was too upset and frightened to notice in that moment that Yootza wasn’t growling and snapping, as he normally would have when being picked up was anyone else’s idea other than his own. The dachshund let David put him on the couch and let David rub and poke his tummy without any protest at all. Lala tried to be as calm as possible while she waited for David to say something.
“Let’s take him to the hospital.”
Lala tried to be as calm as possible while she walked Eunice, Chester, and Petunia downstairs to Geraldine and Monty’s apartment so they could stay with them in case Lala and David and Yootza would be gone for a long time that day. She tried to be calm when she got in the car and saw that David was sitting in the driver’s seat and little Yootza was on his lap looking very tired and worn out. She tried to be calm while David spoke into the speaker on his phone and let the nearby 24-hour veterinary hospital where he was a part-time surgical fellow know that he was coming in right away.
Standing Room Only Page 6