Pirouette on Spades
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Upon opening the door, I walked into a line that seems to divide my absurd reality from a dream that is as yet to become more unreal. A dark corridor began from the point at which I stood and expanded into a blanket of blackness. I can feel myself walking yet every stride seems weightless, as if I was suspended in mid-air. Every step that I take draws me further away from all things familiar into an unknown that is as dangerous as it is exciting. It beckons to me as if it is calling my very name. I cannot find it in myself to turn back for I was only captivated by the desire to know what awaits me in the darkness.
I stopped. I felt something soft underneath my feet. A carpet?
“Hello?” I called out, but I was only answered by my own echoes and then after that, absolute silence. I found myself in a state of heightened suspense, not knowing what next to expect. Suddenly, what I came to know only now as a door closed behind me with a soft thud. I froze, unease permeating through my bones. I tried to absorb as much as I can of my surroundings, yet they revealed nothing. Then, a voice spoke from the depths of the shadows.
“Why is the darkness such a welcoming gloom…” the voice began, emanating from every corner of the room.
“…That in the shadows is where certain creatures delight…” the voice now whispered to my ear as if it was right behind me.
At that instant, I was overcome with dread. I could not explain my fear; I was only aware that it held me paralyzed, gripping at my every nerve. I stood still, waiting. Then I felt something brush my arm. I spun around and grasped at the air, but found nothing there. I waited and the silence stretched into an abyss. Then, the eerie sensation subsided and the voice spoke again.
“…But then dawns breaks and they hide in their loom…” the voice lamented, trailing off into the distance such that it is almost out of reach.
“…For they are only as beautiful as the night,” the voice said at last, appearing to speak from in front of me.
As if on the snap of the fingers the lights turned on. My eyes took a while to adjust, taking in a room with a variety of costumes and props. Then, sitting in front of me as if he had just been there all along was the magician.
So they were right. He did know how to make an entrance.
He stood up from his sitting position with one leg propped against his knee, and stepped aside. There had been no chair he was sitting on all along! If I wasn’t so disoriented I could have applauded him. I wonder what other tricks this magician has up his sleeve.
With deliberate slowness, he took off his top hat and bowed before me. When he straightened up so that I can finally see his face, I gasped.
It was the jerk!!!
“You?!?” I exclaimed, my index finger pointed at him accusatorily. All the previous trepidation and awe rushed right out of me to be replaced by something else. He stifled a laugh but his eyes were glinting, mocking and provoking me.
“Now let’s be civilized with each other shall we? After all, we are going to work together from now on.” Although he said his proposal pleasantly enough, the mockery was still in his eyes. I refuse to be coaxed. So what else do I do but to fire away at him?
“I bumped into you back there and you didn’t even bother telling me, ‘Hey, I’m the greatest magician in the world!’”
“It is just amusing to watch people’s reactions all the time,” he chuckled.
Oh, was I wrong. He was no jerk. He was a wicked, insufferable, self-absorbed, consummate jerk!
“Well, how did you do that then?” I demanded. “Ramming into me back there and then suddenly turning up here with all your greetings as if you were the very ghost summoned from my personal hell?”; …and almost scaring me to death, I neglected to add.
“Like you said, ‘I am the greatest magician in the world,” he smiled, enjoying himself immensely. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is a house full of magic. Naturally, there are trap doors, escape shafts and all sorts of contraptions.”
Of course. This guy and his strange antics, his contraptions, and that freaky corridor from a while back that seems to have taken all sense of reality from me; couple that with the trauma I should be having right now with the last seventy-two hours I had just gone through, and I should be having a psychological breakdown right now. Nonetheless, I was calming myself down. I wasn’t about to let this guy slither away into cordialities with me.
“What of the voices?”
“Have you ever heard of a ventriloquist before? Apart from being a magician, illusionist, and prestidigitator among others…” he seems to chuckle at this, as if he found something highly amusing. He then proceeded to throw his voice in different parts of the room in varying quality and notes spanning the whole eight octaves “…I can also project my voice towards any corner of the room in any tone I like without actually being there. I was nowhere near wherever you thought I was the whole time.”
Hah, caught him. “Then how come I felt you brush my arm back there?” I inquired, with a smug smile on my face.
“Whatever it is you think, I never commit a mistake,” he said as he was playing with a coin in his hand, making it do all sorts of tricks as if on its own volition. Then he said, “Distraction, one of the basic elements of magic. It is making one person think you are doing a certain trick when you have in fact been performing another.” Then out of the blue, a knotted ribbon materialized in his other hand. “Look at what’s on your left shoulder, Violet.”
I turned towards my left and I was baffled. Only then did I notice a butterfly perched on my shoulder. I took it with my right hand and gazed at the creature wonderingly. I am not familiar with the butterfly species but I can tell that this one was of an exceptional kind.”
“It is a nocturnal butterfly,” he answered without my asking. “You can keep it.” And in an instant, he produced a tiny black box with a sheer movement of his hand.
I took the box from him without a word and gently placed the butterfly inside it. How he managed to procure one of this rare creatures I could only imagine. And though I may be hesitant to admit it, I knew that this man will always find ways of surprising me…sometimes in a disconcertingly endearing way, just like now. I found that all my annoyance and chagrin at him has gone out the window. I then took a moment to look at him – really look at him – uninfluenced by how we ungracefully first met.
Now that I looked at him once more, I must admit that he was extremely good-looking, like a god. He was younger than I would assume him to be, especially for a magician of his caliber, yet he had a quality that was timeless. His face was very pale, in a tone that was almost unearthly, yet this only adds to his mystery and allure. His brushed up hair, eyebrows, and eye lashes were all in a very dark brown that was almost black. His nose was prominent and well-defined. His lips were thin and very inviting. There was something so dark about him, even in the shadows enveloping his eyes, and yet it was also something eloquently beautiful. And his eyes…his eyes were in an unusual shade of reddish brown, fierce, passionate, and seeming to grow warmer by the second. In there I saw an expression - a mix of confusion, annoyance, fury and…desire?
I blinked and abruptly broke out of my reverie. I realized I had been staring at him…for decency knows how long! He seems to have snapped out of his own thoughts too and then turned away.
Oh, this is so embarrassing! What could he be thinking? Did I only imagine what I saw in his eyes? What if I was the only one who was affected like this? One moment I thought I detested him, and then the next moment I am…No, it can’t be true.
I turned away from his back and cringed in benevolent silence. Any kind of feelings would be detrimental if I am to succeed in my job. I seem to be forgetting that it was my body drawn on a hangman and I have to remind myself that the people running this game have little patience. The longer it takes for me to gain the answer, the closer I have to an untimely bungee jump - with my head on the noose. I have to create distraction from this unwelcome raging of hormones. I have to regain control. I thought about my brother and my impeding demise and my mind was set. I’m going to raise the devil’s worst nightmare from hell.
