Abracadabra

A/N: Like “A Snake in the Grass,” this is another short story that I originally wrote in high school. I spruced it up a little, but the bones of it remain the same. Hope you enjoy!

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A pulsating throb was steadily building just behind my eyes. Regardless, I situated my headphones securely over both ears and cranked up the volume. Here on the bus was the first part of my day that I wasn’t forced to listen to thirty four-year-olds scream the “Days of the Week” song, not one correct note to be heard. Headache or no, I would listen to my music on the commute home.

I let the beat drive out every thought in my brain. My temple bounced against the window, and I relished the slightly cool glass against my overheated skin.

I was just starting to relax when I heard the seat beside me creak. There were quite a few things I disliked about public transportation, but mingling with strangers in a confined space ranked in the top three. I always did my best to look unapproachable: scowling, wearing headphones, reading a book—sometimes all three at once. Unfortunately, none of those things would discourage the truly determined and socially inept.

Who sat next to me this time? Was it a man with jittery knees, who would spread his legs wider and wider until the left side of my body was entirely pressed against the window and the wall, while he remained oblivious? Or perhaps an older man would lean in close to whisper inappropriate questions in my ear. Ooh, or my favorite! Maybe it would be either a man or a woman who thought for some reason that touching was okay, and they would grab my hand to examine my new nail art.

Looking at the person next to me ran the risk of inviting conversation, but it was either that, or be completely unprepared for potential interaction. I needed to see who had imposed themselves on me.

Discreetly turning down the volume on my headphones, I then peeked at the person next to me.

It looked like a woman, wearing ripped jeans and a brown hoodie. Smelled like a woman, too, I realized as I caught a whiff of honey suckles. It reminded me of the scent my mother used to wear. She would drench herself in flowery body sprays to wash away the sterile stink of the hospital.

The woman’s bony hands twisted in her lap, picking at chips of blue polish on her nails.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she said in a raspy voice.

I jumped upright in my seat, wincing at the way my head throbbed, then transitioned the movement into smoothing out the wrinkles in my jacket. There, one shred of dignity retained. Not much point in pretending I didn’t hear her after that. Resigned, I turned my head to get a better look at the woman.

Two green eyes set in a gaunt face looked back at me. Her pierced lip quirked into a familiar grin. Most notable, though, was the bloodstained piece of gauze taped to her forehead.

“You don’t want to miss your stop,” she said.

I rubbed my eyes, but her image remained.

“Blair?” I asked.

“The one and only.” Her chuckle was low and dark as she made a bow in the cramped space. “It’s good to see my own sister still recognizes me.”

In truth, I almost didn’t. I last saw Blair three years ago. It was Christmas, and Mom wanted the whole family together one last time. She looked the worst then, right at the end. A sickly, withered shell of the bright woman I’d known most of my life. She still smiled, though. Dad ran around the house, putting up decorations and checking on the ham in the oven. I think if he’d stood still for too long, he would have needed to face the fast approaching reality of his life.

I didn’t speak much that Christmas. There wasn’t anything left to be said. Privately, I uttered a guilty prayer that Mom would just leave us already, instead of drawing out the torturous goodbye.

Blair had been the best at acting normal. She rested her feet on the table during dinner just to let Mom scold her. She made jokes and switched the red wine for prune juice. She even put on a magic show just like she did when we were kids. And she wasn’t half bad—if only Dad didn’t blurt out all of her secrets the second he figured them out. He was the kind of man who noticed small details, which was a good thing when we needed help with algebra homework. Not so good for an aspiring illusionist.

Looking at Blair now, it was hard to reconcile the two images of my sister. Her once rosy cheeks were pale and hollow. The sparkle in her eyes was gone, leaving them bitter. She hadn’t bothered with makeup today, so there was nothing to hide the dark bags under her eyes or her dry, scabbed lips. Her hair, which used to be smooth and lustrous, was dull and lank. Her already thin frame was painfully bony, and God only knew how she acquired the head injury. The spot of blood on the gauze seemed to have grown in the short time that I’d been observing her.

My sister was little more than a ghost.

“What are you doing on my bus?” I asked her. Last I heard, she was living with Dad in Boston. That shouldn’t bring her anywhere near my bus route.

Blair shrugged. “Oh, you know … This and that. I have a magic show.”

“Really? That took off?”

“No.”

The way she looked at me … she was like a stranger. I stared into her eyes and tried to find my sister, but I could only catch glimpses of the real Blair shrouded in confusion. I’d only seen her like this once before.

