How did you become immortal in the first place? How does such a thing even happen? Did you know she killed Evangeline, and almost killed Haven too? And what's up with your creepy room?"
"Can you repeat the question?" He laughs.
"Oh, and another thing, what the heck did Drina mean when she said she's killed me over and over again?"
"Drina said that?" His eyes go wide as his face drains of color.
"Yeah." I nod, remembering her smug and haughty face as she broke the news. "She was all, 'Here we go again, stupid mortal, you always fall for this game, blah blah blah.' I thought you were watching, I thought you saw the whole thing?"
He shakes his head, mumbling. "I didn't see the whole thing, I tuned in late. Oh God, Ever, it's all my fault, all of it. I should've known, I should've never gotten you involved, I should've left you alone—"
"She also said she saw you in New York. Or at least she told Haven that."
"She lied," he mumbles. "I didn't go to New York." And when he looks at me his eyes are etched with such pain, I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. Shaken by how sad and vulnerable he looks and wanting only to erase it. I press my lips against his warm waiting mouth, hoping to convey that whatever it is, there's a pretty good chance I'll forgive him.
"The kiss gets sweeter with every incarnation." He sighs, pulling away and brushing my hair off my face. "Though we never seem to make it further than that. And now I know why." He presses his forehead to mine, infusing me with such joy, such all consuming love, then sighing deeply before pulling away. "Aw, yes, your questions," he says, reading my mind. "Where to begin?"
"How about the beginning?"
He nods, his gaze drifting away, all the way back to the beginning, as I cross my legs and settle in. "My father was a dreamer, an artist, a dabbler in sciences and alchemy, a popular idea at the time—"
"Which time?" I ask, hungry for places, dates, things that can be nailed down and researched, not some philosophical litany of abstract ideas.
"A long time ago." He laughs. "I am a tad bit older than you."
"Yes, but how old exactly? I mean, what kind of age difference am I dealing with here?" I ask, watching incredulously as he shakes his head.
"All you need to know is that my father, along with his fellow alchemists, believed that everything could be reduced down to one single element, and that if you could isolate that one element, then you could create anything from it. He worked on that theory for years, creating formulas, abandoning formulas, and then when he and my mother both... died, I continued the search, until I finally perfected it."
"And how old were you?" I ask, trying again.
"Young." He shrugs. "Quite young."
"So you can still age?"
He laughs. "Yes, I got to a certain point, and then I just stopped. I know you prefer the frozen in time vampire theory, but this is real life, Ever, not fantasy."
"Okay, so..." I urge, anxious for more.
"So, my parents died, I was orphaned. You know, in Italy, where I'm from, last names often depicted a person's origins or profession. Esposito means orphan, or exposed. The name was given to me, though I dropped it a century or two ago, since it no longer fit."
"Why didn't you just use your real last name?"
"It's complicated. My father was... hunted. So I thought it better to distance myself."
"And Drina?" I ask, my throat constricting at the mere mention of her name.
He nods. "Poverina—or, little poor one. We were wards of the church, that's where we met. And when she grew ill, I couldn't bear to lose her, so I had her drink too."
"She said you were married." I press my lips together, my throat feeling hot and constricted, knowing she didn't actually say that, though it was definitely implied when she stated her name, her full name.
He squints and looks away, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath.
"Is it true?" I ask, my stomach in knots, my heart pressing hard against my chest.
He nods. "But it's hardly what you think, it happened so long ago it hardly matters anymore."
"So why didn't you get divorced? I mean, if it hardly matters," I say, my cheeks hot, my eyes stinging.
"So you're proposing I show up in court with a wedding certificate dating back several centuries, and ask for a divorce?"
I press my lips and look away, knowing he's right, but still.
