Magic

I was on the plaza in a wedding dress at midnight. I know, it sounds a little bit like Cinderella. And no, I hadn’t just run out on my own wedding. Where the story actually starts is a little bit embarrassing, but here we go:

Kelsey was over at my house one summer night because, well, there isn’t much else to do in Eureka. We never plan on watching TV, especially not TLC wedding shows, but it somehow happened. So there we were, watching Say Yes to the Dress, giddily comparing the dresses on the screen to our visions of our own ideal wedding gown.

When the show ended I turned to my mom, who had been passing in and out of the living room and our wedding conversations. “Mom, would your wedding dress fit me?”

Within minutes I was wearing my mother’s homemade wedding dress. I felt like a little girl in mommy’s high heels. This opportunity was too good to waste, so I told Kelsey we were going out. We were 19 and it was 11pm, so “going out” was really limited to donuts or pizza. We ransacked my closet looking for something suitable for Kelsey to wear and eventually decided on a tutu I had made the previous summer.

We drove to Don’s Donuts in Arcata, one of our only late-night options. We walked in, Kelsey in the tutu and I in the wedding dress, and were greeted with enthusiasm.

“Did you girls just get married?” one girl asked us. No judgment in her voice; judgment is rarely passed in Arcata. As we stood in line, the radio began playing: Going to the chapel and we’re going to get married… No way, I thought. This is too perfect.

To make matters even more perfect, we just happened to be catching the very end of National Donut Day. Hungry stoners filled the donut shop even more than a normal Friday night, so we took our donuts and milk to the plaza, which is just down the block.

We sat on a park bench and finished our midnight snack as we saw a homeless man approaching us. This is pretty common in Arcata. He probably just wants some money or a cigarette, we assumed.

“Did you just get married?” he asked me. No, I told him, I was just wearing a wedding dress for fun.

“Oh,” he said. “I was going to ask if I could take off your garter if your husband hadn’t already done it.”

Nervous giggle. “Nope, no garter.”

“I’m Magic,” he said and stuck out his hand. Kelsey and I introduced ourselves, and I struggled for words to fill the silence that followed.

“I like your necklace,” I told him. It was your average hemp necklace, but with a dolphin charm hanging in the middle.

“You like that? You like dolphins?” he asked. “Here, I think I have something for you.” He began rummaging through his pockets and produced a similar dolphin charm, which he then handed to me. “I want you to keep that and think of me every time you see it.” Oh trust me, Magic, there is no way I was going to forget this night.

He then turned to Kelsey. “Here, I have something for you, too.” He handed her a marble. Not the kind you play marbles with, but the flat kind that you put in the bottom of fish tanks. We thanked him for his gifts. They weren’t much, but neither of us could remember the last time a homeless man had offered us anything besides weed.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Magic said. “Is there any chance you girls would take a homeless guy home and give him a shower?”

“No, sorry…” We may not follow the not talking to strangers rule, but we seldom let them into our cars and never let them into our parents’ houses.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, it was great to meet you girls. If you ever need anything—weed, shrooms, LSD, whatever—come find me. I’ll give you a good deal.”

We thanked him, he walked off into the night, and we went home. Who gets into situations like this? I often wonder, looking back. It’s not true that there is nothing to do back where I come from, it’s just different. And I’ll never forget the Magic.

This is the dolphin Magic gave me.  It's now part of a collage on the wall in my dorm room.

And, by request, here is a picture of the beginning of our night.