After a year, I had to leave for 60 days, part of their rules. I went home, did some more work for Dad’s company, and then returned to the frozen south. Most people would give the place a try for the experience, and we’d never see them again. For me the forced solitude, isolation, and shortage of ‘new’ people to meet was like heaven. During winter the place was mostly evacuated, and I was depended upon as a jack-of-all-trades, which I didn’t mind.
With nothing to do with my spare time, I studied, worked out, and spent my off hours learning some weird stuff, from whoever was willing to teach it to me. I mean it, I had a lot of spare time, a lot, and had to do something. I got interested in magic for a while, and for the better part of a year always had a card deck and coins on me. I loved impromptu magic, doing tricks with whatever was at hand. I liked rubber band magic, and stuff with ropes and strings. Nobody had explained to me yet that magic was the kiss of death when it came to women. The ultimate badge of desperation.
I was taught to play the guitar by one of the short-timers working there. Nice guy, patient. He even sold me his old Martin when he left. He swore it wouldn’t survive another change in environment. When he left, I found out from a burly Hawaiian dude that a ukulele was pretty damned similar, but easier to play, and a lot more portable. I got halfway decent on that. Thanks to YouTube, I had no shortage of instructors when he moved on.
My second Winter, when the free time was almost too much to deal with, even for me, I started studying martial arts. Not one of the typical ones, but escrima, from a funny little Filipino guy, of indeterminate age. Nicest guy I ever met, and he always wore a smile. He was part of the scientist contingent, my first introduction to that group, and we were together for three years. I never got any good at it, but I liked playing with the sticks. Yantok I should say, or Master Keno would thump me good. That and the balisong. I loved the demonstration stuff. Master Keno would always joke I’d be a guro in show-off before I won my first sparring match.
I struck up a friendship with one of the Japanese chefs, and convinced him to teach me the cool knife things he did in the kitchen. Fun but risky. For the better part of a year it seems I always wore band-aids, even using blunted blades. Just for fun, one day, he spent a few minutes teaching me how to throw them, spin and no-spin. I was hooked, and set up a 2×4 pallet at the end of my hall, and marked off the distance for one, two and three rotations spins. I’d often throw late into the night until someone bitched about the noise. In the Winter there weren’t enough people around to complain. I wore out my first two sets of blades.
I’d always been dexterous, being able to spin basketballs and dining trays on my finger, flipping pens back and forth around my thumb, running coins across my knuckles. Whenever I had a spare moment I pulled out the cards and practiced lifts, false shuffles, one handed cuts, dealing seconds, and the pass, all parts of my card trick repertoire. If not the cards, I had an old Zippo lighter out doing various spins, slaps and snaps. When nobody was around, I was twirling knives, or spinning my balisong. Can’t say why I always liked to have something in my hand, absentmindedly perfecting my skills, but it was a strong habit. The habit extended to making sure I always had a deck of cards on me, a Zippo lighter, a balisong butterfly knife, and a couple of custom made tactical throwing knives I used for both spinning, and practice throwing.
* * * Now * * *
Sitting around the deck, I had just finished putting the chicken on. Sue was showing off her one-year anniversary gift from me, a new ring that matched her engagement ring and wedding band.
Neither Marie nor Annie had seen it before. The engagement was a diamond solitaire, the wedding band plain gold. The anniversary ring was an arch of diamonds that wrapped around the single larger diamond on the engagement ring.
I remembered the old three ring rope trick that Diamond Dave had taught me. I reached over to the sun umbrella, whipped out my balisong, and after a few of the required flourishes, cut the restraining cord free. It looked about the right length. At the same time, I was working out the routine patter in my head, always essential to a good trick.
I had their attention by now, and stretched out the rope. “Sue,” I said. “Place your engagement ring on the rope.”
She looked confused, then smiled for the crowd, and slipped it over the end. I showed the rope to be one single, continuous piece, hiding any evidence of my deception. About a third of the way down, I tied a knot around the ring, and had Marie test it.
“What are you doing, Trey?” Marie asked.
“A demonstration,” I teased. I held the other end of the rope out to Sue again. “Your wedding band, please?”
She removed it from her finger. “You know I never like to take it off,” she said softly.
“You should never have to,” I told her with a wink.
Her hand was shaking as she put it on the rope. She loved that ring. I loved her for that.
I tied another knot, this time in the middle, once again showing it around, and I had Annie test that one. Another little magician’s secret: get your audience involved. As soon as she was finished, I released the slip knot and palmed the plain band.
That’s the secret you know. They all believe the action was still to come, but the hard part had already happened, when they least expected it. When their eyes were burning my hands later, it would be too late.
“The anniversary ring,” I asked Sue.
“Where’s this going, Trey?” she asked.
I realized that after a year together, I’d never performed any of my magic tricks for her. That whole dating ‘kiss-of-death’ thing. No wonder she was confused. “Patience, beautiful.”
She slipped the third ring onto the rope. I made a big deal of tying it on, then leaned across the table, to the guys. “Go ahead, test it,” I said.
While I held the rope out to them, I was already loading the band I’d removed earlier under the napkin in front of them. My body covered the action beautifully. And now everyone had been part of the trick. Diamond Dave would have been proud.
Leaning back into my seat, I started the patter.
“Sue, I hope you know what those rings mean to me.” I held up the engagement ring, the large solitaire prominent, still tied to the left side of the rope. “A promise,” I said, showing it around.
I surreptitiously spun the ring around, exposing the back side. A simple, plain half circle. I displayed it, letting them believe it was the wedding band. Much of the rope was hidden in my hand, two equal length ends hanging in parallel, providing the illusion I was holding the middle of the rope. Such a simple elegant trick. “A commitment, our love for each other, and only each other.”
She nodded, a little confusion still showing on her features.
I waved around the newest ring, the anniversary ring, stones glittering in the sun. I was proud. The trick was already over, and nobody knew it. It worked perfectly. Countless hours of practice paid off.
The end of the rope hung free, showing that this knot was on the opposite side of the engagement ring. Subtle gesture, part of the beauty of this particular routine. “A future.” I said softly, mysteriously.