Metamorphosis

by Sesh Heri

  I kept looking at the street, the people passing to and fro.

  “How long do we wait?” Charmian asked.

  “Not long,” I said. “A while. I’ll know.”

  “How will you know?” Charmian asked.

  “The feeling will pass,” I said.

  “What feeling?” Charmian asked.

  I turned and looked into Charmian’s eyes again.

  “Of being watched,” I said.

  “But you’re always watched,” Charmian said. “You’re one of the most watched men in the world. I watch you. I like to watch you, especially in your swim suit. And you like to watch me. I know. I’ve seen you watching me when you think no one else is watching. You do it like one of your magic tricks. It is one of your magic tricks. Do you think your wife has figured it out?”

  I looked back to the street. More people than ever were passing by.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Of course you don’t,” Charmian said.

  We stood there for several more moments in silence, and then—

  Bess walked by again.

  This time she walked from left to right. She was going back to the theatre. She had given up. She couldn’t find me. She couldn’t find me, because she had just walked right past me and not noticed me standing off to the side. Had she seen me with Charmian? I didn’t know.

  “She was following you,” Charmian said. “Do you think she saw me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, maybe not. If she did, I’ll know about it very soon, because she will give me pure hell.”

  “Poor Magic Man,” Charmian said. “To have such a distrustful wife. And you give her no reason to be so distrustful— is that the straight of it?”

  “What do you want?” I asked. “Why did you ask me to meet you alone? It’s not about an affair. Drop that nonsense and tell me what this is all about.”

  Charmian’s smile faded, and her brow creased. I sensed that I had somehow insulted her. Perhaps I had understood her far too well.

  “Well,” she said tersely. She looked out to the street. “I wanted to discuss this in another place with more privacy, but….”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “What?” I said. “Say it. You’ve said everything else.”

  “It’s about…” Charmian stopped, turned and looked me straight into my eyes. I found no seduction in her glance.

  “It’s about Jack,” Charmian said, her voice tense with a tone of desperation. “He’s…”

  Suddenly the door to the building behind us opened and a man stepped out.

  It was Dr. Nathan Flowers— or a man who looked just like him. I thought I would start this conversation.

  “Are you—?” I asked.

  “Nathan Flowers” the portly man said, shaking my hand. “I finally get to meet you again after all these years, the famous Harry Houdini!”

  “You’re Dr. Flowers?” I asked.

  “No doctor,” the portly man said. “Just ‘mister’, but I’m delighted you still remember me after all this time. Actually, I’m surprised and a bit flattered that you would remember me. We just met that one time, and I’ve put on quite a bit of weight since those days.”

  “What brings you to Oakland?”

  “My brother,” Mr. Flowers said. “He’s in the hat business, you may know. I’m going into business with him.”

  “That so?” I asked. “You say it’s your brother’s business?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Flowers said. “He’s doing quite well.”

  “Oh,” I said, “so there are no problems with his health?”

  “No,” Mr. Flowers said. “Should there be? I mean, have you heard something from home I should know about?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Just inquiring.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Flowers said. “Well, I must be going. Very tight schedule. Saw your write-up in the paper, but I’ve just had no time to see any shows this week. Maybe some other time.”

  Mr. Flowers extended his hand to me. I started to reach out to it. I felt someone watching me. I turned around.

  Bess was standing there, looking at me.

  “Bess,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you?” she asked coolly.

  “I was just out for a walk and ran into Charmian here and also an old acquaintance from back home, Mr. Flowers. Do you know my wife, Mr. Flowers?”

  “Haven’t had the pleasure,” Mr. Flowers said, tipping his hat. “My sister is a friend of your husband’s sister, Gladys. She’s a schoolteacher.”

  “Fanny?” Bess asked.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Flowers said.

  “I know Fanny,” Bess said, breaking into a smile.

  “Yes,” Mr. Flowers said. “She still lives there in Morningside Heights.”

  “Yes,” Bess said. “I’ve been to her house. She’s a very nice lady.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” Mr. Flowers said. “A rare jewel. I’ve always said she taught me everything I know that is worth anything. Quite a lady. Well, as I was telling your husband, I’m terribly pressed for time, but it has been a rare pleasure to meet you all. Good afternoon to you!”

  Mr. Flowers tipped his hat to us, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  “Quite a coincidence,” I said, smiling.

  “Yes,” Bess said. “What are the two of you up to?”

  “I’ve just been trying to steal your husband,” Charmian said.

  Bess didn’t say anything. I just looked out to the street.

  Finally I said, “Seems to be getting cold out here.”

  “That’s funny,” Bess replied. “And I thought things were just heating up.”

  “Did you feed Bobby?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Bess said. “I decided to feed me first.”

  “Let’s all have a bite,” Charmian said.

  “Yes, let’s,” Bess said.

  We started down the sidewalk, the three of us together until we got to a little restaurant, probably the place Charmian intended on taking me earlier.

  “This is a good place,” Charmian said.

