Nora Goes Off Script

G.P.PUTNAM’SSONS
PublishersSince1838
AnimprintofPenguinRandomHouseLLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright?2022byAnnabelMonaghan
Penguinsupportscopyright.Copyrightfuelscreativity,encouragesdiversevoices,promotesfreespeech,andcreatesavibrantculture.Thankyouforbuyinganauthorizededitionofthisbookandforcomplyingwithcopyrightlawsbynotreproducing,scanning,ordistributinganypartofitinanyformwithoutpermission.YouaresupportingwritersandallowingPenguintocontinuetopublishbooksforeveryreader.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationData
Names:Monaghan,Annabel,author.
Title:Noragoesoffscript/AnnabelMonaghan.
Description:NewYork:G.P.Putnam’sSons,2022.
Identifiers:LCCN2022006908(print)|LCCN2022006909(ebook)|ISBN9780593420034(hardcover)|ISBN9780593420041(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Romancefiction.
Classification:LCCPS3613.O52268N672022(print)|LCCPS3613.O52268(ebook)|DDC813/.6—dc23/eng/20220216
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2022006908
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2022006909
p.???cm.
InternationaleditionISBN:9780593542064
Coverdesignandillustration:SandraChiu
BookdesignbyAshleyTucker,adaptedforebookbyMaggieHunt
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businesses,companies,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_140138093_c0_r0CONTENTS
Cover
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthorForTomCHAPTER1
Hollywood’scomingtoday.
I’mnotgoingtolosemyhouse.
Thosetwothoughtssurfaceinthesamemomentasthesunstartstobrightenmyroom.I’vebeenpaidformyscreenplay,andthebonusmoneyforlettingthemfilmherewillhitmybankaccountatnoon.Good-byeunpaidrealestatetaxes.Good-byecreditcarddebt.Andtothink,Ben’ssayinggood-byetomehasmadeitallpossible.Idon’tknowhowthisdaycouldgetanybetter.Ihopoutofbed,grabmyheaviestmorningsweater,andheaddownstairs.Ipourmycoffeeandgoouttotheporchtowatchthesunrise.
Whoeverbuysthishousefromme,Ialwaysthink,willtearitdown.It’soverahundredyearsold;everything’sbroken.There’sacertainpointinJanuarywhenthewindblowsrightintothekitchenandwehavetoduct-tapeafleeceblanketoverthedoorframe.Thefloorboardsdroop;thereareonlytwobathroomsandthey’rebothupstairs.Eachbedroomhasaclosetdesignedtohousesixoutfits,preferablyforverysmallpeople.Benhadalistofhousecomplaintsheusedtoliketorunthroughdaily,andIcouldnevershakethefeelingthathewasreallycomplainingaboutme.
Thishouseisadisaster,sure.ButIfellinlovewithitwhenIfirstlookeddownthelongwindypathofthedriveway.Themagnoliatreesthatlineeithersidetouchinthemiddle,sothatnow,inApril,youdrivethroughatunnelofpinkflowers.Whenyouemergeontothemainroaditfeelslikeyou’vebeentransportedfromoneworldtoanother,likeabrideleavingthechurch.Itfeelslikeatreatgoingoutformilk,anditfeelslikeatreatcominghome.
ThehousewasbuiltbyaBritishdoctornamedGeorgeFairclothwholivedinManhattanandcameupstatetoLaurelRidgeinthesummer,whichexplainsthecompletelackofwinterization.Itwasbuilttobeenjoyedonaseventy-eight-degreedayandprimarilyfromtheoutside.Iimaginehislandscapingthispropertylikeamaestro,arrangingthemagnoliasandtheforsythiabeneaththemtoannouncethebeginningofspring.Afteralonggraywinter,thesefirstpinkandyellowbloomsshout,“Something’shappening!”ByMaythey’llhavegonegreenwiththerestoftheyard,aquietbeforethepeoniesandhydrangeabloom
IknewI’ddoanythingtoliveherewhenIsawtheteahouseintheback.It’saone-roomstructurethedoctorhadcommissionedtohonortheritualofformaltea.Wherethemainhouseisflimsywhiteclapboardwithpeelingblackshutters,theteahouseismadeofgraystonewithaslateroof.Ithasasmallworkingfireplaceandoak-paneledwalls.It’sasifDr.FairclothreachedoverthepondandpluckeditoutoftheEnglishcountryside.IdistinctlyrememberhearingBenusetheword“shed”whenwewalkedintoit,andIignoredhimthewayyoudowhenyou’retryingtostaymarried.
Thefirstmorningwewokeuphere,Igotupatfirstlightbecausewedidn’thaveanycurtainsyet.Itookmycoffeetothefrontporch,andthesunrisewasthesurpriseofmylife.I’dneverseenthehouseatsixA.M.Ididn’tevenknowwewerefacingeast.Itwaslikeagiftwithpurchase,arewardforlovingthisbrokenplace.
Istandontheporchnow,takingitinbeforethemoviecrewarrives.Pinkribbons,thenorangecreepupbehindthewide-armedoaktreeattheendofmylawn.Thesunrisesbehinditdifferentlyeveryday.Somedaysit’sasolidbarofsherbetthatrollsuplikemoviecreditsandfillsthesky.Somedaysthelightdapplesthroughtheleavesinamutedgray.Theoakwon’thaveleavesforafewweeks,justtinyyellowandwhitebloomspollinatingoneanotherandpromisingalawnfullofacorns.MylawnisitsbestselfinApril,particularlyinthemorningwhenit’sdew-kissedandcatchingthelight.Idon’tknowthesciencebehindallofit,butIknowtherhythmofthispropertylikeIknowmyownbody.Thesunwillrisehereeverysingleday.
???
BythetimeI’vegottenmykidsupandfedandofftoschool,I’vechangedmyclothessixtimes.IstandinfrontofthemirrorinthesamejeansandT-shirtIstartedwith,andrealizetheproblemismyhair.Thefrizzisn’tasbadasit’sgoingtobeinAugust,butit’sstillprettyintense.PeopleinHollywoodhavetamedhair,orifit’swild,it’sbeenprofessionallydisorganized.Idunkmyheadinmybathroomsinkandthengettoworkblowingoutmyhairpiecebypiece,somethingIdon’tthinkI’vedonesincemyweddingdayinmychildhoodbathroomwithmybridesmaidscrammedinbehindme.
Whenmyhairisstraight,it’sstillonlynineA.M.They’resupposedtobehereatten,andIknowthatifIspendanymoretimeinfrontofamirror,Iamgoingtooverthinkmyselfintoapanic.IdecideIlookperfectlyfineforathirty-nine-year-oldmotheroftwo.Andit’snotlikeI’mauditioningforthismovie;Iwroteit.Idecidetogointotownanddosomenon-urgenterrands.MaybeI’llgethomeafterthey’vearrivedsoIcanshowupinanoh-hey-I-lost-track-of-timekindofway.I’llwalkintotheHollywoodversionofmyreal-lifedramainfullswing,likeit’ssomekindofsicksurpriseparty.
IkillasmuchtimeasIcanbydroppingapairofbootsattheshoerepairandbrowsingthediscountrackatthebookstore.IstopbythehardwarestoretochatwithMr.Mapletonabouthishipsurgeryandtopickupthestackofcrosswordpuzzleshesavesmefromhispapereachweek.Byteno’clock,Irunoutofthingstodo,soIknowit’stimetogohomeandseeexactlywhatamoviecrewlookslikeandwhattheconsequenceswillbetomylawn.
I’vemisjudged,andthey’relate,soI’mbackonthefrontporchwatchingtheirarrival.Igriptherailingastheeighteen-wheelersbarreldownmydirtdriveway,dislodgingthelowestmagnoliablossomsanddarkeningtheskywithstartledbirds.Forasecond,mywholepropertylookslikeaHitchcockmovie.
Ineversawthiscoming.I’massurprisedasanybodythatTheTeaHouseisbeingmadeintoarealmovie.ThelastmovieIwrotewascalledKissesforChristmas,aneighty-minuteTVmoviewithwell-timedbreaksintheactiontomakeroomforthefortyminutesofcommercials.TheonebeforethatwasHometownHearts,whichisprettymuchthesamestory,butittakesplaceinthefall.Mysuperpowerismethodicallyplacingamanandwomaninthesameshinytown,populatedbyunusuallyhappypeoplewithmaddeninglysmallproblems.Theybristleatfirstandthenfallinlove.It’sallsmilesuntiloneofthemleaves,butthencomesbackimmediatelyafterthecommercialbreak.Every.Single.Time.
TheTeaHouseisadeparturefromtheformulaandisdefinitelythebestthingI’veeverwritten.Thefirstthingmyagent,Jackie,saidwhenshe’dfinishedreadingitwas,“Areyouokay?”Ilaughedbecause,sure,itdidseemlikeI’dgonedark.Thestoryrunsdeeper,withheavydosesofanguishandintrospection,andforsuretheguydoesn’tcomebackattheend.InthemonthsafterBenleft,Isoldtwofun,lightscriptstoTheRomanceChannel,butthenthisdarkerthingsortofspilledoutofme.I’dtriedtokeepmypersonallifetomyselfafterBenleft,butIguesssomestoriesjustwanttobetold.
“Imeanthisisgreat,”shestarted.“Butthisislikeabigfilm,notforTheRomanceChannel.Ifit’sokaywithyou,I’mgoingtopitchthistomajorstudios.”
“That’sgoingtobeamajorwasteofyourtime,”Isaid,pullingcrabgrassinmyfrontyard.“Noonewantstowatchtwohoursofangstandabandonment.IswearItriedtoperkitupattheend,butnomatterhowhardItried,Ijustcouldn’tstomachhimwalkingbackthroughthedoor.”
“Nora.Ithasn’tevenbeenayear.”
“Iknow.SoIneedtogetbacktowhatIdobest.Dowhateveryouwantwiththisthing;IthinkmaybeIjustneededtogetitoffmychest.Everythingokaywithyourmom?”
“She’sfine.Givemeacoupleofweeksonthis.Thisscriptisagamechanger.”
Asthefirsttruckstopsinfrontofmyhouse,nineofitseighteenwheelsonmygrass,Irealizethatthegamehasindeedchanged.Iholdontotheporchrailingforsupportastwomoretrucksstartunloadingcameras,lighting,furniture,people.
Apink-hairedyoungwomanwithaclipboardandasmileapproachesme.“Hey,youmustbeNora.Don’tfreakout.CuzI’dbetotallyfreakingout.I’mWeezie,Leo’sassistant.”
“Hi.Notfreakingout.Icanreplantthegrass.”Ireachouttoshakeherfreehand.
Anotherwoman,closertomyageinablackjumpsuit,approaches.“I’mMeredithCohen,executiveproducer.”
“NoraHamilton,homeowner,”Imanage,stillhangingontotheporchrailing.“Andwriter,”Iadd,becauseI’mawkward.
“Listen,”Meredithsays.“We’realot.Hell,justLeo’salotthesedays.We’regoingtomakealotofnoiseandabigmess,andthenwe’llcleanitallupandbeoutofyourhairintwodays.Three,tops.”
“That’sfine;it’swhatIexpected.I’veneverseenamovieshootbefore,kindofexciting.”Aredpickuptruckpullscompletelyontothegrass,towingasilverAirstreamtrailer.“What’sthat?”
Weezieturnsandlaughs.“Oh,hereheis.Ofcourse,that’sLeo.We’reallstayingattheBreezeportHilton;hedoesn’tstayatHiltons.”Sherollshereyesandsmilesagain,likeit’smildlyannoyingbutalsoadorablethatthisguyiswreckingmylawn.
“LeoVanceisgoingtosleepinthatthing?Inmyfrontyard?”
“Itcan’tbeavoided.He’squirky.Buthe’sgotabathroominthereandwehaveahoneywagoncomingforeveryoneelse.Sodon’tworryaboutyourhouse.”
TheAirstreamdooropensandoutstepsaforty-year-old,shoelesssuperstar.HisjeanshangtoolowandhisgrayT-shirtistornintwoplaces.Hishairneedsatrim,andhe’swaytoohandsometoplayBen.Butthenagain,NaomiSanchezisplayingme.Hesquintsupattheskyashegetshisbearings,asifhe’semergingfromthedarkaftertwenty-fourhours.It’selevenA.M.andwe’reonlyaninety-minutedrivefromNewYorkCity.
LeoVanceisthehighest-paidleadingmaninHollywood.IknowthisbecauseI’vebeengooglinghimforthreedays.HehashomesinManhattan,BelAir,andCapd’Antibes.HeownsashareofanNBAfranchise.Nokids,nevermarried.ALibra.He’soriginallyfromNewJerseyandhasabrother.
I’veseeneveryoneofLeo’smovies,whichisn’treallyacredittohim.I’veseenalotofmovies.He’sagoodactor,andhe’smostfamousforhissmolderingstare.Ihavetosay,it’salittleoverthetop.Inhisfirstfilm,SycamoreNights,hegavehisco-starAileenBennettaseriesofwhite-hotsmoldersthatgothimnamedSexiestManAlivethatyear.Iguessitbecamehissignaturemove,sohekeptitupfilmafterfilm,evenwhenitwasentirelyunnecessary.LikeinBattlefortheHomeFront,he’stellinghisnewlypregnantwifethathehastogoawaytowar,andhe’ssmoldering.OrinClassAction,he’sgivingacommencementspeechatamilitaryacademyandsmolderingallovereveryone’sparentsandgrandparents.Anddon’tgetmestartedonAfricanRose.Arefugeecenterwithawildmalariaoutbreakisnoplacetosmolder.LeoVanceseemspronetotheinappropriateoozingofsexappeal.
Whenthesmolderisturnedoff,hehasanimpressiverangeofsmilesthatareuniquetoeachfilm.Theyrangefromtimidtomaniacal,andI’vealwaysadmiredthewayhecankeepeachoneconsistentthroughoutanentirefilm.I’mcurioustoseewhatsmilehe’llinventforTheTeaHouse.WhatsmilewouldheimagineBenhaving?Ican’tevenrememberthelasttimeIsawBensmile.
LeoVanceiswalkingtowardmyporch,andIbracemyselfforanintroduction.Perfectiononthescreen,scruffyinreallife.Heisgoingtobetransformedintoamanwithalotofissueswhoendsupwalkingawayfromthewomanhebuiltalifewith.LeaveittoBentobemaddeningenoughtomakemefinallywritesomethingworthwhile.IsmileattheironyofBenactuallyhelpingoutafterall.
LeobrushespastmeontheporchlikeI’mnotthere,thenstopsandtakesastepback.“You’remissingadimple,”hesays.
“Theotherone’sinside,”Isay.
Henodsandwalksintomyhouselikeheownstheplace.Notmuchofameetcute.
???
Meetingthedirector,MartinCox,isasintimidatingasIanticipated.Weezie’sgoneinafterLeo,sohefindsMeredithandmeontheporch.“YoumustbeNora.”He’snottallbuthe’sbig,andIcan’tdecideifhe’sphysicallybigorifit’shispresencethattakesupalotofspace.
Ishakehishandandtrynottosayanythingelse.IfIstarttalking,I’lltellhimwhatIthoughtofthefinalsceneinAlabasterandwhyIthinkhewasrobbedofanOscar.I’lltellhimthatthelightingaloneinTheWomanBeneathwassublime.Mainlytoavoidusingtheword“sublime,”Ikeepmymouthshut.
“So,canweseeit?”heasks.IleadMeredithandMartinbehindmyhousetowheretheteahousesitsattheentrancetothewoods.Thereisnopathtoit,justlawn,sothataconsequenceofvisitingtheteahouseisalmostalwayswetshoes.I’dleftthebigoakdooropen,asismyhabit,becausewiththedooropen,youcanseestraightthroughthesteelwindowsonthebackwallintothemouthoftheforest.Itgivesmethefeelingofendlesspossibility.
Theteahouseisasacredspacetome.ThespaceinwhichIhavebeenabletopreservemyselfbywriting.And,unlikethemainhouse,itisairtightagainsttheelements.IimaginetheFairclothsapproachingtheteahouseasIdo,anticipatingafireinthefireplaceandatablelaidwithteaandtreats.Iimagineloversmeetinghereforhushedconversationandfirstkisses.Benhadalwayswantedtouseitforstorage.
Itmayhavecomedowntothat,forallIknow.MybeliefthatthelastthingtheworldneedsismorestorageversusBen’sbeliefthatheneededathirdmotorcycle.Amongthemanyconsolationsaroundhisleavingarethathetookmostofhisstuffwithhim,andhedidn’taskforthekids.
Theteahouseplaysprominentlyinthebreakupofourmarriage,whichiswhatearneditthetitlerole.BenresentedthetimeIspentoutthere;heresentedtheworkIdid.HeresentedthefactthatI’dbeenpayingourbillsforthepasttenyears.Whichmadetwoofus,actually.ThemorecompetentIbecameattakingcareofourfamily,themorehedespisedme.Themorehedespisedme,theharderIworkedtomakethingsright.Mewritingintheteahousewasamirrorhedidn’twanttolookinto.That’showitgoesinthemovie.Inreallife,Idon’tknow,maybeheleftbecausehejustwantedmorestorage.Benwantedmoreofjustabouteverything.
Now,asweapproach,IhearMartincatchhisbreath.“It’sotherworldly,”hesays.“Thephotodoesn’tdoitjustice.”
Ismileandkeepwalking.“Well,it’scertainlyfromanothertime.ThisiswhereIwrite.”
It’swarmforApril,andtheslateroofglistensinthesunfromlastnight’srain.Twogianthydrangeabushesflankthedoor.They’regettingtheirfirstleavesnow,hopefulcelery-coloredthings,butsoonthey’llbeburstingwithceruleanbluebloomsthesizeofmyhead.“IfyoucouldhavewaiteduntilJuly,youwouldhaveseentheseinbloom,”Isaytonoone,becauseMartinhasalreadywalkedinside.
“Thisisabsolutelyperfect,”hesays,runninghishandsoverthepaneledwalls.Hepullsoutawalkie-talkie.“I’mbackintheteahouse.Bringthelinensforthedaybed,I’mgoingtoneedthreeo’clocksunshinecomingthroughthebackwindow.Andamop.MakesureLeoandNaomiareinmakeup.”
Meredithgivesmealittlewink,presumablytomakemefeelbetteraboutthemopcomment.Igiveherashrug,whatdoIcare?“Okay,soI’llgetoutofyourway,letmeknowifyouneedanything.”
???
Igobackintomyhouse,relievedtofinditempty.Outsideeverywindow,thereisactivity—acateringtruck,awomanchasingLeoVancewithaspraybottle.FromthelargesttraileremergesNaomiSanchez,somehowalllegsinafrumpyhousedress.Iassumeshe’sdressedupashowMartinimaginedme.IfirstsawNaomiSanchezinHustler’sRevengewhenshewasabouttwenty-five.Therewasascenewhereshediscoveredshe’dbeendouble-crossedthatwasshotsotightthatherwholefacefilledthescreen.Whereareherpores,I’dwondered.Atthirty-two,sheisstillthemostbeautifulwomanI’veeverseen.
ItextKate:LeoVancewasinmyhouse.NaomiSanchezisexquisite.
Kate:Dying.
I’mhavingahardtimefiguringoutwhatIshouldbedoing.ImeanI’minsidemyhousewhichisn’tawriting-workingspace.Insidemyhouseisamom-ingspace.Thekitchenisstillamessfrombreakfast,anditoccurstomethatLeoVancehasseenmypancakespatterandhassmelledmybacongrease.I’mmildlyagitatedthathe’sbeeninhereasIstarttoclean.Therewillhavetobeboundariesofsomesort.Idon’twanttowalkinheretomorrowandfindhimsmolderingatmydishwasher.
Icallmysister,andhernanny,Leonora,answers.“She’soutwithherfriends,”shesays.Pennyandherhusband,Rick,liveinManhattanandEastHamptonandarefrequentlyfeaturedinTown&Countrywearingtherightthingswiththerightpeople.ThisisthefirsttimeinmylifeI’mdoingsomethingcoolerthanPenny,soIleaveamessage.“PleasetellherIcalledandthatNaomiSanchezandLeoVanceareinmydriveway.”Leonorasqueals,andIamsatisfied.
Oncemykitchenisclean,ItrytothinkofwhatI’dnormallybedoing.It’sWednesday,andonWednesdaysweeatmeatloaf.Ofcourse!Itakeapoundofgroundturkeyoutofthefreezerandplaceitonthecounter.Thisdoesn’ttakeaslongasI’dhoped.
???
Iwatchthroughthecornerwindowinthesunroom.They’refilmingthescenewhereItellBenthatitmighthelpifwebothhadasteadypaycheck.Itwasthedayhelumpedmeinwithalltheotherpeoplewhodon’thavethevisiontobelieveinhisdreams.Iwasadrone,arobot,aslavetoconvention.I’mprettysureitwasthelaststraw.IimaginemywordscomingoutofNaomi’sperfectmouth,andIstarttothinkmaybethisfilmwascastallwrong.HowisLeoVancegoingtobeabletobeasdismissiveasBenwaswhenhe’slookingatawomanlikethat?Itseemslikepeopleasbeautifulasthetwoofthemmighthavebeenabletoworkthingsout.Noman’sgoingtowalkawayfromNaomiSanchez.
I’vebeenwatchingthefilmingforanhourwhenIrealizeit’stimetogogetmykids.Iopenmygaragetofindthreeguyssmokinginmydriveway.Theydroptheircigarettesandextinguishthemwiththeirshoesandmovetothesideandwavemeout,likeI’minsomekindofvalet-parkingsituation.Ihavenochoicebuttodriveupontomyowngrasstogetaroundthetrucksandontothedirtportionofmydrivewaythattakesmetothemainroad.
ItfeelsgoodtoputthechaosbehindmeanddriveoutintoLaurelRidgewherenothingeverchanges.Benboughtintothistownbecausehewasliterallyoutofchoices.Hewantedabiglifeinthecity—Penny’slife,tobeexact.Butwhenthatprovedtobetooexpensive,hewantedabighouseinacommutablesuburb.Thatwasimpossibletoo.AsIgot
Bentoldhisfriendsthatweboughtateardowninthesticksasaninvestment.It’sanup-and-comingtown,hetoldthem,whichIalwaysthoughtwasfunnybecausethistown’smottoshouldbe:WeAreNeitherUpNorComing.It’satownthatagonizesoverprogressofanykind,secretlyfantasizingthatitwasthemodelforMainStreetatDisneyland.There’sanarchitecturalreviewboardandaplanningcommissionwhosesolepurposeistokeeppeoplelikeBenfrommakingLaurelRidgelessquaint.
WehavesixorsevenshopsthathavebeeninLaurelRidgesincethebeginningoftime.Theseshopownersenjoyacultlikeloyaltyfromtheirpatrons.LaurelRidgeisaplacewhereyou’llalwaysbeabletobuyahammerfromaguyyouknowandabowlofhomemadeicecreamscoopedbyateenager.AhandfulofotherbusinessespopupandcollapseaspeoplecomefromManhattantosellusdesignervitaminsandpersonalizeddogcookies.Theyrarelylastayear.
