One Magical Night

by Diane Kelly

  Lifting my witch’s cape lest I trip over it, I bounded up the steps and onto the stage, waving an arm, turning on the wireless microphone clipped to my collar, and cackling to the crowd. “Happy Halloween, everyone!”

  The DJ cued up Monster Mash.

  “Let’s dance!” Whipping my white-tipped dancing cane out from under my cape, I performed a series of maneuvers to the silly tune, waving my hands and making my cane twirl around me in circles and figure eights.

  A little boy dressed as a pirate gazed up at me from the front row, his mouth gaping open. Like me, he was missing some teeth, though his weren’t merely blacked out but were actually gone, the gums waiting for replacements. “How does she do that?” he asked his mother.

  “It’s magic, hon!” she replied.

  I wrapped up the dancing cane bit, stashed the cane in my trunk, and put my hands on my knees, bending down to look out at the little boy. “Hi, there, pirate! How would you like to float in the air?”

  The boy’s expression was equal parts excitement and trepidation.

  “Go on, sweetie!” his mother said, removing his eye patch. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

  As the boy scurried from the bleachers to the steps and made his way up onto the stage, I unfolded my chairs and set them in place three feet apart, facing in opposite directions. I retrieved a long board from my trunk and positioned it like a plank spanning between the two chair backs. Props now in place, I turned to the boy and made a show of shaking his tiny hand.

  “Hello, there. I’m Ally. What’s your name, pirate?”

  “Pweston,” said the little boy, apparently unable to properly pronounce his R’s.

  “So nice to meet you!” Still holding his hand, I guided him over to the chair. “Step right on up there, Preston.”

  The boy did as told, having to stretch his short legs to climb up.

  “Good job! Now turn and face that way.” I pointed off the side of the stage.

  He turned to face in the direction I’d indicated.

  “Great! Now put your arms down by your sides and keep your body as nice and straight as you can, okay?”

  He nodded his agreement, his adorable little face contorting with effort and concentration, his tongue sticking out between his lips.

  I gently put my hands behind his back and guided him backward into a lying position on the board. I leaned in and quietly whispered, “How about giving the crowd a smile?”

  He turned his head and smiled a big grin at the crowd, earning several shouts of encouragement from the audience.

  “You’re a natural, kid,” I told him.

  “I’m a what?” His face scrunched in confusion, his mouth gaping open.

  “A natural.” When he still looked confused, I added, “It means you’re doing great.”

  As he lay there, I covered his body with a purple velvet cloth, being careful to leave his face and feet exposed. I waved my arms over the boy as if casting a spell. I put a hand on the cloth, ready to whisk it away. But first, I needed to do what any good magician did. Prime the audience.

  I turned to the crowd. “Who’s ready to see Preston float in the air?”

  They responded with whoops and cries and clapping hands. Yep, they were ready. I cackled maniacally—“Mwahahaha!”—and yanked the cloth off the boy.

  Now that I had the full attention of the audience, I cried “Alakazam!” and pulled the board out from under him, too. The crowd responded with clapping hands and squeals of delight as they noted he appeared to be lying flat with only a chair at either end holding him up.

  I cackled again—“Mwahahaha!”—and pulled the chair supporting his feet away.

  The audience cheered, a couple of the children hopping off their seats in excitement. Preston’s eyes went wide and he gaped and giggled when he realized he was still somehow floating in the air with only a chair under his neck to support him.

  To show that there were no invisible strings holding the boy up, I pulled my hoop from my trunk, encircled it around the boy’s feet, and moved it up and down his body. The crowd erupted in applause once again.

  When the illusion was complete, I helped little Preston down and took his hand, turning him to face the audience. I curtsied and motioned for him to take a bow. Not quite understanding my instructions given his tender years, he curtsied, too. The audience laughed and showed their love by applauding and whistling.

  I put my hands on my knees and bent down to face him, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Preston! You were a fantastic assistant.”

  “That was fun!” Preston turned and bounded back down the steps. Once he reached the ground, he ran to the front row and hurled himself at his mother. “Did you see me, Mommy? Did you see me?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Guff grin from where he stood off to the side at the back of the audience.

  Returning to my trunk, I pulled out my saw and held it up. Stepping to the front of the stage, I held my saw on either end so that the audience could get a complete view of it. I paraded back and forth, giving all of them a look. Pulling a red apple from a pocket in my cape, I situated it atop a small platform. To prove the cutting power of the saw, I proceeded to saw the apple in half, then grabbed one of the pieces and took it to the front of the stage, once again showing it to the audience. The children sat on the edge of their seats, their eyes bright, their faces smiling and eager.