"Ever, please. You've got to cut me some slack. I'm not like you. You've only been around, well in this life anyway, seventeen years, while I've lived hundreds! More than enough time to make a few mistakes. And while there are certainly plenty of things to judge me on, I hardly think my relationship with Drina is one of them. Things were different back then. I was different. I was vain, superficial, and extremely materialistic. I was out for myself, taking all that I could. But the moment I met you everything changed, and when I lost you, well, I never knew such agonizing pain. But then later, when you reappeared—" He stops, his gaze far away. "Well, no sooner had I found you, than I lost you again. And so it went, over and over. An endless cycle of love and loss—until now"
"So, we... reincarnate?" I say, the word sounding strange on my tongue.
"You do—not me." He shrugs. "I'm always here, always the same."
"So, who was I?" I ask, not sure if I really believe it, yet fascinated with the concept. "And why can't I remember?"
He smiles, happy to change the subject. "The journey back involves a trip down the River of Forgetfulness. You're not meant to remember, you're here to learn, to evolve, to pay off your karmic debts. Each time starting fresh, forced to find your own way. Because, Ever, life is not meant to be an open book test."
"Then aren't you cheating, by staying here?" I say, smirking at Mr. Let Me Tell You How the World Works.
He cringes. "Some might say."
"And how can you possibly know all of this if you've never done it yourself?"
"I've had plenty of years to study life's greatest mysteries. And I've met some amazing teachers along the way. All you need to know about your other selves is that you were always female." He smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Always very beautiful. And always important to me."
I stare at the sea, manifest a few waves just for the heck of it, then make it all go away. Everything. All of it. Returning us to our outdoor living room.
"Change of scenery?" He smiles.
"Yes, but only the scenery, not the subject."
He sighs. "So after years of searching I found you again—and you know the rest."
I take a deep breath and stare at the lamp, clicking it off and on, on and off with my mind, trying to get a grip on all this.
"I broke off with Drina a long time ago, but she has this awful habit of reappearing. And the night at the St. Regis?
When you saw us together? I was trying to convince her to move on, once and for all. Though obviously, it didn't quite work. And yes, I know she killed Evangeline, because that day at the beach, when you woke up alone?"
I narrow my eyes, thinking: I knew it! I knew he wasn't surfing!
"I'd just found her body, but it was too late to save her. And yes, I know about Haven too, though luckily, I was able to save her."
"So that's where you were that night—when you said you were getting a drink of water..."
He nods.
"So what else have you lied about?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest. "And where'd you go Halloween night, after you left my party?"
"I went home," he says, gazing at me intently. "When I saw the way Drina looked at you, well, I though it better to distance myself. Only I couldn't. I tried. I've been trying all along. But I just couldn't do it. I can't stay away from you." He shakes his head. "And now you know everything. Though I think it's obvious why I couldn't be quite so forthcoming at the time."
I shrug and look away, not willing to give in so easily, even if it's true.
"Oh, and my 'creepy room' as you call it? Well, it just so happens to be my happy place. Not unlike the memory you hold of those last blissful moments in the car with your family." And when he looks at me, I avert my gaze, ashamed for having said it. "Though I have to admit, I had a good laugh when I realized you thought I was a bloodsucker." He smiles.
"Oh, well excuse me. I mean since there are immortals running around, I figure we may as well bring on the faeries, wizards, werewolves, and—" I shake my head. "I mean jeez, you talk about all this like it's normal!"
He closes his eyes and sighs. And when he opens them again he says, "For me it is normal. This is my life. And now it's your life too, if you choose it. It's not as bad as you think, Ever, really." He looks at me for a long time, and even though part of me still wants to hate him for making me this way, I just can't. And when I feel that overwhelmingly warm, tingly pull, I gaze down at the hand that he's holding and say, "Stop it."
"Stop what?" He looks at me, his eyes tired, the skin surrounding them tense and pale.
"Stop making that warm, tingly, you know. Just stop it!" I say, my mind torn between love and hate.
"I'm not making that, Ever." His eyes are on mine.
"Of course you are! You're making it happen with your... whatever." I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest, wondering where we possibly go from here.
"I'm not manifesting that... I swear. I'd never use trickery to seduce you."
"Oh, yeah, like the tulips?"
