“Then what does?” I ask her.
“Well, for one thing, the dishes you create. You’re a master in that kitchen. It’s like this other person comes out of you. I don’t know … Super Chef.”
I smile. “Yeah, I’m just wondering if I can carry some of that into my life.”
“You are! You’ve got a job, you’re dating a boy, and just the fact that you’re talking about seeing Jane in Laguna—these are all good things.”
Lola pulls up to the curb next to my house and puts her hand up for a high five.
“You’re a star, Livie. And my best friend. Don’t you forget it.”
“You too,” I say, and even though she’s British, I give her a huge hug.
CHAPTER 18
Work goes by in a blur on Monday, because all I can think about is that I’m seeing Theo tonight. I watch the last minutes go by on Janice’s retro clock, then take the bus directly to Theo’s, counting the palm trees like I used to.
Theo is making Timothy SpaghettiOs when I walk into his kitchen, and his face turns bright red. “Liv, I can’t believe I’m making something out of a can in front of you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve had my share of Chef Boyardee. Me and him? We’re like this.” I twist my fingers together, and he smiles.
Theo tries to slip a napkin into Timothy’s shirt, but Timothy grabs it away and does it himself. After his brother finishes, Theo smiles and says, “Okay, buddy, time for bed.”
Timothy lets out a defiant yelp.
“Easy, T,” Theo says, and puts away their plates. While Theo has his back to us, Timothy leers at me, like the game has changed. Maybe it has.
After Theo tucks Timothy in, we go into the den, and I tell him about Jeremy getting out of jail.
“What? You didn’t even tell me he was in jail!”
“Well, it’s not something that’s easily woven into a conversation.”
“I swear, being around you makes my own life seem easy. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“I feel the same way about you. You’ve basically raised your brother. Oh, by the way, are you going to come back to screen-test? It’s been weeks. I hope I didn’t scare you away.”
“No. I’ve been thinking about it. I’d still rather be a professional cyclist. But if I could make some money acting while I train, that would really help.”
“So, what race do you want to win?”
“The one whose first prize is you,” he says, kissing me lightly on the cheek.
I smile and pull away. “Theo?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to pry, but where’s your mother? I’ve been over three times and I’ve never seen her.”
“Who knows. She’s dating this guy in Manhattan Beach. Sometimes she leaves for weeks at a time. She’s … well, let’s just say she’s not really parenting material.”
“Well, at least you have a mom.”
“I guess. There was this time, it’s one of my earliest memories, when T was really small and I was about six. We rented a van and the whole family drove to the desert. This was before my dad ever took me to the races, and it was the first time I saw people road biking. I was mesmerized. The way they were all in sync and their legs were like machines. It was a group of them, maybe eight, and they were literally riding into the sunset, this giant red ball on the horizon. Later that afternoon, at a gas station, my dad bought me this.” Theo picks up a miniature plastic bike from a cabinet by the TV. The rider’s shirt once had writing on it, but it’s faded away over time. Theo looks at it, his green eyes getting moist. He hands it to me and says, “I never lost it, as you can see. I remember being in the tent, and T had fallen asleep. I could hear my parents giggling in the next tent over, and I just felt like I was in the right place, like everything was meant to be.”
We sit down on the couch, and I rest my hand on his forearm.
“That was the last time I felt that way,” Theo says, running his fingers down my neck, “until now.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“This may sound weird, but all I want to do right now is put my head on your shoulder and watch a movie. Can we do that?”
“That can be arranged,” Theo says, beaming his beautiful smile.
We end up watching a super-old cycling film called Breaking Away. My emotions are all over the place, so I end up laughing and crying, sometimes in the same scene. When it’s over, he leads me into his bedroom and we start kissing. I’m not sure how my clothes come off, but they do, and his body is the warmest thing I’ve ever felt. I don’t think about how we haven’t discussed whether we are boyfriend and girlfriend. His skin’s so soft that I run my hands all over it and it makes no sound. With the other boys I’ve kissed, I never came close to the connection I’m feeling right now. I’m not sure if it’s because of everything that’s going on, but I’m holding on to Theo like he’s the only buoy in a vast, angry ocean. He’s the one who first told me anything is possible, and I’m starting to really believe him.