  “For my next illusion,” I said into my wireless mic as I brandished my saw, “I’ll need a brave volunteer who isn’t afraid of a sharp, jagged blade.”

  I ran my eyes across the crowd. Though many of the children threw their hands into the air, their mothers forced their arms back down, evidently afraid I might accidentally cut off a limb or eviscerate a vital organ. Smart decision, probably. I carried a sharp blade but no liability insurance.

  I raised my arm, pointed my finger, and ran it over the crowd, stopping on Guff. “That tall clown looks like he could stand to be cut down an inch or two. Doesn’t he folks?”

  Heads turned to look at Guff.

  He pointed his finger at his chest and leaned back dramatically. “Who me?”

  “Yep!” I waved him forward. “Come on up. Let’s see if I can saw through your funny bone.”

  Guff played along perfectly, making a show of acting frightened, pretending to bite his nails and quivering in feigned fear before trotting up to the stage and ascending the stairs.

  I pushed the button to mute my mic as he stepped up next to me. “Thanks for being such a good sport,” I said under my breath.

  “I’ll expect payback,” he whispered surreptitiously back to me, wagging his made-up brows in a comically suggestive gesture.

  Hmm. I just might enjoy that payback.

  I looked back out at the crowd and gestured to Guff. “Ladies and gentleman, let’s give Guff Aws a round of applause for being so brave.”

  As they began to clap, Guff held up a palm to stop them. “I’m not brave!” Guff cried, putting his hands to his chest and forming a heart with his fingers. “I’m in love!” He bent down on one knee, clasped his hands together, and fluttered his eyes at me.

  The audience roared with laughter.

  “What a ham.” I shook my head, though secretly I wondered if there were any truth to what he’d said. Of course I knew he couldn’t truly love me. After all, he hardly knew me. But I had to wonder if he was attracted to me. And then I had to wonder, was I attracted to him? Again, the ridiculousness of my thoughts struck me. Here I was with a wart on my nose and blacked-out teeth. Not exactly a man’s idea of a dream date, even if that man had multicolored hair and a rubber nose. And a clown? Not exactly what I’d pictured when envisioning my Prince Charming or the father of my children. It would be hard enough birthing a normal-sized baby, let alone one with a bulbous nose and enormous feet. Still, I couldn’t deny feeling a strange attraction to him, one that made me feel giddy, light, and animated. The feeling was almost . . . magical.

/>   Forcing those romantic thoughts aside, I rolled the wheeled gurney-like table to the front of the stage, and waved an open palm in front of it. “Hop on up, clown!”

  Instead, Guff grabbed me by the shoulders. The feel of his hands on me was nice. They felt warm and strong, supportive and safe. It sure would be nice to have someone like him. I didn’t need a man, of course. I might have a meager existence, but I could take care of myself. Still, it would be nice for a guy to have my back should the need arise.

  “In case I don’t survive!” Guff cried, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Make sure you donate my organs. And give my shoes to charity. Somewhere there’s a clown or a basketball player with size sixteen feet going barefoot.” He gave me a wink before turning his back to the table and easing himself up onto it.

  Now that he was properly situated, I slid the saw guide into place above his mid section. “Are you ready, Guff?”

  He turned his face to the audience. “Ready as I’ll ever be!”

  I held the saw aloft and addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, are you ready?”

  The raucous response told me that Yes! They were ready.

  I looked down at Guff. “We’ve got a bloodthirsty crowd here today.”

  With that, I slid the saw into the slot and made a show of sawing back and forth, back and forth.

  As I sawed, Guff gazed up at me. “There’s something really sexy about a woman who knows how to handle a tool.”

  Was he flirting? Or just being a goofball? Either way, it couldn’t hurt to play along. “Thanks. Your rubber nose is quite irresistible, too.”

  Before I realized what was happening, Guff yelped and a squirt of red burst forth. Holy . . .

  “You got me in my juggler vein!” Guff cried.

  I looked down. In his hand he held a plastic trick ketchup bottle with red string hanging out the end.

  Shaking my head, I took the bottle from him and held it up for the crowd to see. “No need to worry, folks. It’s just ketchup.”

  Guff continued to ham it up as I sawed back and forth several more times. He made a bicycling motion with his legs. “It tickles! It tickles!” A moment later he cried, “Yikes! I can’t feel my toes!”

  When I was done sawing all the way through, I left the blade in place and stepped back so the audience could see that the saw was now lower than Guff’s torso, appearing as if he’d been cut in two. “As you can see, he’s been cut clean through, folks!”

