The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic

by Emily Croy Barker

  “And then it is funny,” Ilissa continued, “but you know, so often my friends look up to me to help them and guide them. I give them advice, a little encouragement. I don’t know why they think I know anything, but they come to me afterward and say, ‘Thank you, Ilissa, you were absolutely right!’ So I really feel responsible for them! And that takes up my time, too.”

  Gathering up Nora’s hair into a thick strand, Ilissa began to pile it on top of Nora’s head. “I’m going to fix your hair the same way as mine,” she said. “I love this style.”

  “My hair’s not long enough,” Nora said. But somehow Ilissa had managed it, a luxuriant golden tower balanced on Nora’s head.

  “Now, your face,” said Ilissa. “Shhh, you must keep perfectly still when I make you up. I am an artist at work.”

  As she daubed away at Nora’s face, it suddenly occurred to Nora that this was a seduction. Of course, Ilissa had a son, but that didn’t mean anything. Nora had gotten a few passes from lesbians over the years—she wondered if it had something to do with looking younger than she was. If she makes a move, Nora thought, I’ll let her down as nicely as possible. I’d hate to hurt her feelings.

  “Relax!” Ilissa said. “You are going to be even more lovely.” It was a promise and a command. Something in her voice reminded Nora of her mother’s old wine-colored velvet dress, the one she’d wear on the rare evenings in Nora’s childhood when her parents hired a babysitter and went out. Her mother would come in to kiss Nora good night, redolent of Chanel No. 5, and Nora would contrive to rub her cheek against the softness of her dress, as though it were a sort of pledge, an assurance that someday Nora, too, would grow into confident grace and beauty.

  Ilissa leaned close to her, smiling. “Close your eyes.” Nora obeyed, and Ilissa rubbed something delicately over her eyes and onto her eyelids. “Open them.”

  Nora gazed into the mirror. “Do I really look like that?” she asked. There had been agreeable moments in Nora’s life when she had looked into a mirror and found herself to be just as pretty as she felt, as well as less pleasant moments when she glimpsed some plain or unkempt woman out of the corner of her eye and then realized that it was her own reflection. Being startled by her own face because it was so much lovelier than she expected—that was new.

  “Now you’re ready for my party,” Ilissa said.

  Nora stood up, her eyes still on the glass. “Ilissa, thank you,” she said. “I’ve never had a makeover like this. It’s a transformation.” Maggie had always been after her to wear more makeup, to dress better, to take more pains with her appearance. Maggie had been right.

  That reminded Nora of the call she had not yet made. “Oh, I have to use your phone before the party starts,” she said. Ilissa pointed through a doorway into a bedroom, where a pink Princess phone sat on the table beside the bed. Nora dialed Maggie’s cell. The phone rang and rang without an answer. Funny that voice mail didn’t pick up, she thought, replacing the receiver.

  A pair of silver sandals was waiting for her in the dressing room. She tried them on and found that Ilissa had guessed exactly the right shoe size. Balancing on heels three inches higher than those she normally wore, Nora felt as easy as though she were wearing her sneakers. Are all really good, expensive shoes this comfortable? she wondered.

  Voices and music were beginning to filter in from outside. The party had begun.

  * * *

  Nora had imagined that the evening would be much like the big student parties she normally attended, where it was up to the guests to find their own way in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. If anything, she reckoned, she was more likely to be invisible among Ilissa’s guests. But tonight, before she could even stop to survey the crowd, Ilissa was at her side.

  “Darling, you must meet Vulpin, Lily, Boodle, Moscelle,” she said, leading Nora up to a nearby group, a man in a blue velvet jacket and three women laughing together. “My newest friend, Nora,” Ilissa announced. “I found her in the garden today.” The four turned to stare at Nora for an instant, wary as birds. Then, with a shared exhalation (of welcome? of relief?) they clustered around Nora, talking to her and past her.

  “Leave it to Ilissa to come up with such a beauty.”

  “Ilissa helped you dress, I can tell. She has the most perfect eye.”

  “Such a thrill to see someone new, we’ve been dying of boredom.”