AttheendoftownisLaurelRidgeElementary.Iparkandfindmyfriendsamongagroupofparentsontheplayground,likethisisjustsomenormalday.
“OMGspillit,”saysJenna.She’sstandingunderthebasketballhoopwithKate.
“What?”Isay,tryingtobecasual.“JusthangingwithLeoandNaomi,whatever.”
“Ishecute?Doeshegiveyouthatlook?”Kateasks.
“Yesandno.Absolutelycuteandhe’sbarelylookedatme.”
“So,thehair’sawaste?”Jenna’sreferringtothefactthatI’veblownoutmyhair.
“Yeah,thatwasalittleoverboard,”Iadmit.“IfyousawNaomiSanchezinpersonyou’dunderstandwhyhewasn’tsofocusedonme.”
“Hey,Nora.”MollyRichterapproachesus.“Lookinggood,nicehair.”Molly’sthatclassicbitchyouknewinmiddleschoolwhoneversnappedoutofit.Wehavetobenicetoherbecauseshe’sheadofthePTAandseemstohavetheauthoritytorandomlyassignvolunteerpositions.WesteerclearofMollyRichterlikepeopleusedtosteerclearofthedraft.
“Ihearyou’replayingHollywoodthisweek,”shegoeson.
“Iam.”It’simportantwhentalkingtoMollythatyoudon’tofferanyadditionalinformationoraskanyfollow-upquestions.
“Well,cute.Don’tforgetthatOliverTwistrehearsalsarenextWednesdayafterschoolandyou’vesigneduptowatchthekidsbackstage.”
“HowcouldIforget?It’sallArthurtalksabout.”AndI’veshownmyhand.Ishouldneverhaveblownoutmyhair.Kategasps,likeI’msinkingintoquicksandandshehasnoropetothrowme.
“Oh,isArthurinterestedinabigpart?”Mollydoesn’tgivemeachancetorespond.“That’sgreat!BecauseIwasgoingtonameyouplaychairman,andifhe’sgoingtobesoinvolved,you’llbethereanyway.Perfect.”ShejotssomethingdowninherColumbo-stylenotebookassheturnsonherheelandwalksaway.
Jennaislaughing.“You’resoscrewed.”
“Yeah,Ihatetosayit,butyouare,”Katesays.“Ifyousayno,notthatsheevengaveyouachance,she’llmakesureArthur’satreeorastoneorsomething.”Tryoutsweretoday,soI’mhopingit’stoolateforMollytowieldherpowerandblackballmyten-year-old.Arthurisinthemiddleofanotherroundofspringsportsdisasters,andthisplayisalifeline.
“Iknow.Andit’sfine.IfArthurgetsapart,I’llgetpeopletohelp.”
“Noonewantstohelp,”saysJenna.
“ThenI’lldowhateveritis.ThisisliterallyeverythingtoArthur.It’sthefirstthingI’veseenhimexcitedaboutsinceBenleft.”
Idon’tusuallymentionBen.Notbecauseit’stoopainful,butbecauseIalmostneverthinkabouthim.I’vecreatedanawkwardsilencethough,anditseemstoworktomybenefit.
“We’llhelp,”theysay.
“Youguysarethebest.”Thebellringsanddozensofchildrenpouroutoftheschool.Arthurrunsovertous,dumpshisbackpackatmyfeet,andchasesabunchofkidstothejunglegym.I’mnotsurewhatthismeansabouthowhisauditionwent.
Bernadette,theeight-year-oldbossofmyfamily,barrelsovertomeandslamsmewithahug.“Didhesayanythingaboutyourhair?”
“Hedidnot;Ishouldhavewornyours.”IsmoothmyhandsoverBernadette’sbrowncurls.TheyseemstraightoutofTheLittleRascals,likeold-fashionedhair.
“Let’sgo,”shecommands.“They’releavinginthreehours.”
“They’llbebacktomorrow,”Isay.BernadettelooksatmelikeI’velostmymind.“Okay,fine.”IcalltoArthur,andhedragshisbodyacrosstheblacktop.
“Seriously?It’sonlythree-fifteen.Doesweirdoneedtogethometostareatthemoviestars?”Arthurwiggleshisfingers,failingtoseemmenacing.
“Howwastheaudition?”Iask.
“Igotit.”Arthurgivesmeahalfsmilethattellsmehedoesn’twantmetomakeasceneontheplayground.
Ipickuphisbackpack.“Let’sgetoutofherebeforeIdosomethingembarrassing.”
???
Bernadetteisoutofhermindasweroundthelastcurveofourdriveway.Arthuriscommittedtotryingtoseemlikehe’stoocoolforthebiggeststarsinHollywood.They’dbeluckytomeethim,heseemstowantustothink.He’sgotamajorroleinOliverTwistafterall.“Mom,she’ssoembarrassing.Everyoneatrecessandlunchwasaskingmeaboutthismovie.We’relikefreaksintown.”
WepasstheAirstreamtrailerandtwoeighteen-wheelersbeforewecanevenseeourgarage.Atablewithpastriesandsandwichesblocksmyway.Irolldownthepassengerwindowandindicatethegarage.Ayoungmaninaredtruckerhathappilyagreestomovehisoperationontomyporch,butnotbeforegivingeachofmykidsadonut.
“Thisisepic,”saysBernadette.
“It’sadonut,”saysArthur.
Iclosethegaragedoorbeforewe’reevenoutofthecar,happytobebackinmycocoon.Everythingoutsidefeelsinfestedwithnoiseandtiresandpeoplemakingdecisionswhoarenotme.WhenIgetupstairs,I’llpullallofthecurtains.Therewillbehomework,dinner,WheelofFortune,bed.Theircontractsaystheyhavetoleavebysix.
Asweclimbthestairsintothekitchen,Bernadettegoesintooverdrive.“DidyoumeetNaomi?IssheasprettyasshewasinTheMariner’sWife?IsLeohereyet?Ishetallornot?Franniesayshe’sshortandstandsonaboxwhenthey…”ShestopswhenwegettothetopofthestairsandseeLeosittingatourkitchencounter.She’sprobablyoutofbreathanyway.
Leostandsslowly,rollinguptohisfullheightofaboutsixfeettwoinches.HegivesBernadetteasternlook.“Iamnotshort,younglady.”Bernadettesmilesandblushesandcoversherfaceallinasingleinstant.
“Ha!Thereitis!”Leomotionstoherwithhisbeer.Whichismyin-case-Kate-and-Mickey-stop-bybeer,Inotice.
“What?”Arthurasks,alittlealarmed
“Themissingdimple.I’vebeenlookingalloverthehouseforit.Yourmom’smissingdimpleisrightthereonyoursister’scheek.”Bernadettecan’tstopsmiling,andArthurrollshiseyes.
IrealizethatIhaven’tmovedsincewecameupfromthegarage.I’mfrozenwithahalfadonutinmyhand.“Yes,welldone.That’swhereIkeepit.”
Leogoesbacktohisbeer,andafterasilencethatseemstoonlybeuncomfortableforme,Isay,“So,I’mNora.I’mthewriter,andthisismyhouse.”
“Leo.”
“I’mBernadette,andthisisArthur.”
“Cheers.”
“Areyousupposedtobeinhere?”asksArthur.
“Ifilmedmybitfortoday,nowthey’redoingafewsceneswithNaomialone.Darkstuff,thisfilm.”
“Well,yes.Iwasinamood.”
“She’sinabettermoodnow,”offersBernadette.
“Yes.Andweneedtogetstartedwithhomework,”Isay.
“I’lljustbealittlelonger.MytrailerishotandIwasworkingonthiscrossword.”HeindicatesthecrosswordthatI’dbeensavingfortonight.It’sWednesday,andthat’smyfavoritecrosswordday,nottooeasyandnottoohard.Mykidsknowthisandlookatmeintandem,neitherseemingliketheycouldpredictwhatcomesnext.
“Well,okay,”Isay.Lawn,beer,crossword.I’mkeepingscore.
Istandbythesink,donutinhand,watchingthethreeofthem.Leoworkingmypuzzle.Mykidspullingfoldersoutoftheirbackpacks,tryingtoactnormal.Bernadetteneedsmarkers;Leohandshersome.Shewatcheshimasshecolors.Arthurhasasheetoffractionsheneedstodowithinaminute,sohepullsupthestopwatchonhisphone.Iwatchthisincongruousthreesome,asceneoutofIdon’tknowwhat.
“So,whatdoyouusuallydonow?”Leobreaksthesilence.
“Oh,Istartdinner.”Gratefulforthereminder,Ibegintomovearoundthekitchen.Iditchthedonut,wipethecounter,openthefridge.ThegroundturkeyhasdefrostedonthecountersoIjustneedanegg.Iplacetheturkeyinabowlandcracktheeggintoit.
“DearGod,whatareyoudoing?”asksLeo.Whereotherpeoplegethisfamoussmolder,Igetthescrunched-uplookofdisgust.
“It’smeatloafWednesday,”Bernadettetellshim.
“Thatcan’tberight,”hesays,mesmerized.
Ichopanonionandaddit.Ithrowinsomebreadcrumbs.Leocannottakehiseyesoffmybowl.“ThatistrulythemostdisgustingthingI’veeverseen.”AndthenasIbegintomixitwithmyhands,“Istandcorrected.”Mykidslaugh.
Weeziecomeslookingforhimataboutfiveo’clockanddoesn’tseemtoosurprisedtofindhimtipsy.“Comeon,let’sgetyoubackintomakeup.Weneedtoreshootafewthingsbeforedark.”
LeomakeswhatIcanonlycalltheagonyface,thefacemykidsmakewhenItellthemwe’rehavingfishfordinner.“No.Please.Don’ttellmethere’smore.”
“Ofcoursethere’smore.Wehaveone,maybetwodaysleftherebeforewewrap.”
Leoclutcheshisbeer.“Butit’ssodepressing.Youguys,yourmomissodepressing.Ijustcan’ttakeit.”
“She’sactuallyfun,”Arthursays.“Andtherestofhermoviesarekindadumbbutwithsuper-happyendings.”
“He’sright,”Iadmit.“Dumbandhappy.Thiswaskindofaone-off,sorry.”
Hestudieshisemptybeerbottle.“Can’thejustcomeback?Likehaveanepiphanyorsomethingandcomeback?”
Arthurhideshisfacebypretendingtoreviewhisfractions.BenhavinganepiphanywouldbeasalvetoArthur’sopenwound.“He’snotcomingback,”Isay.CHAPTER2
Iwakeupthenextmorningtocompletesilence.Thecarsaregone;thetrucksareempty.Leoisprobablypassedoutinhistrailer.Ipourmycoffeeandgoouttotheporchtowatchthesunfinishrising.Leo’strailerisaneyesore,asarethemuddytracksit’sleftonmylawn,butitisnotblockingmyview.Thesunisputtingonabigshow,turningtheskyabloodyorangebehindtheoutstretchedarmsofmyoaktreeOnwindymorningsitlookslikeitswidestbranchesaredancingthehula;todayitlookslikeit’sofferingahug.Itwon’tbelong,Nora.Soonyou’llbebackincharge.
Ihearsomethingmovebehindme,andIturntoseeLeowrappedinaduvet,asleeponmyporchswing.Hisslightlytoolongdarkhaircoversoneofhiseyes,andheisbreathtakinglyhandsome.Ahalf-emptybottleoftequila(wait,mytequila!)sitsontheground.Noglassinsight.Iconsidergoingformyphone.Myfriendswouldgetakickoutofaphoto.
Asleephelooksyounger,almostvulnerable.Hehasthecoverspulledupoverhisnose.Hemusthavebeenfreezinglastnight.Iwanttowakehimtoshowhimthesunrisebeforeit’sover.Iwanttoshowhimsomethingthat’snotdepressingbecauseIknowwhathe’sgoingtofilmtoday.It’sthebreakupscene.Trevorisleaving.HeneverlovedRuthafterall.
IfeelbrieflyguiltythatI’vesubjectedhimtomysadstory.It’snotexactlymystorythewayitplayedout,butit’stheessenceofit.BenandIwereinloveatsomepointandfoundourselveswithtwogreatkidsandalifethatworkedaslongasIkeptmoving.Andthenhejustdecided,meh,thisisn’tforme.Likethewayyoustoptakingmilkinyourcoffee.Andthenyouactlikeyoualwaysdrankitblack,likeyoudon’trememberthatcreamytastethatyouusedtosayyouloved.
IshouldprobablyfeelsorryforNaomi.She’stheonebeingleft.I’mhappyshewon’thavetoscrunchupherprettyfaceinanuglycry.Instead,she’sgoingtohavetobeperfectlystillwhenhesays,“I’msorry,thiswholethingwasamistake.Ineedabiggerlife.”HopefullytheaudiencewillrecallthatRuthhasgivenhimeverythinghehasandthathe’saddedexactlyzerovaluetothemarriage.She’llplayitbackinhermindlikeIdidtomakesureshehearditright.Idon’tknowhowactressesdowhattheydo,butshe’llneedtomakeusseethemomentsherealizesthat“thiswholething”isherfamily.
Man,isBenanasshole.IdecidetoleaveLeoaloneandlethisfilmcrewfindhimwhentheygethere.Ihavetwokidsalready.
???
Theywantmeontheset.IhaveatextfromWeezie.I’munusuallyexcited,asI’vebeencoopeduphidinginmyhouseallmorning.I’vewashedandreplacedeveryone’ssheets,andI’vevacuumedeverypossiblething,includingthedustoutofmyrefrigeratorfan.IeventriedtooutlinethemainplotpointsofanewTRCmoviebutfoundthatmyminddoesn’tbendthatwayinsidethehouse.“Nora,you’rewantedontheset,”IsayoutloudbecauseIlikethesoundofit.
Icheckmyselfinmybedroommirror.I’minjeans,anavyblueT-shirt,andflip-flops.Myhairisstillnicefromyesterdayandpartiallybrushed.Idecidethatthiswilldo.IknowfromexperiencethatifItrytospruceupalittlewithbetterclothesandmakeup,I’llarriveattheteahouselookinglikeit’spromnight.Idobetterinacome-as-you-aresituation.
Iwalkacrossthelawnenjoyingtheblissofslightlywetfeet.Mysubconsciousistriggered,andIkindofwanttowrite,inthatsamewayIkindofwantasnackwhenIwatchtheFoodNetwork.Tomorrowthey’llbegoneandIcangetbacktoit.
Thedoortotheteahouseisclosed.IopenittofindLeolyingfacedownonthedaybed,Naomipacing,andacameramantalkingquietlywithMartin.“Hi.”IgiveasmallwaveasIsqueezein.“Weeziesaidyouwantedme?”
Naomistopsandglares.“Areyouthewriter?”
“Yes.Nora,”Isay.Sheissomuchprettierinpersonthatittakesmybreathaway.Iwanttoseeherfacewithoutallthatmakeupandstareintoherporelessskin.Sheradiatesbeautyeventhoughshe’sobviouslyreadytoattackme.
“Why?”Sheripsapagefromhercopyofthescriptandshovesitatme.“Whydoesn’tshedoanything?He’sleaving.Yeah,he’sabastard,butanynormalwomanwouldcryorsomething.Ican’tjustsithere.”
Leositsupandrunshishandsthroughhishairasiftryingtofocus.“She’sright.Thisisanintensescene;sheshouldscreamandyell.Atleastbegalittle.”
There’dbeennoscreamingandyellingwhenBenstoodrighthereandtoldmehewasleaving.Notbecausethekidswereasleep,notbecauseIwasscaredtoconfronthim.Iwondernowatthechainofeventsthathasledmetostandinmyofficewiththetwomostfamouscelebritiesinthecountrytryingtoexplainmyemotionalresponsetoabandonment.“Becausehe’snottakinganything,”Isay.“He’stakingnothing.Heneverreallylovedheranyway.”
“Whatthefuck.”GoodthingNaomi’snotmytherapist.
“It’stheclassicself-correctingproblem.Ifsomeoneleavesyou,it’sbecausetheydidn’twanttobewithyou.Allyoulostwassomeonewhodidn’twanttobethereanyway.”
Leolaughs.“Jesus.You’renotmuchofaromantic,areyou?”
“Iamnot.Atall.Ibelievedinmarriageatanycostuntilthatmoment.ThenIjustletgo,”Itellhim.AndtoNaomi,“You’renotavictimhere.Oranywhere.That’swhatthiswholemovie’sabout.”Everyone’ssilentuntilfinallyNaomistartstocry,Martinhugsme,andLeomutters,“Oh,forchrissake.”
???
Tobeclear,Ididn’tsetouttowritesomebigtreatiseonvictimhood.IreallyjustsetouttowriteaTVromanceformystandardfeeof$25,000sothatIcouldpaymybackrealestatetaxesandkeepmynamefrombeinglistedinthelocalpaper.Again.ItirritatesmetothinkpeoplebelieveIamsufferingfinanciallywithoutBen.Asif.HavingBenoffmycreditcardhasbeenlikeawindfall.Lastmonthmycreditcardbillwas$795.34,mainlyfoodandutilities.Havingfullcontroloverthatnumberisalmostmyfavoritepartofmynewlife.Thatandbeingabletospreadoutlikeastarfishinmyownbed.
Idigress.
ThestoryopensinacutecollegetownthatlooksalotlikeAmherst.Iwrotethemeetcutejustasithappened.Interior:lecturehall.HandsomeJayLevinthaliswhisperinginmyear,andIlaugh.CuttoBenseeingthisinteraction.ClassisoverandIamwaitingtotalktotheprofessor.Benapproaches.
“I’venevermetyou,”hesays.Irememberthisexactly,becauseit’saweirdsentencestructure.Theideawasthatthetwoofushadnevermet,yetthewayhesaysitputsthefocusonhim.Youneverforgetyourfirstredflag.
“Ibetyou’venevermetlotsofpeople,”Isay.
“No,Imostlyknoweveryone.”Andasiftoproveit,headds,“I’mBenHamilton.”Hehasawayofsayinghisnamelikeitmeanssomething,likeit’ssupposedtoconjureupasetofimagesandexpectations.LikeifyousaidyournamewasOprahWinfrey.
“NoraLarson,”Isayovermyshoulder.It’smyturntotalktotheprofessor.
BenturnedupinthelibrarywhereIwasstudying,atthedininghallatdinner,atabarthatmyfriendsandIwenttoeveryFridaynight.Hewasn’tthetypeofguyI’dnormallygooutwith.Hewassoobviousinhisconfidence,soannoyinglyextroverted.Hisenergydemandedattention,asifthepeoplearoundhimwereallworshippingatthetemple
Itwasn’tuntilweweremakingtheinvitationlistforourweddingthatIdiscoveredJayLevinthalwasBen’sswornenemy.Whichprettymuchexplainedeverything.
???
LeoisdrinkingamberliquidfromoneofmyglassesontheporchswingwhenIpullintothedrivewaywithmykidsafterschool.Twooftheeighteen-wheelersaregonesothere’sroomtoparkinfrontofmyhouse.Arthurwalksstraightpasthimwithoutsayinghello.Bernadetteplopsdownnexttohimandoffersherdimple.
“Yousmelllikemydad.”Shemeansitasacomplimentandhasconfirmedmysuspicionthatit’sscotchinthatglass.Ben’s,I’mguessing.Inearlylostmymindwhenhespenteighty-sixdollarsonthatstupidbottle.Iwasgladwhenheforgottotakeitwithhim,butI’mmaybemoregladtoseeLeodrinkingitunceremoniouslyfromajuiceglass.Benwouldbesopissed.
“Luckyme,”hesays,raisinghisglassinatoast.Hedoesn’tstrikemeasparticularlydrunk,moreasapersonwhostaysmildlybuzzedallday.
“Ilikethisspot,”hesays.
“Metoo.Thesunriseshere,”Bernadetteconfides.
“Righthere?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Ifyoustay,youcanseeittomorrow.”
“Happenseveryday?”
“Ithinkso.”Thetwoofthemlookoutoverthetrees,andIhavetheoddsensationthatI’mthethirdwheelhere.
“So,iseverythingwrappingupbackthere?”Iask.
“Ithink.They’rereviewingjusttoseeifthere’sanythingweneedtoreshoot.I’llbebackincivilizationbybedtime.”
Triggeralert:That’sthekindofthingBenmighthavesaid.He’dbelittlethelifeI’dchosenandworkedsohardtobuildlikeitwaslessthan.Atthecornerofarroganceandcluelessness,youfindtheworstkindofperson.Isuddenlycan’twaittohavethisguyoffmyporch,outofmyspace,andawayfrommyfamily.
“Well,enjoythat.Comeon,Bernie,let’sgetgoingwiththehomework.”
???
Byfiveo’clockIhaveachickenroastingintheovenandabottleofsauvignonblancinthefridge.Perourcontract,theyhavetobeoutofherebysixortheyhavetopaymeforathirdday.AllIneedtodoissaymygraciousgood-byesandwatchthemleave.ItwasfuntoplayHollywoodfortwodays,butnowIknowthattwodaysmaxesmeout.Weneedtogetbackontrack,threepeopleoperatingasawell-oiledmachine.Ineedtostartwritingsomethingnew.Arthurneedstostartlearninghislines.Bernadetteneedstogetthestarsoutofhereyes.Plus,thetiresonmylawnaremakingmetwitch.
IrelaxthinkingaboutthesimplicityofwritingforTRC.I’llgetbacktothattomorrow.I’llwritealow-stakesromancewiththehappiestpossibleending,withdogsandadorablechildren,chancemeetingsandhomemadedesserts.AndI’lldoitatnopersonalcost.Thislastthingwasjustsomekindofsilentscream.
Atfive-thirtyIgooutside,asifmy“thanksforcomings”willremindthemalltoleave.Mykidsinsistoncomingwithme.Wewalkhandinhandtotheteahouseandseetwocameramencarryinglightingequipmentaway.“Allwrappedup,”oneofthemtellsus.
Inside,Weezieispullingthelinensoffthedaybed.“Hey,guys,we’llbeoutofyourhairshortly.”Shereplacesthemwithmyfadedsunflowersheets,theonesthatwereinadequateforHollywood,andjustlikethattheteahouseismineagain.Thestoneflooristoocleanandthefireisragingtooaggressively,butit’scloseenough.
Weallmakeourwayoutfrontandsayourgood-byes.Naomistopstogivemeahug.“Thisfilmreallyworemeout.ButIgetit.AndIhopeotherpeopledotoo.It’simportantwhatyouwrote.”Bernadettejustaboutfaints.
IlookupatNaomibecauseforsomereasonshe’schangedintothree-inchheelsforthedrivebacktothecity.“Thatfeelsreallygoodtohear,thankyou.”