  “I bet you know all the good places,” Bess said.

  “A lot of them,” Charmian said.

  “Let’s go in, then,” Bess said. “Come on, Harry. Let’s go in. This is a good place. Charmian says so, isn’t that right, Charmian?”

  “That’s right,” Charmian said.

  We went in and a waiter came up and led us to a booth. We ordered some sandwiches and coffee.

  “Come here often, Charmian?” Bess asked.

  “Once in a while,” Charmian said.

  “With Jack?” Bess asked.

  “With Jack, without Jack,” Charmian said.

  “This is a cozy little hole in the wall,” Bess said. “Don’t you think so, Harry? Don’t you think this is a cozy little— hole?”

  “Stop it,” I said quietly.

  “Stop what?” Bess asked. “I just asked a simple question. Didn’t I just ask a simple question, Charmian?”

  “It was a simple question,” Charmian said. “But it doesn’t have a simple answer.”

  “No?” Bess asked. “And why is that?”

  “Because there are no simple answers,” Charmian said.

  “No?” Bess asked. “What makes you say that? Did you read that in a book? Did your husband write that in a book? By the way, where is your husband?”

  “Back at the hotel,” Charmian said. “Writing a book.”

  “He works very hard,” Bess said. “Just like my husband.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Charmian said. “Jack plays as much as he works. He’s constantly going back and forth. I don’t think he could work all the time. And I don’t think he could play all the time, either.

  “What about you?” Bess asked. “Could you play all the time?”

  “I’m just like Jack,” Charmian said. “I need both. A lot of both.”

  “A lot of both,”
Bess said. “A lot of both. Sounds like you’re a woman who can’t get enough.”

  “Oh,” Charmian said, “I can never get enough. I want it all— and I want it all the time.”

  And then Charmian turned and looked boldly into my eyes and did not look away. I felt Bess turn in her seat beside me. I looked over at her. I could read nothing on her lips, but her eyes were afire.

  “We can’t always get what we want,” Bess said.

  “What makes you say that?” Charmian asked. “Read it in a book?”

  “I don’t read a lot of books,” Bess said. “I just live, like an ordinary human being.”

  “Ordinary human being,” Charmian said. “You say that like it’s a badge of honor.”

  “Isn’t it?” Bess asked.

  “The world is almost completely made up of ordinary human beings,” Charmian said. “And that’s why it’s in the mess it’s in.”

  “Ordinary people don’t break the rules,” Bess said. “They honor the rules. They honor the home. They honor basic human decency. They honor….”

  “Why, Bess,” Charmian laughed. “You really think I am trying to steal your husband.”

  Bess stared at Charmian, and then she looked over at me. I slowly shook my head, looking Bess right in the eyes.

  “I’m not trying to steal your husband,” Charmian said. “Although I don’t deny he’s a definite temptation. I didn’t want to steal him, only borrow him for a moment. I wanted to talk to him.”

  “About what?” Bess asked.

  “It was…” Charmian stammered.

  I looked over at Bess. The fire in her eyes was out.

  “What was it?” Bess asked.

  “It was about Jack,” Charmian finally said. “I’m worried about him. Worried to death.”

  The waiter came up with the tray of sandwiches.

  “I can’t eat,” Charmian said. “Not now.”

  She stood up.

  “Stay,” I said. “Stay and tell us.”

  “No,” Charmian said. “I— I’ve changed my mind. This is— this was a bad idea. You can’t help me. No one can help me. Some things we must bear by ourselves, completely alone. And that’s not from a book, Bess. That’s just me.”

  And then Charmian turned and went out of the restaurant very fast.

  Bess and I sat there watching her go, and then, after she had gone out the door, we turned and looked at each other.

  “Harry,” Bess said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it,” I said.

  Bess looked down.

  “I’m terrible,” Bess said.

  “No, you’re not,” I said. “Eat your sandwich.”

  “All of a sudden,” Bess said, “I feel so ashamed.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “For suspecting you and Charmian,” Bess said.

  “Forget about it,” I said.

  “Harry?” Bess asked.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “You wouldn’t ever cheat on me,” Bess asked, “would you?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “I love you.”

  “You love me,” Bess said. “But are you in love with me?”

  “You know I am,” I said.

  “You haven’t touched me in weeks,” Bess said.

  I reached out and took her by the hand.

  “Not that way,” she said.

  I gave her light kiss on her lips.

  “Not like that either,” Bess said. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’ve been tired,” I said. “The straitjacket stunt is taking a lot out of me.”

  “Is that all?” she asked.

  “That’s all,” I said. “Eat your sandwich.”

  “Harry?” Bess asked.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Do you think I’m still pretty?” Bess asked.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said.

  “But am I pretty?” Bess asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “You’re pretty.”

