24 Making Magic
TWENTY-FOUR
Making Magic
When I got back to LA, I reached out to Wlad immediately. He told me he was staying with a friend, and while he’d love to see me, he wasn’t sure that between my schedule and his we’d have enough time. That didn’t matter much to me. Simply knowing he was there, ready to talk, was enough.
We texted each other every day. And each time his name popped up on my phone, I felt warm inside, like my heart was swelling.
Thinking about Wlad, I felt calm and safe.
When I remembered how playful and lighthearted our conversation had been, without agendas or expectations, I saw glimmering in the distance the tiniest bit of joy.
Joy was definitely something I could get used to.
About a week after my return Wlad sent me a message.
I am back in Ukraine. I wanted to say hello.
My heart sank. Ukraine? That meant Wlad had left LA without saying goodbye to me. The thought hit me hard.
Are you returning anytime soon? I asked.
Yes. Next month. I will call you. I would like to see you.
I hadn’t expected to be so excited about Wlad.
I was in no mood to hop into a relationship and I had too much going on in my career to be distracted by dating or someone else’s drama.
I was also far too young to tie myself down.
Yet I couldn’t shake the feelings I had.
Wlad and I looked different, sounded different, and came from different worlds, but the thought of him made me smile. I missed him, hard.
Wlad came back to LA a month later, just as he said he would, and he invited me over to the house where he was staying.
We sat together on his friend’s big, comfortable couch and caught up on what each of us had done the last few months.
Wlad had been training. I’d been on a yacht with Stella.
I left out most of the awful parts, wanting to spare myself the anger and shame, but otherwise I told him everything.
Wlad listened closely, like he had no other place to be, and soon, the air in the space between us turned electric.
Human beings are composed of microscopic particles of energy, each bumping against each other, and I felt those particles vibrating through every inch of my skin.
I looked down and noticed I was a good foot away from Wlad on the coach, so I scooted a little closer. “It’s really nice to see you, Wlad,” I said. “I mean it.”
Wlad’s resting bitch face morphed into a smile, and I leaned my head onto his shoulder.
I don’t care how different we are or how much I don’t want to be in a relationship, I thought. I think I should try this because it feels so right.
For our first official date, Wlad invited me to a place that he was sure I’d never forget.
LA’s Magic Castle.
If you’re from LA, you know what I’m talking about.
If you don’t, buckle your seat belts. The Magic Castle is a Victorian chateau-style mansion situated on a hilltop in Hollywood, run as a club and performance space by the Academy of Magical Arts.
In a neighborhood dominated by nondescript hotels and apartment buildings, the Magic Castle is an oddity.
A big one. No other building on Franklin Avenue has ornamental porch railings, turrets, stained glass windows, and a hidden entrance that you can get through by saying “open sesame” to an owl figurine.
My house and condo weren’t far from it, and I’d always wondered who in the world went there—other than magicians, I suppose.
Now I realize who else loved the Magic Castle: a positively giddy Ukrainian boxer named Wladimir Klitschko.
“Please wear a gown,” Wlad said after he invited me. “This place is very nice.”
Dressed in our finest, Wlad and I said “open sesame” to the owl and watched a bookcase swing open, leading us directly into a large parlor.
From there, my eyes feasted on dark, wallpapered walls, hardwood floors, ornate chandeliers, and expensive oriental rugs.
There was a massive bar anchoring the space and a grand staircase in the distance.
The first thing I thought was that it looked like the mansion in Clue, and the second was that there were probably cobwebs lurking in every creepy corner.
The rooms seemed to go on forever, and as we walked through, I counted two, then three, then five dining rooms, all of them filled with people. This place was gigantic.
Wlad squeezed my hand and jolted me out of the trance I’d fallen into. “There is a room here where people perform séances. Sometimes they summon Houdini.”
I stifled the laugh that rose up in my chest. I didn’t have a comeback for that one.
“We will have dinner, then watch a magic show after,” Wlad added, smiling just enough to crack his RBF. It was hard for me not to feel like a kid again in this place. The more I looked around, the more I got swept up in its kooky charm.
A server ushered us over to a table for dinner, taking our orders for drinks first. Wlad pulled out a chair for me to sit in, and I settled myself into its red velvet, surprised that a big plume of dust didn’t rise up when I sat.
As we sipped our drinks and waited to order dinner, Wlad turned to me.
“I want to show you a magic trick,” he said.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. You will have to wait while I leave to prepare.”
All six feet and six inches of Wlad stood up from the table and walked away.
A few minutes later, he returned with a deck of cards and sat down.
What followed was something involving the cards, Wlad’s fingers, some string, and some “magic” sleight of hand I had figured out the moment Wlad started it.
I mean, I had a little brother. I knew how magic tricks work.
“You see, it was magic!” Wlad said at the end of the trick.
“Wlad,” I answered. “I could see the string and fake thumb you thought you were hiding the whole time.”
Wlad’s face froze. “No, Hayden. This is not right. You do not ruin a magic trick by telling the magician what they did wrong.”
“Well, I do,” I answered, relieved that the waiter had come to take our orders. “I call bullshit. You need to practice more.”
Wlad’s face remained fixed in place, but I could see his eyes widen ever so slightly.
When you’re invested in someone, unconsciously picking up on their energy, you notice this sort of subtle expression shift.
I knew that Wlad’s eyes were telling me he wasn’t mad.
In fact, I was pretty sure he liked my honesty.
“It’s okay,” he said, laughing. “Next time I’ll do better.”
I could feel my heart softening around Wlad.
He was a bundle of contradictions, yet I found all of them lovable.
He was the epitome of masculinity—and had a few belts to prove it—yet he was also a little boy who loved magic.
He spoke few words, and they were usually in a monotone, but one tiny shift in his expression told me volumes.
I didn’t know Wlad very well, but I understood him. And I knew he felt the same about me.
A few hours and a dozen magic tricks later, Wlad drove me back to my house.
I didn’t invite him in because I wasn’t ready to take things any further.
What I was ready for was to walk through the new door I’d opened when I met him.
Not long before, I’d been lying on the floor of the Heartbreak Hotel, convinced that life as I knew it was over.
Now I was spending time with a wildly interesting man who was so different from the type of person I’d dated in the past. I’d set out to do single differently, and it had landed me in the Magic Castle with the heavyweight champion of the world.
It wasn’t what I was expecting, but it felt like this new, adult path was the road I was meant to travel on.
“Thanks for a great night,” I said. “Magic Castle was a first for me.”
I kissed Wlad goodbye, then I turned, walked into my house, and started counting the minutes till I could see him again.