Shechangeshervoiceformykids,higherandlouder.“Bye,cuties!”Theysaygood-byeintheirmostgrown-upvoices,inself-defense.
Martinthanksme.Hewantstoknowifhecancomebacktotheteahouseforapressevent.Isayno,andhelaughs.We’reonevenfooting.Weezie’scorrallingeveryoneintotheirvehiclesasLeostepsoutofhistrailertogiveawave.Sofreakin’rude,Ithink.He’sbeentrespassinginmyhouseanddrinkingmyboozefortwodays,you’dthinkhecouldwalktwentyfeetandsaygood-bye.
ArthurandIgivehimawavejustasBernadetteisrunningovertogivehimahug.EitherthefactofitortheforceofittakesLeobysurprise,andhehugsherback.Theyexchangeafewwords,andhetouchesherdimple.Heclimbsbackintothetrailer.
“What’dhesay?”Arthuraskswhenshe’smadeherwaybacktous.
“Hewantedtoknowifthesunwascominguptomorrow.ItoldhimIthinksoandthathesmellslikeUncleRicknow.”
“That’sgin,”Itellher.AndwegoinsidetolistentoHollywooddriveaway.CHAPTER3
Leo’smissing.”Weezie’scallinterruptsmeinthemiddleofWheelofFortuneandmyglassofwine.
“Missingwhat?”
“Imean,wecan’tfindhim.Brunopulledthetrailerrightinfrontofhisbuildingtodrophimoff,nosmallfeathetellsme,anditwasempty.Theydidn’tstopforgasoranythingontheirway.I’mjust,wellI’mkindoffreakingout.”
“Well,he’snothere.Isthatwhatyou’rethinking?”
“Idon’tknow.It’sjustthathe’sbeenkindofoffthesepastfewweeks,drinkingtoomuchandsortofdisconnectedunlesshe’soncamera.I’mworried.”
“Okay,wellhe’snotinmyhouse.Idon’thaveenoughspacethatIwouldn’tnoticeagrownmanhiding.Wantmetochecktheteahouse?It’sreallytheonlyothershelterandit’srainingouthere.”
Withasighandaneyeroll,Iputonmycoatandbootsandmakemywayoutthebackdoortotheteahouse.ThroughtherainIcanseethatit’sdark.Thedoorisshut,sothatitlookslikeadeadendratherthanabeginning.AsIgetcloserandwetter,Istarttolosepatiencewiththissad,spoiledmanwhohastheballstojustdisappearandmakeeveryoneworry.
Ithrowopenthedoor,maybetooaggressively,andnoone’sthere.Istareforafewsecondsattheemptydaybed,theperfectplaceforhimtohideoutandgetalittleextraattentionhedoesn’tneed.
Mywinedoesn’ttastegoodanymorewhenIgetbackinside.ItextWeezieandtellherhe’snothere.Shereassuresusboththatifsomethinghadhappenedtohimitwouldalreadybeinthenews,whichisgood.We’rebothfeelingmaternal,Icantell,andweagreetocalleachotherifwehaveanynews.I’mgladtobeintheloop,thoughIdon’tknowwhyIevencare.Itcouldbebecausehe’stheleadinthemovieIwrote,butofcoursehismeetingatragicendwouldjustincreaseticketsales.Itrytoreviewhiswholepersonatoseeifthere’ssomethingabouthimIlike.He’sentitledandrudeandneversaysthankyou.IsettleonthefactthatIlikethewayhetalkstoBernadette.Ilikethewayhenoticesthings.Anoticerisapersonwhocanneverbeentirelyself-absorbed,thoughhe’sprettyclose.
Ilockupandtellmykidstogotobed.TheywantmetoreadachapterofTheHungerGames,whichistoodarkandtoooldforthem,butIagreebecauseIwanttofeelfierce.Theyfallasleeponeithersideofme,andIdecidetoletthemsleepinmybed.IdriftoffwithKatnissonmymind,relishinginhavingreclaimedmydomain.
???
ThesunrisewakesmeupifIforgettopullthecurtains.ThisistheprimaryreasonwhyInever,everpullmycurtains.Icreepoutofbedsoasnottowakemykidsandheaddowntothekitchentopressthebuttononthecoffeemaker.Thesunisrising,thosepeoplearegone,andtodayI’llwrite.IfeelBernadette’ssignaturegiddinessbubblingupinme.
Ithrowmymorningsweaterovermynightgownandtakemycoffeeoutontothefrontporch.It’sglorious.Theskyisabrilliantpink.Therainhasstoppedandeverythinghasajust-washedlooktoit,likegreenpeppersthathavejustbeenmistedintheproducesection.
“Hi.”Iswingaroundatthesoundofthisgreetingandspillhalfmycoffee.Leoissittingupontheporchswing,wrappedinhisduvet,feettuckedunderhim.
“Peopleareworriedaboutyou.”
“Iknow.I’llcall.Butcomesitforasecbeforeit’sover.”
I’mtoostubborntosit,soIturnbackaroundtoenjoytherestofthesunrisebeforeI’llhavetodismantlethisguy.WhenIfacehimagain,heisgivingmeasoftsmile,ayoungerunguardedsmileofsomeonewhoisactuallypleased.Hesays,“Yournightgownissee-through.Youhavenicelegs.”
Imakeamaddashtotheswingandhidemylegsundermyself.“You’rearealpieceofwork,”Isay,acceptinghalfofhisduvet.
Wesitinsilenceforawhilewatchingthecolorsdissipatefromthesky.Idon’twanttoaskthequestionsthatIknowwillsuckmeintohisself-pity.Andhedoesn’tseemthatinterestedintellingmewhyhespentthenightonmyporchintherain.
Afterawhile,Isay,“YouneedtotextWeezie.”
“Fine.”Hegrabshisphoneandtypesafewwords.“Happy?”
“Iwas,aboutfiveminutesago.Infact,Iwasecstaticabouttoday.ButthenIfindasquatteronmyporchandI’mworriedImighthavetocallthecopsandhaveabunchofcarsonmylawnagain.”
“Whatwereyougoingtodotoday?”
“Write.”
“Anotherdepressinglovestorywherethere’snolove?”
“No.”
Bernadettebringsaglassoforangejuiceontotheporch,rubbinghereyes.“DidImissit?”
“Youdid,”Leosays,makingroomforherontheswing.
“Leo!Whatareyoudoinghere?Didyousleepthere?”
“Idid.Wantedtomakesureyouweren’tlyingtomeaboutthesunrise.Andyouweren’t.Itwasspectacular.”Bernadettebeamsathimashegivesherthelastbitofhisduvet.
“Mymommakespancakes.Andbaconsometimes.”ShemightaswellhangaFORSALEsignonme.
“Ohjeez.It’ssixforty-five.IsArthurup?”Ileavethetwoofthemswingingontheporchandswitchintomorningmode.OnceArthurisinthebathroom,presumablymakingprogresstowardgettingready,Ichangeintomyrunningshortsandsneakers.Todayisstillawritingday,andI’mnotgoingtogetderailedbyLeoVanceonmyporch.
IcomedownstairsandfindLeoandBernadettesittingatthecounterinacomfortablesilence.Leoeyesmylegsagainandsmileslikewehaveaninsidejokenow.Imakemorecoffee,mainlybecauseI’vespilledmostofmine.Istartfryingbaconandscramblingeggs.IhavethreeEnglishmuffinsleft,whichwouldhavebeenperfectifIdidn’thaveabreakfastcrasher.Idecidetogowithout.
Arthurcomesdownstairscleanbutwiththelookofsleepstillonhim.“Momsaidyouwerehere.Why?”
“Hewantedtoseeifthesunreallycameuponourporch,”saysBernadette.“Whichitdoes,”sheaddswithaconspiratorialsmiletoLeo.
“Thesuncomesupeverywhere,dummy.”
“Arthur,”Isay,overlysternly,likesuddenlyI’mpretendingtobeMrs.Cleaver.Iplacethesteamingbreakfastplatesinfrontofthethreeofthemandhearmyselfsay,“Refill?”
Thekidsshootmealook.“Refill,”intheformofacommand,notaquestion,wassomethingBenusedtobarkoverbreakfast.He’dslidehismugtowardme,sometimeslookingup,andsometimesnot.I’dreply,“Ofcourse”asIpoured,andsomeonewhodidn’tliveinourhousemighthavethoughtImeant,“OfcourseI’dbehappytopourmorecoffeeinyourcupsoyoucandrinkit.”Thosewhohadbeensimmeringinthispotforawhilewouldheartheundertone:“SinceImadethebreakfastandI’mgoingtocleanupallthedishesandyou’rereallyjustgoingtosittheretheentireday,ofcourseI’lltakeittherestofthewayforyouandfillupyourcoffeetoo,youlazy…”
“Sure,”saysLeo,whohasprobablyneverpouredhisowncoffee,sohedoesn’tknowthisisaloadedtopic.
“Didyougetwetsleepingontheporch?Seemskindoffunbutalsosoggy,”saysBernadette.
“Halffunandhalfsoggy.Plusthere’sareasonpeoplesleeponmattressesinsteadofwood.”Leostretcheshisarmsintheairlikehe’stryingtoworkthekinksout,exposingtwoinchesofhisperfectlytonedabs.Ihavetolookaway.
“Well,you’llbebackatyourhousetonight,right?”asksArthur.
“Sure.”Leo’slookingforsomethingatthebottomofhismug.“It’sanapartment.Butit’snotthatmuchmorecomfortablethere.”
Okay,herecomesthepitypartyfortheguywholivesinapenthouse.Ineedtoregaincontrolofthemorning.“Guys.Clearyourplatesandgrabyourbackpacks.Bernie,youhavearttodaysobringyourportfoliothing.”Theygetupandcarryplatesandfindtheirstuff.
BernadettegivesLeoyetanotherhug.“Comebacksometimeforanothersunrise.Orevenapicnic.It’sfunhere,Iswear.”Honestly,wearegoingtohavetoredothewholetalkaboutstrangerdanger.
“Thanks,”hesays.“Andthebacon’sgoodtoo.”
We’restandingatthetopofthestepstothegarage,dooropenandbackpackson.Leo’snotbudging.“So,maybeWeeziecansendacarforyou?”Isuggest.
“Right.I’lltexther,”hesays,notreachingforhisphone.
???
Idrivemykidstoschoolandreturnhomethroughmytunnelofmagnoliablooms.Leo’sbackontheporchswing,wrappedinhisduvet.Iparkinthegarageandgathermythoughts.Afteraseriesofdeepbreaths,Iheadupstairsintothekitchen.He’smovedhisplatetothesink,whichisfranklymorethanIexpected.
InormallystretchontheporchbeforeIrun,butIdon’tneedtohearanyofLeo’swisecracks,soIdoitinthekitchen.BythetimeIwalkontotheporchitfeelslikehisrideshouldbepullingupanysecond.“So,safetripbacktothecity,”Isay.
“You’releaving?”
“I’mgoingforarun.”
“Wholesome.”Heletshisduvetfallalittle.“It’swarmingup.”
“Yes.Okay,good-bye.Itwasnicetomeetyou.Safetrip.Again.”I’mwalkingdowntheporchsteps,andIknowhe’swatchingme.I’mtooself-conscioustostartrunning,soIwalkdownthedrivewayuntilI’msureI’vedisappearedintothemagnolias.
Twomilesoutandtwomilesback.Ireturndrenchedinsweatandsparklingwithendorphins.Myporchswingisvacant.Myporchswing,Ithink.
I’mmoresurprisedthanIshouldbetofindLeowithhisfeetupatmykitchentable.He’sdoingmyThursdaycrosswordnow,andInoticehe’smakinganimpressivegoofit.Thisannoysme,andIknowthat’spetty.
“Noride?”
“Theymustbereallybusy,”hesays.I’msuspicious.“Where’stherestofthepaper?Ilookedoutside.”
“Idon’tgetapaper.Myfriendjustsavesthepuzzlesforme.”AndassoonasI’vesaidit,I’membarrassed.Andthenmyembarrassmentmakesmefeelalittleashamed,whichmakesmeangry,andIdon’tlikeanyofthesefeelings.LeoVancewaspaidfifteenmilliondollarstostarinTheTeaHouse.AndI’mlivingonborrowedcrosswordpuzzles.
“I’mgoingtogoshower,”Isay,alreadyheadingupstairs.Igrabmysoftestjeansandmyfavoritegrubbysweatshirtandtakethemintothebathroomwithme.Iwashmyblown-outhairandleaveitwetsothatI’lllooklikemeagaintoday.
???
“Whatifyouletmestayforaweek?”Apparently,Leo’srideisn’tcoming.Heisfollowingmeonmywaytotheteahouse,hotonmyheelsandkindofruiningmyvibe.Ihavemylaptop,myspecialcandle,mytwosharpenedpencils,andamugoftea.AndI’mtryingtoignorehim.
“No.”
“Iwon’tbotheryou.”
“Toolate.”
“Youcanwriteallday,maybeI’lltakesomewalks.AndI’llsitontheporchalotandlookatthetrees.Ifyoustayverystillyoucanseethembreatheandwaveateachother.”
Istopandturntohim.“AreyouonLSD?”
“No.Ijustneedtogetoutofthecity.Letmestayhere;youmusthaveaspareroom.I’llpayyouathousanddollarsaday.”
“Idon’thaveaspareroom.Gotoahotel.”
“ThenImightaswellgobacktomyapartmentinNewYork.Itfeelslikeahotel.AndIhatehotels.”
Hestopsasweapproachtheopenteahousedoor.“Wow.”
“Youjustspenttwodaysinhere.”
“Iwasn’tlooking.”
Determinedtoignorehim,Iputmylaptopdownandlineupmymug.Ibuildthefirebeforesittingatthetable,placingonepenciltotheleftofmylaptopandtyingmyhairinabunandsecuringitwiththeother.Hestandsstaringatme.
“What’sallthis?”
“It’saritual;I’mstartingtowrite.Nextcomesthecandle.”
“Ohboy.”Helaysdownonthedaybed,armsfoldedbehindhishead.He’sfacingthesteelwindowsonthebackwall,lookingoutintotheforest.Thesun’satteno’clocksotheforestisgettingalittlelight.Todaythepaletteisamixofwhiteflowersandbrand-newcelery-greenleaves.It’sbeautifultothepointofdistraction,whichiswhyIwritewithmybacktoit.“Ireallylikeithere,”hesays.
“You’vesaid.”
“Letmestayaweek,that’sseventhousanddollars,andyou’llneverseemeagain.”
Seventhousanddollarswouldmorethancovernewguttersonmyhouse.NewgutterswouldcutbackontherotI’veseenslowlyencroachonmyhundred-year-oldwindows.ImightevenbeabletofixtheleakI’vebeenignoringintheattic.TheremightbemoneyleftforatriptoDisneyWorldthissummer,alast-chancetripbeforeIwakeupwithacoupleofteenagers.
Alternatively,seventhousanddollarswouldtakeabiteoutofnextyear’srealestatetaxes,givingmetheluxuryofnothavingtoscramble.
“Haveyoueverfeltlikeyou’redisappearing?”heasks.“Likeyou’resureonedayyou’regoingtowakeupandfindthatthetruestpartsofyourselfhavebeenreplacedbysomeoneelse’splans?”Um,Ijustwroteamovieaboutit.Ibelieveyoureadthescript?
HowmanytimesdidIwakeupnexttoBenandwonder,WheredidIgo?Hisfacewouldreflecteitherindifferenceormilddistaste,andI’dtrytorememberbackwhenIwasapersonwhodeservedtobeloved.Ididn’tknowwhatBenwaslookingat,butitwasn’tme.Iwasgone.
Leo’sfaceiswideopen,andIcanseehe’smadehimselfvulnerable.He’sinsomekindofafreefallthatroomservicecan’tfix.
“Yes,Ihave.Buthowisstayingheregoingtohelp?Isn’ttherearetreatoranashramthatwoulddoabetterjobgettingyourfeetontheground?Withbetterfood?Andprofessionals?”
“Thesuncomesuphere,Nora.”Anormalperson,orfranklymyten-year-old,wouldtellhimthatthesuncomesupeverywhere.That’showthesunworks,genius.ButIknowexactlywhathemeans.Thereissomethingaboutthewaythesuncomesuprightherethatseemstowashthewholeworldclean.Ittoucheseverysingleleafasitrises,leavingmebothgroundedandinspired.ItwasherethatIstartedtofindmylostselfagain.
“Fine.Sevendays.Sixnights.Todayisdayone.Youcanstayouthere.”
“Outhere?”Hestretchesandlooksaround.“That’sperfect.Wherewillyouwrite?”
“Maybeyoucouldbesomewhereelsebetweentenandtwoonwritingdays?”
“Tenandtwo?”
“Yes.Ihavealooseschedule.Thesunrise-and-coffeethingdependsonthetimeofyearofcourse,butthenIgetmykidstoschoolbyeight,rununtilnine,showerandcleanupuntilten.Writefromtentotwo.Napuntiltwoforty-five,getmykidsatthree.Homeworkanddinner.WheelofFortuneandwine.Bed.”
“Well,thatdoessoundprettyloose.Spendmuchtimeinthemilitary?”
“Hey,itworks.”I’mwellawarethatI’mnotgoingtogetanythingdonetoday.Apparently,Ihaveahouseguest,andit’salreadyten-thirtysothescheduleisshot.I’mstaringatablankpageandtheblinkingcursorofdoom,andIknowI’mnotgoingtobeabletothrowmyselfintoanewprojectwiththeSexiestManAlivedozingbehindme.
Ilookupandhe’sstaringatme.“AmIbotheringyou?”heasks,butdoesn’tseemsorry.
“No.Well,maybe.Icanjusttellit’snotgoingtohappentoday.”Iclosemylaptopandgathermypencilsandmug.“I’mgoingtocutmylossesandrunsomeerrands.Youcanrestouthere.”There’sweighttothewayI’vesaid“rest,”andIhopehehasn’tnoticedRest.Asifasinglemanwhowearsmakeupandplaysmake-believeforalivingreallyneedsarest.
“CanItagalong?”heasks.
“Onmyerrands?”Imusthavemadeitsoundmoreinterestingthanitis.“I’mjustgoingtothegrocerystore.”
“Signmeup,”hesays,swinginghisfeetontothefloor.“I’dliketoseeyourgrocerystore.”
Hefollowsmeintothekitchen,andIgrabmybagandmycarkeys.Ifreezeatthetopofthestepstothegarage.There’salittlebitofbacongreaseonthesleeveofmysweatshirt,andI’mokaywiththat,butIdon’twantLeoVancetoseemyfilthygarage.Idon’twantLeoVancetogetintomydirtySubaru.
“Youokay?”heasks.Iturnandlookathimandamhitwiththefullimpactofwhoheis.Hesparklesalittle,andIwonderifhestillhasanymakeuponfromyesterday’sshoot.Whateveritishe’slookingforinthecountrycanprobablybefoundontheporch,buthewillfindnohealinginmygarage.“Let’sgo,”hesaysandopensthedoortothestairway.He’sheadingdownaheadofme,andthere’snoturningback.
Mygarageistechnicallybigenoughfortwosmallcars,butwiththelawnmower,thewheelbarrow,mycompostbin,andabigsackoffertilizer,yousortofhavetowalksidewaystogetin.There’sasweetsmellofdecaywithhintsofmoldandmanure,andIcan’tgetthegaragedooropenfastenough.
“Earthy,”Leosaysandopensthepassengerdoor.Hesitsdown,andwebothsurveythestateofmycar.There’salayerofdustoverthedashboardandtwojuiceboxesbyhisfeet.
“Arthur’sjustrecentlystartedsittinginthefrontseat,”Isay,asanexplanation,asifhewasgoingtothinkI’mtheonechuggingjuiceboxesasIdrive.Mycup-holderisstickywithsomethingandfilledwithcoinsandgasreceipts.Ican’tblameArthurforthat.
LeokicksthejuiceboxestothesideandputshiswindowdownasIpulloutofthegarage.Themagnoliatreesthatlinemydrivewayareparticularlyflirtatiousthismorning,explodingwithgiantblossoms.It’sliketheirhormonesarereactingtothepresenceofanactualman.I’malmostembarrassedforthem.
“So,howfartothegrocerystore?”heasks.He’slookingstraightatmeandwaitingforareplyasImakemywaydownmydrivewaytothemainroadandstrugglewiththeanswer.
Ofcourse,IshouldtakeLeototheWholeFoodsinPheasantLanding.I’veonlybeenafewtimes,butitisgorgeousandshiny.It’stheLeoofgrocerystores.It’sfifteenminutesaway,andwe’dhavetogetonthehighway,butitseemsmorehisspeedthanwhereIshop.I’mhavingahardtimepicturinghimintheStopn’Save.It’scloserandmuchcheaper,butit’sprettyshabby,insideandout.Ontheplusside,ithastheself-scannerssoIcaneffectivelygetthroughthestorewithoutspeakingtoanotherhumanbeing,andonFridaysitalmostalwayshascannedgoodsonsale.Iamattheendofmydriveway:LefttotheStopn’Saveorrighttothehighway?IamseventhousanddollarsricherthanIwaswhenIwokeupthismorning,soIcouldturnrightifIwantedto.ButIcan’thandleanotherguyforcingmetorunupmycreditcardbill,soIturnleft.
???
IpullmystationwagonintotheStopn’Saveparkinglotandkilltheengine.“Doyouhaveanyideawhatyou’regettingyourselfinto?”
“Idonot.That’swhyI’mhere.”Hegivesmeayouthful,expectantsmile.
“MidnightinJakarta,”Isay.Helooksatme,puzzled.“Thesmile.It’stheoneyougaveyourparents,theshopkeepers,eventhechiefofpoliceinMidnightinJakarta.”
“That’screepy,”hesays.
“Thatyourecycleoldmoviesmiles?Iagree.”
“Thatyounotice.”Helaughsandgetsoutofthecar.
“Canyoujusttrytofitin?”Iask,gatheringmyshoppingbagsfromthebackseat.He’sinjeansandawhiteT-shirtandablackleatherjacketthatprobablycostwhatmycar’sworth.“Maybelosethejacket?”
Hetakesitoffandsuddenlyhe’sallshouldersandabsandIhavetolookawayfromtheexcessofit.“Putthejacketbackon,”Itellhim.
Hewantstoknowwhatthebagsarefor,andIjustshakemyhead.IscanmyStopn’Savecardtousetheself-checkoutgun,andhismindisblown.“So,itjustknowswhatyou’rebuying?”He’sturningtheguninhishands,peeringintothereaderasifhe’llbeabletoseethetinymenwhoaremakingitwork.
“Yes,fromthebarcodes.”
“Whataboutfruit?”
“I’llshowyou,”Isay.
AnolderwomanwhoIdon’tknowisblockingtheentrancetotheproducesection.Sheisastatuewithherhandsonherfullshoppingcart,mouthopen.Leosays,“Hello.”
Shesays,“LeoVance.”
“Yes,”hesays.