  I put down my sandwich and looked at Bess. She was looking at me, her eyes filled with tears, filled with need, filled with heartbreak. And only a glance from me would fill her empty heart— only a small glance! And I gave her that glance, the one she wanted, and took her in my arms, and put my lips upon her lips and I did not think about Charmian in that moment, but only of Bess, Bess as she was and Bess as she once was when we were first married. I just thought about Bess and that she was mine and that I belonged to her and that we belonged together and that nothing else mattered.

  We finally broke away from each other, and Bess started to laugh.

  “I followed you all the way from the theatre!” she exclaimed.

  “I know,” I said. “I let you.”

  “You did not!” she said.

  “That’s why I dodged into that entrance,” I said, “to see what you’d do.”

  “You did not!” she said.

  “I did,” I said.

  “You— you beast!” she said, punching my shoulder.

  “It was to teach you a lesson,” I said. “You should trust me more.”

  “I’m silly,” she said.

  “Mm-hm,” I said. “Eat your sandwich.”

  “Charmian,” Bess said. “I wasn’t very kind to Charmian.”

  “She’s a tough lady,” I said. “I don’t think you ruffled her feathers.”

  “But, what about Jack?” Bess asked. “What do you think could be the matter with him?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, looking away to the door of the restaurant. “I haven’t any idea. And maybe it’s none of our business, after all.”

  “You think so?” Bess asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “Now eat your sandwich.”

  Bess picked up her sandwich, looked at it, shrugged, and took a bite.

  Bess said, “That’s a good sandwich.”

 

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hodge Podge

  “It’s only a question of time that the man

  who works trained lions and tigers gets his

  violent passage to the other world, and it

  is pretty much the same with me. I’ll get

  in the water some day, my trick will fail,

  and then good night!”

  Houdini

  It was during my final evening performance of the week in Oakland that I discovered that I was causing the slow-downs and speed ups in time. I began to notice that whenever I became excited or slightly impatient, time— that is the motion of people and things around me— would slow down. When I became a bit complacent or satisfied, time would speed up. I now understand that this was being caused by the fact that I had projected into a parallel universe, an almost exact duplicate of my home universe, but that my projected being did not perfectly fit into its environment. As Nikola Tesla would put it, I was “out of resonance with the local medium.”

  I therefore devised a method to try to control these time distortions. Whenever I noticed one occurring I would hold up my forefinger just so it was within the field of my vision and say, “Now.” This action would focus my thoughts and feelings and bring the passage of time back into a normal pace.

  My evening performance had just concluded, the front stage curtains had closed, and I had raised my finger and said, “Now.”

  “What was that, sir?” Collins asked me.

  “What? Oh. Nothing,” I said. “I was just thinking that the run’s over and now we can all rest a bit.”

  “Yes sir, of course,” Collins said.

  We went on back stage. The dancers in the Closing turn rushed by us as the chords of their music sounded from the orchestra. Backstage, the other players were coming out of their dressing rooms, all of them in their street clothes.

  “Did Vickery set up the table in back?” I asked Collins.

  “It’s all arranged, sir,” Collins said. “The man from the delicatessen should be back there with the refreshments.”

  I turned the corner and came upon Mr. Ebey.

>   “I’ve been handing out the salaries,” Mr. Ebey said. “You’re the last.”

  He gave me an envelope thick with cash. I opened it up, and counted the bills. The full amount of my week’s pay was there. I signed Mr. Ebey’s receipt and handed it back to him.

  “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Ebey,” I said.

  “It’s been a great week,” Ebey said, “just as you promised.”

  “And you’ve paid me,” I said, “just as you promised. There’s no thanks more sincere than a full envelope.”

  “You turned this town on its ear,” Ebey said. “I think we can enjoy some more full houses for the next few weeks. Just spill-over. Just pure spill-over.”

  “We can all use spill-over,” I said. “Are you joining us backstage?”

  “Uhm, no thanks,” Ebey said. “I try not to mix business and pleasure. You understand, I’m sure.”

  “No one will think the less of you for joining us in a drink,” I said. “They’ll probably think more.”

  “No thanks, just the same,“ Ebey said.

  “Very well, then,” I said. “Good night and— so long.”

  “So long,” Ebey grinned, “until we see you in Oakland again.”

  “I’d like to come back,” I said.

  We shook hands and Ebey went off to his office.

  I went on around to the back of the stage. In the open space back there by the brick wall and the loading door the boys had placed several long boards over three or four sawhorses and Bess had covered this long make-shift table with two sheets of white linen. Chairs had been arranged around the table. This was our standard arrangement for the Saturday night closing party. Several of the players in the show were already seated, watching the man from the delicatessen bring in all the sandwiches and other delicacies. I had made sure to have plenty of beer on hand. Collins went around with a pitcher, filling the glasses and making quips as he always did on these Saturday night closings.

  I sat down at the head of the table and smiled and nodded at everyone and they smiled back.

  “Great week!” I said.

  “Great week!” the Bison City Four said in harmonic unison while lifting their beer mugs into the air.

  Dash came around the corner.

  “Breathe easy, brother,” Dash said. “Your competition is leaving town.”