Tiny Dancer

"Do you have what I told you to bring?" the magician asked.

I nodded and handed him my phone. Playing on the device was a video of a little boy, laughing and smiling like he was having the time of his life. After all, it was his very own birthday party, and what can be more exciting as a kid?

The magician nodded and handed the phone back to me. He closed his eyes and began muttering something under his breath, what I assumed was incantations. When he was done, his eyes suddenly opened, and I saw that they were glowing. As the glow faded, he said, "It'll take about an hour for his soul to get here."

"I see," I replied.

The man I was talking to was allegedly a magician who could summon the dead. Normally I would've written him off as a scam artist, but shockingly it turned out that he offered his services completely for free. All he asked in return was that the people going to him would show him a video, picture, or audio recording of the deceased person they wished to speak to. And even if you had somehow lacked all of these things, he never turned anyone away. Reportedly, it was better for you to bring as much as you could.

"Why do you need it?" I said. "The video of my son."

"The ritual requires it," he responded. "To transfer a person's soul into our world, all I need is someone who knew them. But a voice and appearance are things that are lost when one dies. I need to know what they looked and sounded like for me to recreate it."

I nodded like my doubts had vanished, but inwardly I thought, Of course you need a video. You don't communicate with souls, you're just a fraud like the rest of them. I didn't know why he did this, why he gave grieving people false hope. The scam artists do it to make money, but him? I didn't know. Maybe he did it for kicks, but whatever his reason, I was going to expose him as a fraud to the whole world.

"Since we're going to be here for a while, why don't you talk about your son?" he said. "Sometimes it speeds up the process. The souls know that they're being talked about, so they're quicker to arrive."

My temper flared when I heard his suggestion. It was bad enough that he was lying to my face, but to also wanted to get to know the man he was lying too? Going off at him now would put a stop to this too soon, so I restrained myself and agreed to do as he said.

"Jimmy was my son from my first marriage. I was too young to be having any kids back then, and to be honest with you, I didn't really want one. Parenting was rough for both me and my first wife. We were poor and had nothing." I shivered remembering it. "I had to work three jobs to just keep food on the table," I said, lifting up three fingers to emphasize the fact. "Ironically it was my wife, who was the one really pushing for kids, that couldn't handle it. She left and never came back."

"That must have been hard for you," the magician replied in a sympathetic tone.

My gaze stayed on the table between us. Looking at him and his false kindness would've only pissed me off more. "It was. But it got easier when he got older."

"How so?"

"He was really mature for his age. All the teachers would praise me for raising him so well, even though I was busy working all the time. Did his homework, brushed his teeth, handled everything without being told to."

For the first time since I came here, I actually broke into a smile, getting nostalgic. "Sometimes he was actually too considerate," I said cheerfully. "You see, Father's Day was coming up, and Jimmy wanted to get me a gift. He even asked if he could get a job, and you should've seen the look on his face when I told him that he was too young to. But when Father's Day came, he surprised me with this cup that said #1 DAD.

"I just stared at the thing," I said while I looked at my hand, as if I was holding the mug at that moment. "And I was wondering how the hell he managed to get the money to buy it. I finally got it out of him, and it turned out that he didn't buy lunch for a couple days. He saved up the money and used it to buy the cup."

Laughter- genuine laughter- burst out from me as I remembered Jimmy's innocent yet devious expression when he had told me how he had bought the gift. The magician smiled, and for a second, I could almost believe that he actually cared.

"I'm laughing about it now, but I was mortified when he told me." Getting serious again, I said, "What kind of father was I that I couldn't even afford to give him some pocket change, that he would have to resort to not eating?"

Both of our smiles faded away, and the room was filled with an awkward silence.

"What did Jimmy enjoy doing?" the magician asked.

"Oh, he did a lot of stuff. He was always busy with extracurricular activities. He had to be because I was always at work and couldn't look after him after school ended."

The magician didn't respond, but his eyes were drilling into mine, like he was trying to get me to admit something. Like he knew I wasn't telling him everything. I had already told him about the incident on Father's Day, and I didn't want to give up anything more about Jimmy. Just thinking about it left a sour taste in my mouth, but something about him compelled me to continue talking, something that said it would be okay.

Against my judgment, I continued. "But the thing he really loved was...ballet."

To the magician's credit, he didn't raise his eyebrow or physically react when I said it. All he did was nod and reply, "I see. Ballet. That's pretty rare for little boys."