“LeoVance,”shesaysagain,notmovinganinch.
“You’vegotme.”Whenhe’sgivenhermorethanenoughtimetospeak,hegoeson.“Okaythen,wehavesomeshoppingtodo.I’vegotthescanner.”HewavesitatherandgivesherasmileIcan’tquitename,butI’veseenitbeforeonthebigscreen.
Asalways,Iapproachtheproducesectionwithcaution.Someshit’salwaysgoingdownintheproducesection—womenover-confidingabouttheirmarriages,oddconfessions,inappropriateconfrontations.Don’tgetmestarted.SowhenIlookupandseeAnitaWallingfordcomingmyway,I’mnotsurprised.
Leohashisbacktous,auditingthebananaselection.He’smumblingabouthowcheapbananasare,eventheorganicones,asheweighsthemandprintsoutthelabel.Anitastartsrightin.“Hey,Nora!How’reyoudoing?”Poutyface.“IheardaboutyouandBen.Justawful.”Inodinagreement,hopingwecanmoveon.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’tcallme.ImeanIhadtohearitfromsomeoneelse,andIjustfeltsohurt.”
Thisisastunner,evencomingfromAnita.Evenintheproducesection.Icanonlyrepeatthewordsthathaveregistered.“You’rehurtbecauseBenleftme?”
“Youshouldhavecalledme.Imean,Ithoughtwewere…”Ifeelahandonmyshoulder.Leohasturnedaroundtomeethergaze.
“She’sbeensuperbusy.I’mLeo.”HeextendshishandwithwhatIassumeisasmolder.Iwanttoseeitsincehe’sneversmolderedme,exceptIcan’ttakemyeyesoffwretchedAnitaWallingford.Shelooksathimandthenatme,andthenathimagain.Thetinymicrocomputerbehindhereyesisoverheating.Shemightshort-circuit.Forabriefmoment,Ilovetheproducesection.
“Goodtoseeyou,”Isay,grabbingLeo’sarmandwalkingtowardthedeli.
“What’swrongwiththatwoman?Andwho’sBen?”
“Ben’sTrevor.AndIdon’ttalkabouthiminthesupermarket.”
“Soit’satruestory?”heasks.“You’reRuth?”
“It’smostlytrue,andI’mmostlyRuth.”
“Badass,”Leosays,noddinghisapproval.
I’mstudyingthechickenoptions.Awholechickenis$3.99apound,awholechickencutupis$4.25apound,andbonelessbreastsare$3.75apound.IswearsometimesthepoultrysectionattheStopn’SavefeelsliketheNewYorkStockExchange,wherepricesmoverandomlyandonlythemostsavvycomeoutontop.IconfessthatIamageniusatbuyingchicken.
“Didyouhaveastrokeorsomething?”Leoiswatchingmewatchthechicken.
“No,justcalculating.Ithinkwe’lltakethese,sowe’renotpayingforthebones.”Igrabtwopackagesofbonelessbreasts.
Leograbsapackageofgroundturkey.“Doyouneedthisforyourgrossmeatloaf?”
“NotonaFriday.GroundturkeygoesonsaleonSundays.Almostalways.”
“Huh,”hesays.“Whendowebuysteaks?”
“AroundChristmas.”
???
Leodoesn’tseemtohavealotofexperiencewithbringinggroceriesinfromthecar,buthemanagestofakeitandcarryafewbagsuptheporchstairs.There’sablackLouisVuittonrollingsuitcasebythefrontdoor,alongwithalargewhitepaperbag.
“What’sallthis?”
“Oh,IhadWeeziesendmesomestufffrommyplace.AndshepickeduplunchfromLouise’s.Youlikelobsterbisque?”
“Idon’tusuallyeatlunch.Whydon’tIgetthisstuffputawayandmaybeyoucangoeatintheteahouse?”
“Sickofmealready?”
“Alittle,”Isay.Hegivesmeaplayfulsaluteandlugshisstuffoutthebackdoor.
ItextKate.ItextPenny.Ieventuallyreceiveasatisfyingamountofshockandawe.LeoVanceisstayingtheweek.CHAPTER4
IknoweveryoneknowsaboutLeothesecondIgetoutofmycar.Momsinlipstickandbrushedhairgreetmewithdisappointment.Kate’sthefirsttoask,“Wheretheheckishe?AndIdidn’ttellanybody,justsoyouknow.”
“WesawAnitaWallingfordattheStopn’Save,sothatnewsisonthefasttrack.Inafuntwist,she’ssuperhurtbecauseBenleftme.”
“Thatsoundsaboutright.Wait‘we’?”Wemakeourwayontotheplayground,asafedistancefromwherethedoorswillsoonopenandourkidswillspillout.
“Yeah,hewantedtocomewithme.IfIhadn’tsnuckout,he’dprobablybeheretoo.Ithinkhe’shavingsomekindofacrisiswherehewantstopretendtobearegularpersonforawhile.Thepriceofbananasreallyrockedhisworld.”
“Theyareoddlycheap.”
“Theyare.”
“So,whereishe?”
“He’sintheteahouse.Hebroughthislunchinthere—lobsterbisquedeliveredfromManhattannoless—andthatwastwoandahalfhoursago.”
“Ijustcan’tfreakin’believeit,”shesaysforthehundredthtime.Ourboyscomeoutfirst,droptheirbackpacksatourfeet,andruntothebasketballcourt.BernadetteandCooper,Kate’syoungerson,comeoutafewminuteslaterandheadstraighttous.
“IsittruethatLeoVancespentthenightonyourporch?”Cooperwantstoknow.
“Itis.”
“See?”Bernadettemakesafaceathim
“Andhe’sgoingtostayforanotherweek.”Ihearmyselfsayitandforthefirsttimerealizethatmykidsmightbeuncomfortablewiththis.HavinghimaroundmightamplifytheirfeelingsaboutBenleaving.Andjeez,howdoIevenknowhe’snotapervert?“Ifthat’sokaywithyouguys,”Iadd.
Bernadettejumpsintomyarms.“Oh,Mommy,thisisgoingtobetheawesomestweekever.Asleepoverwithamoviestar.”Oncethehugisspent,sheturnstoCooper,makesaface,anddeclaresthatweneedtogethome.
Whenwe’reallinthecar,Itrytoexplain.Yes,hehasanotherplacetolive.No,he’snothavinganervousbreakdown.Maybehejustwantsalittlequietandprivacy.Maybehewantstotrymeatloaf.Bernadettepunctuateseachofmysentenceswithan“ohmigod.”Arthurissilent.He’ssilentaswepullintothegarage,andashestartsunloadinghisbackpackinthekitchen.
Ibite.“Honey,isthisokaywithyou?AreyouupsetItoldLeohecouldstay?”
“It’sjustweird,Mom.He’snoteven…Forgetit.It’sfine.”
“Itmightbekindoffun,”Isay.“Andit’sjustaweek.”
“It’sfine.”ThisisallI’mgoingtogetoutofArthur.
Aroundfiveo’clockLeoknocksonthesunroomdoor.Bernadetteracesovertoinvitehimin.“Hi!Whathaveyoubeendoingoutthere?”shewantstoknow.
“Iatesomesoupandreadalittleandfellasleep.Perfectafternoon.AmIinvitedfordinner?Iwasthinkingabouttryingyourweirdfood.”HemakesafaceandBernadettegivesitrightbacktohim.
“Dinner’sincluded,”Isay.It’sFriday,pastanight.
Arthurlooksupfromhispapers.“Hey,”Leosays.I’llgivehimthis:Hecanreadaroom.HeknowstocomeinhotwithBernadettebutnotwithArthur.HegrabsaglassandmycheapsauvignonblancfromtherefrigeratorandsitsonabarstooltwooverfromArthur.“Homework?”heasks.
Arthurbarelylooksup.“No,it’saplay.”
Leoasks,“Oneyou’rereadingoroneyou’reperformingin?”
“I’minthefifth-gradeplay,OliverTwist.I’mFagin.Ionlyhavefivedaystolearnallthis.”Arthurholdsuphisscripttoillustratejusthowmuchmaterialthatis.
Leolooksdownathisglass.“Don’tdoit,dude.”
“Theplay?”Arthurasks.
“Anyactingatall.”LeolooksstraightatArthur.“Ifyoupretendforyourjob,eventuallyyou’llstopbeinganythingatall.Anon-person.SillyPuttythatyourubonanewspaper.”
“Areyoudrunk?”Arthurasks,andIalmostdoaspittake.Iamkindofwonderingthesamething.
“Notyet,”saysLeo.
“AreyouinlovewithNaomiSanchez?”Bernadettewantstoknow.
“Bernie!”Iscoldher.“That’snoneofourbusiness.”
Leolaughs.“She’sbeautiful.Butbetweenyouandme,she’skindamean.”
“Thebeautifulonesalwaysare,”saysBernadette,whichmakesallofuslaugh.
“Whatelsedoyouwanttoknow?”asksLeo,pouringhimselfalittlemorewine.“Thisisawful,bytheway,”hesaystome.
ArthurshrugsandmotionstoBernadette,whocertainlyhasmorequestions.“Momsaysyou’renothavinganervousbreakdown.”
“True?”heasksme.
“I’mnotsureifit’strue,butit’struethatIsaidit.”Istartpeelingcarrotsintothesink.
“No,I’mnot,”hesays.“Butmymomdied,andit’smademethinkaboutalotofthings.”
Iputdownthescraper.“I’msorry,”Isay.
“Youknowwhat’sworse?Ireallyneedtogotothebathroom.I’vepeedintheforestacoupleoftimes,butImeanifI’mgoingtostayawhile…”
Oh,dearGod.MykidsandIlookatoneanother,neitherofthemmatchingmypanic.Leoneedsabathroom.“I’msorry.Ididn’teventhinkofit,”Istart.Myhousedoesn’thaveabathroomonthegroundfloor.Ican’thavehimwalkingintomybedroomtousemineinthemiddleofthenight.“Bernadette,takeLeoupandshowhimthehallbathroom.Andyouguyscanjustuseminewhilehe’shere.”
Imentallyhuntforbettertowels.Iseemtoremembersomeonegivingusreallynicetowelsasaweddinggiftthatwereactuallytooniceformetouse.Ilookinthemakeshiftlinencloset.Ilookinthelaundryroom.Benmusthavetakenthem,towelsthatwouldpairnicelywithhisleasedAudi,whichwasalsoperfectlyoutofstepwithourincomelevel.
IfindtwoslightlyfrayedtowelsthatusedtobewhiteandarenowgrayishandleavethemonthetoiletbeforeIgotobed.IgetupatmidnightandtakeacoupleofCloroxwipesandsomeWindextotheobviousspotsandleaveafreshbarofsoap.AroundoneA.M.,Iswitchmybathmatwithhis,becausemineisslightlynewer.WhyamIactinglikesuchalunatic?Because,Isaytomyself,LeoVanceisgoingtobenakedinthere.
???
It’sSaturdayandhe’supforthesunrise.Ihandhimacupofcoffeeandtrytorememberhimeverusingthewords“thankyou.”Wewatchinsilence,andwhenit’sallthewayup,heyawnsandsayshe’sgoingbacktobed.Mustbenice.
Saturdaysatmyhousekindoffeellikeariddletobesolved.I’vegottogetawolf,asheep,andachickenacrosstheriver,andeveryonemustsurvive.Ourvariablesaresoccer,baseball,dance,andplaydates.Participantsmustbefedandhydrated,withmultiplecostumechangesthattakeplaceinthecar.
WhenBenwasaround,hegrumbledaboutSaturdays.Isuspecthiscrankinesswastwofold:thefactthatSaturdaysweren’tabouthim,andthefactthatthehundredsofdollarswespentperseasononthekids’activitiestookawayfromhisabilitytobuymorestuffforhimself.“Can’ttheyjustrunaroundoutside?”he’dask,apparentlyforgettingthathewasraisedonasteadystreamoftennisandgolflessonsataprivateclub.ThiswasonesubjectwhereIactuallyputmyfootdown.Alltheeconomizingwithon-salechickenandleakygutterswassothatmykidscouldhavethechancetotrythingstheymightenjoy.ThismadeBenbananas.
He’daskoverbreakfast,infrontofthekids,whichsportshehadtodothistime.Thenhe’dshowupattheevents,admittedlynotatallinterested,andgoballisticattherefsortheopposingteam’sparents.Apparently,hedidcarealittle.
This,ofcourse,appliedmoretoBernadette,whohasafightingchanceofmakingateamthat’snotlegallyrequiredtotakeher.Arthur,ontheotherhand,hastwotraitsthatweighonhisathleticfuture:He’sremarkablyuncoordinatedandcompletelydisinterestedinsports.Thesearefacts,notopinions.IhaveseenArthurstoprunningdownthecourtinthemiddleofabasketballgametowindhiswatch.ThedisgustonBen’sfaceeverytimeArthurwalkedoffthecourtwasimpossibletoignore.
SaturdayswithoutBenaretwiceaschallengingandtwiceasgood.Thethreeofusfigureouttheplantogetheroverbreakfast—howthefoodexchangewillhappen,whenthechangeofuniformsandcleatswillgodown,whichgamesI’llgettositthroughandwhichI’llhavetodropandrun.AttheendofeverySaturdayweordertakeoutandcongratulateourselvesonajobwelldone.
Wepullintothegarageataboutsixo’clock.Thekidsputtheirequipmentawayinthemudroom,andIcarryupthepizza.ThehouseisdarkandIcanseethelightsonintheteahouse.IaskArthurtogooutandaskLeoifhe’shungry.
“I’mnotgoingoutthere,”hesays,pullingaslicefromthebox.
“I’llgo.”Bernadetteisalreadyoutthesunroomdoor.She’sbackinbarelyaminute,andhersparkisgone.“It’smessyoutthereandhe’sasleep.”
Iwonderifthisisabender.Maybehejustwantedtostayheresonoonewouldbemonitoringhim.Maybeheplanstospendadrunkenweekmourninghismom.Itoccurstome,onceagain,whataluxuryitistobesingleandabletofallapart.Nottomentiontheluxuryofbeingabletobuyyourselfaweek’sbreak.
Atmidnight,Iwaketothesoundofthetoiletinthehallbathroomflushing.Ihearhimamblebackdownthestairsandoutthesunroomdoor.Idon’tknowwhenI’mevergoingtogetusedtosleepingwiththebackdoorunlocked.AtleastIknowhe’salive.
???
OnSunday,Leoisupforthesunriseagain.Forsomereasonbeingupearlyfeelslikeerraticbehaviorforhim.SoIsayso.“You’reupawfullyearlyforaguywhodrinksallday.”
“Idonotdrinkallday.”
“Thenwhatareyoudoingoutthere?”
“Ilookatthefire.Iread.Iwatchthewoodsintheback.Idrinkalittle.”
“Well,you’rewelcometocomeintothehouseifthatgetsold.”
“I’mfine,”hesays.“Here,thisisit.Thisisthebestpart.”Wewatchthepurpleturntopinkturntoorange,andthebirdsarebacklitonthetrees
Webothsighalittlewhentheshow’sover.“Wantsomeeggs?”Iask.
“Nah,”hesaysandgoesbacktobed.
???
Sundayafternoonisbeautiful,andwehaveallthewindowsopeninthesunroom,effectivelymakingitfeellikewe’reoutside.Thedoortotheteahouseisopen,butIcanonlyseetheemptytable,notthedaybed,whereIassumeLeoisstaringattheceiling.
IhaveapotroastintheCrockpot,whichmakesmefeellikeSuperMe.NotonlywasdinnermadebeforemynineA.M.run,butmywholehousesmellslikesomeone’scookingmedinner.Idon’tordinarilyusetheCrockpotonaSunday,butIknowmytimeisnotmyowntoday.Arthur’sfirstrehearsalisWednesdayafterschool,andtoday’sthedaythisbecomesmyproblem.Today’sthedaythatallofhis“I’vegotthis,I’mfine”nonsenseturnsintoameltdown.Hehasn’tgotthis,heisn’tfine.
Iknowfrommyownchildhoodthatwhenyouaretenyearsold,thestakesarehigh.Youareteeteringbetweenchildhoodandtweendomandanysingleactioncanpushyouforeverintotherealmoftheuncool.Thekidsaroundyouareunconsciouslyplanningtoditchyouinmiddleschool,soifyou’renotanalphachildyouneedtobepreparedwithabackupfriendgroup.Beinginthefifthgradeissortofliketryingtodisablealivebomb,andifyou’reArthur,it’slikedoingitblindfolded.
ArthurandIsitonthecouchinthesunroom,sharingascripttorunthelinesonemoretimebeforeImakehimdoitbymemory.He’snervousinthewayyouarewhenyouareanticipatingyourownfailure,andhe’sdecidedthatthisfailureismyfault.Ifit’snotonething,it’syourmother.
“You’retheworstOliver,Mom.ImeanhowamIgoingtodomylineswhenyoureadlikearobot?”
Sigh.“WantBernadettetodoit?”Please,dearGod.
“She’sworsethanyou.Goon.”WeflipthroughafewmorepagesofhisfirstsceneandI’mprettysurehe’sabouttocry.
“Howaboutwetrythemusic?”Isuggest.“Bernie,getthesoundtrackandwe’lltrytosingalongtoFagin’ssongs.”
“Fine,”Arthursays,thoughnothingis.
“Oh!Ilikethisone,”Isay.Igetupandstartsinging,“Youcangobutbebacksoon,”addingarmmovementsandalittleside-to-sidesashay.Mykidsarelaughingatme,whichisfinebecause,fornow,noone’scrying.
Whenthesongends,Arthursays,“Doitagain!”
Fromthesunroomdoor,Ihear,“GoodGod,pleasedon’t.”It’sLeo,shoeless,lettinghimselfin.“Youjust…”He’sshakinghisheadatArthur.“Dude,you’rehosed.”
“Nokidding,”Arthursays.AndheandBernadettebothcrackup.
“Hey,I’mnotthatbad,”Isay.
“Nora,youareexactlythatbad.IthinkyourFagin’smoredepressingthanyourmovie,”Leosays,andnowthey’realllaughing.
WefollowLeointothekitchen,wherehe’shelpinghimselftoanotherofMickey’sbeers.“Smellsgoodinhere.”
“It’sapotroast,”saysBernadette.“It’sbetterthanherdancing.”Morelaughs.
I’mentirelycomfortablebeingthebuttoftheevening’sjokes.Atmeorwithme,thislaughterhassweptallofthetensionoutoftheroom.WhatifIcouldjustservedinnertothesoundofpeoplelaughing?WhatifArthurgetssorelaxedthathisbrainactuallyletssomeoftheselinesin?Beingtonight’spunchlineistotallyworthit.
Wesitdowntopotroast,carrots,rice,andsalad.Iopenabottleofchardonnay,whichIknowI’llhavetoshare.ArthurasksLeo,“So,doyouknowFagin?Likeintheplay?”
“Ido,”hesays.“AndIknowitisn’twhateverthatwas.”He’sindicatingmewithhisfork,andit’salllaughsagain.
“Yeah,Ihadafeeling,”saysArthur.“Doyouthinkhe’savillain?It’skindofconfusing,becausehe’sprettynicetotheboys.”
“Ithinkhe’sthebestkindofvillain,”Leosays.“He’sthekindofvillainwhodoessomethinghorriblebutwhowestilllove.Youcanseehishumanity,eventhoughhe’stakingadvantageofthoseboys.CharacterslikeFagingettothecoreofwhatitmeanstobeahumanbeing—wearebothlightanddark.”Wearestunned.“What?”heasks.Andweallstarttolaugh.
“Where’dthatcomefrom?”Iask.
“Thatwasalotofwords,”saysBernadette.
“Well,thisissortofmywheelhouse.OliverTwisthappenstobemyfavoriteplay.AndI’veplayedFagin.”
“Aw,comeon,”we’reallsayingintandem.Bernadettethrowshernapkinonthetableindisgust.
“I’mnotgoingtohelpyou.Iwillnotleadyoudownthepathtobeinganactor,”hesaystoArthur.“It’sempty.”
Arthursmiles.“DoyouseriouslythinkIcouldbecomeanactorwiththiswomanasmymother.I’mhalfher!”Wealllaugh,andtimestopsforamomentwhereIfeelthewarmthofthislaughterandwatchthedimminglightleavethesethreefacesinshadow—mychildrenandthemostfamousactorinAmerica.
Leopourshimselfanotherglassofwine,andIprotectivelyfillmine.I’mlearning.Hetakesasipandtiltsbackinhischairintheinfuriatingmannerofteenagers.“IfIagreetoreadlineswithyou,justtonight,willyoupromisemeyouwillneverbecomeaprofessionalactor?”
Iliketoplaytheodds,andI’mthinkingthisisaprettysafepromisetomake.There’saonepercentchanceArthur’sgoingtowanttobeaprofessionalactorandlessofachanceLeowillevenrememberwhoheisbythen.
ArthurconsidersLeo.“Iwon’tpromisethat.ButIdoneedhelp.”ThismakesBernadetteandmesmile,justthemoxieofit.
“Lookslikeyougotafullsetofdimpleswiththatone,”Leosays.“Howmuchtimedowehave?”
Arthurlookslikehe’sgoingtohughimbutthinksbetterofit.“RehearsalsstartWednesday.”
“Let’sdothisinthelivingroom.Weneedroomtomovearound.”Andwiththat,they’reallbusiness.Igointothekitchentowashthedishes.Iamtryingtorememberthelasttimeanadulttookoveroneofmyresponsibilities.Benwouldsometimesrunoutfortoiletpaperorpickupthekidsfromschool.ItoccurstomenowhowlongI’vebeendoingthisallonmyown.CHAPTER5
It’sMondayandLeo’sholdingArthur’scopyoftheOliverTwistscriptwhilewatchingthesunrise.“Hey,”hesayswithoutturninghishead.
Isitnexttohimontheporchswing,notingthatheseemstohavefiguredoutthecoffeesysteminmyhouse.“It’sreallynicethatyoudidthatwithArthurlastnight.”
“Don’ttellhim,buthe’skindofanatural.”
“Iwouldn’tdare.”
We’resilentasthesunmovesthroughadarkorangefinale.
“Writingtoday?”heasks.
“Gonnatry.Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Iwasthinkingaboutgoingintotown.”
WhichishowIendupnotwritingandtakingLeoVanceonawalkingtourofLaurelRidgeproper.Thetownisprettymuchonestripofshops,asmallgroceryatoneendandabookstoreattheother.Leobuyscheeseandabaguetteatthegrocery.Andajarofjaminaflavorhe’sneverseenbefore.Heasksifhecantastethesalamiandbuysapoundofthat.Hebuysberriesandkiwislikeakidpullingcandyofftheshelfbythecheckoutcounter.
“Planningapicnic?”Iaskaswewalkout,ladenwithbags.
“Nope.Ijustlikedthelooksofit.Let’sgointhere.”Hemotionstoanoverpricedhousewaresstorethathasnochanceofsurvivingtheyearinthistown.Infact,I’veneverbeeninside,onprinciple.
