Page 16 of Meet Cute Magic

Rosie takes it from my hands and places the fixed vase back on the table it was sitting on. “It’s fixed, Jack. My magic is good. You’re not going to find a defect that wasn’t already there.” She waves a hand at it, like some kind of game show host. “Do you believe me now? Can we move on to the task at hand?”

I shake my head, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t prove anything. It’s some trick, something you taught yourself.” I look at the vase again and shake my head. “A good one, but a trick.” I look to my floating grandfather. “And I don’t know why you made some kind of CGI ghost of my grandfather, Rosemary, but I wouldn’t have pinned you as the type to exploit someone’s grief like that. I’m out of here.”

“Jack, don’t—” Rosemary starts, a mix of panic and dismay in her words, but it’s another voice that makes my steps falter.

“When you were five, you broke your mother’s figurine of a clown by throwing a ball in the house while I was watching you. It shattered into three, four pieces, and I fixed it. Told you it was a magic trick, but it didn’t look too much different from Rosemary spelling that vase, did it?”

I remember that moment. It was the most magical thing I’d ever seen, and what started my obsession with magical worlds. When I’d bring it up to my grandfather, he’d give me a smile and a wink.

“When you were nine, your mom found you hiding in your room with a flashlight you smuggled beneath the sheets, reading a book about the history of dragons. You thought it was fake, but it wasn’t. You stole it from my personal library, little troublemaker.”

I got grounded for that, not just because I was up long past my bedtime, but because I’d stolen the book. It was old, leather-bound, and gold-foiled, and my grandfather’s study was the best place to find cool old books on the mythical creatures I so desperately wanted to know more about. After he died, I couldn’t find the book and thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.

“When you were thirteen, I chaperoned your first date to the mall as a favor to your parents. You tripped and almost spilled a slushy on her. Half of it slid out, and suddenly, it was back in the cup. I know you saw it—you were shocked, looked around the mall to see if anyone else had seen it, but no one was watching you.” That night I’d gotten my first kiss, but when I went to bed, it wasn’t the girl who was stuck on my mind: it was me trying to figure out how that could have happened.

I never told anyone about that, either.

The ghost stares at me, familiar eyes going soft and almost pleading. “Come on, boy. You know deep down magic is real because you saw it firsthand. I hid my powers as best as I could for nearly my entire life once I settled down with your grandmother. Your father never picked up on a single thing; no one did. But you always had questions, always noticed things other people didn’t. I had to get creative with you, buying you those games and books to try and blur the lines between fact and fiction in your mind. But you can’t tell me you never once thought that there was any truth to the books you read, the games you played?” my grandfather asks, his ghostly form hovering before me.

The world feels hazy and confusing, but something in my gut tells me what I have always wanted to believe: magic is real.

And if I can accept that fact, it means I have to accept that my neighbor is a witch and my grandfather is a ghost before me.

“So you’re telling me you could have just fixed the Third Warlock of the Night Realm?” I ask, turning to Rosemary.

“That’s what you got out of all of that?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You asked me to perform a magic trick like some kind of child’s birthday party magician, and I did, which you should be honored about because I don’t just do what people tell me, you know, and that’s all you have to say? That I could have fixed your stupid cardboard wizard?”

“I mean…” I start, a strange guilt flooding in until she laughs suddenly.

“You’re something else, Jack Attack,” she says with a shake of her head.

“It’s just Jack,” I mumble on impulse, and that seems to make her smile, and for a moment, a sense of normalcy washes over me. This, I can handle. Rosemary teasing me, me arguing back, that’s real. That’s tolerable. It’s not magic, ghosts, and curses. It’s probably why when she offers me her hand, I begrudgingly take it, standing easily before she leads me to a comfy-looking couch in the corner of her living area.

“What is happening here?” I ask, feeling dejected and confused and finally ready to potentially… accept all of this.

“Are you going to keep arguing with me? Or are you ready for the full story?” she asks. I nod, because what else am I going to do? “I come from a long line of witches. I have magic and magical powers. Your grandfather cursed my family long ago.”

“What kind of curse?” If I’m going to go along with this, I need to know everything. That’s how I work: before I make any kind of decision, I need all the details. Rational, logical. Practical. That’s me.

It’s probably why Rosemary, who is the opposite of all of that, drives me up a goddamned wall.

“Okay. So, in order for my grandfather to pass on to the other side, you need to put together a potion, and because the flask is something he touched before dying, that’s the best vehicle for the potion?” I ask, my mind running a million miles a minute, and she nods and smiles like I’m a kid who recited the alphabet.

“You’re a quick learner,” she says, and I ignore the sarcasm in her tone. My grandfather lets out a snort of a laugh, and I glare over at him, making him smile wider.

“And you’re helping because you’re a… witch, whose grandmother was… cursed? By my grandfather years ago?” She nods again. “And magic is real. All over, not just you two?”

“Yes. This is also where I’m forced to tell you that you can’t tell anyone about this. If you do, then you’ll mess with the balance of magic and society, starting what would probably be a literal witch hunt and putting an uncountable number of people at risk.”

I nod, understanding that at least. It’s what always happens when a normal person finds out about the existence of magic. They must keep it quiet to ensure the safety of others. It’s just like my favorite books and movies, except it’s real life: it’s my life. For the first time in a long time, a spark of excitement sparks in my chest.

Magic is real. Magic is real, and I’m getting a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn about it.

This is a dream come true, really, and if I play it right, I can use it to learn about this world that, up until recently, I thought was fictional.

“Okay,” I say, nodding once more, coming to terms with this. I might get sent to some kind of insane asylum after all of this, or maybe I’ll wake up from the most insane dream ever, but even in a dream state, I can’t let her do this alone.

“Okay?” she asks, and I nod. “You’ll give me the flask?” She’s hopeful and excited, and for a flash of a moment, I think it’s almost… cute. But I also know what I’m about to say next will ruin that look on her face.