I walked towards Sebastian purposefully, my gait slow and measured. I continued until I was right in front of him, and spun.
“So my dear sir Sebastian, are we going to have to wait until hell freezes over, or shall we resume so I may soon get to learn all your tricks?”
He merely stood still, aloof and yet slightly off the edge. But he smirked and answered with his sardonic tone, “Is that so? I’m betting hell would as soon freeze over and give a lurch before you or anyone can even get any close to learning all my tricks.”
His voice was smooth and his tone was bantering, yet there was without doubt a challenge in his eyes. I returned his gaze, careful this time, and leveled my eyes with his.
“Try me.”
“I would most definitely like to,” he said with a crooked smile that might as well have had me smitten if I wasn’t thinking about my hangman so much. “Let’s start then. Since we would be working together, wouldn’t it be appropriate for me to know more about you?”
“Not at all Sebastian.”
He raised an eyebrow. I brought my face up to him such that my nose was almost touching his. I murmured, “You know my name is Violet, and that would be enough.”
I pulled back and was perplexed to see his face all contorted. His body was rigid and he almost seems as if he was…endangered by me. Bizarre. Did do something so unforgivable? I could only make sense of one thing - contact was certainly off limits to this guy. Perhaps it’s something that might push the button and get all the aces shooting up from underneath his sleeves or something. I hope I haven’t pushed him too far though. The last blessing I need from providence right now would be to get thrown out of his door.
But just like that skill he has for illusions, the unexplainable moment passed as soon as it came. He appeared uncaring again.
“As you wish. But we do have a show coming on Saturday so I expect you to be here by 2:00 pm.” Then his tone changed again. “I’m going to have to break my one-hour practice rule. It looks like things would take longer this time, what with you having the faintest idea of trapdoors and all.”
So, he is his cocky self again. We’re back in the game, baby! Just the way I like it. I can get back to conveniently hating him, and he…well, can go back to being hateful.
“Oh dear, didn’t they tell you that my classes don’t end until 2:00 pm? Why not make it 2:45?” I smiled at him innocently.
He just gave me a wry smile. He wasn’t letting me go this time.
“2:30”
Alas, the battle begins…to biddings, barters and the ends of the world…
“2:40”, I said taking up his challenge.
“2:35”, he countered.
“2:39”
“2:35 and 30 seconds”
“2:38 and 30 seconds”
“2:36 and 15 seconds”
“2:38 and 25 seconds”
“2:36 and 11 seconds”
“I’ll see you at 2:38:01,” I declared and settled to go before he can say anything else.
“Fine, you named your terms” he said, a look in his eyes telling me he was going to get back at me one of these days. “Be sure to be here then at exactly 2:38:01…”
“…and be sure to catch up,” he said as he suddenly threw a silver coin towards me. I caught it just in time.
“Be sure that I will,” I said, throwing the coin back to him which he caught easily.
I walked towards the door and paused just as I was about to get out.
“It was a pleasure meeting you Sebastian,” and I gave him a show of exaggerated curtsy.
“Be assured mi’ lady, the pleasure is mine” he said as he conjured his black top hat from thin air and took a bow, his eyes never leaving mine, until I finally walked away.
I may not know much about magic. I may not even be a born seductress. But if there’s one thing centuries of snubbed male ego is telling me, it is that one of the most effective ways to snag a man is to refuse him. And I’m going to have to learn much and learn fast, about magic and seduction both, if I am to beat a top magician at his own game. Trickery.
* * *
Night has fallen, a deep shadow overhead; night has fallen, a cavernous cloud on the mind.
* * *
Penn groped about all over the house trying to find what he had been looking for. He searched clean every suspicious cranny, loosened floorboard, unsuspecting flowerpot, burgeoning wall hole and even his own disaster of a room, yet he still hasn’t found that elusive thing. Just as he was about to sigh this one off as another thing lost to the scheming cosmos, he halted. There where he had least expected it to be, at the latch of the living room window, was the missing piece left to complete his yellow submarine diorama. But of course, how could he forget? He placed it there three days ago when the window refused to lock.
He mused, as he took the little piece into his hand, and paused. What was this other thing he found? An agitated Sebastian?
Penn was intrigued. A brooding Sebastian was commonplace but a perturbed Sebastian was indeed a rare sight. He has known his friend far too long and too well to know that whatever is bothering him now is something very serious. Besides, he has never been this indecisive before.
Sebastian had been flicking a coin with his right thumb which he caught at the back of his other hand, and covered with his right. In a manner worthy of suspense, he slowly removed his right hand to unveil the face.
Heads, the coin revealed.
Unsatisfied, he did the same sequence, starting with his left thumb this time.
Heads again.
He flung the coin and let it linger longer on his hand this time.
It was…Heads.
Annoyed, he tossed the coin high up in the air and caught it with the end of his shoe.
Heads.
Markedly irritated now, he threw the coin into the ground where in bounded, rolled, tittered, and finally settled into a decided stillness.
Tails.
Sebastian took one look and smiled. He was satisfied.
* * *
Walking through the streets embedded by snow, I let a million disturbing thoughts come to me. Somehow I am able to think most clearly on long walks alone, if not on the roof, my favorite part of the house.
I had just walked around aimlessly through the tangled streets of the city, not knowing what I would find, not knowing what would find me. I missed going through everyday embracing all things like an open book with that feeling that anything can happen and everything will just fall into place. I can’t say as much about my situation now. Anything can really happen. I can still go about writing through the pages but not as how I would want to all the time. My story now has a more decided and irrevocable ring to it, with limited options for an ending, one only as pretty as the next – death or something like it.
Even now, I am almost quite certain I was being followed. All the time I was walking I was never given a cause to believe anyone was on my trail. I haven’t even seen or gotten a whiff of this person for that matter. Yet I had this distinct feeling in my gut that someone has been watching and is still watching me up to this very moment. But never mind, what did I expect? My remaining days will be lived on a dangerous game.
I stopped by a concrete bridge made of stone near my home, another one of my favorite places. I stood at the middle of the bridge, rested my arms at the banister, and gazed at the waters underneath. My brother, my life or what is left of it, my deception, and my possible failure…I wonder what all this is going to come to in the end. After I get my brother back – if I get him back – and accomplished my task, what next? I should be sensible enough to know that it’s not going to stop there. I could be abducted from the streets any day and there would be more of these ‘little favors’ and ‘offers-I-can’t refuse’. And I would be forever trying to regain what I would just lose again and again…my freedom.
I brought out from my pocket the little black box. A smile involuntarily spread across my face. And yes, there was that other matter.
