Abracadabra Magic

 Steve stood back, took a deep breath, and surveyed his handiwork. Red, white, and blue balloons were hanging from the ceiling and scattered throughout the room, tables were covered with July 4^th cloths that sparkled from the glitter he had sprinkled across them, and American flags and streamers were ready to be handed out.

On his makeshift stage there were the tools of his magic tricks: the gold and red velvet wand with its hidden department, his special decks of cards, his multi-colored folding scarves, and his large covered compartment for the spectacular finish to his performance.

While admiring his new “Abracadabra” sign, he heard loud cooing. Walking over to the back table he removed the cover from the bird’s large golden cage. Flo, a delicate white dove, had been acting stressed all day--cooing continually, hardly eating, and flying around her cage. She had been an expensive addition to his act, but over many performances had proven perfect for his big finale. He hoped she wasn’t sick.

He glanced at the big wall clock. Soon the children would arrive. He thought he was ready for them, until the doors opened. Instead of the usual entourage of boys and girls dressed in their finest clothes running, jumping, shouting with glee, the children that entered the room moved very slowly; some maneuvering while holding on to IV poles, some in wheel chairs, others on crutches. There was no shouting, or loud talking, but the faces were smiling, and the eyes were looking around the room with delight. What struck him the most were the young boys and girls with bald heads from chemotherapy treatments.

When he left the house this morning, he had had some doubts about this job. After all, he was giving up a good paying job to do a free show at the children’s hospital oncology floor. Looking at the boys’ and girls’ sad but eager faces, and the tear-stained eyes of the parents and nurses, made him realize this was going to be the most important show of his life.

The first 40 minutes of Steve’s Abracadabra Show constituted a huge success. The children loved his magic, even though most couldn’t clap enthusiastically. Now he was ready to wham them with his big act.

Steve stood in front of his audience and announced, “We have come to the big finale of the show. For this act I will need a helper.” Smiling wickedly, he continued,  “Now before you put up your hands, I want you to understand that I intend to make my helper disappear. So think before you volunteer.”

All hands had gone up before he said the thing about making his helper disappear. Now there were only a few hands up. One belonged to a young boy about ten years old. He looked like a bag of bones hanging from a small bald head. His upright hand was being held up by a woman standing next to him, whom Steve assumed was his mother.

He approached them, and asked her, “Do you think your son could handle standing still for awhile?”

 She answered, “At this stage anything he wants to do is fine.”

 Steve helped him up. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Jeffery,” the boy answered.

 “Jeffery,” Steve asked, “are you willing to disappear for awhile?”

 With large, sad eyes, he answered, “Yes, I am ready to disappear for a long time.”

 Steve led Jeffery on to the makeshift stage and explained the trick to him, and to the audience.

 “Jeffery, on the stage is a curtained compartment. I am going to put you in the compartment, close all the curtains, say the magic word, and you will turn into a beautiful white dove.

As Steve led him into the compartment and pulled the curtains around him, Jeffery reached into his pocket and handed Steve a piece of paper. Turning to the audience Steve said, “Now I’m going to say the magic word and Jeffery will become a white dove.”  Touching the closed curtain, the magician loudly sang out, “Abracadabra.”

Smiling he opened the curtains, and out flew Flo, his trusted dove. But instead of landing on his arm as she had done a hundred times before; she kept flying, out the door, and out an open window disappearing from sight. Forgetting about Jeffery, the magician ran out of the room after his trusted bird, but she was long gone.

When he re-entered the room there was a crowd around someone lying on the floor of the stage. Moving into the circle of people, Steve was horrified when he realized Jeffery had died. Holding him close to her his mother looked up at the magician. With tears in her eyes, she said, “You helped him go. He was so tired of fighting.”

Steve reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He gave me this,” Steve said.

“His poem,” Jeffery’s mother answered, smiling.

           “To live is to be free as a bird.

  To live is to soar through the sky.

  To live is to take the good as it arrives.

  To live is to never have to fight to stay alive.

  To live is to never have to ask why!”

By Charlene Wexler