He smiles. "You have no idea what they mean, do you?" I press my lips and look away. "Flowers have meaning. There's nothing random about it."
I take a deep breath and rearrange the table with my mind, wishing I could rearrange my mind instead.
"There's so much to teach you," he says. "Though it's not all fun and games. You need to take caution, proceed with care." He pauses and looks at me, making sure that I'm listening. "You have to guard against the misuse of power. Drina's a good example of that. And you must be discreet—which means you can't share this with anyone, and I mean no one, understand?"
I just shrug, thinking: Whatever. Knowing he's read my thoughts when he shakes his head and leans toward me.
"Ever, I'm serious, you cannot tell a soul. Promise me." I look at him.
He raises his brow, his hand squeezing mine. "Scout's honor," I mumble, looking away.
He lets go of my hand and relaxes, leaning back against the cushions when he says, "But in the interest of full disclosure you need to know that there's still a way out. You can still cross over. In fact, you could've died right there in the canyon, but instead, you chose to stay."
"But I was prepared to die, I wanted to die."
"You empowered yourself with your memories. You empowered yourself with love. It's like I said earlierthoughts create. And in your case, they created healing and strength. If you really wanted to die you would've simply given up. On some deeper level you must've known this."
And just when I'm about to ask him why he was sneaking into my room while I slept, he says, "It's not what you think."
"Then what was it?" I ask, wondering if I really want to know.
"I was there to... observe. I was surprised you could see me, I was transmuted, so to speak."
I wrap my arms around my knees and bring them close to my chest. Everything he just said went right over my head, but I get just enough of the gist to be suitably creeped out.
He shrugs. "Ever, I feel responsible for you, and—"
"And you wanted to check out the goods?" I look at him, eyebrows raised.
But he just laughs. "May I remind you of your penchant for flannel pajamas?"
I roll my eyes. "So you feel responsible for me, like—like a dad?" I say, laughing as he cringes.
"No, not like a dad. But Ever, I was only in your room that one time, the night we saw each other at the St. Regis, if there were other times—"
"Drina." I cringe, picturing her creeping around my room, spying on me. "Are you sure she can't come here?" I ask, glancing around.
He takes my hand and squeezes, wanting to reassure me when he says, "She doesn't even know it exists. Doesn't know how to get here. As far as she's concerned, you simply vanished into thin air."
"But how'd you get here? Did you die once, like me?"
He shakes his head. "There are two types of alchemyphysical, which I stumbled upon because of my father, and spiritual, which I stumbled upon when I sensed something more, something bigger, something grander than me. I studied and practiced and worked hard to get here, even learned TM." He stops and looks at me. "Transcendental Meditation from Maharishi Mahesh Yogi." He smiles.
"Um, if you're trying to impress me, it's not really working, I have no idea what any of that means."
He shrugs. "Let's just say it took hundreds of years for me to translate it from the mental to the physical. But you—from the moment you wandered into the field, you were granted a sort of backstage pass, your visions and telepathy are by-products of that."
"God, no wonder you hate high school," I say, wanting to change the subject to something concrete, something I can actually understand. "I mean, you must've finished like, a gazillion, bazillion years ago, right?" And when he winces, I realize his age is a serious sore spot, which is actually pretty funny, considering how he chose to live forever. "I mean, why bother? Why even enroll?"
"That's where you come in." He smiles.
"Oh, so you see some chick in baggy jeans and a hoodie, and you just have to have her so bad, you decide to repeat high school, just to get to her?"
"Sounds about right." He laughs.
"Couldn't you have found another way to ingratiate yourself into my life? It just doesn't make any sense." I shake my head and roll my eyes, getting worked up all over again, until he trails his fingers down the side of cheek and gazes into my eyes.
"Love never does."
I swallow hard, feeling shy, euphoric, and unsure all at once. Then I clear my throat and say, "I thought you said you suck at love." I narrow my eyes on his, my stomach like a cold bitter marble, wondering why l can' t just be happy when the most gorgeous guy on the planet professes his love. Why do I insist on going all negative?