TwosaleswomenarechattingbehindthecounterandgosilentwhentheyseeLeo.Sosilent,infact,thatit’sawkward.“Hello?”hesays.
Theolderonecomesoutfrombehindthecounter.“Hello.I’msorry.Iwasjustsosurprisedtoseeyoustandingthere.Inmystore.”Iadmireherhonesty
Leoputsouthishandandsays,absolutelyunnecessarily,“I’mLeo.AndthisisNora.I’mstayingwithherforawhile.”Bothwomenlookmeupanddown,probablytryingtodivinewhatsorceryI’musingtoputmyselfinthissituation.HegetsnakedinthebathroomacrossthehallfromwhereIsleep,Iwanttotellthem.Someoneneedstoknow.
Leolooksaroundthestore,fingeringeverycoffeemug,everythrowpillow,everysetofsaladtongs.“I’lltakethese,”hesaysholdingupasetofivorysheetsandevokingagaspfromthestoreowner.Thentome,“Whatdoyousleepin?Aking?”
“Queen,”Isayinasmallvoicebecause(1)itseemslikeapersonalquestion,and(2)it’spossibleIwasharboringafantasythatthesewomenthoughthe’dseenmybed.
Hepicksupasetofqueen-sizesheetsandhandsthemtothelady.“Ibetyoursheetsarecrap,”hesaystome.WhenIstarttoobject,heputsuphishandtosilenceme.“Justletme.”HestaresmedownuntilInodinagreement.“Whatelse?Doyoulikeyourcoffeemugs?”
“Ido.”
“Idotoo.”Hewandersaroundcollectingsmallitemsuntilhefindsthetowels.“Weneednewtowels.Don’tevenstarttoargue.”Which,okay.HechoosesfoursetsofthemostluxurioustowelsI’veeverfelt.They’realightaqua,aperfectmatchtothefadingtileinthekids’bathroom.Hehandsthemtotheslightlypantinglady.
Bythetimehe’sconvincedmethatmywineopeneris“trash,”he’sgotmorestuffthanwecancarry.Theladieshappilyagreetodeliveritalltomyhouse.
“Well,myhousefeelslikeit’shadit’sPrettyWomanmoment,”Isayasweheadtothebookstore.
“Idon’tgettoshop.There’sawomanWeeziehiredwhochoosesmyclothes.Someoneelsepickedouteverythinginmyapartment.Samefortheotherhouses.”
“That’sweird.”
“Itis.Like,itfeelsgoodtochooseatowelcolor,decidewhichbananaslookgood.”
“Isthatwhat’sattheheartofthissuburbancrisisyou’rehaving?Youwanttomakechoices?”
Leodoesn’tanswer,andI’mafraidI’vepried.Ialsohaven’tsaid“thankyou,”andnowitfeelstoolate.Wewalkintothebookstore,andIintroduceLeotoStewart,theowner.HeasksifhecantakeaphotowithLeoforhisInstagramaccount,andLeoisgracious.
Leotouchesthespineofeverybook,andagreestoposeforselfieswiththreecustomers.HechoosesabookonFrenchprovincialcooking(hedoesn’tcook)andanewlyreleasedStephenKingnovel
IhavetoadmitIlikewalkingthroughtownwithLeo.PeopleIknowgreetuswithsurpriseandcuriosity.Bothofthesethingsarebetterthanpity.EveryoneknowsBenleftme.Andeveryoneknowshesortofusedmeupandtossedmeaside.“Shedideverythingforthatman,”they’dsay,shakingtheirheads.BesidesMrs.Sanducci,whoisrecentlywidowedateighty-six,IthinkI’mtheonlysinglewomanintown.Lookatmehavingfun,Iwanttosay.Lookatmenexttosomethingglamorous.
WestopatthehardwarestoretocheckinonMr.Mapleton,andLeobuysaspraynozzleformyhosebecausehethinksthey’refun.IarguethatIusemythumbandgetthesameeffect,andnowLeoandMr.Mapletonhavegangeduponme.“ThiswomanlivesliketheUnabomber,”Leosays.“Haveyoubeentoherhouse?”
“That’sher,justthebasics.Andshe’lluseandreusesomethinguntilitcrumblesinherhands,”Mr.MapletontellsLeo.
“Youshouldseeherbathtowels,”Leosaysandlaughs.
“Icanonlyimagine,”saysMr.Mapleton.“Butnotthehusband.Thatguywasinhereallthetime,buyingaslightlynewerversionofsomethinghealreadyhad.Iusedtotellmywife,‘ThatBen’sgoteverythingbutajob.’?”
I’veheardthisathousandtimes,butIlaughbecauseit’strueandalsobecauseIlikehowhe’salwaysbeenonmyside.“Andhetookitallwithhim,”Isay.“IliketothinkofBenwanderingaroundtheglobewithsixsetsoftorquewrenches.”
Leoaddsthespraynozzletohisbagwiththecheese,andwesaygood-bye.“Enjoyyourstay,”Mr.Mapletonsays.“I’llhavemyeyeonyou.”
???
“Whathappensnow?”Idon’tevenknowhowmanytimeshe’saskedmethistoday.Lasttimetheanswerwas:Iputthekidstobed.Beforethatitwas:WewatchWheelofFortune.Precededby:Wehavedinner.BetweenschoolanddinnerwastwohoursofFagintraining.I’mnotentirelysureifArthurdidhishomework.
Ipouraglassofwineandheadtowardthesunroom.
“CanIcome?”Ialsodon’tknowhowmanytimeshe’saskedthattoday.
Igrabasecondglass.
Mysunroomisonlybigenoughforasmallcouch,anarmchair,andacoffeetable.Therearetwofernsatalltimes,onedyingandonegettingstarted,onaregularrotationofgriefandreplacement.Itlooksoutoverthelawntotheteahouse,whereIcanseeLeohasleftthedooropentowelcomehimback.
Leositsonthecouch,soItakethearmchair.He’sinabutton-downshirtandshorts.HelookslikeheshouldbeintheHamptonsorMalibu,anyplacebutonmysaggingbeigecouch.“Willyouwritetomorrow?”heasks.
“Ithinkso;Ineedtostartsomethingnew.”Itakeasipofmywine.
“Let’shopeit’snotamusical.”Hesmilesanironicsmile.I’veseenthissmilebefore.
“AfricanRose,”Isay.
“Stopit,”hesays.“So,what’stheinspirationforthenextscript?”
“It’snotinspiration,it’smorelikemath.”
Hesipshiswineandleansbackintothesofacushions.“Explain.”
“IwritemoviesforTheRomanceChannel.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Thosetwo-hourmoviesthataremostlycommercials?”
“Well,I’vewrittenalotofthem.That’swhatIdo.”
“Hilarious.”Hepoursuseachalittlemorewine,killingthebottle.“Sowhyisitmath?”
“Maybenotmath.DidyoueverplayMadLibsasakid?Whereyouhavetofillinthenouns,adjectives,andverbs,andthenthere’sastory?”
“Yes.”
“That’swhatIdo.”
“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Givemeagender,alocation,andacareer.”
“Okay…female,Chicago,realestatedeveloper.”
“Okay,easy.Stephanie,ayoungurbanrealestatedeveloper,takesatriptoruralIllinoistolookintobuyingadairyfarmandturningitintoacorporateretreatcenter.Theyounghandsomeownerofthefarmdoesn’twanttosell,andtheybuttheads.Butasshespendsmoretimeonthefarm,sheseeshowimportantitistothecommunityandtheyfallinlove.Infact,she’shelpinghimorganizetheannualFounders’Dayfestivallaternextweek.Theykiss.ThenightbeforeFounders’Day,shegetsacallthatsheneedstoshutdownthefarmimmediatelyorloseherjob.SheleavesforChicago.Heisheartbroken.”
“Ohno.”
“Ohyes.Butwait,nowit’sFounders’Day,andyoucanprettymuchinsertanycommunityeventhere—Christmastreelighting,soupkitchenopening,children’srecital—andhe’spluggingalong,andwhocomesback?Stephanie!”
“Yes!”
“She’sgonebacktoChicagoandhasrealizedbigcitylivingisn’tforher.She’sgoingtostayoutinthesticks,andoh,P.S.,shehasabrilliantideaforhowtosavethefarm.Theend.”
“That’ssostupid.Isitalwaysthesame?”
Idowntherestofmywine.“Prettymuch.Ichangethenamesandthekindoffarm,forgoodmeasure.AndIflipthegenders.Halfthetimetheguyleaves.”
“Buthealwayscomesback?”
“Always.”Amomentpassesbetweenus,whereI’mprettysurewe’reboththinkingaboutBen.ForsomereasonIneedLeotoknowthatIdon’twantBenback,thatI’mhappyandwholewithhimgone.
Hegoesaheadandsaysit.“ButTrevorleft,endofstory.”
“Yep,”Isay.Leo’sgivingmethislook,likemaybeI’mapuzzlehe’sabouttosolve.“Well,nowyouknowallmysecrets.I’mgoingtobed.”CHAPTER6
Leoisn’tupforthesunrise.Ishouldbegladtohavetheswingalltomyself,butI’mnot.Thisalarmsmeonthedeepestlevel.I’mgettingusedtohimandhowhefollowsmearound.IlikehowhelistenstomewhenItalk.Ilikehowhelooksatme.
Benusedtositatthekitchenislandandtalkaboutrealestateandwhat’swrongwithpeoplewhileImadedinner.“Youknowwhat’swrongwithMickey?”Or“Youknowwhat’swrongwiththatguyatthebank?”Thesewererhetoricalquestions,andtheonlyrealvarietytothemwaswhichpersonhadwrongedhimthatday.HelikedtokeeptheTVonatalltimes,backgroundnoisewhilehemovedthepapersoutlininghisnewestschemearoundonthekitchentable.Bentookupalotofspace.
Thenighthetoldmehewasleaving,hesleptonthecouchwiththeTVblaring.Ilayinbedtryingtoprocesswhatwashappening.Thewholethingwassoconfusing.IrememberedPenny’sfacethefirsttimeItoldherIwasseriouslydatinghim.“Oh.My.God,”she’dsaid.“Don’tblowit.”Benwaskindofacatch.Hewenttoprepschoolandmovedthroughlifelikeaknifethroughsoftbutter.BenwasthekindofguyPennywouldknow.
PennyandIgrewupinChesterville,Connecticut,amedium-sizetownthathadpreviouslybeentwosmalltowns—oneaffluent,oneworkingclass.Whenthingswererezonedinthe1950stocreateasingletownwithasinglepublichighschool,theresultwasatowndividedlikeyou’dseeinaJohnHughesmovie.Ifyoulivedupthehill,yourparentswerelikelyprofessionals.Ifyouliveddownthehill,yourparentsworkedatrade.Ifyouwereme,yourdadwasinthebusinessofcleaningalltheprofessionals’pools.
ThedivideinourtownwassomethingIalmostneverthoughtabout.Itookthebustoschoolwiththekidsinmyneighborhood,andweplayedinoneanother’syardsafterschool.Wespentourvacationsatthepublicpool,whichmydadalsocleaned.Inhighschool,myfriendsandImadefunofthehilltoppers’pretentiousclothesandsweet-sixteenconvertiblesthatwereinvariablycrashedandreplacedwithinamonth.Ifeltcomfortableinmylittlehouse,inmyfadedjeans,whereIknewexactlywhattoexpect.
ButnotPenny.Shewantedtobeupthathill.Startinginmiddleschool,sheemulatedthehilltopgirlsandthewaytheyputthemselvestogether.Whentheyboughtnewskinnyjeans,Pennyspenttheweekendonmymom’ssewingmachinetaperingthelegsofherLevi’s.Whentheycutbangs,Pennyfollowedsuit.Thisneverwouldhavegottenheranywhere,butinthetenthgradePennytriedoutforthespringmusicalandlandedaleadingrolealongwithahandfulofthehilltopgirls.AfterprolongedexposuretoPenny’sgiantheartandpassionforfun,theybecameherrealfriends.Thetransitionwasseamless,makingmethinkthatPennyhadalwaysbeenahilltopperjustbidinghertimeinourtwelve-hundred-square-footranch.
ThroughoutcollegeandwhenshemovedtoManhattanafterward,thesewerethecirclesinwhichsheran.Iwassurprisedtolearnthatthesecirclesareeverywhereandtheyoverlapintheoddestways.Richpeople,itseems,allknowoneanothertangentially.SoIguessIwasn’tsurprisedwhenIcalledherfromAmhersttotellheraboutBen,andsheknewexactlywhohewas.
WhileIneverboughtintotheglamourofthehilltopper,whenImetBenIsortofbecametakenbytheeaseofitall.Hisquietexpectationthattheworldwouldarrangeitselfaroundhiswhims.Hisconfidencethathewouldneverbecalledoutorpunishedforanywrongdoing.Hewasthatkindofslightlymeanguythatmadeyoufeelsuperiorifhelikedyou.Sincethedayhepickedme,I’ddoneeverythingIcouldnottoblowit.Andyetherewewere.
Whenwegraduated,IhadajobinpublishinginManhattan,andBenhadhisfirstbigideaandacheckfortenthousanddollarsfromhisgrandmother.Itwouldbesixmonthsbeforehelearnedthiswasthelastcheckhe’dbereceiving.Wefoundawalk-upapartmentintheEastVillagethatwecouldalmostafford,andIthinkwewerehappy.I’dcomehomefromworkandfindhimatthekitchentable,excitedaboutapotentialnewinvestor.I’dcookashesharedthereal-timedetailsoftheirconversation.Ifiguredhewastooexcitedabouthisdaytoaskaboutmine.
Bythetimewemarriedattwenty-six,theglowhadwornoff.Benwasstillrailingagainsttheinjusticeofhavingnopassiveincome,aninjusticethatfueledhisrageagainstthesimplemindednessoftheinvestorswhoweren’tinterestedinhisschemes.ThepartofmethatknowswhoIamandknewIshouldn’tmarryBenhadbecomehardtohearoverthedinofweddingplans.Newtonmusthavebeenthinkingoftwentysomethingsinlong-termrelationshipswithhard-to-secureweddingvenueswhenhedecidedthatobjectsinmotiontendtostayinmotion.
WhenIwastwokidsandonebrokenhouseintothemarriage,IhadtofacethefactthatBendidn’treallylikemuchaboutmeatall.Hedidn’tlikemyworldview,myhair,myhouse.Hewasblindtomybestqualities,andeventuallyIwastoo.Ithinkourwholemarriagewasaboutmetryingtomakehimgladhepickedme.Ihumoredhimabouthispoorlythought-outprojects.Imadethemoneybutdiditquietlysohecouldfeellikehisworkwaswhatmattered,likeIwaswaitingtableswhilehefinishedmedicalschool.Ievenstartedusinghiswordstodescribemywork,“anotherdumbromance.”Icookedthefoodandtriedtobeupbeatforthekids.Irememberedhismother’sbirthdayandsenthergifts.Itwasn’tenough.
Inmymind,IwasholdingBenup;inhis,Iwasholdinghimback.Hehadawayofmakingmefeellikeeverytimeanotherprojectfellapart,itwasmyfault.Andtherewasnoreasonthere,nologicalconnection,butthenot-so-quietimplicationwasthatitwasmewhowaskeepinghimdown.OnenightwhenIdiscoveredwehadthirty-sevendollarstoourname,Isuggestedweeatathomeratherthanmeetingfriendsout.“Youhavescarcityinyourheart,Nora.You’llalwaysbebroke,”he’dtoldme,disgusted.Ihaveahusbandwhodoesn’tworkandtearsthroughmoneylikehe’sprintingit,I’dthought.Yes.I’llalwaysbebroke.
Thatnight,aloneinmybedwithBenonthecouch,Ifellasleepclingingtotheoddestthoughts.AmongthemwasthatstartingtomorrowI’dhavefullcontroloftheTV.Startingtonight,I’dbegoingtobedwithoutBennexttome,pesteringmeforbadsex.Iimaginedtomorrow’ssunriseandhowthatwouldbethelastsunriseI’deverwatchwithhiminthehouse.Theremainingsunriseswouldallbemine.Ifeltaprofoundreliefthatthestrugglewasover,likeifyoustoppedtreadingwaterandthenfoundyourselfeffortlesslyfloatingtothesurface.Go,Ben.Gofindyourbiglife.
Ofcourse,itwasn’tjustme.Benwaswalkingoutonhiskidstoo.Andthatwasgoingtohurtthemforalongtime.Butinmynewbuoyance,Icouldn’thelpbutthinkthatI’dneveragainregisterthedoubtontheirfacesashepromisedthemsomethingwecouldn’tafford.I’dneveragainhavetoexplain“whatDaddyreallymeantwhenhesaidthatmeanthing.”Thiswasgoingtotakesometimeforthemtoadjustto,butinmyheart,Iknewtheywerebetteroffwithhimgone.
Thenextmorning,IwokeupthinkingaboutArthur’svocabularytest.He’dbombedthelastoneandwasnervoustotryagain.Ipicturedhimtacklingallthosetoughwordsjustafterhisfathertoldhimhewasleaving.IrandownstairsandwokeBen.“Canwejustwaituntilafterschooltotellthekids?”
“I’mleaving,Nora.You’rejustgoingtohavetoacceptit.I’msorry.”Herubbedhiseyesandturnedbackintothecouch,andIthought,Man,thedisconnectisreal.
“Iknow,andI’llcometotermswithit,”Iplayedalong.“Butlet’sjustletthekidshavetheirschoolday,andwecantellthemintheafternoon.”
“Soundsgood,”hesaid,sittingupandmeetingmygaze.“I’mgoingtoshower.”
Overbreakfast,Benactedlikeeverythingwasnormal.Itookthekidstoschoolandwentouttotheteahousewhilehepackedhisthings.Iwasanxiousoverthedetailsofwhatwastocome,butalsoalittlenervousthathe’dcomeoutandtellmehe’dchangedhismind.Icaughtmyselfsmilingouttheteahousewindows,wonderingifmaybethefuturehadactuallyjustopenedup.Ineverwouldhavehadthecouragetoletgooftheropeinthistug-of-war,butBenhaddoneitforme.
Whenthekidswerebackfromschool,wesatthemdownandBentoldthemhewasleavingforawhile.Arthurstartedtocryinstantly,havingthewisdomtoknowwherethiswasheaded.“Whereareyougoing?”heasked.
“Asia,”Bensaid.Asifthatexplainedeverything.
“I’llcomewithyou,”saidArthur.“Icanhelpyouthere,andwe’lllearnChinese.”Hespokethroughtearsandthisiswhenmyheartbrokealittle.IwasbetteroffwithoutBen,andmykidsweretoo,butseeingthedesperationbehindArthur’seyeskilledme.
“Sorry,buddy,butI’llbeback.”
“When?”askedBernadette.
“Soon.”Hegavethemeachahug.“Youguysbegoodforyourmom,okay?”
Theydidn’treply,justlookedathiminwhatIassumewasdisbelief.Hegrabbedhiskeysandhisphoneandhisstupidpuffervestandleft.Wethreestayedinthesameroomfortherestoftheday,noneofuswantinganyoneoutofoursight.Forweeksafterward,Itriedtogetthemtotalkaboutit.Bernadetteseemedmoreannoyedthanhurt,likewhateverherdadhadtodothatwasdragginghimawaywasprobablynonsense.Iwascarefulnottoagree.ArthurwassadandaskedalotofquestionsIdidn’thaveanswersto.Doesn’themissus?Doeshewonderhowweare?Wetalkedaboutiteverydayforawhile,untilwe’dsortofexhaustedourownexplanations.Noneofusthoughthewascomingback.
Thehousewasbiggerwithouthisstuffandhisanger.Iclearedoutfurnitureandluxuriatedintheopenspaces.Ifeltlikethehousecouldfinallybreathe.IstartedrunningbeforeIwrote,andIswearmywritinggotbetter.IhopedmykidscouldfeelhowmuchstrongerIwaswithoutBendraggingmedown.WithoutBen,Ihadtheenergytobemotherandfatherandproviderandplaymate.Peopleusuallytalkabouttheirnewnormalassomesortofdifficultadjustment,butmineleftmelighter.IwasreleasedfromworryingaboutwhatBenwouldspend.Inolongerneededtodeflecthiscriticismsofthekidsormyself.Iwasfree.
ButLeoinmyhouseisfun.Ilikethespacehetakesup.It’slightandexciting,andIamslippingintoadaydreamthatthisismynewreality.IhaveahandsomeplaymatewholistenstomewhenIspeak.Heasksfollow-upquestionsbecausehewantstohearmore.IcannotshakethefeelingthatLeolikestalkingtome.Like,helikestheactualme.He’snotinitforthefreemealoranythingIcandotoimprovehissituation.LeoVanceisjustfinewithoutme,yethestillfollowsmearoundwithraptattention.
He’sleavingintwodays,andIneedtoscrewmyheadonstraight.It’sTuesday.Bernadettehasdanceafterschool.Ihavetogettherecyclingout.TomorrowisthefirstdayofrehearsalsandI’minchargeofshushingthechildrenwhiletheywaittheirturns.I’malso,asitturnsout,inchargeofthewholeplay,soI’dbettergetacommitteetogether.Costumes?Sets?Snacks?
“Crap.Ialmostmissedit.”Leobarrelsthroughthedoorwithablanketinhisarms.Hesitsdownnexttomeandcoversusbothup.Thesun’shalfwayupandhehasn’tmissedthebestofit.Thisisthepartwherethepinkstartstomoveupthetrees.
“Wantmetogetyousomecoffee?”Iask,becauseI’dneverdothiswithoutcoffee.
“No.Staytillit’sover.”
SoIdoandwesitthereandstareinsilenceuntiltheskyisbright.“Whatwereyouthinkingabout?”heasks.“YouwereallfurrowedwhenIcameout.”
“Nothing.”TalkingaboutBenisgoingtomakemefeellikealoser,soI’mquiet.Leoturnshisheadtomeandgivesmealooklikehe’snotbuyingit.Isay,“HowniceitisthatBen’sgone.”
“Whereishenow?”
“Whoknows.HesaidAsia.”
“So,youdon’thearfromhim?Hedoesn’tseethekids?”
“Nope.Well,hecallssometimesandmakesplansbutdoesn’tshow.”
“Wow.Wheredothecheckscomefrom?”
AndIlaughatthis,arealwhole-bodiedlaughthatendsinmycoughingupalittleofmycoffee.Leooffershisblankettowipemymouth.Iusemysleeve.“Sorry,”Isay,gatheringmyself.“Thatwasatotallylegitimatequestion.Thispartwasn’tinthescript.Hedoesn’tsendchecks.Ourdealwasprettycutanddried—Igetthehouse,themortgage,thecreditcarddebt,andthepleasureofsupportingthekidsandmyself.Andhegetstowalkaway.Ididn’targuebecauseIdidn’twanttohavetosellthehouse.AndIactuallymighthaveendeduppayinghimalimonyfortherestofhislife.AndthenI’dprobablyhavetokillhim.So.Thiswasforthebest.”
