Close-Up

With a frayed deck of playing cards in his right hand, Chaiden approached a table toward the back of the crowded wine bar. The couple seated there appeared engrossed in conversation, but, even so, he paused in front of the table.

"Good evening."

They nodded in surprise.

Deftly, he shuffled the cards then drew from the deck a queen of spades, a jack of diamonds, and a nine of clubs and placed them face down in the center of the table.

"Please," he said, looking at the young woman, "pick the queen."

She hesitated for a moment, then tapped a striped fingernail on the middle card.

Promptly, he turned the card over, and it was the jack.

"Rats," she sighed.

"And can you find the queen?" he asked her companion, who didn't seem the least bit interested.

"Do I have to?"

"Come on, Dennis," she urged him.

"All right, if you insist," and right away, he selected the card to the left of the jack.

Chaiden turned it over, and it was the nine.

"My luck," the man groaned.

"Now, miss, if you'll turn over the remaining card," and she did, and it was a six of spades.

"Where's the queen?" she demanded, clearly perplexed.

Carefully, he searched through the pockets of his linen sports jacket until he found the queen of spades in the breast pocket and set it on the table alongside the three other cards.

"That's very clever," the woman complimented him, and her companion concurred with a faint smile.

"Thanks for your participation," Chaiden said as he returned the cards to the deck then stepped away to perform another trick at another table.

---

On weekends, for the past three months, Chaiden performed tableside card tricks at Silvio's Wine Bar on the east side of town. The proprietor, Silvio Fenzetti, didn't pay him a cent for his performances, so the only remuneration he received was tips from customers. He didn't mind, though, because he was grateful for the opportunity to practice his card tricks before an actual audience. He was tired of performing them in front of the closet mirror in his one-bedroom apartment. He wanted others to see what he was capable of doing with a deck of cards, and even more, he wanted to receive some appreciation for all his hard work. He knew his limitations, knew them better than anyone, and didn't really aspire to be a professional magician. He was quite content to entertain customers at Silvio's. Maybe someday, if he really became proficient, he could earn some serious money with his tricks, but for now, that was little more than a dream.

For the past eight months, since his discharge from the Coast Guard, he earned his living as a cashier at Trader Dick's, a gigantic thrift store not more than a mile and a half from Silvio's. Occasionally, on coffee breaks, he performed tricks for other employees at the thrift store who, by and large, seemed impressed with his work. They always wanted to know how he was able to execute his tricks, but he said that was a secret.

"Can't you at least give me a hint?" Hazel, a floor walker, asked after he identified the card she had previously selected and returned to the deck.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

He grinned. "If I do, the great wizard above will strike me down with his magical, miraculous wand."

"Oh, be serious, Andrew."

"I am," he insisted, "mindful of the warning of Mr. Hester that disclosure was too great a risk to take."

Mr. Hester, who lived across the street from the duplex Chaiden shared with his single mother as a youngster, was the first person he ever saw do card tricks. He was very skilled, doing one thing after another that seemed impossible, but despite Chaiden's pleas, he refused to disclose how he did any of his tricks.

"A magician must never reveal how he performed any of his magic if he wants to stay on the good side of other magicians," he told him.

"How will I ever learn then?"

"Watch and practice, son, watch and practice," he answered emphatically. "If you have any talent, that's how to develop it."

Fortunately, he lived at the beach where it rained much of the year, so he spent a lot of time indoors, especially in his bedroom, where he practiced for hours, duplicating the tricks he read about in books he borrowed from the library. By his sophomore year in high school, he became confident enough to perform his small batch of card tricks before other students at school assemblies. And it was in high school that he began to carry a deck of cards in his back pocket, which he continued to do throughout his hitch in the Coast Guard, so he could practice in his spare time.

"If you do something well, whatever it might be," Mr. Hester believed, "you should continue to do it so you don't take it for granted."

---

Occasionally, at the park across the street from Silvio's, Chaiden practiced the tricks he planned to perform that evening at one of the picnic tables. He would pretend someone was seated across from him at the table and whisper to himself what he wanted the imaginary person to do. He strived to make his delivery as smooth as his handling of the cards and even included a few quips that were likely to distract the person from spotting his sleight of hand maneuvers.