I’m still deciding on whether I should continue hating Sebastian or maybe I could like him just a little. On one side there was that smug smile of his; on the other was the warmth I thought I saw in his eyes. At one end he can be unbelievably rude; on the other he can be so thoughtful – like this butterfly that had me briefly won over…but then again, this may just be one of those things he does without giving much thought to, like all those tricks. I could go on bickering with him, even enjoying it, and my conscience can rest easy; or we could just be nice to each other, perhaps enjoying it even more, and something good can come out of it.
…Nice? A picture of him suddenly popped into my mind. “Did you honestly believe that I like you?” His face was incredulous, and again he had that mocking tone, “Come on now, you don’t think you’re that hot…”
Despite myself, I blushed. That does it, I thought gritting my teeth. Hate wins over.
So much for my ridiculous fantasies. But I have to admit, things are better this way. It’s no good getting involved; it’s even worse that I’m persuading myself that there’s a chance of getting involved. Not getting too friendly with him would only spare us both the aches and regrets when all of this finally blows over.
I sighed. My choices really are limited, aren’t they? I gazed at the black box again. Whatever his intention was, no one has given me a kind gesture in years, aside from my brother who offers me tributes made out of popsicle sticks which I still kept displayed in my room. I was overcome with sentimentality.
I removed the lid of the box and stared at the unmoving butterfly. Then, as I reached in and scooped it out of its container, the butterfly allowed itself to be taken and stayed perched on my finger. Odd. Either butterflies can be trained nowadays or this one just took an invariable liking to me. I would have liked to keep this butterfly, store it somewhere special or have it on my shoulder all the time. But I knew that butterflies, especially one as beautiful and uncommon as this, ought to be free.
Inspired by the moment, I took the butterfly near my chest and told it what was deepest in my heart. I wish that my brother will always be safe. I wish everything would be alright. I wish that one day I, too, would be free like you. I kissed the tip of the wing of the butterfly. And as if it knew what it was that I desired, it flew away as I spread out my arms.
I gazed at the butterfly flitting in and out of perspective, its movements gay and carefree, until I cannot see it anymore.
I wish one day to be free.
* * *
The walk around Chicago invigorated Sebastian’s senses. It drove his nostalgia to run amok, playing at his memories as it flashes random images into his mind. Why have I come back? He thought. This city holds nothing for me but pain, despair and broken dreams.
But back then during the beginning it hadn’t been so, contradicted a voice at the back of his mind. The memories pulled him deeper, grasping at him, until he was completely submerged in the gallows of his past. The memories took him back to where he had first begun.
Sebastian saw himself then when he had been an eighteen year old boy living in an affluent white house in Little Dixie, Missouri…and his name had been Laurent Xavier Bertrand.
* * *
“Laurent dear, do get ready now. The guests will be arriving within an hour. Your brother Alphonse is already downstairs waiting,” Marguerite Bertrand prompted her idle son.
“In a while mother.”
“Mrs. Bouvier’s daughter, Angelie, will be coming as well. Didn’t you like the girl last summer?”
“Last summer,” Laurent replied.
“Well, the girl is a bit too tiresome anyway…can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t even play the piano. But I’m quite sure Lily Mason and Vivianne Brun will delight you,” his mother said, as she was rearranging again and again the geraniums on the vase atop a side table. Unbeknownst to her, the flowers seem to have fallen into more disarray with her scrupulous attention.
She sighed with exasperation, “These flowers won’t be helped at all. We shall have Marie arrange these then.’
She paused, looking for more things to scrutinize. Alas, her eyes fell on her son once again.
“You my boy shall behave tonight. I have important guests. Very important guests,” his mother emphasized. “No toads, lizards, jack-in-the boxes or any of those despicable things. No tricks tonight.”
Laurent sat still, expressionless.
“Good God, I wish your cousins have never taken you to see that magic show,” she continued. “It’s been an unreasonable fancy on yours ever since. I wish you would just do away with the wand flipping and all. It may be entertaining for a while but honestly magic is only for gypsies, heathens and the like. That lifestyle is far above us don’t you think?”
Her eyes roamed the well-appointed room, taking in every detail.
“You already have a good life here, Laurent. A wonderful house, acres of properties, an enterprise waiting to be taken over by you, a respectable family, reputable friends, the best of belles fawning all over you, and good wine even with the prohibition! Why would you throw all these away, hmm?”
His mother approached him and her expression smoothened. Then, she fixed his hair this way and that, achieving the same effect as the geraniums’.
“You’re going to have fun, dear.”
Laurent simply nodded. When his mother had gone, he muttered under his breath, How appetizing, another round of unendurable saccharine fun.
* * *
Glasses clinked like the high tinkling of women’s laughter and the smart click of men’s quality watches. Here at the Grand Maison Blanc the Messieurs, Mademoiselles and Mesdames of Little Dixie’s elite came to gather for the revelries, gossip and drama that is the epitome of high society.
Laurent stood against the palings of the verandah, taking another swig of wine, then joined in the activity inside. He nodded to acquaintances here and there and was obliged the kiss the hands of Annes, Suzies and Carolines, a lot of whom he had been in more than familiar social contact with at one time or another. He allowed himself to be meandered and engaged and even took on the trivialities himself until he could take no more of it.
Now that he has made his presence known and not disappointed anyone, he might as well disappear. No tricks tonight, he promised his mother.
He went to his room and outside the window to his favorite part of the house - the roof.
Laurent gazed at the stars and imagined himself floating, far above the festivities below him. He envisioned himself making other things levitate as well – his mother’s china collection, Mr. Engel’s hair patch, Mrs. Murphy’s humongous skirt, and even his pet Truffles; he always had a vague sense that cat wanted to fly with her strange obsession of jumping off the second floor all the time. He also wanted to make some things disappear – his father’s daunting shotgun, the entire women’s club’s sewing kits, that old grandfather clock in the living room – pretty much everything. Mrs. Bouvier he shall turn into a toad to run rampage on any given party. He snickered at the memory of her shrill cries at the sight of a toad. ‘Somebody get out that -’
“Laurent, your father wants to speak to you,” a voice broke in through his reverie. He sat up, shook his head and went inside the room. It was Charlie, their black servant. Somehow, the guy always knew where to find him.
“Tell him I will be there shortly.”
The servant bowed and went outside the room.
What punishment for something he did or didn’t do would it be this time? Laurent straightened up and fixed himself knowing everything will be under inspection by the Colonel.
He then proceeded outside his room to walk towards the end of the hallway to his father’s study. He knocked three times and, when he heard his father’s permission, opened the door and stepped inside.
“Laurent,” he greeted unceremoniously. “I have heard from your mother how you have been on the wild side lately. Ruining her parties and driveling about…magic, is it?”
Colonel Bertrand’s voice was calm and yet held a lot of authority in it. Laurent could already see where this conversion was going. It has barely even started and yet he knew that he was going to have to brave a lost battle once again.
