The Secret Ingredient (21 page)

Ellie leaves the kitchen, and Surfer Boy writes down his phone number on a notepad that’s shaped like a surfboard, so that I can contact him in the future. Then he writes his name in block letters:

BLAKE.

“Well, I should go, but if it’s not too stalkery, I will totally call.”

“It can’t really get any more stalkery,” he says through a
smile. “But seriously, please do. Maybe we can hang out.” He leans forward a little, and I feel like he’s going to kiss me. I back up slightly, only because if I get closer I might kiss him back.

“Sounds good.”

He reaches past me to open the door. The wispy blond hairs on his tanned forearm brush lightly against my cheek. I thank him again and try my best not to trip going down his porch stairs.

When I get to the car, Lola is already inside, sending a text to someone. She stops and looks at me with questioning eyes.

“She’s not alive, but I met her grandson and her daughter,” I tell her.

“Really?”

We pull out of the parking spot and I open the window a little.

“Yes.”

“So, was he cute or what?”

“Beyond. The crazy thing is, you know the whole life I created for these people? It’s basically accurate.”

“I guess, knowing you, that shouldn’t surprise me. Did you get his digits?”

“You know it.”

“Ahhh!” Lola screeches excitedly, slapping her hands on the steering wheel.

The rest of the way back to the hotel, I close my eyes and let the sea breeze blow on my face, and think about
all the things that have happened in the last two months. I think about how Rose’s and Kurt’s lives were far from perfect, but they made their relationship work. They had a beautiful family. I think about how Rose needed more at one point, but as it turned out, everything she needed she had with Kurt, and within herself. I am so lost in thought, the ride goes really quickly. As we pull into the hotel, there is a limo pulling out. The woman in the backseat has a streak of gray in her hair, and she looks at me and smiles. There’s something in her clear eyes that startles me. I take a quick breath in, and Lola says, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I say as I watch her disappear down the road.
Was that the psychic?

I remember what she said when we left each other the first time.
If you need me, I will be there
.

The hair was the same, and there was something in her smile, like she knew I was going to cross her path. Was it her, or am I completely mad, as Lola would say?

“I think I’m seeing things,” I say.

When we get into the elevator I allow myself a smile. The couple next to me must think I’m smiling at them, but I’m just elated by how crazy everything is, how unexpected life can be. As if to prove my point, when we get back to our room, Theo is sitting on the floor outside the door, reading a cycling magazine. A T-shirt hugs the contours of his broad chest, and his strong, shaved legs are curled under him.

“Theo?”

He looks scared I might hit him or something. Lola turns back toward the elevator and says, “I’m just going to grab some tea downstairs.”

I turn toward Theo, who says, “Liv, Hope told me you came by. I’m so sorry you had to see that. It wasn’t …”

“It wasn’t what?”

“It was a rehearsal. She was my scene partner.”

“Really?”

We go inside the room and he says, “You know, we may have gone a little fast. The girl you saw was part of my acting thing, but there
was
someone else. Someone I met up north.”

“I knew it.”

“I didn’t think I’d miss her, but I did, a little. Anyway, I found out she’s with someone else now. Besides, it wasn’t realistic, being long-distance and all.”

“Well, we never said we were boyfriend and girlfriend. I just wish you hadn’t acted like we were.”

Theo walks over to the window and looks out. “I know. But maybe we can start again? Slowly?”

I think about Blake, his number in my pocket. I remember Lola telling me once that the person you lose your virginity to is usually not the person you end up with. Still, Theo looks pretty adorable in the wash of sunlight filling the room.

“I’m not sure. Maybe,” I say, kind of under my breath. Then I decide to change the subject. “Did you get the part?”

“I’m short-listed, whatever that means. I don’t think I’m
going to do it, though. It’s weird, I’m not desperate like some of the other kids I’m up against. My heart’s not totally in it … not like when I’m riding.”

He brings out a brown paper bag that has a small chocolate cake and a carton of raspberries in it.

“Nice touch with the raspberries,” I tell him.

“I’m not all that bad, am I?”

“Jury’s out.”

He smiles like I’m kidding, but I’m not sure I am. Bell always told me there’s a half-truth behind every joke.

We take turns putting on our suits in the bathroom and go down to the beach. The sun is strong, and the sand is almost too hot to walk on. Theo lays out a towel, and we both sit. I show him a picture of my mother, one she gave me. She’s standing with the older man who cleans the floors.

“She’s beautiful!” he says.

“Well, she definitely has a … presence.”

“What’s with the cane?”

“Mmm. It’s complicated. But what isn’t? I’m glad I found her. But I had an epiphany, sort of. I realized that sometimes you have to search for something to realize you had it all along.”

“That makes sense. Sort of,” Theo says.

“It’s just—I thought this huge part of my life was missing, but even though I’m so happy I found her, I think I’ve figured out I don’t really need her. The truth is, I’ve always had everything I need. Maybe that’s the secret ingredient—knowing what you have.”

Some seagulls swerve over our heads and land near the shore with a flourish.

“Tell me this,” I say. “Do you think there’s some grand scheme to our lives and we just have to, like, give in to it?”

Theo thinks for a minute, then says, “Something like that.”

I tilt my head back. The sky is so bright I feel like someone painted it there—a big unknown, a great escape.

“Let’s go,” I say.

I jump up and sprint toward the edge of the sea. I gain speed and leap over the first wave, then another. Then I am underwater, holding my breath and kicking fast, with no end in sight. The definition of freedom. What was I waiting for?

I dive a little deeper, and finally come up for air.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my agent, Mitchell Waters: thank you for going the extra mile in a race I couldn’t be running without you.

To my über-editor extraordinaire, Rebecca Short: I thank my lucky stars on a daily basis for having someone as keen and clever as you on my side. You rock.

To my friends who allowed me to shack up and write in their beautiful homes: Bill Candiloros of Ft. Lauderdale, Steve and Chris of Water Island, Elaine and Marsha of Miami, Carole and Mike of Nantucket. (Can you tell I like to write by the ocean?)

To Augusten Burroughs, for making the whole author-photo thing easy and fun, and David Levithan for all that you do for YA authors in the New York City area.

To Chris Carvalho for the lyrics to “Hole in the Sky” and Sharon Foehl for the lyrics to “Similar War.”

To Steve Swenson and my daughter, Rowan, for being such bright lights in my life.

Lastly, to my readers: you make it all possible.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S
TEWART
L
EWIS
is a singer-songwriter and radio journalist and is the author of
You Have Seven Messages
. He lives in Washington, D.C. Visit Stewart at
stewartlewis.com
.