Staring at me when I wake up is a poster from the Tour de France, and for a split second I think, Yes, I’m here, in Paris, but then I see Theo’s cute cycling shoes and realize I’m in his bedroom. I hadn’t planned on spending the night, but I do remember calling Bell and telling him I was staying at Lola’s.
Theo is sleeping like a baby. Instead of waking him, I kiss him lightly on my favorite place, under his ear, and then slip out the side door and head back home to change for work.
Walking down Sunset, I think about the fact that I’m a woman now, in the full sense of the word. It’s weird, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me. It was so easy, and he was so gentle. He took his time and kept asking me if it hurt. It did a little, at first, but something told me it would get better, and it did. A lot better. It just felt right, like the natural progression of things.
I’m not a virgin, and my mother is in Laguna Beach. It’s a free country, and as long as I’m prepared for any possible outcome, I can find her. It’s time to stop putting it off and take control.
CHAPTER 19
I phone Lola during my lunch break and tell her that I’m ready. She offers to take me, but she understands when I say I want to go with Theo. She wants to be with her mom, anyway.
Over the next week, Jeremy works day and night with Pen and with this new band for his big showcase at Largo. Lola spends a lot of time taking her mother to and from her first set of chemo treatments. I try to get more out of Janice about my mother, but she’s too busy, and not knowing what I’m planning for the weekend, isn’t aware of the urgency of the situation. I talk to Theo on the phone every night and brainstorm on how we’re going to get to Laguna. Miraculously, when I get home on Friday he’s outside my house, on a motorcycle.
“Hey, Liv. I borrowed it from my uncle! Told him it was an emergency. We’re going to Laguna.”
I can feel my heartbeat start to pick up, like someone stuck a nickel into my slot.
“Really?” I say, as if I haven’t been planning this all week.
He nods like a little kid, and right then I know that no one and nothing is going to stop me. My dads wouldn’t want me to go without telling them, never mind on a motorcycle, but it’s just something I have to do.
I go inside and put on a Windbreaker, and when I come back out, Theo is smiling, holding out my helmet. Next thing I know we’re speeding south on the 405 freeway, the tires gripping the road, my arms wrapped tightly around Theo’s chest.
Eventually we veer off the freeway and snake down the canyon toward Laguna. At the bottom of the ravine, there’s a giant beach shaped like a half-moon and a park behind it with perfectly green grass, and there are people of all ages on bikes, on Rollerblades, carrying surfboards, and having picnics.
“Wow, it’s like central casting for a beach town.”
Theo laughs. “You got it.”
We park and get ices, and Theo asks an older guy where Five Feet is, and the guy points behind us and says, “Two
blocks down and two blocks to the right.”
We start moving, and I turn to Theo. “Can I go alone?”
“Of course, Liv. You see that seawall over there? That’s where I’ll be.”
At the top of the block I see a small orange awning halfway down the street, but no sign, and three steps to the front door. When I get there, I notice two tables in both of the front windows, a single pink flower on each. I put my hands up to peer inside and realize they’re shaking.
There’s an older man cleaning the floor, and a large gray dog that looks really bored. No sign of Jane. The walls are painted butter-yellow and hung with black-and-white pictures of abstract landscapes along with four antique sconces. Janice was right about the size of the place; there are only five tables. Just beyond the dining area is a small chestnut-colored bar with four stools and the kitchen on the other side. If I could ever imagine myself running a place, it would look something like this.