“However, I commend you for behaving well tonight. You have taken the first steps of a worthy man,” his father paused, now getting to the point he wanted to talk about.
“As you know, I have signed a deal with the Hamiltons. We are taking over their hemp business and I want you to run that outlet and eventually all our businesses one day.” He paused to study his son’s face and Laurent gave what he could of an enthusiastic response. He appeared satisfied, and continued. “But, I will have you first be responsible and committed before I can entrust any of our assets to you. Which is why…your mother and I talked it over and we decided that it would be best for you to join the military. You will spend a few years there and then, after you come out of it a man, take over the business and have an option to continue to serve the military like I did. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any questions?”
“Sir, I have already expressed my intentions before of wishing to become an inventor,” Laurent began. He knew his father would never agree to him being a magician anyway so this was the next best thing he can get.
“You can do that in the military or even in the business,” his father concluded.
“I was thinking of something more akin to an independent practice, sir.”
“Tell me Laurent, have you ever invented something…useful?” His father pointed out.
“Not that they aren’t, sir. But if I work on them a little more, I’m sure I’ll come up with something worthy one of these days.”
“You are a brilliant boy, Laurent. That is why we would want to put that into good use. There are many men across America clamoring that they have come up with the greatest gift to mankind. However, only a few of them become successful. Many fail to get patents and eventually sink into obscurity. The military and family business are matters you can always be sure about. And as the eldest son, let me remind you that you do have duties to your family.”
“Sir, I’m sure Alphonse would be as eager-”
“I’m sure Alphonse would be as eager to find out what plans we have for him,” his father cut him off, signaling the end of discussion. “Are there any other concerns, Laurent?”
“None, sir.” And thus, the battle was lost.
“Very well, you will start training next week so I suggest you start preparing, Laurent. And, you may return to the party now. Tell Alphonse I called for him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Laurent nodded to his father and went out of the room. His mind was racing but he suppressed his thoughts just yet. He was looking for his brother and found him surrounded by a couple of aunts. Alphonse has always been very willing to please. He called his brother over.
“Father sent for you,” he said as Alphonse approached. He saw how a look of apprehension tainted with frustration crossed over his brother’s face, the way it twists every time their father was about to bestow them favors. He couldn’t really blame Alphonse; it was all a matter of who came first. Unfortunately for both of them, they were each in a position they did not pine for. But they were born that way, and so they must live through the rest of their existence that way, never mind what each of them thought.
Not quite certain what to do, Laurent went back up to his room. He paced, rumpled his hair, sat, and paced again. His thoughts were running riot. The worst of his fears has just come true. He always knew it would end up like this; he just didn’t think the day would come so soon.
Everything was planned. He wouldn’t have to lift a finger – nor would he be allowed to so much as veto anyway. He would just need to stay within the lines, plain and simple. Then he would marry Lily Mason, Vivianne Brun, or some faultless girl his mother had picked out for him. Next, he would become the dictator upon his own children, sympathizing perhaps but never really being able to break free from the vicious cycle as he and his family would always have to live up to other people’s standards and expectations. Soon enough his life would become a redundant routine, predictable from end to end. And it starts next week.
Laurent knew that if he didn’t break free now, he may never will. For even if he would have wanted to it could no longer be possible. For by that time, he would have already made everything impossible for himself. He would have settled his roots in too deep and his discernment would have been far too influenced. He would have killed all his dreams such that they would cease to become anything more than childish fantasies.
Rising amidst the chaos in his mind, Laurent instantly knew what he had to do. He stuffed a travel bag with clothes and a box of his prized possessions – his first invention as a child which is some sort of miniature bicycle, a ball he used to play with his friends as a boy, a pack of playing cards given to him by a magician in the show, an unusual old coin that he found amidst his ancestors’ old things to which he attached various conjectures, and a daguerreotype of his family. He took the money he saved, a few handy stuff and also some things he can sell should worst comes to worst. He dressed in his most ordinary clothes and finally sat down to write a letter to his family.
He knew his father would be furious but he tried to explain his reasons in terms he would understand. His mother would be distressed but he promised he would write from time to time. His brother would probably be relieved that he’s gone; Laurent gave him his regards nonetheless. He told them he was sorry and that he would miss them. He told them not to look for him, which after all this they mostly likely would not. Yet he told them that maybe one day he would come to stop by, when he would already have become someone who has proven something to himself…if he would still be welcome. He sealed the letter and left it at his dressing table. He took one last look at his room, and everything of himself he left with it, and then went outside the window.
Laurent hurried in silence. He had little time to spare before the guests started to depart. He walked across the roof and reached for the branch protruding from a nearby tree, an escape route he has so often used in the past. He slid off the trunk and landed neatly on the ground. But just as he was about to take another step, he noticed someone standing nearby. It was Charlie.
“You will not tell anyone,” Laurent stated. The black servant merely stared at him and beckoned. Charlie led him to the stable where a russet-colored horse stood waiting. Without words, he pointed out the best way to get around the house without being seen.
“Thank you,” Laurent said in appreciation. He didn’t know why this servant went through all the trouble to help him, but he was very grateful. He fumbled about for some money to give Charlie but he refused. Laurent then gave out the first thing he saw in his bag – a pair of socks; Charlie seemed to like this very much.
Laurent bade his helper farewell and saddled the horse. He had it first on a trot and only let it break on a gallop when they were too far to be heard. He paused and looked at the great white house for the last time, alight with pleasures and romance. Little Dixie wasn’t bad at all, he thought. In truth, he did have some fun; it just wasn’t the life for him. He took in the scenery, committing to mind every detail, then turned and sauntered forth towards his awaiting odyssey not once looking back at what he had left again.
His journey went by smooth and easy. He didn’t even get robbed even as he was sleeping on trains. He arrived at Chicago in a matter of days.
The cold wind immediately greeted him as he disembarked from the train, his first taste of his newfound freedom. All around him, he knew no one and no one knew him. He was a nobody with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He was a free and sovereign man.
With high spirits, he explored his undiscovered city. There were restaurants, bakeries, flower stalls, tailoring shops, specialty stores, and something of everything to suit all tastes. There were men lying on the street without a care in the world and all sorts of unconventional people strutting unashamed. Laurent was pleased to observe that a lot of the people walking with him on the streets were just like him, each with their own world and not minding anybody else. He also noted that shops are openly selling alcohol even with the prohibition. He smiled to him to himself; this is going to be good.
Finally, he chanced into a corner and found what he had been looking for. With bold and bright letterings from the colorful posters at both sides of the entrance, a rundown theater declared, “Live Tonight: Marvolo the Magician.”
Laurent knew he had come home at last.
