A Magician Never Tells His Secrets
Sanity or Insanity
In the diner I questioned my sanity. Why? Because it just couldn’t be possible! Daw and Peter couldn’t be together. They seemed like the least likely couple that ever lived. Romeo and Juliet, Lindsay and Sam*, Aladdin and Jasmine; sure. They almost seem reasonable. But Peter and Daw? No way.
I was further assured of my lunacy when we all sat down to eat. They bickered and snipped at each other like they always did. The only one not acting normal was me. I kept completely silent through the whole meal, and the following car ride.
I bit my time when we were setting up the carnival. And through the night’s entertainment. When I stormed back to our caravan I was determined. I leapt up the front steps in my sweaty yellow polyester button-up and banged through the door; for once about to confront someone. I hated confrontation.
But Daw wasn’t there.
I wanted to hold onto my anger, but after my time slot at the shower block and a warm mug of tea it had slipped away from me. I was never good at holding a grudge either.
When Daw walked in I was sitting on my bed, reading a text from my dad.
Mom misses you lots. She’s taken to spending a lot more time at the hospital since you’ve been gone. I think she’ll be very happy when you some back home, and especially happy when you start work with her there in a few years. Hope you’re having fun, and that Victoria Youdell is being sensible. Dad
I smiled at the luminous screen as she shut the door, her back to me. She sighed, her exposed shoulder blades heaving.
“Everything okay?” I asked through the darkness.
She jumped and whipped around.
“Jesus!” She exclaimed, a ringed hand hovering over her heart. “You scared me half to death.”
I laughed. “Sorry.”
She smiled at me through the reflection of her small oval mirror as she peeled pins from her elegant bun of spiral curls. I watched her, pondering. The dark skin moving over her softly protruding spine which was exposed by the backless black dress she wore during her routine. The shoulders which shifted with every movement. The thin arms which reached up into her hair; pulling it loose.
I thought I knew her. But I really knew nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked suddenly, my anger flaring up again unexpectedly.
Her reflection looked at me questioningly.
“Huh?”
“You and Peter. I heard you at the diner. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her wide brown eyes flitted downwards. “It’s complicated.”
“How?” I asked, totally bewildered. My careful restraints broke and suddenly I was shouting. “Oh Daw, how could you be with him!?”
“Please, Meg –”
“You two are totally not right for each other!”
“I know, but –”
“He’s a total pig!”
“There’s more to him than you know,” she said; her voice cold. Her icy tone stopped my rant in its tracks and I stared into her eyes. They were so intense my words fizzled in my mouth.
We stared at each other in a bitter stalemate, until she sighed and sat down on her bed, face in her hands.
“Let me explain,” she begged through her fingers. I sat down next to her, waiting for her justification. She leaned back again the wall of her caravan and looked at the roof, beginning her recount.
“It all happened years ago. I grew up with Shaoran and Mayling and their parents, who told me that anyone who wasn’t a freak would never understand me. Who would readily ruin my life for their own gain. It all has something to do with the Shi’s hatred of Prokhor. I don’t know why, but they really hate that Russian.
“Liam was a good friend. He joined the circus when I was fifteen. He was always an angry kid though, and between him and the Shi’s, who were the only people I knew, there was so much anger.”
She looked at me and smiled weakly. “I’m not a really angry person, Meg. Being around that much hate was killing me. I was like a sunflower growing in the arctic. And my childhood was so intense. I just wanted an escape.”
Her pale smile grew nostalgic. “You saw him on your first night. Peter can always inspire people to be fascinated with him. He’s a fascinating creature. I always watched him when he was around. With his glittery eye makeup, bizarre clothes and cheeky grin. He didn’t care what people thought about him. He could be as ridiculous as he wanted and all for his own benefit. He did the things he wanted to. I was jealous of him.
“The first time he talked to me was when I was crying behind the showground. He had this mischievous innocence about him then. He still has it, on good days. He has a lot of big thoughts when he wants to, but he makes himself seem simpler then he is.
“It just happened. We didn’t intentionally start sneaking around. Sometimes I’d go find him if I wanted to talk or cry or laugh. We were best friends. Even closer than Liam and me. Our friendship wasn’t an everyday thing. Sometimes we hated each other. Sometimes we would kiss and not talk to each other for days. We never told anyone because we knew they wouldn’t understand. His friends wouldn’t talk to him and my friends wouldn’t talk to me. We would be shunned.”
I only stared. I could never imagine Peter Prescott to be anything but sleazy and mischievous. To hear Daw explain him as innocent and thoughtful made my head feel like it had been in a blender on high.
“Is your relationship still as confusing?” I asked weakly. She laughed.
“It’s only confusing to you. To us it’s as easy as breathing. We’re open about us between us. If I’m not in the mood for him I’ll tell him. If I feel like I need him I’ll let him know. The time in-between we’re just building up our feelings. We’ll never be monotonous. The only thing hard is hiding it. Running around, stealing conversations behind caravans, being hostile to each other when we’re around people, pretending he’s a player . . . it’s all pretty tiring.”
“I can imagine,” I breathed. I looked at her as she stared at her quilt. It all seemed like such a mess. “But why do you have to hide it?”
She looked at me like she questioned my sanity. “Didn’t I explain the omnipresent shunning?”
“Yeah . . . but I still don’t understand why. I mean, if you guys love each other it shouldn’t matter.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Try telling that to anyone else. No one would understand.”
