My son Jack has always been difficult to cope with. While his peers spent their time pursuing creative hobbies and socializing, he’d spend his days in his room, playing video games, and talking to strangers on the internet. My husband Mark and I never approved of this, of course, but whenever we made any attempt to start a conversation or ask about his future goals, he’d snap and usher us out of the room.
Now, you might say the parents are to blame. I’ve heard my fair share of suggestions – take his computer away, set screen-time limits, send him to a psychotherapist. In retrospect, perhaps we should have done all those things. But Jack was an only child, so I admit we had a bit of a soft spot for him and provided him with what we’d considered love to the best of our ability.
About three weeks ago, however, things changed. I remember Jack descending the stairs one morning and joining us at the kitchen table. Mark had looked up at me as though I was a miracle worker.
“Good morning,” Jack’s tone was lively.
“M-morning,” Mark said, eyeing our son curiously, “Would you like some toast?”
“Love some.”
I observed the interaction, dumbfounded. What on earth was going on?
“Mom, dad,” Jack began, his hands on his hips, “I have decided to pursue magic.”
For a moment we were too stunned to speak.
“Magic?” I echoed.
Jack nodded.
“Yep. There’s a really cool website that shows how to do the tricks and stuff.”
I saw my husband glance at me out of the corner of my eye.
“Well,” he took a deep breath, “If that’s something you’re interested in, then we support you, right Carol?”
His question was directed at me, and I knew I had the last say. Naturally, as parents we’d hoped our son would show an interest in more… conventional endeavors, but at this point we were ecstatic he’d shown interest in anything at all.
“Of course, darling,” I said, beaming at him.
It was like something had lifted from my shoulders. Here we were, having breakfast together like a normal family – something we hadn’t done in almost three years.
“Cool,” Jack bit his toast thoughtfully, “Then I’ll start right away.”
I’ll admit, we were a bit anxious that Jack would forget all about his pledge and retreat into his bedroom to play video games, but to his credit, he followed through.
He started with simple tricks: card tricks, coin tricks, math tricks – you get the picture. And all the while, my husband and I cheered him on. The issue was, and I feel rather bad about saying this, that he just wasn’t very good. Now, it’s a well-known fact that magic requires a certain degree of dexterity and discipline. Well, Jack didn’t seem to possess either of those qualities.
Coins would slip out of his palms and roll across the floor, the card tricks would never work out the way he intended, and he’d get the math all muddled up and lose track of the numbers. Despite this, he seemed to almost radiate confidence.
“I don’t think you’re actually meant to swallow the string,” my husband said one evening, after Jack had performed his newest trick.
“Yes, you are,” Jack retorted, trying to stifle a gag, “It’s on the website, I know what I’m doing.”
Mark and I exchanged glances.
“Perhaps we should find you a teacher?” I suggested, “Your uncle is rather good, perhaps he could teach you the basics.”
Jack’s face dropped.
“I can do it myself, mom, it’s not that difficult!”
I didn’t respond. Don’t get me wrong, I supported Jack with all my heart, of course I did. It was just that it pained me to see him trying so hard and failing. I mean, I could do the card trick he showed me last night when I was about twelve.
I also didn’t like that he was spending so much time on a hobby that wasn’t really applicable anywhere else. After all, being a magician is not exactly the best paying job in the world. Instead, I wanted him to focus on his schoolwork, so when he came downstairs and announced he was entering the school talent show, I was ready to say no.
“I think it’s a great idea,” my husband beat me to it, “But you’ll need lots of practice.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jack rolled his eyes, “It’s going to be the best magic show anyone’s ever seen!”
I shot Mark a disapproving look. How could he encourage this? Wasn’t it bad enough that Jack had almost choked to death on a piece of ribbon the previous day?
“Don’t disturb me,” Jack commanded, dodging out of the kitchen.
“Aren’t you going to have some breakfast?” I called after him, but he’d already disappeared.
And so, the cycle started up again. When he wasn’t at school, Jack spent all his time in his room, with the door shut. Honestly, what with my own job and errands, the only time I saw him was during dinner, when he’d run into the kitchen to pick up his plate.
“You’re gonna be so impressed, mom!” he called each time from the landing of the stairs, “I can’t wait until you see it!”
This went on for about two weeks. I asked Jack to at least give us a hint as to what his trick would be, but he wouldn’t budge. The talent show wasn’t for another month, so I figured he’d come around by then.
I was walking down the corridor one morning, after Mark had already left for work and Jack had gone to school, when I noticed a faint smell radiating from his room. In fact, the entire corridor seemed to be bathed in it. It smelled foul and sickly sweet, a bit like a rotten egg. Had Jack forgotten to return his dinner plates?
I tried the handle, but it was locked. Christ, I thought. He was being so secretive about this magic trick. It really did stink though, so I opened several windows to let in a draft, hoping it would take care of the smell until he got home.
That same evening, Jack returned from school with a girl.
“Mom! Dad! I’m ready to show you my trick!” he announced, as soon as he stepped through the front door.
“Who’s this then?” my husband asked cheekily.
“This is Evelyn,” Jack said, “She’s my new magic assistant.”
“Are you in Jack’s class?” I asked her.
She looked quite a bit older than him.
“No,” she shook her head, “We met online.”
“I see,” I said, giving my son a reproving look, “So are we finally going to see the wondrous act?”
“Yep!” Jack looked like he was struggling to contain his excitement, “Let me just grab a couple of props from upstairs!”
“Oh, that reminds me!” I called after him, “There’s a pretty unpleasant smell coming from your room, and I really hope it’s not one of my dinners!”
Silence.
“Jack!”
“I got it, mom,” he chuckled, dragging a few boxes down the stairs, “Let me show you the trick first.”
He dumped the boxes in the middle of the living room and began aligning them, using tape to secure the ends.
“What’s this meant to be?” Mark asked.
“This,” Jack paused for impact, “Is the beginning of the rest of my life.”
I had no idea what the trick was, but I suspected Jack was being a bit overdramatic. After all, two weeks ago, he hadn’t been able to perform a simple trick, let alone anything elaborate.
“Sit down, mom,” he ordered, pointing to the couch, “Evelyn, could you get inside the box, please?”
In spite of myself, I felt my pulse picking up. More than anything, I wanted to see my son succeed, and hoped that whatever he was going to perform was indeed good enough for the talent show.
We watched as Evelyn slid into the box-contraption, until only her head and legs stuck out from either end.
“Now, don’t worry, I’ve spent two weeks practicing,” Jack said, producing a handsaw from behind the box.
“Jack,” I started, alarmed.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Jack’s hand froze in mid-air. My husband groaned as I got up to answer it.
“It’ll probably be the neighbors again, wanting to return the lawnmower.”
But it wasn’t the neighbors. It was the police.
“Good afternoon,” one of the officers said, “Are you Carol?”
I swallowed.
“I am. W-what is this regarding?”
“Ma’am we’ve received several missing persons reports over the past couple of weeks.”
I crossed my arms.
“Yes?”
“Well, it would seem that the missing persons had all established contact with your son, Jack, regarding a-“ the officer consulted his notes, “a ‘box magic trick’? Is he around?”
A wave of apprehension washed over me.
I turned to face the living room, my heart thumping in my chest.
To my horror, he’d already started.