“You didn’t know?” Ed asked.  He looked surprised.  “You didn’t ask why I was alright with some of the weird you’ve injected into my life?”

“Oh, I’m sure I knew on some level,” I said, spitting the words out with a little bit of unexpected venom.  At least I found the potency of it surprising.  I felt…angry.  “I mean, it’s not like there is any, and I mean any, woman in my life who isn’t a practitioner of some sort.”

“I think Bugs Bunny backs you up on this,” Ed said, thinking.  “There might be proof on YouTube.”  He shrugged. “I started thinking women were a different species back before puberty, so if witches are something different genetically I could believe it.”

“Well, men and woman are different genetically speaking,” I began, ready to tease Ed and take the emphasis away from my poison, but I heard the sound of the door opening upstairs and he kind of flew out of his seat.  Not literally flying, not with a broomstick or anything, just launched himself into the air and then into a run.    I might have to specify this given the subject matter.

“I think of DNA as a map,” Nen said in the sudden silence.  “Cartographers can only outline so much, and thus have places where there be Dragons.”

“Please don’t use the D-word,” I said.  “I’ve got issues.”

He snorted.  “Too easy,” he said.

“When you’re poor for opportunity, even the cheap jokes look good,” I pointed out.  “Anyway, in jest and in truth, or however the phrase goes.  I am not quite ready to kid about the scaly ones.”

“Are you aware of how much anger you hold?” Nen asked.

“Too serious.  More drinking,” I said.  I was as good as my word, and poured more into my cup.  Not to be rude, I also poured more into Ed’s, Nen’s, and took out a cup for Zach and poured some into his, too.

Zach was an inch taller than Ed, making him taller than myself, too.  He had lines of worry on his face, and a tan that had weather on it, rather than lightbulbs, if you know what I mean.  (And if you don’t, no worries – sometimes I don’t really know, either.)  His hair was bleached blond, spiky, and he wore a pale pink shirt, a black bowtie, and black slacks.  His eyes were dark, maybe green, maybe hazel, hard to tell.  He was younger than Ed, but something in his face had seen a little too much.  Kind of spooky, really.  He had a tiny button on that read, “IN UR KITCHEN SUBVERTING UR FABULOUS” which I wanted to think made sense but really didn’t.  It was like a mash-up of memes that didn’t become delicious peanut butter and chocolate but just some kind of mush that sat on your plate.

I focused on the button because Zach made me nervous.

He was attractive, you see.  I don’t… well, besides the law of the universe that made all women in my life witches, I liked women.  I mean, I really liked them.  I liked the beanpole dames as well as the ones with the itty bitty waist and the round thing in your face.  Ahem.  I didn’t swing for Ed’s team.  Didn’t even pick up the bat, if the metaphor is permitted to dance over to euphemism.

I found myself caught between looking away and looking at his eyes, unsure what I was supposed to do.  If I looked away was I giving him a bad impression, or was I giving him the wrong idea if I met his gaze?  I was uncomfortable, and the tipsy I had was not helping.

Ed stood off to the side, looking for all the world like the maestro having played his masterpiece and waiting for the audience’s reaction.  Huh. I must have been up to the philosophical level.  I’d lost track of the number of the drinks, given their purpose.  That was exactly it, though, when we have friends meet our friends.  There’s an ownership to it and at the same time we want so desperately for them to like each other (despite the geek social fallacy warning against it) because it shows something about our tastes and our talents for attracting like to like.  It’s why when you break up with someone you want everyone else to break up with them to in part — it isn’t because you want people to choose sides, but because you were hurt and the validation isn’t there unless your friends have felt it in part as well.

Maggie meant something to Ed.  Maybe he wasn’t in to her, but he listened to all the nights I railed against her, and while he was always cordial, he had never been warm to her when I went cold.  That’s why Ed was more than a friend, over the line to family.

Could I do the same for him, stand and meet Zach?

Sure I could.

“Hi,” I said, offering my hand, and meeting his eyes.  “I’m E.  Some folks call me ‘Doctor’ because I’m a thinker, but it’s just ‘E.'”

“Zacharias,” he said, clasping my hand in the ‘hand hug’ style of quick touches, “but if you don’t call me Zach, I’ll bite you.  And I know Adam.”  He nodded in Nen’s direction, but not at Nen’s height, releasing my hand.  He didn’t quite release me with his eyes, though.  He was evaluating me for something.  I felt uncomfortable, warm, under his gaze.  I wasn’t blushing, of course.  I had to look away for a moment, and I grasped for his glass.

“We poured you some to get started,” I said.

He took the glass but didn’t drink from it. “It’s okay, E, I won’t actually bite,” he said.  “And you’re more on the wizard side of things than a neurosurgeon.”  It wasn’t even a quarter question.

“No one’s been calling me Doctor Strange, now, have they?” I asked, trying to ignore the first part of what he said.

“Well,” Ed drawled, amused.

“You were right,” Zach said to Ed, walking over to kiss his cheek.  “He’s cute.  And he’s blushing.  And he’s totally not your type.  I feel better already,” he said, winking at me, and raising the cup in kind of a toast before drinking from it.

