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Yeah - I was so fascinated by her facial expression (and how attractive she was) that I stood there like an idiot, staring.
- "Hello, Pete. Happy Birthday." she said.
My knees wobbled. Oh my God - was she ... was she my present? Or was she here to sell me something? Was she recruiting for a cult?
"I brought you a card." she said. "May I come in? Could I ... speak to you for a few minutes?"
- "Umm - my parents aren't home." Why on earth did I say that? Reflex? It made me sound about 12 years old.
- "I know." said the girl on our front step. "Your mother won't be home until 6:00, or 6:30. And her husband won't be back until 7:00, at the earliest."
What? How did she know that? And ... wait - her husband? What on earth was that supposed to mean?
- "How ...?"
- "May I come in?" she repeated.
I had a few good reasons for saying no: I didn't know her, she knew far too much about my parent's habits, and she was incredibly good-looking. If she asked me to sign over the family savings, or jump off a cliff, I was doomed.
On the other hand, I was just barely 18, so I couldn't sign anything. Could I? Plus she was incredibly good-looking. And it was still winter - I couldn't leave her outside, in the cold.
I stepped back, to let her into our front hallway. She carefully wiped her feet, and removed her boots. Then she took off her coat and a scarf, which she handed to me.
She had on a loose black dress, with a belt - I remembered that detail, for some reason. But I was following the beautifully tanned skin of her neck, down to the top of her chest ... and the bit of cleavage she was showing.
It wasn't an immodest dress. It covered her arms to the elbow, and her legs almost to the knee. She had nice calves, though ...
Somehow I managed to hang up her coat in the front hall closet, without dropping it, or losing her scarf.
My God, she was gorgeous. Tiny, well-shaped feet, too. She was shapely. Curvy. I was completely befuddled. My vocabulary had shrunk to under a hundred words.
- "My name is Janine." she said. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
- "Are you ...? Uh - is it you that's been sending ...?"
- "Yes. My mother and me."
- "Your Mother?"
- "She sent you a card." Janine handed me a small envelope. It was unsealed. All it contained was a small note.
Happy Birthday, Pete. Keep practicing! Your time has arrived.
There are coincidences, and then there are ... other things. Janine and her mother. Who were they? Why had they sent me these birthday gifts?
Years of training finally kicked in.
- "Please come in." I said. I led Janine into our living room.
- "Could I have a glass of water, please?" she asked
- "Oh - sorry. I should've ... umm, we have other things, too. Soft drinks, juice, coffee ..."
Damn it! Why did I mention coffee? If she asked for that, I was going to have to admit that I didn't know how to use Mom's deluxe machine.
- "Just water, please."
I managed to pour a glass of filtered water. Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe.
Was I so flustered because she was so striking? Or because I was about to find out who had been sending me anonymous birthday gifts for the past 5 years?
Janine had made herself comfortable on the couch.
- "Thank you." she said, when I handed her the glass. She placed it on a coaster on the coffee table. Meanwhile, I sat down opposite.
"You must have a million questions." she said. Janine was so cool, so self-controlled.
- "Umm ... yeah. Give or take a few."
- "Why don't you ask a couple, and I'll try to answer them."
- "Okay." The first thing that popped into my head came out my mouth.
"Why me?"
- "That's a good place to start." said Janine. "You have magical talent, Pete. Your Mother is a natural talent, whether she knows it or not. Her father was a great mage."
"And your father is a master wizard, too."
- "Wait -" What the hell? "My mother? And my Dad? He's a magician?"
- "I tried to tell you earlier." she said. "Bill Grey is not your biological father."
I sat there, stunned.
It's not every day that a complete stranger, however hot she may be, tells you that your Dad isn't your Dad.
"I'm sorry if this comes as a shock. We had no way of knowing if you knew or not. I'm telling you this ... well, so that you'll understand. But also so that you'll realize that you can trust me to tell you the truth."
"Test me. Ask your mother. Don't be too hard on her, though - your real father is a 1st class mage, but he's a very unpleasant person, too."
Bill wasn't my Dad? Somehow, I was less surprised than I should have been.
- "Wait - you know my ... my real Dad?"
- "My mother did. She also knew your maternal grandfather. The Devants were powerful mages ..."
That was my Mom's maiden name. Julia Devant. Her father had passed away when I was very young - as far as I knew. She'd always told me that she was an only child ... was that another lie?