The kitchen door next to the bar swings open, and a woman comes out. Before I can see if it’s her, I quickly slide out of view. My heart is beating, like, a thousand times per second. If someone had told me a month ago that I would be in Laguna playing hide-and-seek with my birth mother, I would have had them committed. But here I am, frozen, my back against the wall. If she sees me, how do I explain?
After a few minutes, the man who was mopping the floor comes out with his bucket. Instead of looking at me questioningly—what would I be doing there?—he just smiles and nods. I do the same and cross the small porch to the steps. I look at him once more, and something in his eyes is familiar. I swear I’ve seen him somewhere. He has white hair and a few days’ growth of beard, and he’s wearing a small silver necklace in the shape of a sailboat. I wonder what his story is. Probably something that pales next to the one I could create for him. Could he have had another life, like Kurt did at war? He is old enough to have lived through a war, lost a child. He gives me another warm glance and lets me pass, almost as if I were expected there.
When I get back to Theo, he looks at me expectantly.
“I can’t do it,” I tell him. “Not now. But I saw the place, and her, I think. It’s so cool, only five tables. I don’t know, I need more time to think about what I’m going to say, you know?”
“I get it, Liv. She’s not going anywhere. We can do this anytime. But we’ll have to leave soon. I promised my uncle I’d have the bike back to him by six. We do have a little time, though. Let’s not think about anything, and just walk. Does that sound cool?”
He starts to lead me down the path that snakes along the coastline.
“Not sure if I can just not think about it,” I say.
“Well, you can try.”
I do try, but there are so many thoughts swimming around in my head. What am I doing? What if my mother doesn’t care? She obviously didn’t to begin with. Why would she now? I have to go back.
Eventually, though, the walk does clear my head, and on the way home to Silver Lake, I hold on to Theo even tighter.
CHAPTER 20
I obsess about Laguna all Saturday, and my special at FOOD that night is definitely not one of my best. On Sunday, I make zucchini bread and take it to Lola’s house. It’s pretty much the only thing that isn’t making Lola’s mom nauseated at the moment. I feel extremely uncomfortable and don’t know what to say most of the time, but Lola seems grateful I’m there.
Monday morning, I call Lola and ask her if she can take me to work, and she tells me she’ll be there in twenty minutes. As I make breakfast, I think about Rose and Eloise. How brave they might have been. Like two impossible ships coming together in the night. But then I imagine Kurt coming back from war unexpectedly.…
By this time, Eloise has basically moved in. She’s been turning Rose on to women’s lib, brought her a magazine with Gloria Steinem on the cover. Rose knows it can’t possibly work, but strangely, it feels right. She also knows that they’ve now drawn a line that is permanent, and nothing will ever be the same between them. But for the first time in over a year, she has gone a whole day without thinking about the baby she lost. She sits at the kitchen table while Eloise is sleeping. It’s late in the morning. Without warning, the door opens and there he is, looking tan and weathered, a duffel bag over his shoulder … Kurt. Smiling that unmistakable smile …
Lola honks and startles me out of my daze. As she takes me to work, she tells me she has a plan.
“I know you went with Theo and just scoped it out, but I think we should go, the two of us, next weekend. I told my mother and she’s fine about it. She even gave me her credit card. We can stay at the Surf and Sand Resort and order room service. And if you want, we’ll just go to her restaurant for dinner. That way you can see her without looking suspicious, right?”
“That actually sounds like a great idea.”
“See, that’s why I’m tops.” Lola pulls up to my building and adds, “You’ve got to tell your dads, though. That you’re going, I mean.”
“I know. Meet me at my house after work today?”
“Brilliant.”
“Hey, have I told you lately that you totally rock my world?”
“No, but you’re welcome to now.”
“You totally rock my world.”
“As you do mine, Livie. Call me every five minutes.”
As the day goes by, Lola’s plan sinks in. I look at the cookbook just once and notice a recipe for a fricassee. So after work, I decide to get ingredients for it. A fricassee can be made with pretty much anything as long as you stew it, but it’s usually made with white meat. I decide to follow Rose’s traditional recipe, which calls for chicken and vegetables stewed in gravy.
