The Art of Disappearing Ivy Pochoda (electronic book reader .TXT) 📖

left for good. I thought that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I didn’t try to pull him back. I won’t make that mistake twice.” We sipped our wine and watched the waves tangle with one another. “He’s fading,” I said. “Like the Max figures on my quilt faded. I need to bring him back or I’ll lose him for good.”

Olivia squeezed my hand. “I hope you understand that it isn’t you they are escaping from.”

From the corner of the street, I could make out a person in a puffy red coat standing in front of Piet’s house. Even from a few feet away, I detected the scent of pot and wasted time that billowed from Amsterdam’s black-lit coffee shops on a tide of trippy music.

“Can I help you?”

The red coat turned, and I thought I recognized Jimmy, Greta’s boyfriend. “The magician’s friend,” he said.

“Wife,” I corrected.

“Sure. Whatever.” Jimmy’s eyes were glazed and red. He looked at the ominous gray of the sky. “Does it always rain so much here?”

I nodded.

“I come from the desert. Never seen so much goddamned rain.”

I fumbled for my keys. Jimmy was too impatient and rang the bell. When no one answered, he pounded on the door. I found my key and was about to fit it in the lock, when the door opened and Toby poked his head out. If he was surprised by Jimmy’s presence, he didn’t let it show. He looked past the teenager to me. “Are you making it a habit of staying away at night?”

“I’m not the only one,” I said, pushing past him into the house.

Toby’s eyes clouded. Before he could speak, Jimmy wedged himself between us.

“It took me forever to find you.”

“I vanish easily.”

They backed into the vestibule.

“Some guy in a magic shop told me there were a bunch of creepy old magicians living on this street. I’ve been ringing every bell.”

“Creepy,” Toby repeated.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder at the street and then peered down the hallway. “Perfect.” He laughed. “This city and this rotten house are perfect for a couple of old-timers like yourselves. Couldn’t really imagine you under the Vegas lights.”

“You’d be surprised,” Toby said.

“We’re not as old-fashioned as you may think,” I added.

“A magician and a—” Jimmy looked at me.

“A textile designer.”

“Right out of the history books. Bet you don’t even watch TV.”

We shook our heads.

Then Jimmy looked down at his shoes. He pursed his lips and squinted. He pulled his puffy ski coat tighter. “Never cold like this back home.”

“Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?” I suggested.

“Nah. I haven’t found anything good to eat since I’ve been here.”

“Maybe a coffee?” Toby offered as Jimmy looked up.

“A beer,” Jimmy said finally. “I’ll take a beer.”

Toby and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Why not?” the magician said.

“Cool,” Jimmy muttered, and took off his coat.

We sat at the kitchen table. “Only good thing in this city is that you can get fries everywhere.”

“You can get fries a lot of places in America,” I said.

“They’re better here.” Jimmy looked down at the table. “Like at that diner, the Route 66?”

I nodded as I remembered the place where we first met Greta.

“The fries there suck. The ketchup is really bad, too. They just pretend it’s Heinz. But Greta always had to refill those Heinz bottles from some pump dispenser. Didn’t fool anyone.” He shrugged. “In Intersection, there isn’t much choice.”

Toby returned with three bottles of beer.

“Bottles,” Jimmy said, “nice. At the bars here, the beers are so small.”

“So it doesn’t get warm while you’re drinking,” I explained.

“True,” Jimmy said. “Greta’d probably be jealous if she knew I was sitting here with you. Or angry. Who knows.” For a moment, no one spoke. “I miss her sometimes,” Jimmy said finally. “I miss her a lot of the time. It’s like, when she ran off to Las Vegas, I wasn’t sure she’d come back exactly. But I never thought that I wouldn’t see her again.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at the table.

“I should have been more careful,” the magician explained. “It was my fault.”

Now Jimmy laughed. “That would make Greta so mad. She’d want all the credit.”

Toby drained his glass.

“She was such a weird girl,” Jimmy continued. “She talked about death like it was a person. It was like a popular girl Greta wanted to impress.” Jimmy shook his head. “The weird thing is, she was fun. I mean, at least she had a thing. All the other girls at school—well, I don’t know—they’re pretty much the same.” He paused. “I just don’t understand what she was thinking.”

“Some people just feel that they are meant to be elsewhere,” I said.

“How do you hold on to someone like that?”

“You can’t,” I replied.

“That sucks.”

“It does,” Toby added.

“Can you find someone after she disappears?” He looked from me to Toby.

Toby shook his head.

“But you’re a magician.”

“That doesn’t make any difference.”

Jimmy drained his beer then pounded the bottle on the table with such force that the plates shook in the sideboard. “No,” he said. “I don’t believe it.” His knuckles were white. “It’s the only thing that does make a difference.”

“Why?” Toby asked. His voice was calm.

Jimmy spoke slowly, trying to control a storm rising inside him. “When Greta left for Vegas, she said you were more than a magician. She said you could actually do stuff.” Now he pounded the table again and half rose out of his seat. “So, do something.”

“Please calm down,” Toby said.

“It’s just not okay,” Jimmy said, standing and walking around to Toby. “Everyone says it is, but it’s not. And you’re not going to walk away a second time.”

Toby stood and tried to lead Jimmy back to his seat, but the teenager didn’t let him.

“Greta’s dead, and you’re on vacation,” Jimmy said. “That just doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not on vacation,” Toby replied, struggling to speak calmly.

“It looks like it.” Jimmy stumbled against a wall, then righted himself. “I’d like to blame Greta for what she did. But she’s