The Art of Disappearing by Ivy Pochoda (top non fiction books of all time TXT) 📗

gone. So I’m gonna blame you. You killed my girlfriend.”

Toby opened his mouth.

“And don’t tell me it was her fault. It’s your fault. You killed her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough,” Jimmy muttered, rubbing his goatee. “I’m leaving tomorrow. But not before you make it better.” He jabbed a finger in Toby’s direction.

“He can’t,” I said.

“Yeah?” Jimmy looked at Toby, who remained silent. “Then why doesn’t he tell me himself?”

“What would you like me to do?” Toby asked.

Jimmy rubbed his goatee. “I don’t know. You’re the magician. So, something.”

“Something,” Toby repeated.

“Yeah, something,” Jimmy said as water welled up in his glazed eyes. “Because I can’t believe my girlfriend was dumb enough to step in front of a bullet during a magic trick. Death is not cool. I mean, I’d remember her forever if she hadn’t died. She was my girlfriend—how was I gonna forget?” He looked from me to Toby, waiting for an explanation or an answer.

Jimmy sat down at the table once more. He slumped his shoulders and hung his head. “I used to like magic as a kid,” he said, looking into his hands. “Shows came to Intersection, since it’s on the way to Vegas. But now I think it’s mean.”

Toby crammed his hands in his pockets. He bit his lips, trying to remain calm.

“Why does someone want to pretend he’s cutting one of my friends in half?”

“I don’t know. It’s a trick,” Toby offered. “It’s sensational.”

“Why do you want to pretend to kill someone?” He sank deeper into his seat. “I guess you don’t always pretend.”

“Stop it,” Toby whispered.

“Why?” Jimmy sat up straight. “Why?” he repeated, now on his feet. He approached Toby. “What is the point of being a magician if you can’t make anything better?” Jimmy was inches from the magician’s face. “You have to do something!” Jimmy yelled. “Greta said you could. And you will.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m not leaving until you fix it.”

“He can’t,” I said.

“Jimmy, please,” Toby said.

“No,” the teenager replied, throwing his hands up in front of his face, “don’t talk to me. Don’t.” He coughed. “Don’t do anything anymore. Not until you make it better.” Then he began to cry. His sobs rattled the glasses and the coffee cups. I put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. I felt him shake so hard, it seemed he would burst. Then I looked at Toby.

For the first time in many days, he looked solid and resolute. “All right,” he said.

Jimmy looked up.

“I think there is something I can do.”

“What?” Jimmy said, wiping his nose.

“I said, I think there is something I can do.”

“You’re kidding,” Jimmy said.

Toby shook his head.

“So, Greta was right? You can do stuff for real?”

“I’m not sure what will happen,” Toby said. “I can only try a few things.”

I remained at the table while Toby showed Jimmy out. He returned with the same look of resolve.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

I never got my answer. Theo appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking impatient and aggravated. “You will waste your talents on that boy.”

Toby didn’t reply.

“He’ll find another girlfriend. They always do. Teenagers are fickle and often carried away by obsession.”

“I don’t consider easing his pain, or my own, a waste of my talents,” Toby replied.

“You are keeping us waiting,” Theo said, beckoning with his scarred fingers.

The magicians were sitting in the living room around the fireplace. In addition to Piet, Lucio, and Theo, the group contained several of the men I hadn’t seen since our visit to the sanctum. Piet made a place on the couch for Toby. I hovered in the doorway.

“Now it is time for you to decide,” Theo began, settling into an armchair farthest from the fire, “whether you are going to help us or not.”

“Toby.” Piet turned toward the magician. “I hope that I have done my best to show you a world of conjuring that can be yours.”

“If I give this one up,” Toby added.

“But why wouldn’t you?” Theo asked. “What do you have here?”

“I have Mel.”

“Perhaps you can convince Mel to go with you,” Lucio said.

“No,” I replied. “There will be no conjuring involving me.”

“You see, no matter where you go, she is not planning to follow,” Theo said.

“Stop talking about Mel,” Toby replied.

Piet placed a hand over Toby’s. “You love magic, but this time you live in does not respect your craft. There is no beauty or elegance to modern magic. Everything we created will still be in place when we return. The theater is set. The audiences are waiting.”

“Then they will have to wait,” Toby said, standing up. “I will not help you.”

Theo’s face darkened. “You are making a mistake.”

“No, you made the mistake when you came to visit me in Vegas. Las Vegas has always been my dream. I might seem silly to you, but I want to be a magician of this moment. Or of the moment before everything went wrong.”

“If you take us back, it will be to a time before that happened,” Piet said.

“But I wouldn’t have fixed anything.”

“You will never fix anything,” Theo said. “You will only pretend.”

“Untrue.” Toby stood up.

“If you will not help us, your time here is over,” Theo replied.

“I have no reason to help you.” Toby pushed past me into the hall.

Piet stood up, looked at me with his watering eyes.

“Did you really think I would go?” I asked the oldest magician.

“Before I met you, I had hoped.”

I left the magicians in the living room. I knew where I’d find Toby. He had opened the door to the Dissolving World. I rushed to the box and pulled him back.

“Why are there only two choices?” I asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“Going back to Theo’s heyday or returning to the night of Greta’s death?” I drew Toby away from the box. “What about staying here?”

“What’s the difference if we go back to that night and do it over?”

“Because we will always know it should have been otherwise,” I said. I opened the door to the box and peeked inside. All I saw was four walls. I let