Magic in the Air

“May I sit here?” 

The burble of voices and the clatter of cutlery made the words difficult to hear the first time. “Do you mind if I sit here?” the woman asked again.

Beth looked around, noting that the café was full. People were chattering, enjoying the first refreshing day after a brutal summer. Beth inhaled the steam from her coffee cup, the warm scent reaching into her brain, sending soothing endorphins through her body. 

Beth nodded reluctantly. She had been enjoying this quiet time. She watched as the stranger sat opposite her.

“Hi, I’m Charisse. You’re Beth! I’ve seen you before.” Charisse set her coffee and plated croissant on the table. Charisse picked up a knife and fork and proceeded to cut the unoffending pastry.

Disgusting.

Charisse had perfect hair and gentle curls that framed her face like Shirley Temple. Blonde – it had to come from a bottle. Impeccable! Her too-perfect lips were lush and full and shone like the sun. Even her mascara was flawless. No clumps! She was like a fish lure, dangling from a nylon line, waiting for a rainbow trout to swim past. 

See that? Her eyes flitted to the side when Jon served the next table. Yes, she’s hunting.

Beth took another long meditating whiff of her coffee. Kona. Perfect for an afternoon like this. She stared into her coffee cup and tried to channel her thoughts back to her quiet space. Charisse chattered away as Beth’s thoughts grew as dark as the brew.

“What a lovely day today. All these people! Don’t you just love it when everyone comes out into the world, looking at it with fresh eyes? It’s like they haven’t seen the sun in three months! The weather is so delightful. I couldn’t believe that I wanted a sweater for a simple walk to the coffee shop.”

Beth wanted to growl, but closed her eyes instead.

Charisse looked right, then left, then stage whispered across the table. “I’m so glad I’ve finally been able to meet you! Your talent is just out of this world!”

Beth was startled. What was she talking about? What did she know? Was this woman a stalker?

“You are a real head-liner, Beth. I love your act's name: Beth’s Bemusements! You are a first-rate Magician! I've been to your performances over the past 5 years, but this year, I outdid myself: I’ve come to all 15 of your performances, and … and you astonish me every time!”

Beth took a long drink from her cup, stilling the turmoil inside her head. She fluttered her hand when Jon came to refill her cup, chasing him away. Beth wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but this nattering gadfly across the table kept tinging against the glass, demanding her attention.

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know me?”

“Oh, I’ve been following you for ages. There was the Griffin wedding last year. And the Weston 90th birthday celebration. That was fun. I have pictures on my phone! But the Newell wedding, now that was spectacular. How did you make a full campaign glass disappear? I was totally bowled over when it returned as a beer stein. And then you drank the entire thing! I was, like, wowza!”

“Yes, I should have made it come back as something smaller. I was too drunk to drive home.” Beth realized she was feeding Charisse’s enthusiasm. She clenched her teeth in irritation and went silent again.

“I loved your performance in June, at the Palladium. What a trek that was, all the way to Massachusetts! I loved the bit where you sneezed and a dove appeared. Where did it come from? Can you teach me to do magic like that?”

Beth looked incredulous. “You. Want me. To teach you my magic?”

“Oh yes, please! It would be most incredible. I’ve always been fascinated by it. Siegfried & Roy, David Copperfield, Lance Burton, David Blaine. Oh, and Dynamo. He’s amazing. But you … you live right here! Twenty minutes from my house, and you live just down the block from this coffee shop. I knew you’d show up here eventually. You love your coffee.”

Beth started getting worried. She looked furtively for Jon, but his back was to her as he took another order. This woman knew too much about her. Attending all those shows. Traveling to Worcester. Crashing a wedding. Several weddings! The coffee. Her address. Beth was not at all comfortable anymore.

“You are quite a sleuth, um … Clarisse? Charisse?” Beth stumbled on the name, then caught her rhythm. “Magic isn’t just something one learns in a day, a week, even a year. You need to have the innate esprit. The essence. You need to be of the Earth and part of the Earth. To make things appear and disappear, you need to be able to speak the words of the air and the seas and the sun. To bring a living creature to the stage, you need to have a rapport with all living creatures.” Beth scowled again. She had gotten caught up in her own enthusiasm.

“But I am, I do! When I was little, I used to sit in the garden inside a flowering bush. The bees loved the tiny flowers and they would flit all around, drinking the nectar, resting on my arm or in my hair. They never stung me. It was heavenly, I could FEEL their joy! I have a bird feeder on my balcony, but all I get is big, fat robins.” Charisse shook her head as if this was the greatest tragedy in the world. Her Shirley Temple curls fluttered in response. “Please, will you teach me? Will you be my mentor?”

Beth took another long drink of her coffee. She set the cup down and proceeded to fold her napkin in half, quarters, folded back and bent … until she had a perfect origami swan. She spread her hands, showing off her handiwork. Charisse ahh’ed as she marveled at the art. Beth closed her hands, crushing it and Charisse ohh’ed in disappointment. Opening her hands once more, Beth revealed a sparrow. Charisse was too astonished to even squeak.

The tiny bird looked around the table. It hopped toward Charisse and pecked at the croissant bits that had fallen off the plate. Charisse’s look of delight spoke far more eloquently than any of her other noises.

Beth shook her head in disappointment. This woman was all fluff. All form and no substance. There was nothing that spoke of presence or magic, humility or self-awareness. She floated above the Earth in a cocoon of her own making.

Beth spoke gently, as if speaking to the bird. “You must need the audience as much as the audience needs you. You must understand and respect the creatures of this world. And you must have the essence of magic within you. That is innate and cannot be taught.”

Charisse watched, fascinated, as the tiny bird ate its fill. She turned to watch it fly out through an open window. “I’m sure I do, Beth. Please reconsider …”

But as Charisse turned back to Beth, a shimmer of glitter flittered through the air where she had been sitting. Beth was gone, yet a faint scent of brimstone lingered.