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

to.” I look into my hands, searching for a way to explain.

“We’ve met before. But there’s no way you’d remember.” I pause. “It was at another time. One that seems never to have existed.”

The magician’s expression is blank. He’s used to the inexplicable, so he lets me continue.

“I loved you there, too.” I can’t meet his eye, so I look into the opening between the panels. “We’d done so much together.”

“So, why do you need to go?”

“I am inside one of your tricks. Like Eva, I’ve fallen victim to your magic. I want to leave before it happens again.”

“Eva.” The name catches in Toby’s throat.

“You haven’t seen her.”

“Not since—”

“If you love me, maybe you’ll follow me.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe to Amsterdam, where we parted. Maybe back home to my parents.” I shake my head. “I have a feeling you’ll remain with your magic.”

“I can take my magic anywhere.” Toby’s voice is overrun with its strange static.

“We can replay this scene hundreds of times in hundreds of different places, but I have a feeling you’ll always choose magic in the end.”

“I’m a magician. Am I supposed to choose anything else?”

I shake my head.

“So?”

I stand on my toes and press my lips against Toby’s. His kiss is cold and distant. His lips are hard and trembling. I know that he’s trying to navigate between anger and despair.

“I’ll see you again,” Toby says, and points to the other side of the screen.

I step into the opening of the screen. I turn to see Toby clasping his hands together, searching for some magic to bring this moment under his control. I shake my head and tell him that I’m sorry. He reaches out to me. But I step farther into the opening inside the four-paneled screen. I close my eyes and wait. I have no idea where he’ll send me. I wonder if in a few moments I’ll step back into the party and find my temporary place with the actress and her friends, or whether I’ll wind up somewhere else entirely. Soon I feel the familiar static rush. I wonder where the magician is sending me. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

Nineteen

Piet’s house was boarded up. His magical memorabilia had been packed into boxes. I recognized the address on the labels as that of a famous magic museum in Nevada. The only illusion that remained was the Dissolving World, and I stepped out of it into the empty workroom. I had no idea how long I’d been gone.

All trace of Toby’s and my passage in the house had been removed along with everything else. When I stepped into the screen in Las Vegas, I had been prepared never to see the magician again, but I wasn’t ready to have all physical memory of him taken away. I’d hope to run my fingers over his black dress shirts and flip through his library of books on magic and anatomy. But most of all, I hadn’t wanted to let go of the saltshakers and ashtrays he had palmed during our first days together. Like my quilt, I had always imagined that these souvenirs would help me retrace my steps to wherever I’d left Toby, even if only in my mind.

I left Piet’s, and this time an usually clear Amsterdam evening was lost to tears. The streets sparkled with a wintry sheen. The canals glistened, reflecting the stars that rarely showed themselves above the city. Streamers of white lights in the shape of snowflakes framed the openings of the alleyways, foretelling the approaching holidays. Circus wagons selling freshly made doughnuts had popped up on busy intersections and alongside popular parks. The sound of Christmas music filled the air, accompanying me on my walk to the train station.

Olivia was waiting just inside the gate of Leo’s villa. Before I could say anything, she threw her arms around my neck. “We’ve been so worried,” she said. “No one’s heard from you for weeks. We haven’t been able to call the magicians.”

I’d been gone for only a couple of days. But Toby’s magic has a way of transforming time to suit itself.

“But you’ve come just in time.”

“For what?” I asked. I was too tired to notice Olivia’s outfit—a red-and-green velvet dress with synthetic pine needles at the collar and cuffs. I looked over her shoulder to the villa. It was lit up by hundreds of candles. A bonfire was burning on the lawn.

“It’s Leo’s saturnalia. The best party of the year.”

“I’m not up for a party.”

Olivia kissed my cheek, mulled wine on her breath. “Of course you are. It’s the longest night of the year. So we stay up, beating back the darkness with candles and fire.”

She linked her fingers through mine and began pulling me toward the festivities.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” she said, looking back over my shoulder.

“He’s not coming.” I drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of wood smoke, pine needles, and roasting meat. “Toby sent me to a place where we were strangers. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

Olivia wiped away tears from my cheek with her palm. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

The villa and the lawn behind it were glowing like a sunset, each window shining with a shade of red, orange, or purple light. Streamers flew from the gables and Eastern European dance music filled the air. The evergreens had been strung with white lights, reaching from tree to tree until they disappeared into the depths of Leo’s property. A trail of lanterns illuminated the path to the villa.

I followed Olivia to the lawn, which was lit with dozens of braziers. Several pits had been dug into the earth. These were filled with glowing coals for the skewers of meat. I looked down to the river where fairy lanterns were being launched downstream on tiny boats made from bark, their small flames bobbing and glittering in the dark water.

The yellow tent had been transformed into a dance