Upon opening the door, I walked into a line that seems to divide my absurd reality from a dream that is as yet to become more unreal. A dark corridor began from the point at which I stood and expanded into a blanket of blackness. I can feel myself walking yet every stride seems weightless, as if I was suspended in mid-air. Every step that I take draws me further away from all things familiar into an unknown that is as dangerous as it is exciting. It beckons to me as if it is calling my very name. I cannot find it in myself to turn back for I was only captivated by the desire to know what awaits me in the darkness.
I stopped. I felt something soft underneath my feet. A carpet?
“Hello?” I called out, but I was only answered by my own echoes and then after that, absolute silence. I found myself in a state of heightened suspense, not knowing what next to expect. Suddenly, what I came to know only now as a door closed behind me with a soft thud. I froze, unease permeating through my bones. I tried to absorb as much as I can of my surroundings, yet they revealed nothing. Then, a voice spoke from the depths of the shadows.
“Why is the darkness such a welcoming gloom…” the voice began, emanating from every corner of the room.
“…That in the shadows is where certain creatures delight…” the voice now whispered to my ear as if it was right behind me.
At that instant, I was overcome with dread. I could not explain my fear; I was only aware that it held me paralyzed, gripping at my every nerve. I stood still, waiting. Then I felt something brush my arm. I spun around and grasped at the air, but found nothing there. I waited and the silence stretched into an abyss. Then, the eerie sensation subsided and the voice spoke again.
“…But then dawns breaks and they hide in their loom…” the voice lamented, trailing off into the distance such that it is almost out of reach.
“…For they are only as beautiful as the night,” the voice said at last, appearing to speak from in front of me.
As if on the snap of the fingers the lights turned on. My eyes took a while to adjust, taking in a room with a variety of costumes and props. Then, sitting in front of me as if he had just been there all along was the magician.
So they were right. He did know how to make an entrance.
He stood up from his sitting position with one leg propped against his knee, and stepped aside. There had been no chair he was sitting on all along! If I wasn’t so disoriented I could have applauded him. I wonder what other tricks this magician has up his sleeve.
With deliberate slowness, he took off his top hat and bowed before me. When he straightened up so that I can finally see his face, I gasped.
It was the jerk!!!
“You?!?” I exclaimed, my index finger pointed at him accusatorily. All the previous trepidation and awe rushed right out of me to be replaced by something else. He stifled a laugh but his eyes were glinting, mocking and provoking me.
“Now let’s be civilized with each other shall we? After all, we are going to work together from now on.” Although he said his proposal pleasantly enough, the mockery was still in his eyes. I refuse to be coaxed. So what else do I do but to fire away at him?
“I bumped into you back there and you didn’t even bother telling me, ‘Hey, I’m the greatest magician in the world!’”
“It is just amusing to watch people’s reactions all the time,” he chuckled.
Oh, was I wrong. He was no jerk. He was a wicked, insufferable, self-absorbed, consummate jerk!
“Well, how did you do that then?” I demanded. “Ramming into me back there and then suddenly turning up here with all your greetings as if you were the very ghost summoned from my personal hell?”; …and almost scaring me to death, I neglected to add.
“Like you said, ‘I am the greatest magician in the world,” he smiled, enjoying himself immensely. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is a house full of magic. Naturally, there are trap doors, escape shafts and all sorts of contraptions.”
Of course. This guy and his strange antics, his contraptions, and that freaky corridor from a while back that seems to have taken all sense of reality from me; couple that with the trauma I should be having right now with the last seventy-two hours I had just gone through, and I should be having a psychological breakdown right now. Nonetheless, I was calming myself down. I wasn’t about to let this guy slither away into cordialities with me.
“What of the voices?”
“Have you ever heard of a ventriloquist before? Apart from being a magician, illusionist, and prestidigitator among others…” he seems to chuckle at this, as if he found something highly amusing. He then proceeded to throw his voice in different parts of the room in varying quality and notes spanning the whole eight octaves “…I can also project my voice towards any corner of the room in any tone I like without actually being there. I was nowhere near wherever you thought I was the whole time.”
Hah, caught him. “Then how come I felt you brush my arm back there?” I inquired, with a smug smile on my face.
“Whatever it is you think, I never commit a mistake,” he said as he was playing with a coin in his hand, making it do all sorts of tricks as if on its own volition. Then he said, “Distraction, one of the basic elements of magic. It is making one person think you are doing a certain trick when you have in fact been performing another.” Then out of the blue, a knotted ribbon materialized in his other hand. “Look at what’s on your left shoulder, Violet.”
I turned towards my left and I was baffled. Only then did I notice a butterfly perched on my shoulder. I took it with my right hand and gazed at the creature wonderingly. I am not familiar with the butterfly species but I can tell that this one was of an exceptional kind.”
“It is a nocturnal butterfly,” he answered without my asking. “You can keep it.” And in an instant, he produced a tiny black box with a sheer movement of his hand.
I took the box from him without a word and gently placed the butterfly inside it. How he managed to procure one of this rare creatures I could only imagine. And though I may be hesitant to admit it, I knew that this man will always find ways of surprising me…sometimes in a disconcertingly endearing way, just like now. I found that all my annoyance and chagrin at him has gone out the window. I then took a moment to look at him – really look at him – uninfluenced by how we ungracefully first met.
Now that I looked at him once more, I must admit that he was extremely good-looking, like a god. He was younger than I would assume him to be, especially for a magician of his caliber, yet he had a quality that was timeless. His face was very pale, in a tone that was almost unearthly, yet this only adds to his mystery and allure. His brushed up hair, eyebrows, and eye lashes were all in a very dark brown that was almost black. His nose was prominent and well-defined. His lips were thin and very inviting. There was something so dark about him, even in the shadows enveloping his eyes, and yet it was also something eloquently beautiful. And his eyes…his eyes were in an unusual shade of reddish brown, fierce, passionate, and seeming to grow warmer by the second. In there I saw an expression - a mix of confusion, annoyance, fury and…desire?
I blinked and abruptly broke out of my reverie. I realized I had been staring at him…for decency knows how long! He seems to have snapped out of his own thoughts too and then turned away.
Oh, this is so embarrassing! What could he be thinking? Did I only imagine what I saw in his eyes? What if I was the only one who was affected like this? One moment I thought I detested him, and then the next moment I am…No, it can’t be true.
I turned away from his back and cringed in benevolent silence. Any kind of feelings would be detrimental if I am to succeed in my job. I seem to be forgetting that it was my body drawn on a hangman and I have to remind myself that the people running this game have little patience. The longer it takes for me to gain the answer, the closer I have to an untimely bungee jump - with my head on the noose. I have to create distraction from this unwelcome raging of hormones. I have to regain control. I thought about my brother and my impeding demise and my mind was set. I’m going to raise the devil’s worst nightmare from hell.
