The Real Thing

by Marina Simcoe

  “Do you mean where I got it from?”

  “Yes. Did your parents have any? Do they know anything about ‘the balance of matter in the world?’” I put quotation marks in the air with my fingers, repeating his words.

  “Maybe, but I never had a chance to ask them. I never met them.”

  “Are they dead?”

  “I don’t know. I grew up in foster care. Don’t you have to go to work soon?”

  “What?”

  “Your alarm went off a while back,” he tipped his chin towards my bedroom.

  “It did?” I hadn’t even hear it! “Oh my God! I’ll be late!” I jumped off my chair and hurriedly finished my coffee.

  “I can take you,” he offered, getting up.

  “You have a car here?” I looked at his bare feet again.

  “No,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I didn’t drive here.”

  “Yes. Of course. Teleported or something. Sorry, I keep forgetting.” I was running around my apartment, collecting my things: purse, keys, TTC pass for the subway. It would take me at least forty-five minutes to get from the front door of my apartment to my cubicle, which meant that I would most likely be late no matter how fast I ran to the subway.

  “Right. No car.” Marcus followed me to the hallway. “But I can still take you.”

  “Really?” I stopped in my tracks, holding my purse to my chest. “You can? That would save me forty-five minutes of commute. I can be early for once!” I shoved my feet into my boots and threw my coat on. “So. How does it work?”

  “You have to tell me the address. Is the door to your office closed?”

  I gave him the address of my office building.

  “But I don’t have an office. I have a cubicle.”

  “Is it open?”

  I nodded. Obviously, Marcus had never worked in a cubicle.

  “Okay. Is there a bathroom or a broom closet in the building, some kind of a closed room where no one is likely to be inside at this hour? We don’t want to materialize in front of your unsuspecting coworkers and give them a heart attack.”

  “Right. The supply room is always locked, and I don’t think anyone would be there that early. People tend to hang around the coffee machine in the kitchen first thing in the morning.” I gave him the approximate location of the supply room on our floor.

  “Perfect. Come here,” he gestured for me to come closer.

  My stomach fluttered in anticipation. I slung the strap of my purse over my shoulder and walked over to Marcus, stopping a couple of feet from him; my back straight, my arms down my sides.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Closer.” His voice went warm and soft, rolling over me like a wave of honey.

  Following the pull of his words, I made another step forward, fully invading his personal space. I could feel the faint smell of leather tickling my nostrils. It must have become a permanent part of him since he wasn’t even wearing any leather.

  “Closer,” he repeated and took a step forward himself, closing the distance between us. “We need to be very close for it to work.” He lifted my arms and positioned them over his shoulders then hugged me around the waist, pulling me against the hard warmth of his body.

  “How close?” I breathed out with my nose pressed to his collarbone in the neckline of his shirt.

  “Very close,” he whispered into my hair. “Ideally, your legs should be wrapped around me, and my mouth should be on yours —”

  “Marcus!” I looked up, ready to say something angry for his trickery. A warm puff of air hit my face at that moment; it blew my hair up and made me blink. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again, I was no longer in my apartment.

  My ass was pressed against a box of printer paper on a shelf, and the air smelled of dust and ink cartridges.

  “That’s it?” I couldn’t believe how fast, simple and rather ordinary this felt.

  “No. One more thing.” Marcus lowered his face, and his lips met mine in a gentle kiss. It was soft, warm and tender. The complete opposite to the scorching kiss we shared in my bedroom yesterday but even harder to resist. My arms tightened around him, pulling him closer to me. His lips left mine and travelled along the side of my jaw, from my mouth to my neck, leaving a trail of more tender kisses.

  “Well, since I saved you a few minutes on commute this morning…” Marcus murmured into my ear, and I felt him lift me onto the box behind me.

  “Oh, nooo!” I laughed. “We are not going there in here!”

  “Where then?” His kisses stopped, and he breathed heavily as he gently nuzzled my neck.

  “Not here.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to let him go, not now, not ever, but some early birds at the office could have finished their coffee already and might decide to stock up on ballpoint pens any minute. The last thing I needed was to lose my office job for making out with a famous magician in the supply closet!

  “I want to take you to my ranch house in Nevada,” Marcus announced unexpectedly, refusing to loosen his hold on me.

  “Okay. We’ll talk about it. But right now I need to go and make sure there are enough vacuums and paper towels for everyone in the country today. And you have a show to do,” I reminded and brushed a few strands of his hair out of his face.

  “No,” his grip on me relaxed finally, and his hands slid to my waist. “I’m going to sleep.”

  “Sleep? Right now?”

  “It’s only five in the morning in Vegas. One hour past my bedtime.”

  “You go to bed at four?”

  “Mmhmm,” he nodded, “I sleep until noon. I don’t have to work until around three most of the days.”

  “Night owl.” I smiled at him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He pressed one last kiss on the tip of my nose.

  I couldn’t stop smiling, already looking forward to waking up tomorrow morning.

  “Okay. Have a good sleep, Marcus.”

