The Grimoire of the Blue Crystal

The central plaza was crowded, people enjoying the sunset, listening to traditional music and drinking mint tea that perfumed the surrounding terraces. As the sky turned warm, I found myself observing his clothing: beige Bermuda shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, brown leather shoes, and a square jaw that made him look very manly. He hadn't noticed my arrival, and that gave me the time I needed to calm my heartbeat.

He turned as if he'd sensed my presence, and several inches below, he saw me. His eyes glazed over, and a big smile lit up his face.

"Fatima! I was getting sad. I thought you weren't coming," he explained, ecstatic. "Look at this wonder," he said, pointing to the sky.

"I was about to not come, but then something moved me, and I wanted to give myself the opportunity to meet you."

"Thank you so much. I don't have any friends in the city, and I'm really looking forward to talking to you."

He seemed so honest that I felt guilty for all the garbage I'd stuffed into my head.

"I don't have any friends either. My life revolves around the house and the library. Now that you mention it, I need to talk too. I hadn't realized that most of my conversations are in my head and the conflicts I'd create in my head," I added. "I almost missed out on all of this by listening to my fears."

"I appreciate you being honest with me. I promise to open my heart to you. You can ask whatever you want from now on." He extended his hand, shaking mine to seal the deal. "Let's go for a walk and eat something delicious. I want you to choose the place, okay?"

"Okay, how many days have you been here?"

"Today is the second day, what does that have to do with it?"

"Because I was wondering where you're staying. If you're going to be going to the library often, you should stay close."

"My father booked me a hotel, I'm not complaining, it's a beautiful place. It's called the Royal, it's so big I get lost, and as soon as they see me arrive, they escort me to my riad."

"Your father must have a lot of money because it's the best hotel in the country: pure luxury."

"My family's motto is discretion and simplicity, but since this is my first solo trip, safety was key when choosing."

"Even though you're a foreigner, your physique is similar to the locals. I don't think you'll have any trouble blending in with us."

"My skin color and this unruly hair are inherited from my mother; she's African, and my father is European."

I stared at him while he spoke to me and smiled as I compared the color of his eyes to that of the ripe dates I loved so much.

"Dual race, that's special. I, on the other hand, am an Arab, a believer. My family doesn't accept foreigners for marriage."

"Are you engaged?" "I don't want any trouble." A smile crowned his comment, which seemed more like an attempt at a man-woman rapprochement.

"Times have changed. Now we can choose. Arranged marriages aren't common anymore, at least not among the common people. That's for the millionaires."

Alfonso went ahead of me and crossed onto a street marked with a hexagon. I didn't say anything and kept up with him.

The fluid conversation led us to approach each other, to listen better and because it was a sign of comfort.

"Why are you laughing? I can tell you're naughty. Is something wrong?"

"I think you're lost."

Alfonso looked around the alley and wasn't convinced.

"I thought there was a terrace where we could have tea on this street. Maybe I'm confused."

"The street has no exit; it's a dead end."

"Did you know that from the start?" His eyes looked at me until I felt uncomfortable.

"I want you to learn for yourself. The city streets are labyrinths for tourists. That's why it's best if I get you a place to stay with the locals. You'll learn to navigate more easily and integrate more easily."

We sat down to drink tea on the terrace, which witnessed some confessions.

"I'll be blunt: how can someone as educated as you believe in magic?"

I took a sip of mint tea to take the pressure off my face.

"I'll answer you with another question: How will I handle students' questions if I don't know the subject?"

"Are you a professor?"

"I graduated with a degree in history with the idea of ​​teaching at a university in my country. My father suggested I prepare myself well first and get a Master's degree in London. The options didn't appeal to me until this one appeared: a Master's in Magic and the Occult. That day I found my passion. I research the subject day and night. That's the real reason for coming here."

"Magic doesn't exist."

"I think the same, but as a historian, I have to know everything about it. How do you explain that magic has always been part of human stories? Our encounter was magical."

I blushed at the way he concluded his comment.

"The experience was magical, but it wasn't the result of a ritual or spell; it was merely fate."

"We're understanding each other, Fatima, that's what I mean."

"So, what good will it do you to find a book that talks about magic if you see it every day, at every sunrise, in the birds' song? That magic we're talking about is part of everyday life."

"Because that book exists, and the magic it contains is what they've tried to imitate without success. It doesn't tell you how to do magic; the book itself is magical."

"I'm sure it doesn't exist. I think it's best if you stop wasting your time and go home."

"Please don't be mad at me."

"It's just that I've wasted hours looking in the library, and it's not here. I swear. I don't want you to get your hopes up and waste your time. Follow a new lead."

"Let's drop the subject because I think it creates a conflict between your beliefs and mine."

I was getting discouraged, that was the truth, and rather than get my hopes up with a foreigner, I preferred to cut off communication. He'd probably leave at any moment anyway.