The scene was fairly painful to watch.

The waiter was becoming frustrated trying to get the Englishman’s order.  The waiter pointed to the various pictures of different entrées on the menu in a vain attempt to see what he wanted, assuming the young Englishman didn’t know enough Turkish to order.  The waiter was half-right.  The foreigner clearly didn’t know much Turkish, but he knew enough to order a simple meal in a restaurant.  And that was the problem; the Englishman had already ordered his meal.  But now this second waiter was here and the Brit didn’t know how to say that he’d already ordered.

“What do you want?”  Groaned the waiter.  “Kebab?  Kofte?  Pide?”  

“Uh, no.  No.”  Was all the Englishman could reply.

“No?  You don’t want food?  You want something to drink?  Tea, ayran, cola…”

“No, no”

“What do you want?!”

Finally Ela could take it no more.  “He’s saying ‘no’ because he already ordered.  The other waiter already took his order.”  She blurted out.

“He already ordered?”

“Yes.”  She confirmed.  The young English man looked with uncertainty at Ela and the waiter, trying to figure out what was being said.  

“Ok then.”  And the waiter walked off without an apology or a hint of embarrassment.  The Englishman seemed to be embarrassed enough for both of them. 

“Thank you.”  He said to Ela.  

“You’re welcome, but you should really learn to speak Turkish.”  Realizing that she spoke English seemed to embarrass him all over again.

“You’re right.”  He admitted “I should.  However, here's the thing.  Before I came here I spent a year living in Japan.  I took Japanese classes at the community center, I studied online, and I practiced with my coworkers.  After a year you know how much Japanese I could speak?  Next to nothing.  I could understand how much money a cashier was asking for and if people were commenting on my height and that was about it.  So I’m kind of turned off language learning.”

“Turkish isn’t Japanese, it’s much easier.”  Ela replied.  “Here is Turkey; the waiters are only going to speak English in rip-off places for tourists.”

  “You’re still right.  And I still don’t want to.  I managed to order my meal ok; I only had trouble when that second waiter came by.  That sort of thing wouldn’t happen in America, each waiter has assigned tables, making things easier.”

Now that he said it, it seemed obvious that he was American, not English, Ela simply tended to assume that any white foreigner was English and she was usually right.  Ela gave her opinion on the matter “Ordering in Turkey is so much easier than in America, there you have to pick out your side dishes and if you want soup or salad with that and what kind of dressing.  Breakfast is the worst.  How do you want your eggs cooked?  Do you want real eggs or the heart-smart ones?  Sausage or bacon?  Waffles or toast?  White or whole wheat?  They just keep asking questions!”

“You’ve been to America then?”  He asked.

“I have.  I studied there for one semester.”  Ela confirmed “One time I was so confused in an American restaurant.  I was with a group of friends at a tavern.  I had just heard five other people order medium burgers.  I wasn’t that hungry so I ordered a small burger.  And the waiter says ‘We only have one size.’ And I didn’t know what to say, because here all my friends were ordering medium size but the waiter tells me that they only have one size.  One of my friends says ‘Just bring her a medium.’ And I was angry because I didn’t want to waste food.  I didn’t find out until the next day that they were ordering their burgers medium cooked.”  

The American chuckled at this.  “I hadn’t thought of it that way before.  Say…” he hesitated.  “Do you mind if I join you?”

Ela shrugged “Sure, why not?”

The American got up.  The crisp long sleeve shirt that he wore now looked a bit odd that Ela could see that he was also wearing cargo shorts that showed his long pale legs.  He extended a hand to her “Nice to meet you…”

“Ela.”

“Nice to meet you Ela.  I am Laszlo de Vicherny, Duke of Parma and private alchemist to the House of Bourbon.”  He sat down across from her.

“What?”

“Sorry, I just always wanted to say that.  Call me Red.”

“Red.”  Ela repeated with a small shutter, another color.  “But you don’t have red hair.”

“Neither do you.”  Red replied matter-of-factly.

“Right…” Ela responded, somewhat confused “But my name’s not Red.”

“That makes sense.”  Red conceded and moved on.  “So what does your name mean?  Turks always have very literal names.”

“It’s the color of my eyes.” Ela explained.

Red looked deep into her eyes “So brown… no gold… wait hold still… Are your eyes green?”

Ela smiled.  “The word you’re looking for is hazel.”

Red shook his head.  “I feel like ‘hazel’ doesn’t do your eyes justice.”

Ela changed the subject  “How long have you been in Izmir?”

“Just a couple of weeks.”  Red answered.  “I’m not sure how long I’ll stay, probably at least a year.”

“And why did you come to Izmir?”

“To look for magic.”  He replied nonchalantly.  Ela was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to let him come over to her table. She examined him.  Red had a long body and a longer face.  His largish nose formed an almost perfect right triangle.  His most striking feature was his pearlescent blue eyes which sat beneath a mop of wild dark blond hair.  He didn’t notice her examining him as he was more interested in his arriving food, an Adana kebab.

“Do you mind if I start?”  He asked.