“I’mstartingtoseewhyRuthwassononplussedwhenTrevorleft.Sojustlikeinthemovie,he’ssortoftoogoodtowork?”
“?‘Hamiltonsdon’tworkforotherpeople.’That’ssortoftheirthing.Hisgreat-grandfatheractuallyworkedhardandmadeafortuneincattle.Bengrewupwiththatwealthbutdidn’treallyinternalizethe‘workhard’partofthestory.It’slikehemissedthepartwherehisgreat-grandfathershoveledcowshitforyearsbeforehemadeit.Sohedabbles.Hetrieslotsofstuffthatdoesn’tworkout,mainlybecauseotherpeopleareincompetent.”IholdhisgazetoshowhimthatIreallyamokaywithit.WhichIam.Notthepartthathe’smadenoefforttoseeorcontactthekidsinnearlyayear,thatpartlivesinmychestintheformofaneasilytriggeredrage.ButthepartwhereBeniswhoheisandit’snotmyproblemanymore,that’sfinewithme.
Leostudiesthetreelineagainandthenlooksbackatme.“Whathappenedtothesee-throughnightgown?”
“Ilearnedmylesson,”Isaywithasisterlynudge.CHAPTER7
Leowalksintotowntogetanotherbaguettefromthegrocery,soit’smychancetohavetheteahousetomyself.It’smostlyhowIleftit,withtheexceptionofthemuchnicersheets.Hissuitcaseisopenatthefootofthedaybed,andIresisttheurgetoinspectitscontents.Thebedisunmade,andIimagineIcanseetheoutlineofhimsleepingthere.He’dbeonhissidewiththelineofhisbarebackmimickingthecurveoftheheadboard.OhmyGod,Nora,stopit.
Iwritefromtentotwo,andLeomostlyleavesmealone.Ihearacarpullintothedrivewayandassumeit’shislunchcomingfromsomefive-starrestaurantinthecity.Ataroundoneo’clockheknocksontheopenteahousedoor.“CanIjustcomeinforanap?”
“Sure.Notalking.”
Ihearhimgetunderthecoversandfindacomfortableposition.IstoptypingbecauseIcanfeelhimwatchingme.
“What?”Iaskwithoutlookingup.
“What’sthegender,city,andprofessionthistime?”
Ismileatmylaptop.“I’mprettymuchworkingwithwhatyougaveme.AmalerealestatedeveloperinMinneapolisgoesouttobuyastrugglingpumpkinfarm.”
“Pumpkinfarm?Isthatevenathing?”
“Oh,you’regoingtohavetocomebackhereinOctober.”
“Okay,”hesays,andIstarttypingagain.
???
SinceLeo’sinmynappingspot,Igobackintothehousearoundtwoo’clock.There’sacaseofFrenchwineonthecounterandaboxofcupcakesfromCupcakeCastleinSoHo.Igetthechillsjustthinkingabouthowexcitedmykidsaregoingtobe.
WhenIgetbackfrompickingupthekids,Leoisupandunpackingthecaseofwine.“Wecan’tkeepdrinkingthatawfulchardonnay.Ihearthispairsperfectlywith…WhatdoweeatonTuesdays?”
“Tacos,”mykidssaytogether.
“Ah,ofcourse.”He’slaidoutthecupcakesonaplatterIdidn’tknowIhadandwatchesthemdisappearwithsatisfaction.
Iamawarethatthissparklysceneisafantasy,butIletmyselfenjoyit.Smilingchildrenandthepromiseoffinewinewithaterrifyinglyattractiveman.Thursday’sgoingtobebrutal.
“Okay,soBernadettehasdanceatfour-thirty.Arthur,ifyouwanttobringyourscriptwecanrunsomelineswhilewewait.”
“Forbidden,”saysLeo.“You’renotgettinganywherenearthatscript.”
“Duh,”saysArthur.“I’lljuststayhereandworkwithLeo.”HeremembershimselfandturnstoLeo.“Imean,ifyou’renotbusy.”
“Dude,ifthere’sonethingI’mnot,it’sbusy.Thereisn’tevenWi-Fibackthere.”HeleansoverandmessesArthur’shair,andthelateafternoonsunshinesthroughthebackwindowsastimepausesontheirsmiles,andIreallyneedtogetthehelloutofhere.
WhenBernadetterunsintothedancestudio,IsitonthebenchoutsidehopingI’llhaveasecondtocollectmythoughts.I’mhorrifiedbyhowIlieinbedatnightandwaitforthesoundofhisfeetwalkingupthestairstothebathroom.I’mashamedofhowmywholesystemisonoverdrivethesecondIwakeup,howI’vetakentowashingmyhaireveryday.Myself-recriminationisinterruptedbySandraWellsandKikiLee,whoushertheirgirlsinsideandtakeovertherestofthebench.
“Hey,Nora.How’sitgoing?”startsSandra.
“Oh,cutthecrap,”Kikisays.“Spillit.”
“He’sjuststayingforafewdays.Ithinkhethinksoursimplelifeouthereisacureforhisexcitinglife.”
“Isheashotinperson?”Kikiwantstoknow.“Likedoeshelookatyouthatwaywhileyou’rebutteringtoast?”
“Thesmolder?No.”Ilaugh.“That’sjustforthecamera.HelooksatmelikeI’msomesuburbanmomwhomaybeneedsamakeover.”EvenasIsaythis,Iknowit’snottrue.Helooksatmewithanamusedcuriositymostofthetime.HewatchesmewhenhethinksI’mengrossedwithsomethingelse.It’sbeennearlyaweeksinceIwasactuallyengrossedwithsomethingelse.
BernadetteandIenterthehousetothesoundofthetwoofthemsinging“You’veGottoPickaPocketorTwo,”standingonoppositeendsofthecouch.Leoyells“Bravo!”andArthurbows.
“Mom!Ididthewholething.Noscript!”Arthurrunsovertohugme.IsmileatLeooverhishead.
“That’sawesome.You’retotallyready.”
Leogetsdownfromthecouchandisallbusiness.“Nowthetrickhereistostoppracticing.You’vegotitandnowyouneedtoletitrest.Tonightyoudowhatever,eatyourTuesdayfood,doyourhomework.”Hiseyeswidenashereachesforabottleofwine.“Iknow.Tonightlet’swatchoneofyourmom’shappymovies!”
Arthurrollshiseyes.“They’reseriouslydumb.”
“Ilovethem,”offersBernadette.
Iappreciatethesolidarity.“Theyareprettydumb,butIlovethemtoo,”Isay.“Let’swatchValentineReunion.”
“Letmeguess.High-poweredfemaleexecutivereturnstoherhometownandrunsintoherhighschoolboyfriend.”
“She’saprofessionalpastrychef.Butyes.”We’realllaughing,andLeo’shandingmeaglassofthemostdeliciouswineever.
???
Leo’supforthesunrisebeforeIam.He’sleftamugoutformycoffee.
“Hey,”hesays.
“Thanks.”Isettleinnexttohimandtakemymug.“So,thisisyourlastLaurelRidgesunrise.”
“No.Thisisdaysix,whichincludesnightsix,whichincludesthesunrisetomorrow.Whattime’scheckout?”
“We’reprettyrelaxedaboutthathere.”Helooksatmewithsomethingthatresemblesgratitude,andIwonderifthistimehasdonehimanygood.
“Areyougladyoustayed?Imean,doyoufeelanybetter?”
“Ifeelprettygood.IwasjustthinkinghowmuchImissbeingapartofafamily.LikewhenIwasgrowingup,wewerethisunit,andtherewassomuchgive-and-take.Mybrother,Luke,andIhadtosharefoodandspaceandattention.NowIbarelyseehim,andmylife’sallaboutme.It’sexhausting.”
“Mustbenice,”Isayoutloudbymistake.
Hegivesmeanudge.“IknowIsoundlikeanasshole,butlookatyourlife.Youliveforyourkids,andtheyliveforyou.There’ssomethingalmostsacredaboutwhatyouhave.Inmylife,Iliveformycareer,andallthepeoplearoundmearepaidtoliveformycareer.IswearlastThanksgivingIlookedaroundmytableandrealizedeveryonetherewasonmypayroll.”
“Comeon.Youmusthavehadsomekindofnormalrelationship.Likewithawomanwholikedyouandlaughedatyourlamejokes.”
“Sure,tons.Butthethingistheyalllikedmebeforetheymetme,liketheyfellinlovewithsomethingtheysawinPeoplemagazine.Whenmymomdied,Ithought:Ijustlostthelastwomanintheworldwhoknewme.Ofcourse,Idon’tbothergettingtoknowthemeither.”
“ImetBensoyoungthatInevergottohavethatkindofquickmeaninglessrelationship.ThoughIguessIhadalongmeaninglessrelationshipinstead.”Webothlaughatthis,likeBen’saninsidejoke.
“ThismorningIwokeupworriedaboutArthur.Itwasthestrangestfeelingtowantsomethingsomuchforsomeoneelse.You’rereallylucky.”
Iwanttotellhimhe’swelcometostay,thatmaybeanotherweekortwoofthisisjustwhatheneeds.ButIknowI’monaslipperyslope,becausehe’sbroughtsomethingwithhim,andhe’sgoingtotakeitwhenheleaves.
???
Heleavesmealoneallday,sothatIhavetheteahousetomyselffromtentotwo.Mypencilsareinposition,andIhaven’tbuiltafirebecauseit’swarmoutside.Ilistentothebirdsthroughtheopenbackwindows.Isneakpeeksthroughthefrontdoortoseeifhe’scomingtoseeme.
Iwritegarbage,moregarbage-ythanusual.Ickyromanticsceneswithlongkissesandanotherwisesensiblewomanpouringherheartout.There’samarriageproposalatsunriseinthemountains,andwell,Ihaveofficiallylostmymind.
Atone-thirtyhe’sstillnotbotheringme,soIdecidetotakeanap.It’sstillmyteahouse,mydaybed,soIfigureIhavetherighttoliedown.Idon’tdaregetunderhiscovers,that’swaytoopersonal,butIsinkintohislinen-coveredpillowandsmellhissmelluntilIfallasleep.
There’sahandonmyshoulderandapersonsittingonthesideofthebed.I’vegoneintooneofthosedaytimestuporswhereyouwakeupandyoudon’tknowwhereyouare.Iblinkathim.“Ohshit.Sorry.Thisisyourbed.Whattimeisit?”
“It’stwo-thirty.Icameouttobringyousometeaandyouwerepassedout.IguessIwastoolate.”He’sreallyclosetome.AndI’mlyingdown.Idon’tknowhowIcansitupwithoutgettingevenclosertohim,soIjuststaylyingdown.
“Iwaswritingalotofreallyterriblescenes.Badwritingwearsmeout.”I’mstillnotentirelyawake.“Whathaveyoubeendoing?”
“Pacing.Waitingforyoutofinishwriting.”
Mystomachdrops.“Oh?”isallIcanmuster.
“Yeah.”Hegetsupandstartspacingtheshortlengthoftheroom.“I’mnotsureaboutArthur.Imeanwewerereadylastnight,buttoday,afterafulldayofschool,hecouldhaveforgottenallofit.Imean,whatifit’sadisaster?”
Oh,sweetreality.Thankyou.Isitup,scootback,andcombmyhairwithmyfingers.Iamapersonandamotheragain.“Leo,he’sten.Thisisanelementaryschoolplay.Halfthekidswillthrowuporstartcryingduringtherehearsal.Arthur’llbefine.”
“Whattimedowepickhimup?”
“OhmyGod.Okay.”Istandupandtakeadeepbreath.“I’mreallyoffmygame.I’minchargeofthekidsduringrehearsal,liketheoneswaitingbackstage.”Icheckmyphone.“I’vegottogo.”
Leofollowsmeout.“I’mcoming.Youcan’tmakemewaithere.”
“Fine.We’llleaveinten.Ineedtoorganizedinner.”
“I’lldothat.WhatdoweeatonWednesdaysagain?”
“Surpriseme,”Isay.
???
Iswearweareinslowmotionwalkingpastthepickuplineintothefrontentranceoftheschool.I’dchangedintoadressbecauseIknowforafactit’sthreehundreddegreesinsidetheauditoriumonanAprilafternoon.“Legs!”LeosaidasIcamebackdownthestairs.Onmyadvice,hechangedfromjeansintolinenpants.Leoisabsolutelyfocused,movinglikeweshouldhavebeentherehoursago.
Wepassthroughsecurity(“he’smyhouseguest”),andwehavetoshowourdrivers’licenses.ThesecurityguardlooksatLeo’sandsays,“Forreal?”Leoreplies,“?’Fraidso.”
WemeetMrs.Sasakiintheauditorium.“Hi?I’mNoraHamilton?Arthur’smom?We’reheretowatchthekidsbackstage?”I’vemetMrs.Sasakitentimesandhavenevergarneredmuchinterest.Untilnow.HereyesmovefrommetoLeoandsheactuallysmiles.“ThisismyfriendLeo.We’vebeenworkingtogetherandheofferedtohelpmewiththekids,ifthat’sokay?”
“Well,ofcourse.Thankyou!Thisisquiteunexpected.CallmeBrenda.Wecoulduseanyhelpyoucanoffer,Mr.Vance.Iheardyouwereintown.IdaresayyouknowalittlemoreaboutthetheaterthanIdo.”Wassheflirtingwithhim?IlookupatLeotoseehowhe’sreacting,andhe’ssmoldering.SmolderingpoorMrs.Sasaki.PoorMrs.SasakiwhohastogohometopoorMr.Sasakitonight.IswearLeo’sgoingtoruinallofusfornormalmen.
Aswemakeourwaytothestagedoor,Isay,“Stopit.”
“What?”
“Thesmoldering.”
Hestopswalking.“Idon’tsmolderyou.”
Iturntofacehim,andIjustaskit.“Whynot?”
Leoholdsmygaze.“IwishIknew.”
Now,there’sonlysolongyoucanstandthatclosetoLeoVanceandlookintohiseyeswithoutmeltingintomoltenlava,soIsay,“Well,stopsmolderingtheotherunsuspectingmiddle-agedladiesaroundhere.Comeon.”
Bernadettemeetsusbackstagetoworkasourassistant,butmainlytotakeavictorylap.NolongerwouldanyoneatLaurelRidgeElementaryquestionthefactthatsheisverygoodfriendswithTheLeoVance.
Arthurwalksin,mutteringlinestohimself,andrunsovertoLeo.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Helping?”Heshrugs.“You’vegotthis,noworries.Justfeelit,thewholething.Andeyecontact.”
WehavethekidslineupbysceneaccordingtothecalllistMrs.Sasakihadgivenme.Myjobisprettymuchtosendtherightgroupoutonthestageandkeeptherestofthemquiet.Theorphansarealittlerowdy,showingoffforthemarketgirls,whoaretoopreoccupiedwithLeotonotice.
ThefirsttimeArthurstepsonstage,IloseLeo’shelpcompletely.Hestandsstageleft,mouthingArthur’slinesandwringinghishands.Mrs.SasakistopsArthurtoofferasuggestion;she’dlikehimtolookoutattheaudiencemorewhilesayinghislines.
“Okay.”ArthurlooksatLeoforconfirmation.
“Don’tyouagree,Mr.Vance?”
“Well,Ilovethethought,Brenda.Ido.AndIreallyloveitforhismusicalnumbers.Butinthisscene,Ithinkit’simportantthatheconnectswiththeorphans,thatwecanfeelhowhetakescareofthem.That’swhat’llgrabtheaudience.”Smolder.
Hedoesn’treleasehergazeuntilshefinishessaying,“Isee.Ilikethat.Whatanabsolutelyhelpfulsuggestion,Leo.CanIcallyouLeo?”
And,withthat,LeotakeshisplaceintheseatnexttoMrs.Sasakifortheremainderoftherehearsal.CHAPTER8
There’salargemetalboxwaitingforusontheporch,warmingthreebrickovenpizzasfromMario’sinthecity.Ontopisabagwithahugechoppedsaladandfourcannoli.Apparently,Leohastakencareofdinner.
Weplopdown,exhausted,andtearintothepizza.Leo’sopenedabottleofpinotnoir.ArthurandBernadettearetalkingovereachother.Who’sanygood,whocan’tdance.Who’sgoingtobethrownoutoftheproductionbyMonday.Arthursitsalittletallerthanusual,hisquietuncertaintymorphingintoquietconfidence.Ithasn’tbeentheroleintheplay,Irealize,it’sbeentheattentionandinterestLeo’sshownhim.IthinkArthurfeelssupported.
BernadettesaysthethingIcannotsay.“So,tonight’syourlastnight?”
Leolooksatme,andIlookatmywineglass.Idon’tknowwhatmyfaceisdoingbuthedoesn’tneedtoseeit.Arthurissilent.
“Well,thisisawkward,”hesays.“I’vebeenofferedajobintown,co-directorofOliverTwist.IsortofpromisedBrendaI’dstayuntilopeningnight.”
Bernadettesqueals,andArthurisstill.“That’sthreeweeksaway,”hesays
“Itis.”Leofillsbothofourglasses.
“Well,that’sniceofyou,”Istart.“Imean,youwanttodothat?Ofcourse,youcanstay.”Icannotbecasual.Icannotfindmynormalvoice.
“Thankyou.Now,what’sittimefor?Homework?”
???
Iputteraroundthekitchen,settingupthecoffeemakerforwhatwillnownotbeLeo’slastmorninghere.Myreliefisprofound,butI’mcluedinenoughtoknowthatit’llonlybeworseinthreeweekswhenheleaves.Andmykids,theyadorehim.Ican’tdecideifit’shealthyformykidstoknowwhatit’sliketohaveamanaroundwhoisinterestedintheirlives,orifit’sjustgoingtomakethepaintheyfeelaboutBenworsewhenLeoleaves.Atleasthe’sleavinguswithsomething—asuccessfulschool-playmemory.He’sherefortheplay,andthedurationofthatplayisfinite.Noone’sgoingtobesurprisedwhenhegoes.
IfindLeoonthecouchinthesunroom.He’sopenedasecondbottleofwineandislookingoutattheyardthroughopenwindows.“Joinme?”heasks.
Igrabanotherglass.Bernadette’sartprojectisonthearmchairsoIsitonthecouchbyhissockedfeet.“Thanksforlettingmestay,”hestarts.
“Thanksforhelpingmykid.”
Heraiseshisglassinatoast,andIraiseminebackandwaitforhimtospeak.Heputsitdown.“Ithinktoastingisreallypretentious.”
“Same.”
“DoyouthinkIshouldquitacting?”
Iturnmywholebodytohim,pullingmylegsontothecouch.“No.Noonedoes.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Idon’tknow.I’vemadealotofmovies,andI’monlyforty.Icouldhaveawholesecondlife,notbeingfamous.Usingtheself-checkoutgun.”
“You’rejustburnedout.You’vemadethreemoviesintwoyears.Thisisareset,andhonestly,I’mreallygladyou’rehere.Butyou’llgetexcitedaboutthenextrole,andyou’llbebackatit.”
“Ijustsortoflikedoingthis.”
“You’dgetsickofit.”
“Areyou?”
“Notatall.”
Hesmiles.“CanItellyouasecret?”
Itrytohidetheexcitementinmyvoice.“Sure.”
“I’vewatchedtheChristmasmoviesonTRC.Ilovethem.”
“Youdonot.”Itrytocontainthesmilethatisovertakingmyface.
“Ido.WhenI’mhomefortheholidays,mymomandIstayuplateandwatchtwoorthreeinarow.Orwedid.Shelikedtheyoungpeoplefallinginlove;Iliketheoverlywreathedhousesandthemomscookingthings.Andeveryonestressingabouthowthelightsarehung.”Hetakesasipofhiswine.“It’saguiltypleasure.”
“What’syourfavorite?”Pickoneofmine!Pickoneofmine!
HeconsidersthisforlongerthanIthinkthequestionwarrants.“Theonewherethereportergetssnowedinandstaystohelptheinnkeeperplantheannualholidayfestival.Ilikedthetwoofthem;Ifeltlikeitmadesensethey’dbetogether.”
“BeccaandDaniel.LakePlacid.That’smine.”
“See?Youareromantic.”
“Onlyonpaper.Andwhenthestakesarelow.”CHAPTER9
BytheendofFridayafternoonrehearsals,Mrs.SasakiisprettymuchjustbringingLeocupsofwaterandnoddingathisideas.
WeezietextsmeasIamfallingasleep:What’sgoingonoutthere?Hesayshe’sstayinganotherthreeweeks???
Ithinkit’srestfulforhimhere,Itellher.
Okay,then,Iguesshe’syourproblem.I’mgoingto“rest”inhispenthouseuntilIheardifferently.
Goodforyou.
???
OnSaturday,LeowantstocometoBernadette’ssoccergame.Hecan’tbelievehowmanytreeslinethefieldandhowcomfortablemystadiumchairsare.HethinksBernadetteisunusuallyaggressiveforagirlherageandshouldhaveaprivatetrainerbeforemiddleschool.Irollmyeyesalotandtrynottolookathisfeet.He’swearingflip-flopsforthefirsttime,Iguessonaccountofthewarmerweather.Hisfeetarelikehishands,strikinglybeautifulbutstrong.Ithinkofthosefeetwalkingupanddownmystairsinthemiddleofthenight.Itrytoneverthinkabouthishands.
Myplay-relatedproblemsarefixingthemselvesasLeoparadeshimselffromthesoccerfieldtothebaseballfield,shellingouthellosandsmiles.Wearetwentydaysfromopeningnightandnoonehasvolunteeredtostartworkingonsetsorcostumes.Thebackupplanwastohaveanoldburlapcurtainhangingonthestageandtohavethechildrenweartheirdirtiestclothes,orphanstyle.Suddenly,everyonewantstobeinvolved.Infact,they’reswarmingus.
LeostandstohisfullheighttomeetTanyaChung.HegazesdeeplyintohereyesuntilsheagreestohaveafullsetofcostumesbyfourP.M.aweekfromWednesday,ourfirstdressrehearsal.EvelynNessagreestodoallthesets,andIswearIsawherkneesbucklealittle.
“You’llneverquitacting,”Itellhim.
???
“SowhathappenshereonSaturdaynights?”heasksusonthewayhomefromArthur’sextra-inningsdisastrousLittleLeaguegame.
“IhaveasleepoveratSasha’s,”saysBernadette.
“Ihaveabirthdayparty,”saysArthur.
“Oh,lookslikewe’reoutofluck.CanItakeyououttodinner?”
GigglesfromthebackseatandnowImightbeblushing.Icrackthewindow.“Sure.”
“Someplacedecent?”
“Wehaveabistrointownthat’sverygood.Don’tbeasnob.”
Leorollshiseyesintherearviewmirrortomoregiggles.
???