Meanwhile, I was struggling with another aspect of Janine's revelations.
- "Are you saying what I think you're saying? That ... magic is real?"
- "Yes." said Janine. "And you're a natural talent."
- "Me?"
- "Yes."
- "Is this ... some kind of scam?"
Janine shook her head. "I'm not selling anything, Pete. Today I'm just here to give you knowledge. For free."
A little voice in my head whispered 'There's no such thing as free'. I heard it - and ignored it.
- "Knowledge about what, exactly?"
- "Magic." said Janine.
***
She was right about one thing: I did have a million more questions. But they were all crowding together, jamming the doors of my mind as they all tried to come out at once.
- "One thing at a time." she said.
Janine offered to let me test her.
- "You should verify that what I've told you so far is true." She handed me a business card. "That's your real father's name. Don't try to track him down. As far as I know, you can't reach him. And believe me: if you could, you definitely wouldn't want to meet him."
"My number is on the back. When you're ready to talk again ... just call me."
- "Wait - that's it?"
- "For today." She stood up.
- "You're leaving? After ... after dropping these bombs on me?"
- "Before we can go any further, Pete, you'll have to trust me. You have to find out for yourself that I'm telling you the truth."
I was still trying to gather my scattered wits as she walked towards the front door.
- "Wait! Wait - tell me one thing."
Janine paused, and turned around, hands on her shapely hips.
- "Alright."
- "You ... you talk as if magic is real." I said.
She didn't respond immediately. There was that facial expression again: was it a challenge, or a dismissal?
- "What's your favourite colour?" she asked. "Wait! Don't say it - just think it."
Did I even have a favourite colour? Probably blue -
Janine's hair suddenly turned blue. Navy blue.
My mouth dropped open.
- "That might have been a lucky guess, right?" said Janine. "Choose another colour."
This wasn't possible. Still, I played along with her little game. I decided to stick with blue.
"Another colour." she said.
Holy shit! Was she reading my mind? Fine: green. No - orange.
To my amazement, Janine's hair turned green for the space of a second and a half, before changing to bright orange. How the hell ...?
- "Is that enough for one day?" she asked.
After Janine left, I looked at the card she'd left me. There was my father's name: Robert Clifford.
***
Mom cried. A lot.
- "I'm so sorry, Petey. I didn't want you to know about your Dad because he was ... such a truly bad man ... I thought if I told you, you'd want to get in touch with him."
- "Why did you marry him, Mom, if he was such an - such a bad person?"
- "My family. They made me ..." She blew her nose again. I passed her another tissue.
- "The Devants? The family you never told me about?"
- "I know. I'm sorry. But ..."
- "You didn't want me practicing magic?"
It all came out, in a rush of tears and snot. Mom had grown up surrounded by magic - she believed it was real magic, at any rate - and she'd feared it. She'd been afraid of her own family. Yet she let them pressure her into marrying another mage.
Maybe she'd thought that marriage would be a means of escaping her family. Instead, she became a pawn to her new husband, an abusive asshole.
I believed her - why would she make up shit like this? Now I understood why she'd never told me about my real Dad, and why she'd cried when I tried out my stupid magic trick on her.
Bill wasn't my real father. He hadn't really raised me, but he'd paid for our house, and everything in it. He worked too much, but he wasn't a bad person. He was actually a pretty decent guy, all things considered. How many men would have taken on a woman with a child by another man?
He just wasn't my father.
***
I told Sammy that Bill wasn't my Dad.
- "No way! How did you find out?"
I told him about Janine. He was amazed.
"That's really, really hard to believe."
- "I know."
- "But I believe you."
- "You do?"
- "I love you man, but you don't have the imagination to make up shit like that. So she was really hot?"
- "You have no idea ...."
- "I should probably meet her, then. Just to ... make sure, you know."
***
I called Janine.
- "You were right." I said.
She didn't say 'I told you so', or anything like that.
- "Would you like to meet again?" she said.
- "Yes."
- "How about Wednesday? If you skip your chemistry class, I could meet you at your house, around 2:30."
- "Umm ... I'm not doing all that well in chemistry. I should probably -"
- "You won't need chemistry, Pete." she said.
- "Okay." She was probably right. If she could do real magic ...
Wednesday afternoon. There she was, on my front step. Hotter than ever. Even hotter than I remembered.