  13. Dating a Magician.

  Every day I learned more about Marcus and every day I found there was still so much more to discover.

  His magic, of course, fascinated me more than anything, at first.

  For Marcus, the laws of physics were just loose guidelines, not the unbreakable limitations they were for the rest of us. In addition to his demonstrated disregard to the laws of gravity and physical distance between objects, he could manipulate matter and elements in any way he chose. Over the next few weeks, I saw him do things that never stopped to amaze me.

  When I complained that my apartment needed a good cleaning, for which I had no time, he lifted all the dust and dirt off the floor in one thin mucky layer of grime. It even had the shape of my carpet surface as it hovered in the air for a second before Marcus made it fold into the garbage bin, leaving my floors perfectly clean and shiny.

  When the light bulb in my bedroom burned out, and I realized that I never bought a replacement, Marcus — in his own words — “brought in the light.” He made a glowing ball of light appear in the middle of my bedroom, right under the ceiling and explained that he just “borrowed” it from the streetlights outside. I wondered then if he also “borrowed” the electricity on the same principle when he powered my hairdryer for me during a blackout once.

  A few times, he instantly froze the stream of water from my kitchen faucet into a foot-long stick of ice when I mentioned that I needed some ice for my smoothie.

  And one early morning, I saw him stretch a candle flame into a string of fire and bend it into intricate designs in the air, just because he thought I’d find it pretty. I watched, mesmerized, as it turned and twisted, glowing with pulsating light in the dark room, more beautiful than I had ever seen anything before!

  Once, when I wondered out loud if French croissants tasted any different than the ones we got in Toronto, Marcus disappeared for a few minutes and appeared again with a basket of croissants fresh from a café in Paris, France.

  “What if I felt like Thai food one day?” I tease
d as I munched on one of the French croissants, which by the way tasted quite different than the ones I used to buying in Toronto. “Will you ‘fly’ to Thailand to get it?”

  “Nope. Probably not. Most likely, I would just get you some from one of the Thai places on Bloor Street right here, in Toronto. I’ve never been to Thailand,” he explained, “and I wouldn’t know where to look for anything there.”

  “Have you been to Paris?”

  “Yes. And I’ve even had a coffee in the café where I got these right now,” he pointed at my half-eaten croissant. “So I knew for sure that they served croissants all day there.”

  “Can’t you go to Thailand just for fun? Take your time to look around? Or is it too far? Is there a distance limit for your teleportation mode of travel?”

  “No, there is no limit,” he shook his head. “The problem is the landing point. I need to know where I would appear. I have to be sure that no one is around at that time, and I also prefer to know that it’s relatively safe. I went through a phase of wanderlust as a teenager when I would research places I wanted to visit on the map and then go there whenever I had a chance. It ended when I decided to try a safari once and landed half-a-foot away from a sleeping lion, somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa.” He pulled up the hem of his jeans, revealing several long, parallel scars running along his ankle. “Technically, I can disappear instantly. In reality, however, it takes at least a second or so to realize where I am and then get out. A second turned out to be long enough for the lion to wake up, freak out and go for my leg.”

  “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry!” I covered my mouth with my hand, terrified for him.

  “Don’t be,” he laughed. “My next plan was to visit the Amazon. The lion incident made me change my mind. Who knows how that one would have turned out?”

  ***

  Of course, the most important miracle of all was the kaleidoscope of butterflies that appeared in my stomach every time I thought about Marcus. I looked forward to seeing him every day, and he did appear in my kitchen almost every morning, making sure I had my coffee and breakfast.

  Because of our busy schedules and the time difference between our cities, we only had about one hour each morning to spend together, and even then, only if I woke up before my alarm and Marcus went to bed past his usual bedtime.

  After a week of that schedule, we both felt the toll that the lack of sleep was taking on us.

  On Sunday morning, I found Marcus deep asleep on the couch in my living room, with Lannister curled up on his chest purring away in ecstasy. As had become the norm by now, my aloof, uncaring cat turned into this friendly cuddly pussycat whenever Marcus was around.

  I didn’t work at the store until noon on Sundays, but I still got up around six that morning, thinking that I could spend a few more hours with Marcus. However, seeing him so exhausted, I didn’t even have it in me to feel disappointed. He had three shows the day before and obviously needed his sleep. I covered him with a blanket and went back to bed for another few hours of sleep myself.

  Generally, Marcus wasn’t shy when it came to displays of affection. I got warm hello hugs, tender goodbye kisses and some brief, gentle cuddles in between.

  Neither did he shy away from my touch. When I finally got the nerve to ask him to let me brush his hair, he easily agreed. He even let me make some fancy braids and ponytails whenever I felt like it, as long as I undid them all before he left. He claimed that the pink ribbons and crystal barrettes I favoured didn’t go with his stage image of the dark and mysterious mage.

  However, the hot, sexy side of our relationship had cooled off significantly, and he didn’t go past the gentle hugs and kisses any more. There were no more heated bedroom visits from him, either. Instead, he followed the rule I put in place — he was only allowed to materialize in my kitchen or living room.