“No, go ahead, I’m just having tea.  So you’re a kind of magician then?”

“Hmmmm?   Oh, no.  I didn’t mean that kind of magic, I don’t do card tricks or saw women in half.  I mean I actually can do card tricks, but that’s not why I’m here.”  He wrapped a piece of the kebab in some flat bread along with onions and grilled tomato.  “I’m talking about looking for mystical powers.  Sorcery.  Dark secrets of the void.  Delving into the occult.”  He took a bite and chewed.  Ela stared at him like he was mad, which didn’t seem to bother him.  “You know” he swallowed “The Adana kebab is supposed to be spicier than the Urfa kebab, but it doesn’t seem that spicy to me.”

After a long pause, where Red merrily ate his kebab, Ela finally shot back “You must be joking.”  

“No, I’m not.”  He replied “I can hardly tell the difference between the Adana and Urfa kebabs at most restaurants.”

“I’m not talking about kebabs!”  Ela snapped.  “I’m talking about magic.  Why did you make up such a crazy story?”

“I’m not making it up.”  Red had seemed so flustered before when talking to the waiter but now he seemed to be in his element, talking about magic.  “I think the Izmir area is going to be a great place to look for magic.  And I don’t mean like a sunset or a mother’s love, I’m talking about real power.”

“How can you find magic?” Ela indulged him.

“Well, that’s a difficult question to answer.  It’s not as simple as ordering a wand from a Wiccan website, I can tell you that much.  Magic is kind of like… uranium.”

“Uranium?”

“There are actually little bits of uranium everywhere.  Go to any vacant lot and there’ll be trace amounts of uranium there.  On the other hand, finding a useful amount of uranium is far more difficult.  And even after you’ve found it a lot of work is needed to refine it into something useful.”

Ela had to laugh, it was the only way she could handle him “What you’re looking for then is enough magic to build a warhead?”

“A reactor.  I mean, I’m not going to build a magical power plant.  I plan on using it for benevolent reasons.”

“Of course, you’re a good magician.  A white wizard.” Ela said with a grin.  “But why are you in Izmir?  Why not Istanbul?”

“Bah, Istanbul, there are too many people already looking there.  Besides Izmir has tighter, sharper contrast.  The new is newer, the old is older.”

It was true that Izmir’s precursor, Smyrna, existed thousands of years before Istanbul’s precursor, Constantinople, did.  However, that did little to explain why Red was here.  “Contrast?”

“Magic isn’t going to work sitting in a dusty box.  It needs a vibrant place where things are going in all directions.  Here rows of apartment blocks stand adjacent to wild forest.  Ancient ruins lay between the streets.  Rich and poor neighborhoods rub up against each other.  The city is very Turkish yet there’s a huge international presence here.  This wild mixing and clashing creates the perfect place for magic to thrive.”  He took a deep breath.  “Or that’s theory anyway.”

“You’re not sure?”

“If I was sure, I’d already have the magic.”  Red admitted. 

Ela shook her head.  What an odd fellow.  “All of this is very interesting…”

“Isn’t it?”  Red agreed.  

“But I need to get going, there’s someone I need to meet.”  Ela took a few liras out of her purse to pay.

“Oh, alright.”  Red replied, disappointed.  “Let me pay for your tea though.  As a thank you for humoring me and my rant about finding magic.  

“No, you don’t have to do that.”  She put her money down on the table.

“Of course I don’t have to do it, I want to.”  Red pushed her lira away as he pulled out a few of his own.

“No, really…”  Ela pushed her money back.  When she did so their fingers touched a static shock struck them both.  Ela recoiled in surprise “Sorry.”

Red’s eyes went wide, his mouth agape.  “You’ve got a connection on the other side.”

“Ok… now I really need to go.”  Ela stood.

“No wait.” Red also stood.  Out of their chairs Red towered over Ela.  “You’ve been there.”

“Been where?  You keep talking nonsense.  I need to go.”  She walked for the door, Red followed.

“Somewhere with magic.  I felt it lingering on you.  I need to see you again please.”

“I don’t think so.  You felt nothing more than a static shock.”

“It was more, it was more!”  He pleaded “We can meet again on any terms you like.  Bring a friend if you like.”

They reached the door.  Ela looked at Red.  Her rational mind told her that he was probably mad and even if he wasn’t that no good could come of seeing him again.  But even with his considerable size, compared to her anyway, he didn’t seem threatening.  Rather he seemed terrified at the possibility that she would refuse him.  Moreover, part of her was curious as to see what he was looking for.  She gave a sigh.  “Come here again at this time next week.  Maybe I’ll meet you.”

“Yes.  Great, here.”  He seemed ecstatic.

“If I ever get the impression that you’re stalking me or that your intentions are questionable, then we have no deal.”  She stated firmly, you needed to lay out rules for men.  “Now go finish your lunch.”  She walked out the door.  Red stood there, watching her through the glass; she could tell he wanted to follow her.  She waved him away and he reluctantly walked back to the table, trying to keep an eye on her as he did so.