Practical Enchantments
by Charles C. Cole
When Boris Rhetke was a young wizard, his parents took him to his Uncle Mako’s home for a party. For one reason or another, he was the only non-adult. There were so many loud and laughing people, many making magic for the fun of it: starting a dynamic show of bright shifting colors in the firepit, causing lit candles to drift to the sky, animating balloon animals like cartoon characters.
Boris followed a large yellow birthday candle with a sizzling blue flame that had drifted away from the others, about twenty feet in the air. It floated over the house and into the front yard, where it paused. The street-side yard was quiet. Uncle Mako sat by himself on the stoop, smoking.
“Come here, Boris. I’ll put out my pipe. We should talk.” He held the pipe upside down and knocked the smouldering ashes out. When he blew on them, they turned to silver moths and flittered away.
Boris reached up and crow-hopped, pretending to catch them.
Mako cackled. “You’re amazing,” he said. “But anybody can do it, with practice. I’m nearly twice your age, so that’s a lot of practice.”
“We don’t do magic at home,” Boris replied. “Mom and Dad want me to wait until I’m eighteen, until my emotions are as mature as my mind. Which means they can’t do it in front of me because it would be unfair.”
“Those are harsh house rules but, when you finally get there, you’ll have a greater appreciation for your gift. Some of my pals, most of whom I’ve known since I was a child, just use it to cheat the system or to impress friends at parties.”
“You can cheat the system?” asked Boris. “Tell me more. Can you create a second Saturday, like a do-over, or maybe make a girl think you’re cute? Not fall in love with you, but make it so it’s not so far-fetched.”
“Ask your parents,” said Mako. Then, after Boris’s shocked reaction: “I’m kidding. Your parents are rule-followers, like me. That’s how we were raised; we missed out on all the fun. I like the way you think, but you gotta be careful. Those in power get threatened by people who question the status quo.”
“Can you cheat the system in a small way,” asked Boris, “so it’s not such a big deal?”
“Good for you: asking the tough questions. I’ve heard others tell stories about making a traffic light change colors. Making a dog leash break. Making a rich woman forget to put money in the parking meter. They think they’re only being mischievous, spicing up everyday life. What do you think? Is that mischievous or... dangerous?”
“It doesn’t sound that bad to me.”
“If changing the light leads to a car accident or if the dog runs away, I would think someone’s underestimated the power of magic. It’s not just the action, but the reaction to the action. You’re smart; you know I’m right.”
“It’s like a chess game,” said Boris.
“Sure, I guess.”
“But then I’ll never be able to do magic: I don’t play chess.”
“What are you, fourteen?”
“Fifteen next month.”
“Talk to your parents, not here in front of people. Everyone will have an opinion, and your folks will feel attacked. At home. Start small: turning on the shower or the microwave oven. Something practical.”
Later, Boris was ponderously silent on the ride home. His parents felt guilty about dragging him to an adult-only event. Cheaper than a sitter, but...
When they pulled in the drive, Mr. Rhetke turned off the car but made no effort to leave the car, neither did Mrs. Rhetke. They looked at each other and in the rearview mirror, aimed toward the backseat.
“Am I in trouble?” asked Boris. “I thought I was pretty well behaved, considering.”
“You were fine,” said Mr. Rhetke.
“Perfect,” said his wife.
“Then why am I in trouble?”
“It’s not you, Bo,” said Mr. Rhetke. “It’s us. Your uncle gave us an earful. We’ve been making you — and ourselves — live by impossible standards. We wanted to blend in, not cause any waves. But, for most wizards, being big and flamboyant is in our DNA, and it hurts us to the core to be anything less. So...”
“I get to learn magic?”
“Small gestures. Practical enchantments. In the house. Behind closed curtains.”
“This isn’t when you poke me and say, ‘Just kidding, champ,’ is it?”
“Bo,” began his mother, “we want you to grow to be the best ‘Bo’ you can be. How on earth are you going to experience the full force and raw charisma of your potential if we don’t let a little bit of Rhetke magic into our lives.”
“If I’m not dead, than I must be dreaming, or you two are playing some cynical parental mind control.”
“You’re not dead and you’re not dreaming,” said Mrs. Rhetke. “You still have to finish high school. And you can’t use spells on anyone. Or we will forget this conversation ever happened. Understood?”
And thus Bo Rhetke began a long wild journey through the land of enchantments. Did he accidentally implode the toaster? Yes. Did he once drive the car from the back seat? Yes. Did his parents ever regret teaching him magic? More than once. But, on the whole, everyone worked together to help Bo mature into a noteworthy wizard.
One day, months later, Bo and his parents bumped into Uncle Mako at a gathering of the extended family.
“How goes magical trials and tribulations?” asked Mako.
“I’m scared a lot,” said Boris. “But when it goes well, which is most of the time, it’s like there’s a rousing symphony in my head.”
“Sounds right,” said Mako. “The real magic is having parents that support you.”
“Even if you’re right, do I have to tell them?” asked Boris.
“Not right away,” said Mako. “The shock would kill them.”
Copyright © 2024 by Charles C. Cole