IthinkI’mwearingtoomuchmakeup,butIhavenoonetoask.I’mnotcomfortablewithblackstuffonmyeyes,andIfeelmildlylikeanassaultvictim.ButitseemsrudenottomakealittleeffortonaSaturdaynight,soIpickmynavybluesilkdress,theonewithnosleevesincaseIsweat.
Myhairisrighttoday,thankGodforsmallfavors.“You’reagrown-upperson,”Itellmyreflection.“Don’tactlikeateenager.”
“Damn,”hesaysasIwalkintothekitchen.He’sinacrispwhiteshirtandanavyblazer.He’sshavedandsmiling,andwell,helookslikeamoviestar
“Toomuch?”Ireallyjustneedsomeonetobehonestwithme.
“Justright.”
Asexpected,wewalkintotherestaurantandeveryonetakesacollectivegasp.Peoplewhoknowmeeveninpassinggiveenthusiasticwaves.Peoplewhoknowmewellplottheirfrequenttripstothebathroomsotheycanstopandsayhi.
Thehostesstakesustoatableinthebackcorner,facingoutintotherestaurant.Leoputshishandonherforearmandshealmostfaints.“Idon’twanttobeapain,butwoulditbepossibletoseatusatthattableoverthere?”Hemotionstoatablenestledinfrontofabanquette.
Afteroneglassofwine,Iforgetthatmyentirecommunityisstaringatus.We’relaughingabouthowhecharmedthosepoorwomenintoworkingontheplay.Wetalkaboutthekids,likethey’reasharedinterestofours.Hewantstoknowaboutmybriefcareerinpublishing,andhisresponsesmakemerealizeIlearnedmorethanIthought.
“Doyoudate?”hewantstoknow.
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Whynot?”
“Thesearesomeprettyruralsuburbs.Singlesdon’texactlycongregatehere.Plus,Igetupearly,asyouknow.”
“Areyoueverlonely?”
“NotaslonelyasIwaswhenIwasmarriedtoBen.”
Whenourdessertscome,hewantstoplayhisnewfavoritegame,RomanceMovie.“Okay,here’sone.Maletalk-showhostfromAkron,Ohio.”
IstababiteofchocolatecakeasIthink.“Hegoesouttothecountrytointerviewareclusivemoviestarandfallsforhercaregiver,whoprobablydreamsofopeningacupcakeshop.”
“Theyalldo.”
“Aninordinatenumberofbakersinthesemovies,”Iagree.“Andnoone’soverweight.”
“Communityactivityattheend?”
“Hmm.”Itakeabiteandthinkitover.“Oh.He’sgoingtoMCtheauctionforthecountyfair.”
“Whereshe’llbesellingcupcakes.”
“Naturally.”
“Andhehastoleavebeforetheevent,breaksherheartbutthencomesbackandthere’sabigkiss,”hesays.
“Thekissisneverreallythatbig,actually.”
He’sfinishedhiswine,soIpourhimhalfofmine.“Sothat’sit?”heasks.
“Well,there’ssmallstuff.Ifeitherofthemhasparents,they’realwaysexceptionallylovingandself-sufficient.Noone’sparentsareapain.”Itakeanotherbiteofcake.“Andthewomanusuallyhasaquirkthatwouldbeannoyingtomostmen,butthatthisparticularguyfindsirresistible.”
“Seriously?”
“It’spartofthefantasy.Likethewomanwho’sreallyuptightandmakestonsoflistsappealstothemusicianwhoneedstogethisacttogether.”
“Thisisdiabolical.WhataboutthelunaticwomanwhoschedulesherlifetorunlikeaSwisswatch?”
“Well,”Isay,drainingmyglassandplacingmynapkinonthetable,“shegetsalotofshitdone.But,inmyexperience,it’snotexactlythekindofthingamanfindsirresistible.”
“Ido,”hesays.“Weshouldgohome.”
???
Thehouseisdarkwhenwegetbackandneitherofusswitchesonalight.We’rejuststandingthereinthedarkkitchen,andhetakesasteptowardme.“DoweneedtopickupArthur?”
Arthur?Iwonder.Ohright.“Kate’sgivinghimaridehome.”
“Okay,”hesays.He’scloseenoughthatifhetookhalfastepforwardhecouldkissme.Iwonderagainifmyimaginationhasgonerogue,ifmaybeit’stimetolayofftheromancegenre.Andthewine.
“Mysalmonwasperfectlycooked,”Isayliterallyoutofnowhere,mainlybecauseIneedtobreakeyecontact.Isidestepsowe’renolongerfacingeachother.“Imeansometimesit’stoorare,andtheysaypinkinthemiddle,butit’spracticallystillbreathing.Notthatfishbreathe.”Ilaughalittleatmytrulyunfunnycomment,butnowIcanbreathe.Iturntothecounterandstartstraighteninganalreadystraightstackofpapersinthedark.“Wanttogetthatlight?”Isay.
“No,”hesaysandstepsrightbehindme.
“Oh,”Isay,turningaround.
Hemovesaloosetendrilofhairfrommyeyesandrestshishandonthesideofmyneck.Ican’trememberhishavingtouchedmebefore,andfromthetinglyheatspreadingthroughmybody,IthinkIwouldhaveremembered.Icannotlookhimintheeye,butIcanfeelhimstudyingmeinthedark.Heleansin,andhisfaceissoclosethatournosesbrushagainsteachother.Hisbreathisonmylips.Thespacebetweenusiselectricwithwant,mostlymineprobably,andI’mafraidtomeethiseyesbecausehe’llseeallthatwant,laidbare.ForsomereasonIwanttostayinthismoment,ridethisline,soIcanbothknowandnotknowwhat’sabouttohappen.ItwillbetheSchr?dinger’scatofkisses.
Hewhispersmynameandmomentspass.Ifinallyraisemyeyestohis,andLeokissesme.Firstasmall,testingkissandthenanendlesskissthatdissolvesme.HeiskissingmewithsuchurgencythatIwanttobelievehe’sbeenimaginingthisasoftenasIhave.Thereisnothingintheworldmorenaturalorinevitablethanhishandsonmyhips,myhandsinhishair.Idon’tknowwhereIamwhenheadlightsarepullingintomydriveway.Acardooropensandcloses,andLeomutters,“Arthur.”
LeohitsthelightasArthur’scomingthroughthefrontdoor.We’rebothalittlebreathless,soIsay,“Hey,honey,perfecttiming,wejustcameupfromthegarage.”Eventhoughmycar’sparkedoutfront.“Howwasit?”
“Good.WewatchedamovieandplayedNerfwarsinthewoodsbehindtheirhouse.”Hegetshimselfaglassofwater,andwewatch,maybenotwantingtolookateachother.“Well,goodnight,”hesaysandgivesuseachahug.
“Goodnight,sweetie.I’llberightuptotuckyouin.”Isaythisbecauseit’swhatIsay.Everysinglenight.Thereisnopartofmethatwantstoleavethiskitchen.
Whenwecanhearthewaterrunningupstairs,Leotakesmyhandandentwinesourfingers.“Well,”hesays.
“Yeah.”Ican’tstoplookingatourhandstogether.Hishandrightthere,allmixedupwithmine.
“IguessI’llturnintoo?”hesays.
“Okay.”
“Okay,”hesaysandhekissesmeagain,justthetiniestteaseofakiss.“I’llseeyouforsunrise,”hesaysandwalksoutthebackdoor,acrossthelawntotheteahouse.
???
Ibarelysleep,ofcourse.ItextPenny:IhopeI’mnotwakingyou,butifIamcanyoustilltextmeback?Hekissedme.
ItextthesamethingtoKate.Igetnoresponse.Myheartisracing,andIneedtotalkmyselfdown.Fact:Iwillprobablyneverrecoverfromthatkiss.Fact:Thisisamanwhodatesstarlets.Fact:Iamaregularwomanwho’snursedtwobabies.Oh,dearGod.Maybehewasdrunk.Hedidn’tseemdrunk.Maybehe’sacting.Heseemedsincere.Maybehe’sjustactingsincere.Forwhat?Tostealafewkissesfromalonelysuburbanmom?He’sreallybeenplayingthelongconifthatwashisangle.Hecouldkissanyonehewanted.Maybehereallylikesme,Ithinkinmytiniestthinkingvoice.
Whenthelightstartstofillmyroom,Iopenmyeyesandremember.Ijumpoutofbedandanalyzemypajamasituation.Whiteflannelwithlittleyellowstars.IswapoutmypajamatopforaT-shirtandthrowalightbluesweateroverit.MynecklooksweirdsoIaddascarf.WhenIseethewholelooktogether,IrealizethatI’vedoneitagain.Ilooklikemygiveawaypilethrewuponme.Ichangebackintostraightpajamas.
Ienterthekitchenandseethecoffee’salreadybeenbrewed.He’sleftamugoutforme.Ipourmycoffeeandmakemywayout.
“You’relate,”hesays.Isit,andhecoversmewithhisblanket.Ilookforsignsthatsomething’schanged,thatthisisamoreintimategesture.Butit’sthesamewayhe’ssharedhisblanketsincethefirstday,athousandyearsago,backwhenmynightgownwassee-through.Iamoddlyawareofmylipsonmycoffeemug.Theyfeellikeordinarylips,butthey’renotbecausetheywerekissedbyLeoVancelastnight.Idon’twanttolookathim,becauseIknowI’llbestaringathislips.
Wewatchtheskyastheleavesarebacklitbythesun.Theshow’salmostover,andIneedtohearhimsaysomething,anythingthatwillindicatethatthisactuallyhappenedandthatheplanstokissmeagain.
“What’sthescheduletoday?”heasks.Ah,romance.Thementionof“theschedule”feelslikeablow,likemaybeIthoughthewasgoingtosuggestelopingtoCapd’Antibes.What’sthescheduletoday?Ittakesmeabeattorememberthatit’sSunday,andIshakemyheadclear.
Deepbreath.“It’sSunday,”Isaytobuytime.“Bernadettehasasoccergameatone,andit’sanhourawayinYardsmouth.Arthurhasanotherbirthdayparty,anoonmovie.”
“IsYardsmouthanygood?”Ugh.He’sclearlygraspingatanypossibletopicthatdoesn’trelatetothatkiss.GirlsU9soccerwillcertainlydothetrick
“They’reterrible.Itwon’tbemuchofagame.”
“Interesting,”hesays.
I’malittlevulnerable.I’veopenedmyselfuptothepossibilitythatthiskisswasarealthing,thebeginningofathing.Andhereheisstaringstraightahead,talkingaboutthehouseholdcalendar.Soonhe’llbeaskingabouthowtheCrockpotworksandifyoushouldwashdarkclothesinhotwater.
“Notreally,”Isay.Ipullmylegsupintomychest.Iache,andI’malittlemad.Youcan’tjustgoaroundkissinglonelywomenfornoreason.It’sirresponsibleandborderlinecruel.It’slikegivingadogasteakonedayandthenswitchingbacktokibblethenext.Youdon’tknowwhatyoudon’tknow,andthatkisswasn’tsomethingIneededtoknowabout.
“IsthereanywaytogetBernadettearidetoYardsmouth?”
“Why?”I’mstillnotlookingathim.
“Becauseifwedid,wecouldbealoneherefromeleven-thirtytotwo.”He’slookingatmenow.
Iflush,likeactuallyflush.“Oh,”Isay.
“Canwe?”
“I’llcallJenna,”Isay.Istillhaven’tlookedathim,buthereachesformyhandundertheblanket.Likethat’sthemostnormalthingintheworld.CHAPTER10
I’mcarefulnottomakeeyecontactwithLeothroughoutbreakfast.Icanfeelhimwatchingme,butIcan’triskmykidsseeingwhateverlustfulmadnessmightcrossmyfaceifwelockeyes.Imakeanoverlycomplicatedbreakfastoffrom-scratchwafflesandsausage.IgoforaslightlylongerthanusualrunandfindthatIhaveburnedoffzeropercentofmynervousenergy.Ishoweranddressandheadbackdownstairs.I’vecaughtArthur’sattention.
“Doyouhavesomethingtoday?”
Istoponthestairs.Ilookathimandthen,finally,atLeo.“Why?”
“Thatdress.Doyouhaveaparty?”
Ilookdownatmyyellowsundress,andIdon’treallyhaveanexplanation.MyregularT-shirtandjeansuniformdidn’tseemgoodenoughtoday.MaybeonsomeunconsciouslevelIthinkjeansarehardtogetoffandleaveseamlinesonyourskin?Isilentlycursemyselfforshowingmyhand.
“Oh,I’malittlebehindonlaundry.Whydon’tyougrabHowie’sgiftandI’lldropyouatthemovietheater.”
“Mom.It’sonlyten-thirty.”
“Right.”Leo’satthekitchencounterpretendingtoreadsomethingonhisphone,butIcatchhimstiflingalaugh.
???
AfterJenna’scomeforBernadetteandwehearhercarpullontothemainroad,Leocrossesthekitchenandtakesmeintohisarms.Withmybodyonhighalert,IrealizethatIambadlyinneedofthishug.Thestrengthofhisarmsaroundmeandthereassuringsmellofhimisstartingtocalmmedown.
“Sowherearewerightnow?”hesaysintomyhair.
“I’mterrified,”Iadmit.
“Metoo.CanItakeyououttotheteahouse?”
Itfeelsliketherightidea,togetawayfromthesmellofwafflesandstacksofdishesintoaspacewherewecanthinkmoreclearly.“Sure,”Isay,andhetakesmyhandaswewalkbarefootoutside.
Whenwe’reinside,heshutsthedoor.I’mnotsurewheretobesoIsitdownonhisunmadebed.Leodoesn’tjoinme.
“Wantmetomakeafire?”
“It’sprettywarminhere.”
“Right.”Hestraightensthechairatthetable.Hefoldsasweaterthathadbeenhangingontheback.Itfeelslikehe’sstalling.Iscootbackonthebedandcursethedresschoiceagain.IwanttobringmykneestomychestinaprotectiveposturesothatIcanfeelsafewhileIdiscernwhat’shappeninghere.Outofpropriety,Icanonlysitcrisscross-applesauce,whichleavesmefeelingchildishandexposed.
“CanIcomesitwithyou?”heasks.
“Ofcourse.”Hewalksthetwostepstothebedandsitsdowncarefully,liketheplacementofhisbodymightaccidentallydetonateabomb.
IneedtotouchhimandIamstartingtoworrythismightbemylastchance.ItakehishandinmineandIrunmyfingersoverhispalm.I’lldothisforevertoavoidhearinghimsaythiswasamistake.
Isay,“IknowwhyI’mterrified.Whatareyousonervousabout?Don’tyoudothisallthetime?”I’mtryingtolightenthingsup,likewe’rejustNoraandLeoshootingthebreeze,butitfallsflat.
“You’rearealperson.”
“BecauseIdriveaSubaru?”I’mnotsurewhenIdevelopedthisknackforbringinguptheworld’sleastsexythingsattheworstpossibletimes.
“BecauseIknowyou.Idon’thavealotofexperiencewiththat.”
“Well,Idon’thavealotofexperienceatall,”Isay.
“Wedon’thavetodothis.”Hesaysthis,butnowhishandisontheinsideofmycrossedankle.He’sstudyingthelinehe’sdrawingupthelengthofmycalf.Thefeelofhisfingersbarelytouchingmyskinastheyreachthebackofmykneemakesmecatchmybreath.
“Ithinkwedo,”Isay,almostinawhisperbecauseIdon’ttrustmyvoice.Helooksupandkissesmedeeply,grippinghishandsbehindmyhead,asifI’maflightrisk.Asif.IamsodizzywiththiskissthatIdon’tknowwhenmyarmswraparoundhisneckandmylegsfindtheirwayaroundhisback.Thedress,asitturnsout,wasagooddecision.Weareinafrenzyofclothingremoval,andwhenthereisnothingbetweenus,everythingbutmyheartrateslowsdown
Thedaybed’stoosmallforustoliesidebysideafterward,soIturnmybacktoLeotogathermythoughts.Wherearemythoughts?Leoturnsandwrapshisarmsaroundme,kissesthebackofmyneck.I’mfeelingalittleembarrassed.Ihaveneverinmylifebeenthisexposed.
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthatforalongtime,”hesays.
“Youonlymetmetwoweeksago.”
Leolaughsandkissesmyshoulder.“Youreallyaren’tveryromantic,areyou?”
“Imightbeanoverthinker.”
“I’llfixyou,”hesays,andIturnaroundtofacehim.He’sjoking,butIlovetheideaofbeingontheothersideofthefixingequation.IlovetheideathathethinksI’mworththetrouble.Ilovethatburieddeepinthatsentenceisahintofthefuturetense.
???
Mykidsknowsomething’sup,butmercifullytheydon’tknowwhat.They’reatanagewheretheirfirstsuspicionwouldn’tbesex,butthey’realsoatanagewheretheyareexquisitelytunedintosubtlechangesintheirmother.Ifeelthemwatchingme,andIdon’tknowifit’sthelightnessinmybodyorthesmileonmyfacewhileIwashpotatoes.IknowI’mglowing,andthere’snothingIcandotohidethatormakeitstop.
Whileeverything’schanged,inthatfirstweekmyroutineisn’tsodifferent.Sunrise,breakfast,kidstoschool,run,shower,teahousefromtentotwo.Exceptinsteadofwriting,Ilieinbedwithamoviestar.There’salotofsex,likearidiculousamountofsex.Inmypreviouslife,Iwouldhaveconsideredhalfthisamountofsextobeacompletenightmare,butnowadayspentinbedfeelslikeadaywellspent.It’spossiblethatIdidn’treallyunderstandwhatsexwasbeforeLeo.
IusedtothinkabouttheplumberalotwhenIhadsexwithBen.NotbecauseIwasinanywayattractedtotheplumber,butmorebecauseI’dwonderifI’dcalledtohavehimcheckthesealontheoutdoorwaterspigot.IfIhadn’t,thepipesmightfreezeandburst,andthatwouldbereallypricey.AfixlikethatwouldbiteintomyalreadytightChristmasbudget.AndIreallyneededtoconvinceArthurthathedoesn’tneedadrumset.Forgetthenoise,butjusttheamountofspaceitwouldtakeupandhowmuchitwouldirritatemetovacuumarounditwhenhewassickofitbyNewYear’s.OnNewYear’sDay,Ilikemakingacurriedchickensalad,butArthur’sdoctorhasrepeatedlytoldusthathemightwanttocutbackondairy.I’dhavetobreakthattraditionbecauseofthemayonnaise.But,wait.Mayonnaiseisjustoilandeggs.There’snodairyinmayonnaise!Arthurcanhaveallhewants!Icouldevenmakemacaronisaladandthatvegetablediphelikes.Mayonnaiseisn’tdairy,I’dsmiletomyselfasBenrolledoffofme.Ofcourse,Benthoughtthatsmile,likeeverythingelse,wasabouthim.
IguesstheproblemwithBeninbedwasthesameastheproblemwithBenoutofbed:Ben’sallaboutBen.Benisfocusedexclusivelyonwhat’sgoingtomakeBenhappy,what’sgoingtomakeBenfeelgood,andwhat’sgoingtoreflectwellonBentotheoutsideworld.WithLeo,it’snotabouteitherofus.It’slikethere’sthisthirdthingwe’vecreated.Westepintothatspaceandtherestoftheworldisgone.Thereisnotime,nonews,noworldoutsidethatdaybeduntilthreeo’clock.
Leolikestorunhisfingerfromthebottomofmyear,downmyneck,andalongmycollarbone,andsometimestherhythmofitputsmetosleep.Wegetupforfooddeliveries.Sometimeswerunerrands.Weareatonceenergizedandlazy,superchargedandsleepy.Iwonderifotherpeoplecanfeelthatweareoperatingonadifferentenergeticwave,likewehearaseparatesoundtrackandfeeltheaironourskininamoreexquisiteway.Deepdown,I’mfullyawarethatthisisnotasustainablereality,butIclingtoitlikeyoudowithareallygooddreamwhenyou’resureyoucouldneverreplicatethefeelinginreallife.
Leohasneversetfootinmybedroom.Hedoesn’tsomuchasbrushhishandagainstminewhenmykidsarehome.Wedon’tdiscussthis,butheseemstounderstandmyinstincttoprotectthem.Inthedarkestcornerofmybeing,whereatinypieceofmestillrecognizesreality,IknowLeoistemporary.I’minforahorriblefall,butaslongasIcankeepthatasmyproblem,nottheirs,thisisworthit.
Hestartscomingonmyruns,whichhesaysareboring.Ilikealoopbecauseitforcesmetofinish.And,frankly,mywholelifeisaloop;everydayIenduprightwhereIbegan.Helikesvariety,sowestartexploringthebackcountryroadsthatwindaroundLaurelRidge.Somestretchesarepavedandsomearedirt,changingupthatsoundourfeetmakeaswerun.Wepassanoccasionalhousewithasplit-railfence,butmostlytheroadshavemeadowsonbothsides,linedwiththelastofthedaffodils.Oldcherrytreesanddogwoodsoffersporadicshade,andifthewindblowsatjusttherighttime,werunthroughashowerofwhiteblossomsthatfeellikeconfetti.
Sometimeswerunsofaroutthatwewalkback,andsometimesheholdsmyhand.Weareinthemiddleofadays-longconversationthatwindsaroundthemostinconsequentialandmostmonumentaldetailsofourlives.
“So,mymomhadlungcancer,”hetellsmeonawalk.“Buttheydidn’ttellmeuntiltheveryend.Theydidn’twanttointerruptmyfilming,likethatmatters.”He’squietforawhile.“Ifinallysawherthedaybeforeshedied.Lukehadbeentherefortwoweeks,whichreallypissedmeoff.Thelastthingsheeversaidtomewas‘moviestarsdon’tdohospice.’?”
“WhatdoesLukedo?”Iask.
“Luke’salawyer.Iguesslawyersdohospice.Anyway,inthreedaysIfoundoutshewassick,saidgood-bye,andshedied.”
“Sothat’swhyyou’rehere?”IhatetheneedinessinmyvoicethesecondIsayit.
“You’rewhyI’mhere,”hesays.“Butbeforeyou,this,itfeltgoodtoconnecttoreallife—theforest,thesunrise,theschedule.Likeapersonwhoknowsaboutthatstuffcantotallyhandlehospice.”
Later,intheteahouse,hewantstoknowmoreaboutBen.“Theremustbesomethingvery,verywrongwithhim,”hesaysandkissesmesosoftlythatImightstarttocry.
Heknowsmostofthestory,becauseheplayedhiminthemovie.Howwemetincollegeandmovedtothecity.HowIgotajobinpublishingandhewasgoingtostartatechcompany.Howayearintohisstart-up,abiggercompanylaunchedthesameproject.Howthesamethinghappenedwithhisnextidea,andthenext.Themoviedoesn’tcovertherealmoneystuff—howBenblewthroughanymoneyImadealmostaggressively.Likeheshoppedoutofanger.