  Moving back to the apparatus, I yanked the saw out with a flourish and held it up. Setting the saw aside, I waved my hands over Guff like a faith healer. “Alakazam!”

  With that, I pushed the apparatus to the right, freeing him. He sat up on the table and looked down at his stomach, his mouth wide in pretend shock. Leaping from the table and falling to his knees, he raised his hands to the heavens. “I’m healed! It’s a miracle!”

  I tossed him a smile and turned to the crowd. “Let’s give Guff Aws a big hand to go with his big feet!”

  As the audience cheered, Guff trotted in circles around the stage, pumping his fists in victory. With a final salute to me, he jumped down off the front of the stage without bothering to take the stairs. Guff jogged back to his spot near the back of the bleachers where he wouldn’t block the spectators’ view.

  I had to admit, he’d been a great assistant, playing the crowd the way he did. He certainly had good people skills. Maybe I should consider adding a partner to my act on a permanent basis. Oh, right. After today, I wouldn’t be doing my act anymore . . .

  Forcing my disillusionment from my mind, I ran through the rest of my abbreviated act, pulling a stuffed rabbit from my pointy witch’s hat, separating linked rings, knocking out a couple of coin tricks. As I finished up my act, Guff pulled his cell phone from his pocket, took a look at the screen, and returned it to his pants. Glancing up, he gave me a quick wave. With that, he turned and headed off. I supposed I had no real reason to feel disappointed, but feelings don’t listen to logic.

  Vision blurred with pooling tears, I forced a smile at the audience as I finished my last act and performed my final curtsy.

  This was it.

  The end of my magic career.

  The end of my dream.

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath. No sense crying over something I couldn’t change, right? Better to put on my big girl panties and move on.

  Of course that was easier said than done . . .

  A trio of stage hands swooped in to move my props off the platform and into a storage area behind it. I thanked them and headed toward the stairs.

  As I left the stage, Pawvarotti and his owner passed me on the stairs. Just because my show business career was over didn’t mean I couldn’t support a fellow performer. Fighting back my frustration, I ruffled the dog’s ears. “Break a leg, Luciano!”

  He gave me a friendly ruff! in return.

  Chapter Three

  Things Get Spotty . . .

  I stepped over to where the stage manager stood at the front of the line of acts awaiting their turn. “I appreciate you hiring me to perform here today.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “If you’ve got time to stick around, feel free to enjoy yourself. There’s no charge for the food or games and we’ll be having a fireworks show at eight.”

  I debated what to do. Should I call a friend to come pick me up? I was fortunate to have a support system including several friends whose lives were as tenuous as mine. We helped each other out with everything from rides when someone was having car trouble, to loaning each other cocktail dresses and suitcases when someone had a special night out or trip planned. And there didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around here.

  On the other hand, why not wait and see how the day goes? I could always give one of my friends a call later, right? Besides, it’s not like I had anything better to do today. I’d planned on washing my laundry, but I had a couple pairs of clean undies left. The laundry could wait another day or two. No sense foregoing a free day of fun and food. Particularly the food. All I had in my fridge at home was a single rock-hard bagel and a bag of bile-colored ooze that had once been either carrots or broccoli.

  Oh, who was I fooling? Certainly not myself. The real reason I wanted to hang out at the festival was so I might run into Guff again. It had been weeks since a man had given me any attention—wanted attention, anyway—and damn if I didn’t want more of it. Especially now. A man might help take my mind off the end of my magic career . . . at least temporarily.

  I strolled around the grounds, stopping once to let the hayride pass by, before coming upon a game booth featuring a bean bag toss. Per the sign, three bean bags in the milk can would win you a stuffed black cat with embroidered eyes in the shape of yellow moons. Two bean bags would earn you a stuffed pumpkin. One bean bag warranted a small frog. Miss every time and you’d still walk away with a bag of candy corn. Those are my kind of odds.

  “Step right up!” called the stooped, white-haired man working the booth. “Everyone’s a winner!” He caught me eying the cat and waved me over. “Why not try your hand, witch?”

  “Can I use magic?” I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers to the amusement of several children nearby. “Cast a spell that’ll sink all three bean bags in the can?”

  The man smiled and held out three bean bags. “Whatever it takes, hon.”

  The kids gathered round as I stepped up to the booth and took the bean bags the man offered. Shifting two of them to my left hand, I narrowed my eyes and took aim with my right. Plunk! The first bean bag went straight into the can.