  Their voices blew around Nora like soft breezes; she could practically feel the compliments brushing her skin.

  “What would you like to drink?” asked the man (was he the one called Vulpin?).

  “She wants champagne—no, a kir royale,” said one of the women (Moscelle?), who wore a vinyl jumper and matching ankle boots. She winked at Nora.

  Nora had been on the verge of asking for white wine, but instantly changed her mind. “That sounds lovely,” she said. Immediately a glass was in her hand, rich and dark, a real French kir royale, not the pallid imitation that you get in American bars.

  The others tossed questions at her, smiling playfully. Was she married? Engaged? Not even in love, at least? Impossible. Perhaps she was just about to fall in love and didn’t know it yet; perhaps this very night. . . . Where did she live? How did she get here? How did she spend her days, when she wasn’t getting lost? Her companions seemed much amused at the notion of graduate school.

  “Four years already?” asked the woman in a top hat, who Nora decided must be Boodle. “How exhausting! You must know everything by now!”

  “Well, no. And I don’t study all the time,” Nora said.

  “Of course not,” Vulpin said. He caught her gaze and held it. “You don’t strike me as a woman who’d be satisfied spending all her days in the library. I can tell you have a taste for adventure, you have a warm, passionate nature, you live life boldly.”

  He sounded a bit like a fortune cookie, but Nora nibbled at this flattering description of herself and found that she liked it. “How can you tell that?” she asked.

  “You’re here with us, aren’t you?” Moscelle said, giggling. She took Nora’s arm. “Come on, I want to introduce you to more people.”

  The party was in full swing by now, dusk thickening into night, the terrace around Ilissa’s swimming pool thronged with people. Nora could hear music, bossa nova, coming from somewhere else in the garden. A girl in go-go boots and silver leather waved them over. Moscelle air-kissed her, once on each cheek, and introduced Nora—“Ilissa’s latest find.”

  “I love your outfit,” said Nora to the girl in the boots, whose name sounded something like Oon. “Theme parties are so much fun. I went to a Sixties party at school last year, but the costumes weren’t half as good as this.”

  “Oh, Ilissa likes to do different things,” said Moscelle vaguely. “Where is Gaibon? I’m dying for him to meet Nora.”

  Oon, if that was her name, gave a languid sigh and rolled heavy-lashed eyes upward. “He’s hiding right now. From Amatol. Ever since she heard about last night.”

  Moscelle laughed. “Is she still upset about that? I’d better stay out of the way, then.”

  She steered Nora over to a loose-knit circle near the pool and began more introductions. By now Nora knew that it was going to be impossible for her to keep names and faces straight tonight. There were more names that sounded familiar but slightly out of context—Nora could have sworn she met someone named Pixel, could that be right?—while every person she met seemed to share the same exotic, slightly feline good looks. Perhaps it was the period makeup, the creamy lips and the huge, astonished eyes, that made the other women seem to blend together, although that didn’t account for the men looking so similar, too, as though they had all ordered their sculpted cheekbones from the same catalog.

  “Everyone here is beautiful,” she said to a man with a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Not just pretty or handsome, but beautiful. Are you all models? Movie stars?”

  The dark-haired man thought that was tremendously funny. “No, but I was wonderi
ng if you were,” he said.

  She lost track of Moscelle, but others took her in hand and kept her circulating. She picked up a lot of gossip about people that she hadn’t met yet and some that she already had. Rapid coupling and uncoupling seemed to be the norm. In spite of all the kir royales she’d downed by now, she was deliciously clearheaded, just more buoyant than usual. After a while, the people she met started to say things like, “So you’re Nora! I’ve been hearing so much about you all evening!” She felt as though she were moving through the party like the silver ball in a pinball machine, hitting every corner just right, setting off noise and lights, racking up points.

  Nora was on the dance floor, doing the twist with one of Boodle’s friends, when she saw Ilissa again, talking to a blond girl who had a boa constrictor wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes kept a steady bead on Nora’s gyrations. When the music stopped, Nora went over.