She was wearing a sweatshirt with butterflies on it, and a pair of sweatpants that seemed to have been spray-painted on.
Yes, I had a million more questions, and my life was upside down. But I was 18 years old, male, and Janine was a spectacularly sexy girl. Woman.
- "Hello, Pete." she said.
And there it was - that same expression: eyes one quarter closed, quarter smile ...
I invited her in, took her coat. She sat in the very same spot on our couch.
- "Would you like something to drink?"
- "Yes, please. A coffee would be nice."
Damn.
- "Ahh ... I don't actually know how to make a coffee."
Her expression shifted fractionally. Now I could recognize it: frozen disdain. I'd seen it on girls' faces, at school, on a few occasions, but Janine was in a class of her own.
"Uhh ... I never learned how to use Mom's machine."
- "Time to learn. Ask your mother to teach you. For now - I'll have a glass of water."
I got her the water, feeling about 3 inches tall.
Very slowly, very deliberately, she took a tiny sip, and then placed the glass on a coaster on our coffee table.
- "Do you have any more questions for me? After our last meeting, you must be very curious."
- "Duh!"
My attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably. She frowned, and her lips curled.
- "Don't ever say that to me again, Peter. I'll punch your lights out."
She probably could, too.
"And then I'll shrink your testicles."
- "Sorry." I said.
- "So - questions?"
- "How ... how did you know about my real father?"
- "Magic."
- "Like ... how?"
- "It's magic." She didn't add the word 'dumbass', but I almost heard it anyway. "Didn't you see me change my hair colour?"
- "Yes ... how did you do that? That was a really cool trick."
- "It wasn't a trick." said Janine. "That was magic. Minor magic, but still ..."
I swallowed nervously. After she'd left, the last time, I tried to convince myself that what she'd done was just a really amazing illusion. It's all magic until you know how it's done.
- "You mean ... real magic?"
Janine sighed deeply, and rolled her eyes.
- "Do you have a deck of cards?"
I nodded.
"Get it." she said.
I did as she asked.
- "Okay: spread them out on the table. Face down. Now mix them up - like a baby shuffle." She gave me a moment to do that. "Now you can sit back. Think of a card - don't say anything - just think of it. Any card you want."
I pictured the Queen of Spades.
Her eyes roamed over the table, briefly. Janine didn't move - but one of the cards did.
I watched, mesmerized, as one of the cards slid sideways, out from under a couple of cards that were partially on top of it. When it was completely uncovered ... the card flipped over - by itself - revealing the fucking Queen of Spades.
My mouth was wide open. I had to remind myself to resume breathing.
- "Wow. Just ... wow. That's amazing."
- "Aren't you curious to know how I did it?"
I was dying to know. But I'd never seen anything like it online, nor I had I ever read about anything remotely like this. This wasn't a prepared illusion: it was in my house, with my deck of cards. No wires, no strings ...
- "Magic?"
That earned me the ghost of a smile from Janine. Damn - I wanted to see that again.
- "Just like I said. Choose another card."
Seven of diamonds, I thought.
The damn card was right in front in me. I nearly had a heart attack when it suddenly flipped over.
- "Whoa!"
Janine gave me a moment to recover.
- "What would you say, Pete, if I told you that you could do this, too?"
- "I don't think ... I can't -"
- "You can, you know." Janine showed me that tantalizing quarter-smile again. "Would you like to learn?"
- "Very much." Magic, taught by the hottest girl I'd even been in the same building with? Count me in.
Janine spent almost an hour explaining how it was done. I tried to follow, but it was really difficult. I felt like a hippopotamus trying to read Homer - in the original Greek.
Then she broke it down into simple (simple for her) steps.
- "Just try to find the card. Let your instinct guide you. Trust it. Six of clubs. Where is it?"
I was useless. We must have tried 15 times.
0 for 15. I wasn't even close. It was really disheartening - I wanted so much to impress her, even just a little.
She was remarkably patient with me. Finally, though, she glanced at her phone.
- "Time for me to go. But will you keep practicing, Pete? Keep trying. I couldn't master this until I was nearly eight years old. It just takes time, and a lot of work."
- "Wait." What the hell? Janine was doing this trick when she was seven years old? Was I some kind of moron?
Then she did something that amazed me even more. Janine leaned forward, and gently kissed me on the cheek.
- "Keep at it." she said. "I'll call you in a week."