I walked towards Sebastian purposefully, my gait slow and measured. I continued until I was right in front of him, and spun.
“So my dear sir Sebastian, are we going to have to wait until hell freezes over, or shall we resume so I may soon get to learn all your tricks?”
He merely stood still, aloof and yet slightly off the edge. But he smirked and answered with his sardonic tone, “Is that so? I’m betting hell would as soon freeze over and give a lurch before you or anyone can even get any close to learning all my tricks.”
His voice was smooth and his tone was bantering, yet there was without doubt a challenge in his eyes. I returned his gaze, careful this time, and leveled my eyes with his.
“Try me.”
“I would most definitely like to,” he said with a crooked smile that might as well have had me smitten if I wasn’t thinking about my hangman so much. “Let’s start then. Since we would be working together, wouldn’t it be appropriate for me to know more about you?”
“Not at all Sebastian.”
He raised an eyebrow. I brought my face up to him such that my nose was almost touching his. I murmured, “You know my name is Violet, and that would be enough.”
I pulled back and was perplexed to see his face all contorted. His body was rigid and he almost seems as if he was…endangered by me. Bizarre. Did do something so unforgivable? I could only make sense of one thing - contact was certainly off limits to this guy. Perhaps it’s something that might push the button and get all the aces shooting up from underneath his sleeves or something. I hope I haven’t pushed him too far though. The last blessing I need from providence right now would be to get thrown out of his door.
But just like that skill he has for illusions, the unexplainable moment passed as soon as it came. He appeared uncaring again.
“As you wish. But we do have a show coming on Saturday so I expect you to be here by 2:00 pm.” Then his tone changed again. “I’m going to have to break my one-hour practice rule. It looks like things would take longer this time, what with you having the faintest idea of trapdoors and all.”
So, he is his cocky self again. We’re back in the game, baby! Just the way I like it. I can get back to conveniently hating him, and he…well, can go back to being hateful.
“Oh dear, didn’t they tell you that my classes don’t end until 2:00 pm? Why not make it 2:45?” I smiled at him innocently.
He just gave me a wry smile. He wasn’t letting me go this time.
“2:30”
Alas, the battle begins…to biddings, barters and the ends of the world…
“2:40”, I said taking up his challenge.
“2:35”, he countered.
“2:39”
“2:35 and 30 seconds”
“2:38 and 30 seconds”
“2:36 and 15 seconds”
“2:38 and 25 seconds”
“2:36 and 11 seconds”
“I’ll see you at 2:38:01,” I declared and settled to go before he can say anything else.
“Fine, you named your terms” he said, a look in his eyes telling me he was going to get back at me one of these days. “Be sure to be here then at exactly 2:38:01…”
“…and be sure to catch up,” he said as he suddenly threw a silver coin towards me. I caught it just in time.
“Be sure that I will,” I said, throwing the coin back to him which he caught easily.
I walked towards the door and paused just as I was about to get out.
“It was a pleasure meeting you Sebastian,” and I gave him a show of exaggerated curtsy.
“Be assured mi’ lady, the pleasure is mine” he said as he conjured his black top hat from thin air and took a bow, his eyes never leaving mine, until I finally walked away.
I may not know much about magic. I may not even be a born seductress. But if there’s one thing centuries of snubbed male ego is telling me, it is that one of the most effective ways to snag a man is to refuse him. And I’m going to have to learn much and learn fast, about magic and seduction both, if I am to beat a top magician at his own game. Trickery.
* * *
Night has fallen, a deep shadow overhead; night has fallen, a cavernous cloud on the mind.
* * *
Penn groped about all over the house trying to find what he had been looking for. He searched clean every suspicious cranny, loosened floorboard, unsuspecting flowerpot, burgeoning wall hole and even his own disaster of a room, yet he still hasn’t found that elusive thing. Just as he was about to sigh this one off as another thing lost to the scheming cosmos, he halted. There where he had least expected it to be, at the latch of the living room window, was the missing piece left to complete his yellow submarine diorama. But of course, how could he forget? He placed it there three days ago when the window refused to lock.
He mused, as he took the little piece into his hand, and paused. What was this other thing he found? An agitated Sebastian?
Penn was intrigued. A brooding Sebastian was commonplace but a perturbed Sebastian was indeed a rare sight. He has known his friend far too long and too well to know that whatever is bothering him now is something very serious. Besides, he has never been this indecisive before.
Sebastian had been flicking a coin with his right thumb which he caught at the back of his other hand, and covered with his right. In a manner worthy of suspense, he slowly removed his right hand to unveil the face.
Heads, the coin revealed.
Unsatisfied, he did the same sequence, starting with his left thumb this time.
Heads again.
He flung the coin and let it linger longer on his hand this time.
It was…Heads.
Annoyed, he tossed the coin high up in the air and caught it with the end of his shoe.
Heads.
Markedly irritated now, he threw the coin into the ground where in bounded, rolled, tittered, and finally settled into a decided stillness.
Tails.
Sebastian took one look and smiled. He was satisfied.
* * *
Walking through the streets embedded by snow, I let a million disturbing thoughts come to me. Somehow I am able to think most clearly on long walks alone, if not on the roof, my favorite part of the house.
I had just walked around aimlessly through the tangled streets of the city, not knowing what I would find, not knowing what would find me. I missed going through everyday embracing all things like an open book with that feeling that anything can happen and everything will just fall into place. I can’t say as much about my situation now. Anything can really happen. I can still go about writing through the pages but not as how I would want to all the time. My story now has a more decided and irrevocable ring to it, with limited options for an ending, one only as pretty as the next – death or something like it.
Even now, I am almost quite certain I was being followed. All the time I was walking I was never given a cause to believe anyone was on my trail. I haven’t even seen or gotten a whiff of this person for that matter. Yet I had this distinct feeling in my gut that someone has been watching and is still watching me up to this very moment. But never mind, what did I expect? My remaining days will be lived on a dangerous game.
I stopped by a concrete bridge made of stone near my home, another one of my favorite places. I stood at the middle of the bridge, rested my arms at the banister, and gazed at the waters underneath. My brother, my life or what is left of it, my deception, and my possible failure…I wonder what all this is going to come to in the end. After I get my brother back – if I get him back – and accomplished my task, what next? I should be sensible enough to know that it’s not going to stop there. I could be abducted from the streets any day and there would be more of these ‘little favors’ and ‘offers-I-can’t refuse’. And I would be forever trying to regain what I would just lose again and again…my freedom.
I brought out from my pocket the little black box. A smile involuntarily spread across my face. And yes, there was that other matter.
