The Magic Man
“There is no such thing as magic,” Father was wont to say when I was a child.
Although Father worked as a magician at the local theater, he did not believe in magic at all.
“Every trick I do is through sleight of hand and deft moves. Son, I could fool anyone,” he would loudly chortle at me and clap my back with amusement, while I sat silently by the dressing room mirror, carefully polishing his ebony wand and smoothing out the creases of his floor-length silver-starred velvet cape.
Father sincerely believed that every paying customer to his magic show was gullible.
“Just look at their widening eyes and gaping mouths. You can pick off every peso pinched with the flimsiest hat trick.”
I thought otherwise.
My name is Juanito. I am my father’s assistant. Well, actually I was more of an errand boy who kept things nice and tidy around the dressing room. I lived with Father in a rundown apartment near the theater. My mother had gone round to heaven before I was old enough to remember her face.
Other children would be sad at this news, but it doesn’t matter to me. Father is as good a mother as anyone’s and more so, for he was gentle and kind not only to me but to all the performers. He taught me the simplest of magic tricks to amuse myself when I felt all alone and unhappy. Though I must admit that he could be occasionally impudent with the show’s audience, he still remained perfect and lovable to me.
I knew that I was different. I wholeheartedly believed in magic because I could do things that children could not normally do. By just focusing my thoughts on any object, I could make it fly up into the air, staying suspended and motionless as if held by an invisible hand. I was astounded and excited when I first became aware of my strange talent, and yes, I too was terribly afraid of it. I was no supernatural creature – I had ten digits on both hands and feet, a pudgy body with a commonplace face and topped with a normal tuft of black hair.
However, I did dream of becoming a super hero, like one of those I’ve read in comic books, donning a long cape like Father’s and masked to keep their identities a secret, ready to mete out justice and fight evil wherever it abounds.
I never told Father what I could do. I was terribly anxious of what he would think of my extraordinary powers. Would he think of me differently? I shuddered at the thought that he might call me a liar or prankster, or worse yet would just stop loving me.
What about the people in my neighborhood? Aling Bebang might not want me to go to her store anymore and I won’t be able to taste her delicious fruit popsicles and candied breads. My friends might not want to play with me and I’d miss out on my favorite games of taguan, tumbang preso, and patintero. I’d be all alone, I sniffed to myself.
Merly did not think of me that way.
Merly is Father’s real assistant. She is a year older than me and gamely goes onstage, wearing shiny sequined dresses and bedecked with multi-colored plumages on her head. Merly helps Father in every magic performance and sometimes provides comic relief through stand up comedy skits and her raucous laughter.
She discovered my bizarre power by accident as I was absentmindedly playing with my handkerchief, letting it zoom, dance, and fly up in the air like a bird. Merly went agape in wonder, but soon enough chuckled at the amusing and odd feats done by my handkerchief. She began to dance around the room, carefree and cheerfully chasing the whizzing white cloth. Tired, she plopped down on the cushion beside me.
“Juanito, why didn’t you tell me you had magic powers?”
“Uhhh, I too was surprised. I was also afraid that you’d make fun of me,” I shyly replied.
“Wow! I’d do anything to have your powers. What else can you do?” Merly excitedly exclaimed.
“I could let any object float in the air, just look…”
Throwing up some balls and silvery metal hoops in the air, I began to make them swing around and dance in a rhythmic zigzag fashion. The metal hoops began to tinkle, while the balls whizzed and went through them. All throughout this unique performance, Merly laughed, whooped, and clapped cheerily. It was the best magic show she had ever seen.
“Juanito, you should come and join your father’s magic show. You’d be a real sell-out, I tell you,” Merly boldly suggested to me.
“I…I just couldn’t. Father wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t really believe in magic,” I awkwardly stammered.
“Believe me, he’d like it a lot. Juanito, he loves you very much that he’ll believe in your powers.”
“Merly, I beg you not to tell Father. He’d get angry and would feel different towards me. Please, you’re my friend,” I entreated.
Merly looked at me disappointingly, but she soon smiled at me.
“I promise I won’t tell,” she reassuringly responded.
Merly kept her word and I placed my powers under wraps. However, when both of us felt bored or sad, I would whip up a performance that would soon make us dance around and laugh gregariously.
Years pass by so quickly and soon, Merly and I were teenagers, yet my magical abilities had somehow helped us to remain child-like and full of wonder for the world around us.