With that, she was gone.
I must have stood at the door, with a completely bemused expression on my face, for a good ten minutes. I was still standing there when Mom got home from work.
***
I tried. I tried hard. I applied myself more than I ever had with schoolwork, or even with the magic tricks I'd learned.
I'd been motivated, then, to learn those tricks, so that I could impress Sammy, or my Dad, or the girls at school.
Now, I practiced until my eyes watered. I broke a sweat, more than once.
Nothing.
Janine was going to think that I was an idiot. I know - she probably already did. I couldn't even begin to do a trick that she'd been practicing at the age of seven.
I couldn't tell Sammy about it, because I'd completely forgotten to mention his name to Janine. He wanted in, and I'd shut him out. Simple forgetfulness? Or was I consciously trying to keep him away?
Or did I want to keep my failure a secret? When I finally succeeded, I told myself, I could show them - and then introduce him to Janine. Maybe.
I practiced, and practiced.
Five days after Janine's visit, I could've sworn that I felt the card move. Nothing happened, that I could see, but for a moment there ...
I put a book on my desk, and then laid a playing card flush to it. I tried all night. Nothing.
The next day, I tried again - and I could actually see a space between the book and the card. It was the width of a tip of a toothpick - but it was there.
***
Janine called me, and set up another meeting, eleven days after our last. Yes, I was counting the days - you would have, too.
I made her a coffee - a new skill I'd mastered, which she acknowledged with a half-smile. Well, not quite. Maybe a 3/8 smile.
I strained, and struggled to move a card for her. Nothing.
- "Relax." she suggested. "Think of something else."
- "My friend Sammy wants to meet you." I said.
- "The little guy? What did you tell him about me?"
- "Well ... that you showed up at my door. That you were the one who'd been sending the birthday gifts ..."
"By the way, I'm really sorry. I never thanked you - or your Mom - properly, for sending me all that stuff. Thank you."
- "You're welcome. Did you also tell Sammy that I was hot?"
- "Umm ... yeah, I might have mentioned that." I said. "Hey - were you reading my mind?"
Janine smiled. The Full Monty. The Whole Lebowski. I wanted to see that again.
- "It's not that hard, Pete. I can teach you how to do that, too - and how to shield your thoughts. But let's do one thing at a time. You have to learn to crawl before you can you walk, you know."
I tried. I concentrated, and put everything I had into it.
And there it was - a tiny space between the two cards I'd placed side by side.
- "You did it!" she exclaimed.
Suddenly - I don't know why - I was suspicious.
- "Did you do that?"
- "No!" she said. "That was all you! My mother was right - you have Talent!"
Wow - I felt the overpowering sense of accomplishment. But I was also thrilled to watch Janine smiling. Full-on smiling.
"Keep practicing, Pete." she said. "I'll call you."
She didn't kiss me on the cheek again. But that was a barely noticeable minor flaw in an otherwise astounding leap forward.
***
Ten days later, Janine came back to my house.
I showed her that I could move the card even further. This time, I pushed one card away from another, until I could almost fit my little finger between them.
- "That's ... good." said Janine - in a tone which suggested that it wasn't that big a deal.
"You saw me flip me the cards, Pete. You should be able to do that. You have to keep practicing."
- "I know. But it's hard ..."
- "Keep going. One day soon, it's going to get easier. That's how I remember it; for the longest time, it was like climbing up a steep slope. Then, all of a sudden, it was like skiing down the other side of the hill."
"There's no way to get to that point except by practicing."
- "I'm trying." I said.
- "And I know someone who can help you, a bit more. My mother. She's ... I think you might be almost ready to meet her."
- "Almost?"
- "Keep practicing, Pete. And I'll set up a meeting with my Mother."
***
"Pete, this is my mother, Lillian."
- "Hello, Pete."
- "Pleased to meet you."
I was a bit surprised; I guess I'd been expecting an older version of Janine. But Lillian was quite different. For one thing, she was 5'7" or 5'8" - she towered over her daughter.
Lillian had bright red hair, and attractive features. A few years ago, she would have been quite attractive. She still was, I suppose. The one feature she shared with Janine was her brown eyes. Those, combined with her red hair, gave her an exotic look.
I was also taken aback by their apartment. They lived three bus stops away from me, on the top floor of a modest 12-story building. But there was nothing modest about their apartment.