I’m still deciding on whether I should continue hating Sebastian or maybe I could like him just a little. On one side there was that smug smile of his; on the other was the warmth I thought I saw in his eyes. At one end he can be unbelievably rude; on the other he can be so thoughtful – like this butterfly that had me briefly won over…but then again, this may just be one of those things he does without giving much thought to, like all those tricks. I could go on bickering with him, even enjoying it, and my conscience can rest easy; or we could just be nice to each other, perhaps enjoying it even more, and something good can come out of it.
…Nice? A picture of him suddenly popped into my mind. “Did you honestly believe that I like you?” His face was incredulous, and again he had that mocking tone, “Come on now, you don’t think you’re that hot…”
Despite myself, I blushed. That does it, I thought gritting my teeth. Hate wins over.
So much for my ridiculous fantasies. But I have to admit, things are better this way. It’s no good getting involved; it’s even worse that I’m persuading myself that there’s a chance of getting involved. Not getting too friendly with him would only spare us both the aches and regrets when all of this finally blows over.
I sighed. My choices really are limited, aren’t they? I gazed at the black box again. Whatever his intention was, no one has given me a kind gesture in years, aside from my brother who offers me tributes made out of popsicle sticks which I still kept displayed in my room. I was overcome with sentimentality.
I removed the lid of the box and stared at the unmoving butterfly. Then, as I reached in and scooped it out of its container, the butterfly allowed itself to be taken and stayed perched on my finger. Odd. Either butterflies can be trained nowadays or this one just took an invariable liking to me. I would have liked to keep this butterfly, store it somewhere special or have it on my shoulder all the time. But I knew that butterflies, especially one as beautiful and uncommon as this, ought to be free.
Inspired by the moment, I took the butterfly near my chest and told it what was deepest in my heart. I wish that my brother will always be safe. I wish everything would be alright. I wish that one day I, too, would be free like you. I kissed the tip of the wing of the butterfly. And as if it knew what it was that I desired, it flew away as I spread out my arms.
I gazed at the butterfly flitting in and out of perspective, its movements gay and carefree, until I cannot see it anymore.
I wish one day to be free.
* * *
The walk around Chicago invigorated Sebastian’s senses. It drove his nostalgia to run amok, playing at his memories as it flashes random images into his mind. Why have I come back? He thought. This city holds nothing for me but pain, despair and broken dreams.
But back then during the beginning it hadn’t been so, contradicted a voice at the back of his mind. The memories pulled him deeper, grasping at him, until he was completely submerged in the gallows of his past. The memories took him back to where he had first begun.
Sebastian saw himself then when he had been an eighteen year old boy living in an affluent white house in Little Dixie, Missouri…and his name had been Laurent Xavier Bertrand.
* * *
“Laurent dear, do get ready now. The guests will be arriving within an hour. Your brother Alphonse is already downstairs waiting,” Marguerite Bertrand prompted her idle son.
“In a while mother.”
“Mrs. Bouvier’s daughter, Angelie, will be coming as well. Didn’t you like the girl last summer?”
“Last summer,” Laurent replied.
“Well, the girl is a bit too tiresome anyway…can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t even play the piano. But I’m quite sure Lily Mason and Vivianne Brun will delight you,” his mother said, as she was rearranging again and again the geraniums on the vase atop a side table. Unbeknownst to her, the flowers seem to have fallen into more disarray with her scrupulous attention.
She sighed with exasperation, “These flowers won’t be helped at all. We shall have Marie arrange these then.’
She paused, looking for more things to scrutinize. Alas, her eyes fell on her son once again.
“You my boy shall behave tonight. I have important guests. Very important guests,” his mother emphasized. “No toads, lizards, jack-in-the boxes or any of those despicable things. No tricks tonight.”
Laurent sat still, expressionless.
“Good God, I wish your cousins have never taken you to see that magic show,” she continued. “It’s been an unreasonable fancy on yours ever since. I wish you would just do away with the wand flipping and all. It may be entertaining for a while but honestly magic is only for gypsies, heathens and the like. That lifestyle is far above us don’t you think?”
Her eyes roamed the well-appointed room, taking in every detail.
“You already have a good life here, Laurent. A wonderful house, acres of properties, an enterprise waiting to be taken over by you, a respectable family, reputable friends, the best of belles fawning all over you, and good wine even with the prohibition! Why would you throw all these away, hmm?”
His mother approached him and her expression smoothened. Then, she fixed his hair this way and that, achieving the same effect as the geraniums’.
“You’re going to have fun, dear.”
Laurent simply nodded. When his mother had gone, he muttered under his breath, How appetizing, another round of unendurable saccharine fun.
* * *
Glasses clinked like the high tinkling of women’s laughter and the smart click of men’s quality watches. Here at the Grand Maison Blanc the Messieurs, Mademoiselles and Mesdames of Little Dixie’s elite came to gather for the revelries, gossip and drama that is the epitome of high society.
Laurent stood against the palings of the verandah, taking another swig of wine, then joined in the activity inside. He nodded to acquaintances here and there and was obliged the kiss the hands of Annes, Suzies and Carolines, a lot of whom he had been in more than familiar social contact with at one time or another. He allowed himself to be meandered and engaged and even took on the trivialities himself until he could take no more of it.
Now that he has made his presence known and not disappointed anyone, he might as well disappear. No tricks tonight, he promised his mother.
He went to his room and outside the window to his favorite part of the house - the roof.
Laurent gazed at the stars and imagined himself floating, far above the festivities below him. He envisioned himself making other things levitate as well – his mother’s china collection, Mr. Engel’s hair patch, Mrs. Murphy’s humongous skirt, and even his pet Truffles; he always had a vague sense that cat wanted to fly with her strange obsession of jumping off the second floor all the time. He also wanted to make some things disappear – his father’s daunting shotgun, the entire women’s club’s sewing kits, that old grandfather clock in the living room – pretty much everything. Mrs. Bouvier he shall turn into a toad to run rampage on any given party. He snickered at the memory of her shrill cries at the sight of a toad. ‘Somebody get out that -’
“Laurent, your father wants to speak to you,” a voice broke in through his reverie. He sat up, shook his head and went inside the room. It was Charlie, their black servant. Somehow, the guy always knew where to find him.
“Tell him I will be there shortly.”
The servant bowed and went outside the room.
What punishment for something he did or didn’t do would it be this time? Laurent straightened up and fixed himself knowing everything will be under inspection by the Colonel.
He then proceeded outside his room to walk towards the end of the hallway to his father’s study. He knocked three times and, when he heard his father’s permission, opened the door and stepped inside.
“Laurent,” he greeted unceremoniously. “I have heard from your mother how you have been on the wild side lately. Ruining her parties and driveling about…magic, is it?”
Colonel Bertrand’s voice was calm and yet held a lot of authority in it. Laurent could already see where this conversion was going. It has barely even started and yet he knew that he was going to have to brave a lost battle once again.