  “Nora! You’re the hit of my party,” Ilissa said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

  “I’m having a wonderful time! I’m not tired at all, and it must be almost midnight,” Nora said. Something struck her, and she laughed. “Oh, will the magic wear off at midnight? Will I turn back into a pumpkin when the clock strikes?”

  Ilissa smiled and reached out to tuck a stray wisp of blond hair behind Nora’s ear. “No, the magic doesn’t wear off at midnight. It’s much more powerful than that. It comes from you. You wanted something, and so it came to be.”

  Nora was puzzled by the seriousness in Ilissa’s voice. “It’s that easy?”

  “Yes, of course! Look at yourself. You’re already a lovelier, happier, more confident woman than the miserable little girl who turned up in my garden this afternoon. It’s because you dared to laugh and be beautiful.”

  “I think you had something to do with it. I can’t thank you en—”

  Ilissa made a dismissive gesture. “A dress, a little chitchat, a party—it’s nothing. I love it when I can help someone. And this is just the beginning, my dear.” She looked appraisingly at Nora again. “Pearls, I think, next time. Your skin has such a lovely golden tone. We ought to do more to set it off. I should have thought of pearls tonight. What a scatterbrain I am!”

  I would look nice in pearls, Nora thought happily, then realized with some regret that she wouldn’t be here for the next party. Ilissa seized her arm.

  “I am even more scatterbrained than I thought,” Ilissa announced. “Did I not introduce you to my son?” She called out a long name that seemed to include some vowels and consonants that didn’t occur in English, and out of the crowd Nora saw a dark head set on a pair of broad shoulders turn and move toward them.

  “Like me, he has a terribly long and confusing name,” Ilissa said. “Raclin is what we call him for short. Darling,” she said to him, “this is Nora. You remember I mentioned her earlier.”

  “But we’ve met already,” Raclin said, holding out his hand to Nora, a lock of hair falling into his eye. “Nora asked me if I was a movie star.” His hand felt very strong as it closed around hers.

  “And you said no, but I’m sure I’ve seen some of your films,” Nora said, smiling. James Bond, the Sean Connery years.

  “Well, if I were in a movie, it would have to be one with some very beautiful woman in it,” he said. “Perhaps we could read through a few scenes together.”

  On second thought, maybe a little too charming, Nora thought.

  “And I would direct!” Ilissa said. “It would be so much fun! I can already tell you two have, what is it called, screen chemistry.”

  “Then it’s all set,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m wanted over there. Lolly insists on getting into a grave misunderstanding with Carnassus, and I think I shall have to peel them apart.”

  “Oh, the wretch,” said Ilissa, watching him move away. “Not Raclin—Lolly. I may have to—but that’s not important. So you’ve met my son. Do you like him? I can tell he likes you.”

  “He’s the best-looking man at this party,” Nora said. It was true.

  Ilissa looked pleased. “That’s what I always think, but then, I am his mother. I see Moscelle coming this way—she’s looking for you.”

  The night flowed faster and faster. Nora had a long, earnest conversation with Moscelle about Gaibon and whether he loved Moscelle or Amatol more. “Really, the way it started out, it wasn’t that serious between us,” Moscelle said. “But she’s so possessive, she’s driving him away.” Nora squeezed into a snub-nosed red Ferrari with four or five others and they went racing down narrow roads lined with poplar trees, until they had drunk all the champagne that Vulpin had brought and had to go back to the party. More dancing, then Nora wound up talking to the girl with the boa constrictor, whom she realized after a while must be Moscelle’s rival, Amatol. “I’m Nora,” she said. “Lovely to meet you,” said Amatol. “Charmed,” said the snake, lifting its head from the girl’s shoulder and showing its fastidious, forked tongue.

  Nora wandered out by the swimming pool with Amatol and a tall, bald black man. He had small, round Lennon glasses, and he was telling them, in great detail, about a love affair that he’d once had on the planet Jupiter with one of the gaseous women there, whose skin felt like silky smoke, whose kisses were explosions. What has he been taking? thought Nora. She looked down into the pool and saw a naked couple making love at the bottom. They moved rhythmically, wrapped around each other like eels. Nora marveled at how long they could hold their breath.