I hadn’t thought Ed’s boyfriend would have been worried about me as competition, but… I felt even worse that I hadn’t come over to meet them sooner.  I drained the glass.

“Another!” I shouted.  Well, I kept my voice down because I didn’t want to be heard upstairs, but it was in the flavour of a shout.

“If you break the glass, you’re explaining it to Mum,” Ed said.  “I’m pouring.”

“Good, because my hands aren’t steady,” I muttered.  “Nope, not a neurosurgeon.  Not a wizard, either.  Not that anyone listens to me about that.”

“That’s fine, E,” Zach said, putting a hand on my shoulder.  “I know what you are.”

“That makes one of us,” I said.  Ed returned the drink to me, and Zach lifted his hand up.

“I thought you were a happy drunk,” Ed grinned.  “Stop thinking so much.  That’s the point of killing our brain cells.”

“Don’t we need a couple?” I asked.

“I’m afraid if I kept two around, I’d rub ’em together to try to make some sparks,” Ed said.  “And my breath is definitely flammable at this point.”

“No, dear, the only time you have dragon breath is in the morning,” Zach said.  He hovered around Ed for a moment, and then flit over to Nen.  Okay, that was extremely bad phrasing that shows I’m not quite the evolved social animal I thought I was.

“I don’t know what you see in that game,” he said.  “I mean, ridiculous Facebook games  I’d challenge anyone, but that just looks too complicated.  I don’t understand why you’re gardening.  If you wanted to garden, I know plenty of places you could grow real things.  Why spend time planting virtual seeds?”

“Such has always been the way of my people,” Nen said, distractedly.

“Gamers,” Zach sighed.  “You even talk in dialogue. Wait, that didn’t make any sense, and I haven’t even been drinking.  Must be a contact drunk.”  He went back and kissed Ed on the lips.  “See?  Contact,” he said in a low voice, grinning.

I got that Zach was pretty touchy-feel-y, and kind of got some distance from him by sitting on the far end of the couch. “So, um, Zach, what’s your angle?”

After a bit of couple choreography, he sat on Ed’s lap across from me.  “That’s a little personal on a first date, don’t you think?” he asked, coyly.  He fluttered his eyelashes, and then grinned when Ed punched him.  “Fine, fine, I’ll quit the act.  The whole story in a few short words? Born in godless California too near Hollywood for very religious parents, became a practicing skeptic, came out to my parents to the whole disowned shmiel, mustache flapping in the wind and all of that, learned I was good with numbers, moved to Colorado, found out I was a wizard, and met a shy fellow who talks to bugs.  Or is that skipping too much?”

“Wait, wait,” I said, holding my head for a moment.  “Practicing skeptic?”

“Not just for holidays,” he grinned at me. “You know, full ritual decrial of creationism, the scarlet A, even the bowing and scraping or at least autograph hounding of the great saints of the field, from Penn to Randi.”  He chuckled.

“Okay, I can see that.  Sorry, I’m slow tonight.  Had a bit of a shake-up to my reality.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that happen.  In fairness, I’ve done that to people, too.”

“So… wizard?”

Zach grinned at Ed.  “My boy’s said you aren’t comfortable with the term.”

“Words mean things,” I said.  “Some more than others.  So what are you a wizard at?” I asked, a bit flustered that he called Ed a boy.  Or that he was talking to some boy.  I guess I shouldn’t presume.

“I send things away.  Kind of hard to be a skeptic when you’ve seen a ghost and made it go into the light.”

“Oh.  That kind of wizard.”  I decided that the floor was spinning.

“I thought it was kind of what you did,” Ed said.  He was looking at me, as if concerned.

“It’s something an ex-girlfriend of mine told me I should be able to do.  Exorcisms.  Demon banishing.  Not quite what I’d call a wizard, definitely more a matter of equations than a lot of the witch-y stuff.”  I shrugged, and closed my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Ed asked.

“Um, no.”  No, I wasn’t okay.  I wasn’t going to throw up, but I was not okay.

Nen hadn’t said anything for a while. “A teacher comes when he is needed,” he said.  He could have been talking about the game, but I didn’t think so.

“What’s wrong?” Ed asked.  Maybe he hadn’t heard Nen.

“Like calls to like,” Zach said.  “I knew when I looked at you,” he said.

“So it’s just a magic thing, not that I’ve suddenly leaped over the fence and found you attractive?” I asked.  I was glad my eyes were closed because it gave me the illusion of anonymity and thus a certain sense of boldness.

“I’m stuck here,” Ed said.  “Half of me is like, ‘Hey, of course he’s attractive,’ and the other half is, ‘Keep your eyes off my man!'” He chuckled.

“It’s a magic thing.  You’ll get used to it,” he said.  “I remember when I met the woman who taught me.  I almost called my folks and apologized.”

“You didn’t!” Ed said, sounding scandalized.

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Huh.  Is it that bad?” Ed asked.

“Let me put it to you this way,” I said, opening my eyes and leaning forward.  “I definitely need another drink.”

“I can do that,” he grinned.  “Hey, Adam, stop hogging the controller and pour for us, would you?”