One afternoon, while struggling to perform an intricate trick that involved a suit of royal cards appearing in sequential order after shuffling, he heard a scream but didn't think anything of it. The park was always full of loud, rambunctious children climbing the monkey bars and riding the merry-go-round. The trick was difficult, and, trying to concentrate on executing it just right, he cupped his hands over his ears.

Focus, he told himself, as if he were alone in his apartment.

"Focus," he whispered out loud. "Focus ... focus."

Suddenly, an older woman with a parrot perched on her left shoulder paused in front of his table.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" he snapped, annoyed by the interruption.

"I thought I heard someone scream."

"It was probably just some kid acting up."

"It sounded like someone older."

Shrugging, he stared back at the deck of cards spread across the splintered table.

"It sounded like it came from over by the tennis court," she said, shading her eyes. "I wonder if we should go over there and have a look."

Go right ahead, lady, he thought to himself, not wanting to be bothered.

"Will you come with me?"

Startled by the request, he started to shake his head but, instead, he gathered up his cards and agreed to accompany her, figuring if he didn't she would continue to pester him.

"Thank you, sir."

A small throng of people had gathered at the north end of the court, their heads bowed, and as Chaiden made his way to them he saw a man lying face down on the ground. The left side of his denim shirt was covered in blood.

He was stunned. "Is he dead?"

"If he isn't, he's on his way," someone in the crowd replied.

"Can't anyone do anything?"

"There's nothing to be done," someone else said glumly. "Not anymore."

"But an ambulance is on its way."

"What happened?" the woman with Chaiden asked.

No one said anything for a moment until an older man with a cane spoke up, "I was quite a ways away but it appeared two men were arguing and all of a sudden one of them pulled out a pocket knife and stabbed the other in the chest."

"Why didn't anyone get between them and prevent this from happening?" she demanded.

Again, there was silence.

"For God's sake, someone should've stopped this from happening."

"I didn't see you doing anything," another woman blurted out.

"I wasn't even here."

"So you say."

"I wasn't."

Chaiden didn't say anything, suspecting he was no better than anyone else because he had ignored the scream.

"No one wants to get involved anymore," the older woman said to him as a siren blared from the east end of the park. "They're just content to be bystanders."

---

That evening, at Silvio's, Chaiden didn't perform very well, messing up one relatively simple trick so badly that a couple of customers laughed at his clumsiness. He knew why, too, because he was still upset at himself for not taking seriously the scream he heard in the park. He was too far away to have prevented the stabbing, but he suspected if he was closer, he still probably would have ignored what was happening. He was one of those bystanders the older woman spoke of, preferring to keep his distance from matters that didn't concern him. It wasn't something he was proud of, not at all, but he couldn't deny it however hard he tried.

He tended to keep his distance from others because he didn't want to get hurt. He hadn't always been so reserved but became that way after he sought out his father, who left the family when he was still a toddler. He never had any contact with him after he left, never even received a card on his birthday. He knew where he lived, some eighty miles up the coastline, but he never had any desire to see him. But then one afternoon, shortly before he enlisted in the Coast Guard, he decided to pay him a visit. All he knew about him was that he worked as a lineman for a power company and lived in a trailer court at the edge of town. When he arrived at the court, he sat for several minutes in the car he rented that morning at the airport, wondering if it was such a good idea to be here without first letting him know he was coming. He wasn't sure, but finally, he got out and went up to his trailer and knocked on the door. He didn't recognize the grizzled man who opened it but assumed the person was his father and introduced himself.

"What do you want?" the man asked suspiciously.

"I was in the area," he lied, "and thought I'd stop by and say hello."

His father glared at him for a moment. "You're disturbing me."

"I don't mean to."

"I have company, see."

"Oh."

"Maybe another time."

There never was another time, and, as far as he knew, his father still resided in that trailer. Probably alone, he suspected, just like him.