  Someone started a game of hide-and-seek in the garden. Nora hid behind a palm tree until the girl who was It went past; then she ran laughing down the dim paths, skimming the gravel in her high heels until, in the shadow of a bronze centaur, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. Nora almost fell, but the person pulled her upright and kissed her, roughly. “Good night, my dear,” he said. Raclin’s voice.

  “Hey!” she said warningly. She felt too good to be really angry, she understood the kiss was all part of the night’s game, but still, you could take a game too far.

  He kissed her again, more smoothly this time, and then the gravel crunched as he moved away.

  It was a very good kiss, she realized too late. “Good night,” she said uncertainly.

  She walked across the grass toward the house. It was almost dawn. The lawn was flattened, littered with crumpled napkins, wineglasses, a pair of lace panties. The pool was empty of lovers, but the man who’d had the affair on Jupiter was sleeping on one of the recliners, his glasses askew. In the brightening air, Nora noticed vaguely that his skin was not actually black, or brown, but dark green.

  Chapter 4

  From under the covers, Nora groped for the ringing telephone. Maggie’s voice in her ear, clear but faint. “Nora? Is that you?”

  “Maggie?” Blinking, Nora sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize where she was. “My God, I missed the wedding, didn’t I? I got lost in the woods, and I just—I just forgot about it.” What on earth had she been thinking? “Luca and Chris must be furious.”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Maggie laughed, sounding tinny. The phone was the old-fashioned kind, squat and black. “No need to apologize. I hear that you went to a fabulous party last night. I’m so envious! I mean, the reception was fine, but compared to one of Ilissa’s parties—?”

  “You’ve heard of her?”

  “You never heard of her? I’m shocked! She’s famous!”

  Nora lowered her voice. “Who is she, exactly? She has the most extraordinary friends. Last night was like something out of Fellini.”

  Maggie laughed again. “She’s one of those people who’s famous for being herself.”

  “Nice work if you can get it,” Nora said. “She’s been super sweet to me, I must say. I can’t wait to tell you about my adventure. How did you track me down here? Could you come pick me up?”

  “There’s no hurry. The person I just talked to said Ilissa is completely happy to have you stay. Why not take a few days to enjoy yourself? How often do you
get to be in a Fellini film?”

  “True,” Nora said, considering. “But you’re driving back tonight, right?”

  “Oh, maybe, I’m not sure. Seriously, you don’t get a chance to meet someone like Ilissa every day. People like that are magical. For once in your life, Nora, you should spend some time with people who can appreciate how wonderful you are, and show you how to really live.”

  “Well, last night was kind of magical. I felt so different.”

  “It’s exactly what you need,” Maggie said. “Oops, I have to run. Have a wonderful time, darling.”

  “Maggie, wait, I left my phone at the cabin, I don’t have your number—”

  “Have fun!”

  She was gone. Nora hung up, slightly puzzled. It was unlike Maggie, always hyperorganized, to be so cavalier about her own schedule, and she couldn’t repress a faint feeling of hurt that, for some reason, Maggie seemed to be trying to keep the conversation brief. Then she saw what must have happened: Maggie had met someone at the reception, and had changed her own plans as a result.

  And what she had just said was true. This was an opportunity, an open door, of a kind Nora had never come across before. What had Maggie said? These people could show her how to live. Live all you can, it’s a mistake not to. After just a few hours with Ilissa and her friends, everything looked different: softer, brighter, rich with possibility.

  The clock on the mantelpiece chimed two o’clock. She realized with a start that she’d slept half the day away. Getting out of bed, Nora approached the mirror tentatively, remembering how she had collapsed into bed without even taking off her makeup; she must look like hell.

  But the face that looked out at her was still as luminous and assured as when Ilissa had shown it to her the night before. Nora ran her tongue along her lips, thinking that she had never really noticed how full they were, or how long her eyelashes were, or how elegantly her cheekbones caught the light. Her face smiled back at her, calmly amused that anyone would even doubt its beauty.