“However, I commend you for behaving well tonight. You have taken the first steps of a worthy man,” his father paused, now getting to the point he wanted to talk about.
“As you know, I have signed a deal with the Hamiltons. We are taking over their hemp business and I want you to run that outlet and eventually all our businesses one day.” He paused to study his son’s face and Laurent gave what he could of an enthusiastic response. He appeared satisfied, and continued. “But, I will have you first be responsible and committed before I can entrust any of our assets to you. Which is why…your mother and I talked it over and we decided that it would be best for you to join the military. You will spend a few years there and then, after you come out of it a man, take over the business and have an option to continue to serve the military like I did. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any questions?”
“Sir, I have already expressed my intentions before of wishing to become an inventor,” Laurent began. He knew his father would never agree to him being a magician anyway so this was the next best thing he can get.
“You can do that in the military or even in the business,” his father concluded.
“I was thinking of something more akin to an independent practice, sir.”
“Tell me Laurent, have you ever invented something…useful?” His father pointed out.
“Not that they aren’t, sir. But if I work on them a little more, I’m sure I’ll come up with something worthy one of these days.”
“You are a brilliant boy, Laurent. That is why we would want to put that into good use. There are many men across America clamoring that they have come up with the greatest gift to mankind. However, only a few of them become successful. Many fail to get patents and eventually sink into obscurity. The military and family business are matters you can always be sure about. And as the eldest son, let me remind you that you do have duties to your family.”
“Sir, I’m sure Alphonse would be as eager-”
“I’m sure Alphonse would be as eager to find out what plans we have for him,” his father cut him off, signaling the end of discussion. “Are there any other concerns, Laurent?”
“None, sir.” And thus, the battle was lost.
“Very well, you will start training next week so I suggest you start preparing, Laurent. And, you may return to the party now. Tell Alphonse I called for him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Laurent nodded to his father and went out of the room. His mind was racing but he suppressed his thoughts just yet. He was looking for his brother and found him surrounded by a couple of aunts. Alphonse has always been very willing to please. He called his brother over.
“Father sent for you,” he said as Alphonse approached. He saw how a look of apprehension tainted with frustration crossed over his brother’s face, the way it twists every time their father was about to bestow them favors. He couldn’t really blame Alphonse; it was all a matter of who came first. Unfortunately for both of them, they were each in a position they did not pine for. But they were born that way, and so they must live through the rest of their existence that way, never mind what each of them thought.
Not quite certain what to do, Laurent went back up to his room. He paced, rumpled his hair, sat, and paced again. His thoughts were running riot. The worst of his fears has just come true. He always knew it would end up like this; he just didn’t think the day would come so soon.
Everything was planned. He wouldn’t have to lift a finger – nor would he be allowed to so much as veto anyway. He would just need to stay within the lines, plain and simple. Then he would marry Lily Mason, Vivianne Brun, or some faultless girl his mother had picked out for him. Next, he would become the dictator upon his own children, sympathizing perhaps but never really being able to break free from the vicious cycle as he and his family would always have to live up to other people’s standards and expectations. Soon enough his life would become a redundant routine, predictable from end to end. And it starts next week.
Laurent knew that if he didn’t break free now, he may never will. For even if he would have wanted to it could no longer be possible. For by that time, he would have already made everything impossible for himself. He would have settled his roots in too deep and his discernment would have been far too influenced. He would have killed all his dreams such that they would cease to become anything more than childish fantasies.
Rising amidst the chaos in his mind, Laurent instantly knew what he had to do. He stuffed a travel bag with clothes and a box of his prized possessions – his first invention as a child which is some sort of miniature bicycle, a ball he used to play with his friends as a boy, a pack of playing cards given to him by a magician in the show, an unusual old coin that he found amidst his ancestors’ old things to which he attached various conjectures, and a daguerreotype of his family. He took the money he saved, a few handy stuff and also some things he can sell should worst comes to worst. He dressed in his most ordinary clothes and finally sat down to write a letter to his family.
He knew his father would be furious but he tried to explain his reasons in terms he would understand. His mother would be distressed but he promised he would write from time to time. His brother would probably be relieved that he’s gone; Laurent gave him his regards nonetheless. He told them he was sorry and that he would miss them. He told them not to look for him, which after all this they mostly likely would not. Yet he told them that maybe one day he would come to stop by, when he would already have become someone who has proven something to himself…if he would still be welcome. He sealed the letter and left it at his dressing table. He took one last look at his room, and everything of himself he left with it, and then went outside the window.
Laurent hurried in silence. He had little time to spare before the guests started to depart. He walked across the roof and reached for the branch protruding from a nearby tree, an escape route he has so often used in the past. He slid off the trunk and landed neatly on the ground. But just as he was about to take another step, he noticed someone standing nearby. It was Charlie.
“You will not tell anyone,” Laurent stated. The black servant merely stared at him and beckoned. Charlie led him to the stable where a russet-colored horse stood waiting. Without words, he pointed out the best way to get around the house without being seen.
“Thank you,” Laurent said in appreciation. He didn’t know why this servant went through all the trouble to help him, but he was very grateful. He fumbled about for some money to give Charlie but he refused. Laurent then gave out the first thing he saw in his bag – a pair of socks; Charlie seemed to like this very much.
Laurent bade his helper farewell and saddled the horse. He had it first on a trot and only let it break on a gallop when they were too far to be heard. He paused and looked at the great white house for the last time, alight with pleasures and romance. Little Dixie wasn’t bad at all, he thought. In truth, he did have some fun; it just wasn’t the life for him. He took in the scenery, committing to mind every detail, then turned and sauntered forth towards his awaiting odyssey not once looking back at what he had left again.
His journey went by smooth and easy. He didn’t even get robbed even as he was sleeping on trains. He arrived at Chicago in a matter of days.
The cold wind immediately greeted him as he disembarked from the train, his first taste of his newfound freedom. All around him, he knew no one and no one knew him. He was a nobody with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He was a free and sovereign man.
With high spirits, he explored his undiscovered city. There were restaurants, bakeries, flower stalls, tailoring shops, specialty stores, and something of everything to suit all tastes. There were men lying on the street without a care in the world and all sorts of unconventional people strutting unashamed. Laurent was pleased to observe that a lot of the people walking with him on the streets were just like him, each with their own world and not minding anybody else. He also noted that shops are openly selling alcohol even with the prohibition. He smiled to him to himself; this is going to be good.
Finally, he chanced into a corner and found what he had been looking for. With bold and bright letterings from the colorful posters at both sides of the entrance, a rundown theater declared, “Live Tonight: Marvolo the Magician.”
Laurent knew he had come home at last.
♠ ♠ ♠
Chapter by my cousin. Applause! She's a great writer.Feedback, please.