---

I found Blair on our parents’ couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. A fire crackled in the fireplace to ward off the frigid January weather. I didn’t think she noticed my presence when I sat on the other end of the couch; her eyes were so lost in the wavering flames. When she did finally speak, her voice was hollow.

“You left without me.”

Was that a simple observation or an accusation? Sighing, I ran fingers through my already tangled hair.

“You weren’t here. I told you what time we had to leave, and you weren’t here.”

Her hands twisted in her lap, as white as bone.

“I went to the park. Do you remember Mom’s bench?” she asked. I could only nod since my throat had closed up. “I thought it would be more meaningful than saying goodbye to a painted dummy in an open casket.”

Her tone betrayed no emotion. She was like a robot programmed to say things that broke my heart. My cheeks flushed with warm anger, and I dug my nails into my palms.

“If you didn’t want to go,” I snapped, “then why are you mad at me now?”

She didn’t say anything. The fire danced and cast shadows across our faces. After a minute, she whispered into the quiet living room, as tendrils of light flickered along the ceiling.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. The act doesn’t end when the dove disappears. You’re supposed to bring it back again.”

I glared at her. “This isn’t one of your stupide magic shows.”

I ripped my gaze away from Blair’s empty eyes. Squirming, I murmured that I was going to bed. She might have stayed awake all night, just staring at the place on the couch where I had sat.

---

The bus hit a pothole, jostling me in my seat.

“What about you, Reagan?” asked Blair. She attempted to clear the rasp out of her throat with little success. “You still teaching music?”

“Sort of.” I omitted that all of my students still wore diapers at night. “Are you working now, besides the whole magician thing?”

For a moment, she seemed not to hear me. Or not to understand my words. Then she said, “Yeah, at a pawnshop.”

“Do you like it there?”

“Where?”

“At the pawnshop,” I clarified. How fresh was that wound on her forehead? Usually, she was quick of wit and sharp of tongue.

She shook her head, as if to dislodge some obstruction in her ears. “Oh, I don’t work there. I know someone else who works there.”

Shoulders hunched, head bowed, she focused on picking at the blue flakes of nail polish.

“Right now, I’m spending most of my time tweaking this trick that I have.”

“That’s nice.”

I looked out the window. Still a few more stops before I could conceivably walk to my apartment. Maybe if I kept my attention fully trained on the world rushing past us outside, Blair would take the hint and stop talking. Whatever was going on with her, I didn’t like it. This wasn’t my sister.

She allowed silence to settle for about a minute before Blair slowly leaned forward, studying me with a palpable intensity. I ignored her. Her joints creaked and popped until she was so close to me that I couldn’t pretend not to see her exhausted eyes peering up at me through dark lashes.

“You want to know what’s so tough about vanishing acts?”

I didn’t respond, but she was undeterred.

“People have seen vanishing acts. They know the drill. You throw a white cloth over a dove, wave your hand, and say abracadabra. Then—poof! The bird is gone.” Blair’s eyes glittered feverishly, her smile stretching wider as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “You have to do something different. Something no one has seen before.”

I leaned away from her and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She bowed her head again, relieving me of her burning scrutiny. I took the opportunity to study her more closely. Her emaciated body, red rimmed eyes, jittery hands, pale complexion, thinning hair, and bloody forehead … I never suspected that she would be into drugs, but time changed people.

“Blair, how long has it been since you slept?” I asked, opting to voice my less offensive theory for her erratic behavior.

She laughed. “You don’t sleep during a magic act, Reagan.”

Suddenly, she stood up. Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a long umbrella that she held like a cane. Sure enough, I heard the light tapping of rain on the windows.

“This is my stop.”

The bus slowed, even though I hadn’t seen or heard anyone pull the cord to request it. The door hissed open.

“See you around.” I waved, relieved that she was stepping out of my life once again.

With a smirk, Blair saluted me and headed for the door. She jumped down to the wet sidewalk, her ratty Converse hitting the pavement with a splash. I watched her as the bus pulled away from the curb. She grinned at me and opened the striped umbrella sideways, obscuring her from my view.

Throw a white cloth over a dove.

Blair spun the umbrella. Raindrops hit it like a waterwheel. Then she gracefully swept it over her head.

Wave your hand.

She caught my eye again and winked.

Abracadabra…

Blair held my gaze until the bus rounded the corner.

And then she was gone.