"He was a rare type of kid," I said proudly. "When he told me he wanted to do ballet, I asked, 'Aren't you worried about what the other guys would say about you?' And he said, 'If they call me girly for doing ballet, I'll show them just how girly I am by punching them in the face!'"

This time the magician joined me as I laughed. Even though I came here wanting to hate him, I had to admit that I was liking him more and more as we waited. But some of this fondness disappeared when I remembered what we were waiting for. The appearance of my son's "soul."

"None of the kids ever made fun of him. Everyone respected him too much. And I was glad that he did join ballet because he was really happy, happier than I think I'd ever seen him." I turned to the clock and noticed that we still had 30 minutes left. "His ballet instructor became my second wife," I added as an afterthought.

Sensing that I didn't have anything else to say, the magician kept silent, and we waited for Jimmy's soul to arrive.

30 minutes later, I felt a chill and knew that it was about to begin. I heard a bang behind me. The sudden breeze and sound of wind indicated that it was the door that had been slammed open.

For the first time since I've been here, I realized how bare the room was. Couldn't have pictures hung up if you were always summoning ghosts I guess. Even so, the few things in the room like the desk and clock rattled uncontrollably, and my teeth chattered from the chill. I was tempted to tell the magician to stop the charade just so I could escape the cold, but soon enough, the room was back to normal.

"Dad?"

I nearly jumped out of my seat when I heard the voice call out to me from the door. Slowly I turned around and saw a young boy who looked like he had stepped out of the video I had shown the magician. It was my son.

At first his form was blurry and kept shifting, but slowly he stabilized. The outfit he was wearing in the video morphed into a ballet uniform, and the room around us started expanding in size. I tried to ask the magician what was happening, but he was gone, and all that was behind me now was a row of chairs. The room had become a theater and my boy was at the center of the stage.

He looked at me shyly and said, "Hi, Dad. I learned some new things I'd like to show you."

All the lights except for the one on my son were dimmed, and I heard music play. I sat down and watched the show.

He was magnificent. He jumped and twirled in ways that shouldn't have been possible for a boy his age, but he managed it effortlessly. There were times where I was at the edge of my seat thinking he would fall off the stage and hurt himself. I almost cried out at certain parts, worried for him, but he did everything perfectly.

The final parts of his dance were the most intense. He glided across the stage, and I could've sworn he was floating on thin air sometimes. After the music stopped, it took me a full minute to realize that he had finished his performance.

My son bowed and then smiled at me. Wordlessly, he left the stage, and I was brought back into the magician's house.

The magician looked at me, obviously expecting some response, but all he saw was my dumbstruck face. I checked my surroundings just to make sure I was really here and not still in the phantom theater.

"I know the experience must have been overwhelming for you," the magician said. "Many find themselves in a daze-"

"That wasn't my son," I said bluntly.

The magician remained stoic. "I know it's hard to believe, but that really was your son's soul. I'm sorry if you don't feel it was enough, but it's a very powerful piece of magic that I can't just-"

"Drop the act. I know it wasn't my son because the boy in the video I showed you wasn't Jimmy. It's my son from my second marriage."

The magician looked like he wanted to refute my claims, but his mouth was clamped shut. He didn't meet my eyes, either too ashamed or too nervous to do so. "Are you going to tell anyone?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No, I won't do that. I won't be the one who breaks the hearts of everyone you fooled into believing your lies."

He winced at my harsh words but didn't argue.

"I have to admit that your magic's impressive. Illusions are difficult enough, but all of that? You could be famous if you showed the world what you could do."

"Fame or money doesn't interest me. The reason I do what I do is to bring peace into the lives of those who lost people."

"Even if you have to lie to them?"

He sighed. "Even then."

We sat there in silence, neither of us quite sure what to say to the other. The magician stood up, and was ready to escort me out. "I have a request," I said, which made him sit back down.

"A request?"

"Can you create another illusion, but this time with Jimmy?"

The magician clearly wasn't expecting that, but said it would be a pleasure for him to do so. I showed him a video- a real video- of Jimmy. Whispering his incantations once again, the magician sent me back to the theater where this time Jimmy was the one on stage. The lights dimmed and the music played, and for a while, I pretended that he really was still here with me, dancing on stage like he was having the time of his life. After all, it was his very own performance, and what can be more exciting as a kid?