Parsifal raises his hands to soothe them. The light reflects from his palms. "Thank you," he says. His voice is humble, genuinely overwhelmed. "My name is Parsifal." And they begin to scream again. He waits, he shakes his head. "And this is my beautiful assistant, my wife, Sabine."
She looks at him as the crowd calls her name. He has never introduced her as his wife before. Until that moment she has completely forgotten she is his wife. Parsifal lifts her delicate hand high in the air and she bows to the audience, to him. The sea-foam green of the satin combines with the pink lights to make her skin luminous.
"Tonight-," he says, but they are still roaring. "Please," he says, "please." He waits until they are quiet, but even the quiet is volatile, living. There is a charge in the air, as if anything might set them going again. "Tonight I will attempt to perform a feat of magic that, to the best of my knowledge, has never been attempted on any stage, at any point in time, anyplace in the world." This notion, that they are about to be placed in history, makes them cheer again. The audience loves them so desperately that Sabine feels frightened of their love.
Parsifal raises his hands. "This is, in all ways, an extremely difficult performance, and if it is to be accomplished, I will have to request absolute silence." They are off like a light switch. There is barely the sound of their massive, collective breathing. He motions for Sabine to walk in front of him. "Sabine," he says.
Sabine doesn't know where she's supposed to go or what is supposed to happen. She wonders if this trick will involve her body, if she is in some way supposed to pass through him or be cut into pieces or float in the air, and while she is apprehensive, she is not afraid. She knows her work. She knows work in the deepest part of herself, and she knows Parsifal. She walks ahead of him. She has not noticed the table before, but there it is, center stage. It is a regular table, not a trick prop. It is waist high, with slender legs and a thin, solid top the size of a record album. With its slight proportions the table reassures the audience that it is not designed to hide anything. All it has to do is hold one deck of cards, which it does.
A card trick?
"Please pick up the deck," he tells her.
Sabine picks up the pack. It is absolutely good in its shrink-wrapped cellophane and its glued-down seal.
"Is the deck unopened and unmarked?"
"Yes," Sabine says, and holds it out to the audience. Parsifal never used marked cards in his life.
"Please open the deck and remove the jokers."
Sabine finds the tab on the wrapper and pulls it open. She breaks the seal with her thumbnail and pulls the deck out of the box, dropping the cellophane and the two jokers onto the floor.
"Please shuffle the deck."
Parsifal steps aside and Sabine begins to shuffle. She's glad she's had some practice lately. She waits for his signs, his hand in his pocket, his right foot turning in, but none comes. There are no instructions on how to stack the deck and so she doesn't. She shuffles for the art of it, for the form. She makes the cards move only in ways that are beautiful. When she is finished, there is a small swell of applause, but Parsifal silences it with a look. Sabine places the deck neatly in the middle of the table.
There must be a joke in here somewhere. It all seems a little portentous for a card trick, but when she turns to smile at Parsifal he is once again the man going into the MRI machine. He is Parsifal on the night of Phan's death. He is pale and his face is shining with sweat. Sabine can see the veins rising in his temples, and she raises her hand to touch him but he shakes her off. "Silence," he says, although this time he can barely manage the word.
He raises his right hand, as if he is lifting up the light scaffolding. The hand trembles beneath some terrible unseen weight. Then he lowers it slowly to the deck and taps the top card, one time, two, three. He stops to take a breath and Sabine wants to say to him, Forget this, whatever it is, forget it, but she is the assistant and she has to wait for his sign. He taps the deck for the fourth and final time. He sighs and smiles, a small, tired smile. He takes out his handkerchief and wipes his face again, making a slight nod of acknowledgment to the black hole that is the audience, because somewhere out there are Phan and Johnny Carson. "Turn over the top card and show it to the audience, please," he tells Sabine.
Sabine does not know this trick, but she knows a show. She lets her hand hover in the air above the deck for just a moment as if she is afraid of what she might find. She is not afraid. She picks up the card and holds it in front of her, making a sweep from left to right, as if such a massive, faraway crowd can actually see this little piece of cardboard in the dark. "Ace of hearts," she says, and puts the card face-up on the table.
"Second card, please."
The deck is not stacked. She is the only one who could have stacked it and she didn't. She holds up the second card. "Ace of clubs."
There is a murmuring in the audience that even Parsifal's looks can't quell. His voice is weak. "Third card, please."
They are waiting and Sabine makes them wait. She has never turned a card so slowly before in her life. "Ace of diamonds." There is a gasp now, and Sabine makes part of it herself. The audience is on their feet. She can feel them trembling, straining towards the stage. Her own hand is shaking. She knows all the tricks and this is not one of them. It was not possible to stack the deck.
"Fourth card, please, Sabine."
And when she lifts it up she cannot believe it herself. The audience comes on them like a wave, leaping onto the stage and sweeping Parsifal high into the air. They already know the answer. They do not need to hear her say it but she does, over and over again. "Ace of spades, ace of spades." Someone tears the card from her hand. Parsifal is gone, riding out on the shoulders of the people. He turns, he tries to wave to her, and she waves to him, good-bye. The table has overturned. The cards are everywhere.
"Sabine," the voice said. There was a hand shaking her shoulder. "Sabine, wake up!"
"Kitty?"
"Dad's here." How reached over and switched on the light next to her bed. Sabine raised up on one elbow. He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt with Mr. Bubble on it. His hair was rumpled with sleep.
"Your dad is here?" She had been dreaming about Parsifal. Parsifal and she were in a magic show.
"In the kitchen with Mom. You have to go talk to them. You have to get up."
Sabine pushed herself up from her bed and opened the closet to find her bathrobe, but How took her hand and pulled her forward. Parsifal was with Phan and they were happy. There were flowers everywhere. "Come on," How said.
Sabine stumbled down the dark hallway in her pajamas. The house was cold without her robe. Dot turned the thermostat down at night to save money.
"I won't put up with this." Howard's voice, too loud for being so late at night. Sabine didn't know how she hadn't heard it before or how Dot was sleeping through it now. The people who listened for Howard's voice had been awakened by it. The ones who weren't used to it slept through.
"Go home," Kitty said, her voice tired.
Guy was standing just outside the kitchen door, wearing only a pair of white jockey shorts. The light from the kitchen fell over the front of him like the light from a movie screen. He was watching, shivering, all of his skin impossibly pale.
"Go in there," Guy said when he saw Sabine. She put a hand on his bare shoulder and he leaned against her. He still had the warm smell of sleep on his skin. "He'll kill her," he whispered in her ear like a secret.
They were watching Kitty and Howard, who seemed to think that they were the only two people in the house who were awake. "Nobody's going to kill anybody," Sabine said, feeling clearheaded and brave. Parsifal had told her, Kitty is fabulous. He said it with such assurance that there was no way to believe it wasn't true. Howard was easy, a middle-aged punk. If she had to go up against him, there was no way he could match her. She left the two brothers behind her, huddled together at the door frame.