Sadly, Father’s magic shows were no longer popular entertainment for the townsfolk. The theater had become dilapidated and most of the other performers had decided to move on to other towns. A rich businessman from the neighboring city decided to open the first cinema in our town, and soon the people would flock every night to look at latest adventure or romance movie offering advertised on the brightly lit marquee and watch it on a large white screen.
Father had also grown old and wrinkled. Though he did not believe in magic, he was never weary and enjoyed doing magic tricks, savoring the applause he received from his awe-struck audience. However, his once full house performances soon declined, sometimes with only five people watching. Nowadays, we could barely scrape a living from his magic shows, and I decided to do odd jobs to support our needs.
Once, Father bewailed to me, “I knew my time was up. Who believes in magic tricks these days with all the new-fangled contraptions and entertainments? Juanito, I’ll kick the bucket soon.”
These words made me feel terribly sad and sometimes infuriated.
Father felt down and out, and I wanted to help him but didn’t know how to cheer him up. Merly still assisted in our magic shows, but because of the low pay had decided to become a vendor in the town market. Once in a while, she would come to visit Father and me, bringing along some fresh fruits and flowers from her stall to brighten our dingy apartment.
“How am I to help him? What do I have to do to make him happy?” I gloomily asked Merly.
“He has lost his zest for life. You can only bring that back through magic,” Merly solemnly replied.
Deep in my heart I knew what Merly meant. Though I was afraid, I had to do something. I just can’t let Father go down hill. Merly will help me get him back on his feet.
During the next few days, I prepared and hung large posters all over the market square announcing about the most extraordinary magic show ever to be seen in town. Merly herself spread the word among her customers and other vendors that the magic show would truly be amazing and spectacular. Soon, all of the townspeople were in a hubbub about the magic show and were demanding for tickets.
I had scheduled the magic show on a Friday night. I meticulously prepared for my routine, placing balls, metal hoops, canes, and multi-colored cloths all over the stage. I realized that I was ready, but my innate timidity made me feel terribly nervous.
On the night of the performance, Merly fetched father from our apartment. It was hard for her to convince him to come, but when she revealed that I was to perform magic, Father was thoroughly surprised.
“How could Juanito perform? I have taught him but a few simple tricks. He might lose heart if the crowd scoffs at these tricks,” Father anxiously exclaimed.
Father sat on front of the stage. His hands quivered in suspense. He was protective of me and didn’t want to see me fail. The townsfolk were all surprised to see him at the front seat for they thought he was the one to perform. All of them were agog to hear that I was the magician for tonight’s show.
At exactly half past eight, all of the lights in the old theater dimmed, and Merly in an uncharacteristic voice announced “Welcome, one and all to the most extraordinary magic show ever seen! Please give a big hand to Juanito, the Magic Man!”
As the curtains were raised and spotlights focused, I let two glass lamps float in before me. The audience and even Father, heaved a sigh of wonder at this amazing occurrence.
Wearing but an old white shirt and straw hat, I merrily approached the astonished crowd and asked “Do you believe in magic? Magic is all around us in nature. All you have to do is open your eyes and believe.”
At my cue, Merly set off marching music using an old gramophone, and the cadenced tune boomed throughout the whole theater hall.
Immediately, the balls, canes, metal hoops, and multi-colored cloths that I scattered around the stage began to float in the air, and with just a flick of my finger, began to make them jiggle and dance, swaying musically to and fro. Like an orchestra conductor, I began directing the objects to whimsically whiz around the audience, and with the snap of my fingers, the hats, walking sticks, and handkerchiefs of some viewers began to float and bop around.
Everybody in the audience deafeningly clapped and guffawed at the performance, and some even began to wriggle and sway at their seats to accompany the objects dancing in the air. I was excited at how the townsfolk were all enjoying themselves and knew that our show was a total success.
Father was the most enthusiastic of all. His eyes were brimming with tears, and was laughing and clapping loudly. From the front seat, he gave me the thumbs up.
After the show, Father approached and tightly hugged me.
“Juanito, why didn’t you tell me of your magic?”
“I thought that you might turn me away if you knew,” I hesitantly replied.
Father looked at me tenderly, and affectionately smiled.
“Juanito, I will always love you. You are my son and accept you for who you are...your magic and all.”
I too, cried that night. Father believed in me and was proud of my extraordinary magic. He was alive once more... I gave back to him his wonder and passion for magic, and he in turn, made me feel the true love that exists between father and son.