No one is home when I get there, and I put on some mellow music and start chopping the vegetables. My nerves begin to calm, and I look at the single word that is, once again, written in the margin of the cookbook.
Eloise.
It’s as if Rose was about to write something but then thought it might be incriminating.…
Kurt drops his bags and opens his arms, and for a second Rose thinks everything will be normal again. The hug lasts several minutes, and she doesn’t even think about Eloise sleeping upstairs. Kurt explains the loophole that got him home as if he had won the lottery. Then his face goes dark and he shakes his head, tells Rose there’s stuff he’s seen, things he will never mention. When he notices the ashtray on the counter, with four of Eloise’s cigarette butts in it, his face goes even darker and his brow furrows, like a child who doesn’t understand.…
I pound the chicken and put it in the broiler. We’re out of white onions, so I use shallots. Then I start on the carrots.…
Rose dumps the ashes in the trash and says, “Eloise is here; she stayed the night.” It feels so strange to hear herself speak the words. She hugs Kurt again, tight, this time wondering how in the world she’s going to get out of this predicament, and in walks Eloise in a lavender nightgown, her hair unruly, a willowy presence in the otherwise heavy air. She smiles, but there is agony in her eyes. They have never talked about Kurt coming back. They have no plan for how to even behave. Eloise acts as normal as possible and pours herself a cup of coffee. The next moment is brutal. None of them says a word. Finally, Kurt goes into the bedroom and Rose follows. Luckily, Eloise’s things are in the spare room, but she’s just left their bed. Will he be able to smell her?
I sauté the shallots, retrieve the chicken, and put it all in the wok. The recipe calls for a large saucepan, but if they’d had woks back then, that’s what they would have used. The kitchen smells really good. I start to boil water and measure the rice.…
They are in there for a long time, and Eloise can only hear muffled voices. She goes into the spare bedroom and gathers her things. She can’t get her toiletries, at least not right now. She goes outside and climbs into her pale blue T-Bird. She drives away and tries not to look back.
Lola arrives in a flurry, and we sit down at the table. The fricassee is pretty darn good. As we eat it,
I tell her more about my musings regarding Eloise. Lola seems intrigued but also looks at me a little funny.
“I just picture these two strong girls, against all odds, taking the risk of their lives,” I say a bit defensively.
“Well, Livie, I wouldn’t get too carried away. After all, Eloise could’ve been a dog.”
In my dream, Jane Armont is wearing a flowing blue dress. She is preparing dinner for a group of children. She gathers them all around a large table and starts serving them spaghetti. I come to the door with Hank by my side. There is no room at the table. I try to speak, but it sounds more like moaning, and she just shakes her head slowly.
When I wake up, it’s two a.m. and my forehead is sweaty. I go to the bathroom to get a towel and notice that the door to the Dads’ room is open and Bell is not inside. Where would he be at two in the morning? I wash my face, then tiptoe downstairs. He’s in the big blue chair, just sitting there.
“Dad, are you okay?”
He looks over at me, and the only way I can describe his face is deflated.
“Are we losing the restaurant and the house?” I ask.
“No. Well, I don’t think so. But something has to happen.”
“Well, what about all your friends? People love you. Everyone loves you. As a matter of fact, I’ve never met anyone who didn’t love you.”
“What about Ms. Birnbaum?”
He’s right. My fourth-grade teacher was a homophobic nightmare.
“Okay, but that’s it.”
“Pretty good track record?”
“Yes. Maybe everyone can chip in or something. Like at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life.”
“Ah, I’m not exactly Jimmy Stewart. Am I at the end of my movie?”
I don’t have the heart to inquire about the card from the bank people, and I don’t know if Bell wants the answer to this question to be yes or no, so I decide to go ahead and distract him with my own news.
The Secret Ingredient Page 11