James Swain - Shadow People

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed.

Peter was rarely amazed. Tonight was one of those exceptions. His prized illusions had miraculously repaired themselves and returned to their designated spots in the living room. The Flying Carpet levitated in midair, while the Zig-Zag illusion looked ready to remove a person’s middle. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it possible.

“Am I dreaming?” Liza asked, lowering her hand.

“Not at all. What you see is what you get.”

“Do I have to kill you, or are you going to explain this to me?”

“Of course I’ll explain it to you. Hold on for a second.”

The best tricks continued to fool a person long after they were over. He stepped into the hallway to inspect his collection of rare playbills. To his delight, the shattered frames had miraculously restored themselves, the playbills untouched. But what about the other floors? As he headed up the stairs to find out, Liza crossed her arms, demanding an explanation.

“Now,” she said, raising her voice.

“None of it was real,” he said, stopping on a step. “I should have realized it before, when Garrison pointed out that all the breaks in the frames were identical.”

“What do you mean, none of it was real? We all saw the damage, Peter.”

“It was an illusion.”

“Is this thing some kind of magician?”

“In a way, yes. It can distort reality, and make you see things which really don’t exist. For whatever reason, it decided to trash my place without really trashing it. Come upstairs with me. I need to check something out.”

She followed him upstairs to the third floor. The photos of magicians past that lined the stairway had returned to their original condition, as had the furniture in the master bedroom. Everything was normal again, except for the broken window his shoe had gone through.

“This is so flipping weird,” he said.

Liza struck a defiant pose. What he was telling her, and what she’d just seen, had collided, and she no longer trusted him. He made her sit beside him on the bed.

“I don’t believe this,” she said.

“I can prove it was an illusion,” he said.

“Show me.”

He pulled up Garrison’s number on his Droid. As the call went through, he put the phone on speaker so Liza could hear the conversation. Garrison answered on the first ring.

“Something wrong?” the FBI agent asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s just great,” Peter replied, putting his hand around Liza’s waist, and drawing her close. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can you look at those photos you shot in my place, and call me back?”

“What am I looking for?”

“See if the broken glass in the frames repaired itself.”

“Come again?”

“The damage you saw earlier wasn’t real. It was an illusion.”

“No offense, but I’m not buying that for one minute.”

“Make you a bet. Loser buys a steak dinner at Smith & Wollensky.”

“You’re on, magic man. I’ll call you right back.”

Peter ended the call. His shoe was lying on the floor, and he picked it up. “This is the part I don’t understand,” he said.

“You understand the rest of it?” Liza asked in disbelief.

“I’m beginning to. The shadow person wants my undivided attention. It pulled this stunt to get it. Now I have to figure out what it wants.”

“How wonderful.”

The Droid vibrated in his hand and Peter answered it on speaker. “I want my steak medium-rare with all the trimmings.”

“Remind me never to make a bet with you,” Garrison said.

Sleep proved elusive, and they lay in bed beneath the warm covers, trying to make sense of it all. Liza rested her head on Peter’s chest, and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. A blanket covered the broken window, muting the street noise.

“Is this what it’s going to be like living with you?” she asked.

Kaboom , Peter thought. He chose his words with extra care.

“Normally, my life is pretty dull.”

“You talk to the dead every Friday night with your friends. That’s not normal.”

“It’s only once a week.”

“Be serious, Peter.”

“Sorry.”

“You promised me that you’d stop keeping secrets from me. It’s the one thing I can’t stand about living with you. You’re always hiding something.”

It was true. He kept his darkest secrets from Liza, and the rest of his friends as well. Secrets about his past, his parents, and the genetic code they’d passed on to him which extended his powers far beyond anything a normal psychic could do. Liza couldn’t stand not knowing these things about him, and wanted him to level with her. If he didn’t, they both knew what the outcome would be. She’d pack up and leave and he’d be alone again. It was his greatest fear, and he was ready to tell her everything about his life, only a voice inside his head said not yet.

“Let me ask you a question,” she said. “You nearly died during the séance at your friend’s apartment. Were you planning to tell me? Be truthful.”

“No. I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“That’s not fair. You had this absolutely horrible thing happen to you, and you internalize it, and don’t let your emotions out. I’m more than just your lover, Peter. I’m your friend. You have to confide in me, and share your feelings.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grabbed his chin and gave his head a shake. “Stop saying that.”

He started to say “I’m sorry,” and stopped himself. Liza fell back onto her pillows, and for the longest time stared at the ceiling.

“I want us to see a counselor. We’re running in circles,” she said.

“But I like chasing you.”

No response, not even a giggle. They’d discussed seeing a counselor before. He turned on his side, and rested his head on the palm of his hand. “Okay, I’m game.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes. We’ll go see a pro, and talk this out. I don’t want you angry with me.”

“You have a problem, Peter. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I’m different. So were my parents. They taught me to hide my gifts. So did the people who raised me after they died. I’m not making excuses. It’s how I was brought up.”

“But you can’t hide things from me. Not if we’re going to live together.”

“I understand that. You have to be patient. This isn’t easy for me.”

He gently stroked her hair, and elicited a faint smile. The first time he’d laid eyes on Liza at the Beacon Theatre during a performance by Cirque du Soleil had been like something out of a dream. He’d taken a date, buying front-row seats. The show was filled with gymnasts able to turn their elastic bodies into pretzels, and it would have been nothing more than a fun night out until a troupe of Chinese aerialists called the Lings took the stage. Mom and dad, a pair of muscle-bound twin brothers, and two drop-dead beautiful girls, Liza and her sister Kim.

The Lings had flown through space as if they had wings. They looked like angels, and Peter’s heart had caught in his throat as Liza had twirled overhead while hanging on to a bright red sash with one hand. He’d never believed in love at first sight, but that night had changed his notions about romance and physical attraction. He had wanted her not just physically, but also emotionally. This was the woman he was meant to be with; this was the partner he’d longed to have in his life, and he hadn’t even known her name.

His feelings had been impossible to conceal. When the act was over, he’d jumped from up his seat and applauded wildly while his date stormed out of the theater.