“That’s stupid,” I said. “Why is everyone so stupid? I hate all this tension.”
“You hate it? What about me?” she joked sadly. “It breaks my heart. But that’s the way things are, you know.”
I knew. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to change the way things were.
I was further assured of my lunacy when we all sat down to eat. They bickered and snipped at each other like they always did. The only one not acting normal was me. I kept completely silent through the whole meal, and the following car ride.
I bit my time when we were setting up the carnival. And through the night’s entertainment. When I stormed back to our caravan I was determined. I leapt up the front steps in my sweaty yellow polyester button-up and banged through the door; for once about to confront someone. I hated confrontation.
But Daw wasn’t there.
I wanted to hold onto my anger, but after my time slot at the shower block and a warm mug of tea it had slipped away from me. I was never good at holding a grudge either.
When Daw walked in I was sitting on my bed, reading a text from my dad.
Mom misses you lots. She’s taken to spending a lot more time at the hospital since you’ve been gone. I think she’ll be very happy when you some back home, and especially happy when you start work with her there in a few years. Hope you’re having fun, and that Victoria Youdell is being sensible. Dad
I smiled at the luminous screen as she shut the door, her back to me. She sighed, her exposed shoulder blades heaving.
“Everything okay?” I asked through the darkness.
She jumped and whipped around.
“Jesus!” She exclaimed, a ringed hand hovering over her heart. “You scared me half to death.”
I laughed. “Sorry.”
She smiled at me through the reflection of her small oval mirror as she peeled pins from her elegant bun of spiral curls. I watched her, pondering. The dark skin moving over her softly protruding spine which was exposed by the backless black dress she wore during her routine. The shoulders which shifted with every movement. The thin arms which reached up into her hair; pulling it loose.
I thought I knew her. But I really knew nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked suddenly, my anger flaring up again unexpectedly.
Her reflection looked at me questioningly.
“Huh?”
“You and Peter. I heard you at the diner. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her wide brown eyes flitted downwards. “It’s complicated.”
“How?” I asked, totally bewildered. My careful restraints broke and suddenly I was shouting. “Oh Daw, how could you be with him!?”
“Please, Meg –”
“You two are totally not right for each other!”
“I know, but –”
“He’s a total pig!”
“There’s more to him than you know,” she said; her voice cold. Her icy tone stopped my rant in its tracks and I stared into her eyes. They were so intense my words fizzled in my mouth.
We stared at each other in a bitter stalemate, until she sighed and sat down on her bed, face in her hands.
“Let me explain,” she begged through her fingers. I sat down next to her, waiting for her justification. She leaned back again the wall of her caravan and looked at the roof, beginning her recount.
“It all happened years ago. I grew up with Shaoran and Mayling and their parents, who told me that anyone who wasn’t a freak would never understand me. Who would readily ruin my life for their own gain. It all has something to do with the Shi’s hatred of Prokhor. I don’t know why, but they really hate that Russian.
“Liam was a good friend. He joined the circus when I was fifteen. He was always an angry kid though, and between him and the Shi’s, who were the only people I knew, there was so much anger.”
She looked at me and smiled weakly. “I’m not a really angry person, Meg. Being around that much hate was killing me. I was like a sunflower growing in the arctic. And my childhood was so intense. I just wanted an escape.”
Her pale smile grew nostalgic. “You saw him on your first night. Peter can always inspire people to be fascinated with him. He’s a fascinating creature. I always watched him when he was around. With his glittery eye makeup, bizarre clothes and cheeky grin. He didn’t care what people thought about him. He could be as ridiculous as he wanted and all for his own benefit. He did the things he wanted to. I was jealous of him.
“The first time he talked to me was when I was crying behind the showground. He had this mischievous innocence about him then. He still has it, on good days. He has a lot of big thoughts when he wants to, but he makes himself seem simpler then he is.
“It just happened. We didn’t intentionally start sneaking around. Sometimes I’d go find him if I wanted to talk or cry or laugh. We were best friends. Even closer than Liam and me. Our friendship wasn’t an everyday thing. Sometimes we hated each other. Sometimes we would kiss and not talk to each other for days. We never told anyone because we knew they wouldn’t understand. His friends wouldn’t talk to him and my friends wouldn’t talk to me. We would be shunned.”
I only stared. I could never imagine Peter Prescott to be anything but sleazy and mischievous. To hear Daw explain him as innocent and thoughtful made my head feel like it had been in a blender on high.
“Is your relationship still as confusing?” I asked weakly. She laughed.
“It’s only confusing to you. To us it’s as easy as breathing. We’re open about us between us. If I’m not in the mood for him I’ll tell him. If I feel like I need him I’ll let him know. The time in-between we’re just building up our feelings. We’ll never be monotonous. The only thing hard is hiding it. Running around, stealing conversations behind caravans, being hostile to each other when we’re around people, pretending he’s a player . . . it’s all pretty tiring.”
“I can imagine,” I breathed. I looked at her as she stared at her quilt. It all seemed like such a mess. “But why do you have to hide it?”
She looked at me like she questioned my sanity. “Didn’t I explain the omnipresent shunning?”
“Yeah . . . but I still don’t understand why. I mean, if you guys love each other it shouldn’t matter.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Try telling that to anyone else. No one would understand.”
“That’s stupid,” I said. “Why is everyone so stupid? I hate all this tension.”
“You hate it? What about me?” she joked sadly. “It breaks my heart. But that’s the way things are, you know.”
I knew. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to change the way things were.