  Marcus seemed to be enjoying just talking to me more than anything. He was a gifted storyteller, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm when he talked, and it was an exquisite experience to listen to the stories of his past travels, his magic acts, and his encounters with different people. It was as if he never had anyone to talk to all his life and was eager to catch up now.

  Well, from what he told me, he really didn’t have many people who would listen in his life. Neither was there anyone to advise him on his powers. When he was a child, if he showed his magic here and there, the people around him tended to ignore it, explain it away or freak out; a few even thought him possessed. They either punished him for being different or moved him to yet another foster family as soon as possible. Not surprising then that he quickly learned to hide what he was.

  Now, he just seemed glad to have at least one person from whom he didn’t have to hide. This alone could have explained his obvious enjoyment of spending time with me. In the past, I had some relationships that started hot and burned out fast; I was actually grateful this time to take it slow, as long as it was heading somewhere.

  I didn’t really mind the lack of a sexual relationship between us at the beginning. I relished the time spent with him, discovering everything about him that I always wanted to know but never thought I’d have a chance to learn. I often felt like pinching myself to make sure this wasn’t all a dream and I actually had a chance to be this close to him.

  Every now and then, however, I wondered if the complete lack of a sexual relationship between us had a bigger significance than I realized, and then I dreaded the moment when the novelty of having a friend who listened would wear off for Marcus, and he would move on.

  The mere thought of him leaving me made me physically ill, as if I could feel my heart breaking already. It would be more devastating than I ever could’ve imagined before meeting him.

  Yet, I didn’t regret agreeing to try this with him. Somehow, because of Marcus, I turned into a strong believer of the principle of Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

  No matter what happened in our future, I would always have these hours with Marcus in my life when the magic of having him close was real.

  14. Emily.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are a lifesaver, like always!”

  Even though I couldn’t see her at the moment, I knew that Emily was bouncing up and down as she always did when she was even a little bit excited. She was calling me at work to ask me to take care of their mail and houseplants while she and Mikey were away on their honeymoon.

  They didn’t go anywhere after their wedding in June because it was practically impossible for Mikey to take any vacation during the summer. Instead, they planned a month-long trip around the world for this fall.

  Mikey and Emily were going to fly east out of Toronto, make a number of stops all around the globe, and then return to Canada from the west, landing in Vancouver to visit her family before returning back home to Toronto.

  Both of them worked hard on the list of countries and places that they wanted to see. They had some hotels reserved here and there, but because they used Mikey’s work benefits of standby flying, their plans were mostly flexible, with lots of room for adjustments as they went. Emily promised to keep a detailed blog with pictures online and update it every chance she got.

  This was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, and I was happy for them and a little envious in a way. Listening to Emily talking about their travel plans for the past several months ignited my own sense of adventure.

  I told myself that I would have a chance to do some travelling of my own one day. Mom and Dad would get back on their feet eventually, wouldn’t they? Evan’s rehab loan would be paid off some day. Maybe I’d get some more free time then. Maybe.

  “With everything going on around here, there’s so much on my mind right now,” Emily continued in my ear through the phone. “I almost forgot about the poor plants! They would have died in a month!”

  “No worries, I have your key. I’ll keep them alive,” I reassured her.

  “There shouldn’t be that much mail. We do all our bills electroni
cally. Just empty the flyers in the mailbox from time to time, so that it’s not that obvious from the outside that we’re away. Our townhouse complex is pretty safe, but still.”

  “Will do.”

  “Sorry. I hate putting more stuff on your to-do list, Angela. Especially now that you finally have a boyfriend again!” I could have sworn she started bouncing again.

  “It’s fine, really, Emily. I don’t mind it at all. It’s just a couple of times a week, I’ll still have lots of time to spend with Marcus whenever he is in town.”

  I had eventually told Emily and my family about Marcus. Not everything, since I still hadn’t figured out how to work in his celebrity status. Especially since he hadn’t introduced me to any of his friends and didn’t make any attempts to have our relationship — or our friendship — public.

  Thankfully, Evan didn’t get to witness my flying act in the theater that night. Closer to the end of the show, he along with other stage crew had already started to load some equipment in a truck outside.

  Of course, the story of Marcus the Magnificent finding the girl he was looking for gained all kinds of publicity. Pictures and videos popped up all over the social media. However, the show was not televised. All pictures of me were taken with cellphone cameras from a distance and in less-than-ideal lighting. When any of my coworkers pointed out the fact that Marcus’s girl kind of looked like me, it was easy enough to laugh it off, especially since most of them were very aware of my lack of social life.

  In any case, I had a suspicion that even if my face were clearly visible in any of the pictures, my family would still have a hard time believing that I was the type of girl who simply flew into the open arms of a famous magician.

  So, as far as my friends and relatives were concerned, the Marcus I was seeing worked in the entertainment industry and often travelled to Toronto for business.

  I attempted to prevent any further questions by stating that it was still too early in our relationship to have him meet my family and that we were taking it slow for now. Not that my declaration stopped all their questions of course.