“Iguessbecausehewasraisedrich,heneverexpectedanythingtobehard.Heliterallycouldn’thandleitifthingsdidn’tgohisway.Likehewasowed.”
“Whathappenedtothegrandfather’smoney?”
“Itwasallmismanagedovertheyears;Ben’sdaddidn’treallyfocusonthebusinesswhenitwashisturntorunit.Sowhat’sleftisabunchofangry,entitledpeoplewithnomoneywhodon’tknowhowtotakecareofthemselves.”
“Youshouldhaveputthatinthemovie.Iwouldhavelikedthatforhischaracter,likeitwashardformetounderstandwhyTrevorwassuchatool.”
ImoveLeo’shairoutofhiseyes.“Itwasmyfaulttoo.Ilethimpretendhewasabouttohititbig.IcoveredforhimforyearsbecauseIdidn’twanttobewrongaboutmymarriage,mylife.”
“You’reachump,”hekids.“Ishouldtellyou,I’mnotgoodwithmoneyeither.Idon’tknowanythingaboutit.”
“Exceptthatyoucanaffordalotofbananas.”
Leolaughs.“Somanybananas.”
“Well,I’mrichnow,soit’sallgood,”Isay.
“Youare?Allmydreamshavecometrue.”Hepullsmeintight.“Whatacatch.”
“I’mserious.TheTeaHousegotmeoutofdebt.Whenyou’vebeeninalotofdebt,havingnodebtfeelsprettyrich.Thisisn’tgoingtobethemoviewheretheheroinehastosellthefarm.”
“ThankGod.Ilikethefarm.”
“Oneday,Benfoundmeinheresortingthroughastackofbills,tryingtofigureoutwhichonesweneededtopayandwhichoneswecouldlagon.Isaidsomethingabouthowwe’dbebetteroffifwebothhadjobs.AndIthinkthatwastheend.Onthatday,Ithinkheaddedmetothelistofpeoplewhoweregettinginthewayofhisbigdreams.”
“Thatwasactuallyinthemovie.”
Ilaugh,becauseitallisablur.Reallifemadeintoamoviethatturnsintoawildaffairwiththemanwhopretendedtobemyhusbandon-screen.Forapersonwhoselifeisprettystraightforward,Ineverthoughtallmystorylineswouldloopbackinononeanother.
“Didyoulovehim?”
“Maybeearlyon.Buttherearepartsofpeopleyoucan’tunseeafteryearsoflivingwiththem.Well,hisdisinterestinthekids,forone.Butalsohistotalself-obsession,hisinabilitytoappreciatebeauty.Lotsofthings.”
“Iappreciatebeauty,”hesays.AndhesmilesasmileIdon’tknowfromthemovies.It’sthesameonehehadwhenArthurmadeitallthewaythroughhisscriptwithoutlooking.
“What’sthissmile?”Iask,tracinghislips.
“I’mhappy.I’msohappyheleftyou.”
???
Pennytextsmetentimesaday:What’shappeningnow?Howlongishestaying?Whyaren’tyoutextingmeback?????Ireply:Iamdangerouslyhappyandgenerallytoonakedtotextyouback.
Fortwohourseveryafternoon,weareapartandit’sexcruciating.He’sintheauditoriumplayingdirector,andI’mbackstagebabysitting.It’soddtoseeallthenormalpeopletreatingmelikeanormalperson.Iamnotanormalperson.I’mLeoVance’sgirlfriend.
“Mrs.Hamilton,”Savanahasks,“arewepracticingthemarketscenetoday?”Idon’tknow,Ithink.Idon’tevenknowwhatdayitis.Ithasn’tevenbeenaweeksinceLeobecamemylover,andI’minafogthatIdon’twantlifted.
Kateishelpingmecorralthekidsandcallsthemoutingroupstogetoutfittedforcostumes.Ilethertakeover.“Ihaveneverseenyoulikethis,”shesays.
“Likewhat?”AsifIdon’tknow.
“Giddy.Loose.Spacey.”
“Iamallofthosethings.”
“Solike,what’stheplan?He’sstayingacoupleofweeksandthenleavingafterthefirstperformance?”
“Well,that’swhathesaidbefore,butnowIdon’tknow.Wedon’ttalkaboutit,buthekindoftalkslikehe’sstaying.Likethere’smorethanthis.”Herlookofconcernishardtoignore.“I’mtotallydelusional,aren’tI?”
“No,myfriend,youareinlove.Wejustdon’tseewhatthehappyendinglookslikeyet.”Sheputsherarmaroundmeandgivesmeasqueeze.
???
SometimesIleavethekidswithKatesothatIcanstandatstageleftandwatchLeodirect.Firstofall,Ijustlikelookingathim.AndifI’mluckyI’llcatchhiseyeandhe’llshootmealookthatmakesmeshiver.IalsoliketoseeLeodoingwhathedoes,tryingtoteachthekidsaboutacting.Hetakesthewholethingsoseriously.
LeoseemstothinkthatOliverisphoningitin.He’ssquattingdowninfrontofTyJackson’sunusuallysmallframeandlookinghimrightintheeye.“IneedyoutogetintoOliver’shead.”
Tyjuststaresathim.“Hishead?”
“Ineedyoutoimaginehiscircumstances.Youhavenoparents,nohome.”
“Ihaveaswimmingpool,”Tytellshim.
“Youdo.ButOliverdoesn’t.Ineedyoutoimagineyourparentsaregoneandyouhavenothingbuttheclothesyouarewearingrightnow.Youdon’thaveablankettokeepyouwarm.Notonesinglefriend.”TwelveothercastmemberslookonasTycloseshiseyesandtriestoimagine.TwelveothercastmembersarehorrifiedwhenTyburstsintotears.
LeoputshisarmsaroundTy.“That’sit.Usethatinthisnextscene.”
Irushoutandsay,“Let’stakealittlebreak.”Toofar,ImouthtoLeo.
Whenthekidsaregettingpickedupfromrehearsal,LeowalksTyouttofindhismother.ThekidsandIstayafewfeetbehind,asifthisiseitherhighlypersonalorhighlyprofessionalandweshouldn’tbeseeing.
“Hey,I’mLeo,”hesays,stickinghishandouttoTy’smom,whoseemstobeunabletocontrolhersmile.“IthinkIoweTyhereanapology,andIwantedyoutoknow.”
“What?Oh,I’msurehe’sfine.Wejustcan’tgetoverthefactthatyou’redirectingthisplay.Neverinamillionyears.”Tyhasbothofhisarmsaroundhismom’swaist.
“Imadehimcry.AndI’mreallysorry.”ToTy,“You’resuchagoodactor,Iforgotyou’reten.ForgetallthatstuffIsaid,okay?Youweredoingitperfectbefore.”
TyletsgoofhismomandhugsLeo.“Okay,”hesays.
???
“You’vejustgottoownup,”Leosaysatdinner,gnawingonachickenbone.“Ifyoudoitenough,it’snoteventhathard.‘Iblewit,I’msorry.’It’snotsuchabigdeal.”
“IreallythoughtTywasgoingtoloseit,”saysArthur.
“It’stheonlyway.Whenyouscrewup,you’vegottomakeitright,”saysLeo.“Thisismydad’sfavoritethingtotalkabout—personalresponsibility.Ifyouownuptonotbeingperfect,lifegetseasier.Andlet’sfaceit,Iwastotallyoffbase.Idon’tknowanythingaboutkids.YouguysaretheonlykidsIknow.”
IwonderifmykidsarethinkingaboutBen.Iwonderiftheyevernoticedhowhe’ddoubledownoneverymisstepjusttoavoidadmittinghewaswrong.Ihopetheycan’tseeonmyfacehowabsolutelyinlovewithLeoIaminthismoment.Ihopethat,whileIcannolongerbesavedfrommyself,theyaretakingthisatfacevalue:Wehaveanicehouseguestwho’shelpingwiththeplayandsharinghisworldview.ButIhavetoadmitthatthefourofusaroundthekitchentablefeelslikesomethingmuchmorethanthat.
“I’membarrassedwhenIhavetosaysorry.LikeIfeelallhotinside,”saysBernadette.
“Thenyoushouldkeepdoingituntilit’seasy,”saysLeo.“Butonlywhenyou’reactuallywrong.”
“Idon’tthinkTy’sgoingtobeaverygoodOliver,”saysArthur.
“Meneither,”saysLeo.“Butwegottaletthatgoandjustdothebestwecan.”
ArthurnodsatLeo,likewithaprofoundunderstanding.Somethingishappeningoverchickenandriceandgreenbeans.Wisdomisbeingexchanged.Somemightcallitparenting.Imarvelatthefactthatthismomentwascreatedbysomeonebesidesme.EvenwhenBenwashere,Iusedtowakeupinthemiddleofthenightworryingthateverylifelessonmykidswouldevergetwouldcomefromme.Dotheyknowhowtocrossthestreet?Dotheyknowtoruninazigzagifthey’rebeingchasedbyabear?Thelessonsthey’dlearnfromBenwouldbemorelikecautionarytales:Don’tbeanentrepreneurifyoudon’twanttoworkatit.Don’tbelittleyourkidsifyouwantthemtoloveyou.
Leosmilesatmeoverhiswineglass.Wecleanup;wewatchWheelofFortune.HeinsiststhatIgoupandreadtothemandtuckthemin.Hegoesouttotheteahouseandwetextuntilwebothfallasleep.Thisroutineispreposterousreally.Ibarelysleep,andIhaven’twrittenawordsincethatfirstkiss.ButIdon’twantasinglethingtochange.CHAPTER11
Mostmornings,wesnuggleourwaythroughthesunriseandlistenforthecreakofthescreendoor.It’saSaturday,butBernadetteisnotalatesleeper.“Moveover,”shecommandsbeforeshe’sallthewayoutside.ShesitsnexttoLeo,andheputshisarmaroundher.Sheleansintohischest.Ihaven’tnoticedthisbeforeandwonderifit’sthefirsttime.Ican’tmakemymindcomputehowlongLeo’sbeenhere,butsuddenlyitfeelslikehealwayshasbeen.
“What’sonfortoday?”heasksher.
“Ihavesoccer;Arthurhasabaseballgame.Butthere’safoodtruckfestivalatCraftPark.Weshouldgo.”
“I’mthere,”saysLeo.
“Youwillbeswarmed,”Itellhim.
“I’vebeenswarmedbefore,”hesays.“Youguyscanprotectme.”
Wegetthroughsoccer(asuccess)andbaseball(lessso)andheadstraighttothefestival.It’spacked.Therearetenfoodtrucksandatleasttwentypeopleineachline.There’sabandplayingcountrysongsandastationwithkegs.BesidesthefactthatIamgettingoutofacrappystationwagonwithmytwokids,Ifeelyoungandlight.
“Wantabeer?”myboyfriendasks.
“Sure,”Isay.MykidsrunoffandIstandtherewatchinghim.Hegetsinthebackofthebeerline,handsinhisjeanspockets,untiloneandthentwoandthentenpeoplenoticehimandturnaround.Basedonhisbodylanguage,heseemsperfectlyfinewithit.Soonthewholelineisinconversationwithhim,laughinginturns.Alittlegirlhandshimapenandapaperbag,andhesignsit.Asthelinemoves,healmostseemslikehe’skeepingtheconversationgoing,askingquestions,nodding.Theladyfromthetoo-fancy-housewaresshopjoinsthegroup,andtheyexchangeafewwords.
Iimaginehimcomingtothisthingyearafteryear,rememberingnamesandkeyfactsabouteverybody,watchingthekidsgrowup.He’dcryatMr.Mapleton’sfuneralandrememberhowhe’djustmethimafterhegotthenewhip.“She’sstoned,”someoneissaying,andIsnapoutofittoseeKateandMickeystandingnexttome.
“Iamnot,”Isay.“Justlostinadaydreamofsorts.”
“Andherehecomes,”saysMickey,noddingatLeomakinghiswaybacktouswithtwoplasticcupsofbeer.“HowamIevergoingtocompetewiththis?”Mickey’safirefighterintownandmaybethebestguyI’veevermet.NeitherKatenorIfeeltheneedtoreassurehim
“Hey,Kate.”LeohandsmemybeerandshakesMickey’shand.“I’mLeo.”
“Well,youseemtohandleacrowdprettywell,”saysMickey.“IfIwereyou,Imighthavejuststayedinthecar.”
“Oh,itwasfine.Iknewhalfofthemfrommyshoppingspreeintown.Noramakesmebuyheralotofstuff.”
Igivehimashoveandheputshisarmaroundme.IhearMickeysaytoKate,“Wow.Youweren’tkidding.”
“Areyouguysfreetonight?”Leoasks.“WeweregoingtobarbecueandI’msurewehavealot?OrIcouldgotothemarket?”Heisaskingmeforguidancehere,andIamslightlystunnedtoseehimactinglikewe’reacoupleandweshareabarbecue.
“That’sagreatidea,”Isay.“Bringthekids.Comeatfive?”
???
LeoisdisappointedthatIhaveenoughfoodandhedoesn’tgettogotothemarket.Bernadettethinksweshouldeatoutonthelawninfrontoftheteahouse.ItrynottowatchassheandLeoremovethelegsfrommykitchentabletomoveitoutside.
WhenIgetbackfromtakingArthurtotowntogetgriptapeforhisbat,LeoandBernadettearewaitingformeonthefrontporch.“Weneedyourcar,”Berniesays.Inanhourtheyarebackwithayellow-and-white-stripedtablecloth,matchingnapkins,andsixstrandsofwhitelights.IcanbarelyseeBernadettebehindtheenormousbouquetofsunflowersshe’scarrying.
“I’mon-setdesign,”shetellsme.
“Haveyouguyslostyourminds?”Iaskastheygettowork.
“Alittle.”Leoshootsmeasmile.
There’snowayArthurandIspentasmuchtimepreparingthefoodastheyspendsettingthescene.Leo’sfoundaladderandsometwine.Theyhangthelightsbetweenthetreesoneithersideofthelawn,makingalongsparklingceilingoverthetable.Evenbeforethesungoesdown,itisbreathtaking.
Whendinner’sover,andthekidsareplayingWiffleballinthefrontyard,KateandIareaggressivelyfillingMickey’swineglass.Wearenotdiscussingthis,butwebothwanthimtofeelcomfortableandmaybegetpastthefactthathedoesn’tthinkLeoreallyworksforaliving.
Kate’stellingstoriesaboutherwork.Sherunsanonprofitparentingprogramforpeoplelivinginunderservedcommunities.Theprogramrunsonalmostnobudgetandthesheerforceofherwill,andthestuntsshepullstomakeendsmeetareheroic.Leoisaskingalltherightquestionsthatindicatethatheislisteningtoeverywordshesays,makingKatemoreanimatedandforthcomingthanI’veeverseenher.ThisisLeo’ssuperpower,andit’spossiblethatit’sgettingonMickey’snerves.
LeoandIsitfacingtheteahouseandtheforestbehindit,andhesaystonoone,“It’ssobeautifulhere.It’slikeeverydaysomethingnewhasbloomed.”
“WaittillJulywhenthehydrangeacomein,”Katesays.“They’llblowyourmind.”Theword“July”hangsintheair.KateandIlockeyesandIlookaway.MickeyisleaningbackinhischairwatchingLeo.
Leodoesn’tmissabeat.“Can’twait,”hesays.Hesqueezesmyhand,andIknowinthatmomentthatIwantLeoandthosehydrangeabloomstobeinthesameplaceatthesametimemorethananythingelse.ItscaresmehowmuchIwanthimtostay.
“Sowhereareyoufrom?”Mickeystartshisinterrogation.
“NewJersey,”Leosays.“ExitEighty-two.”
Mickeylaughs,andI’mnotsureifthat’snice.“AndnowyouliveinLosAngeles?”
“AndNewYork,”hesays.
“AndCapd’Antibes,”Isayandrollmyeyes.
“Yeah,IcanseewhyyouspendsomuchtimeinLaurelRidge,mustbeanicebreak,”Mickeysays.
“It’sprettygood,”Leosaysandputshisarmaroundthebackofmychair.
Katesmilesatus,andeveryone’squietforaseconduntilMickeysays,“Ijustdon’tknowwhatthehellisgoingonhere.Like,areyoustaying?You’rejustgoingtolivehere?Howdoyouknowyouwon’tgetsickofthis?”
“Mickey.”Kateswatshimwithhernapkin.“Getittogether.It’snoneofourbusiness.”
“Nora’snoneofourbusiness?”Iseenowthathe’sbeenoverserved.“IfuckinghatedBen,”hesaystoLeo.“Hewasarrogantandlazy.”
“Soundslikehewasacrappydadtoo,”Leosays.
“Howmuchmoneydidyoumakelastyear?”Mickeyasks,likeit’snothing.Kateswatshimagain,andIshakemyheadatLeo,whodoesn’tflinch.
“Ihavenoidea,butyoucouldprobablygoogleit.”
MickeylaughsandholdsuphisbeertoLeo.“Mustbenice.”
“Itis.Yougetusedtonotthinkingaboutmoneyprettyquick.But,liketheysay,itwon’tmakeyouhappy.”
“It’dmakemehappy,”saysMickey.
“That’sbecauseyou’realreadyhappy.”CHAPTER12
OnMondaymyphoneringsataboutnoon.We’reintheteahouse,andit’sBen.LeoandIstareatitforafewseconds.“Doyouwanttogetit?”heasks.
“Doyou?”Iputthephonedownandturnover.There’snowayIwanttoletBenintothiscocoon.
“Imean,coulditbeimportant?Hedoesn’tusuallycall,doeshe?”
IturnbacktoLeo,andthephonehasmercifullystoppedringing.“Hecallseveryfewmonths.Hesayshewantstoseethekids.Isay‘great!’Thenhesayshe’llcallbacklaterintheweekwhenhe’s‘naileddownafewdeets.’Andthenhenevercalls.”
“Never?”
“Never.Thefirsttime,Itoldthekidsthathewascoming,andtheywereallexcited.Butofcoursehedidn’tcome,sonowIdon’ttellthem.Ontheoffchanceheeverknocksonthedoor,it’lljustbeasurprise.”
Thephone’sringingagain.Leosays,“He’scallingback?Seriously,youshouldpickup.”
“Hejustdoesn’tlikebeingignored,”Isay,andIanswerthecallonspeakerphone.
“Hi,Ben.”
“Heythere.How’sitgoing?”
“Great.”IsmileatLeo,becauseitisgoinggreat,sogreat,beyondgreatinmywildestfantasies,ifI’devertakenthetimetohaveany.
“Great.Andhowarethekids?”
“They’regood.Imean,theirdadleftandheneverseesthem.Butotherwisethey’regood.”
“Doyourealizeyousaythateverysingletimewetalk?”
“Ido.”
Heletsoutanexasperatedbreath.“So,IwasthinkingI’dcomeintwoweeks.Ijusthavetonaildownafewdeets,butisitokayifIcomeandtakethemforaweekend?”
“Sure.”Leorollshiseyes,andInod
“Okay,thanks.Soyou’regood?Yousoundalittledistracted.Workingonanotheroneofyourcornyromances?”
IsmileatLeo.“Iam.Andthisisthebest,corniestoneyet.”
“Ha.Everfinishtheoneyouwerewritingaboutme?”
“Idid.”Leo’smakingbigeyesatme
“Hilarious,”Bensays,becausehereallyhasnoideawhatajerkheis.
WhenIhangup,Leopullsmeintight.“Sothere’snochancehe’sgoingtofollowthroughandshowup?”
“Iwoulddropdeadofshockifheknockedonthedoor.Letmeputitthisway:Benalwaysdoeswhathewantstodo.Ifhewantssomething,hebuysit.Ifhewantstoleave,hegoes.Ifhewantedtoseethekids,hewouldhavebeenheremonthsago.”
“Justdomeafavor.Letmeanswerthedoorifheeverknocks,”Leosays.
???
Theweekrollsbyinafamiliarrhythm.Wake,sunrise,kids,run,teahouse,playrehearsal,dinner.Somedaysweactlikeanormalcouple.Wegotothesupermarketandthelittlegroceryintown.HewantstogotoCostco,butItellhimhecan’thandleit.Wegotolunchatthebistroandsitatthesametableasourfirstdate.IamsocomfortablewithLeothatIsometimesthinkI’velosttheabilitytopausebetweenthinkingsomethingandsayingsomething.
Thewaiterbringsmybouillabaisse,andIsay,“Areyoureallygoingtoleaveafteropeningnight?”Ican’tbelieveI’vesaiditonceit’sout.Ilookatmyclamsandtrytoregainmycool.“Imean,Iknowthat’stheplan,butisitstilltheplan?”
Leosays,“Idon’thaveanyplaceIneedtobe.”
Relief.“Okay.Well,good.ImeanIdidn’tknowifIshouldbecountingdownor…oh,forchrissake.”Vickyfreakin’Millerwalksintotherestaurant.
“What?”
“It’sVickyMiller.ShehadanaffairwithBenandthinksIdon’tknow.Whichisridiculousbecauseeveryoneintownknows.”
“Thatbastard,”hesays.“Whatthehell.”
“Deepdown,Benfeltreally,reallybadabouthimself.”
“You’restillcoveringforhim.”
Andinaninstant,there’sVickystandingatthesideofourtable,bigsmile.“Nora!Ican’tbelieveit.Ineverseeyouout!”Nice.
“ItmustbeGroundhogDay,”Isay,makinglikeI’mpeeringoutofmyhole.
“I’mLeo,”saysLeo,withmorereservethanI’musedto.
“Yes.I’mVicky,”shesays,likethat’sexcitingnews.“Iheardyouweremakingamovieintown.”
“Iwas.ButnowI’mjuststayingwithNora.”Hereachesacrossthetableandtakesmyhand,waitingforhertospeak.
“Well,that’snice,”saysVicky,wholeftherunderwearinmyhusband’sAudi.
Whenwe’velefttherestaurant,Leohasathousandquestions.“Soyouneverconfrontedhimaboutit?Youneverconfrontedher?”
“I’mnotabigconfronter.Imean,itwasclearhedidn’tlovemeanymore,andit’snotlikeyoucantalksomeoneintolovingyouagain.”
“Didyouwanthimtoloveyouagain?”
Ihavetoconsiderthisforasecond.“Iguess.IfhelovedmeitwouldhavemeantIwasagoodwife,thatI’dbeenadequateatkeepingourworldspinning.Ilikedtheideaofthat.ButIdidn’treallycaretoomuchabouttheaffair.Ayearlater,hewasgoneanyway,sonoharm,nofoul.”
Leostopsmeonthesidewalk.“That’sjustcold.Itdidn’thurtalittle?”
“Well,alittle.ButwhatwasIsupposedtodo?Ikindofhadalotonmyplate.”
“Tellmethis.IfIwentandhadsexwithstupidVickywhoever,wouldyoucare?”Awomanwheelsastrolleraroundus,butLeo’snotbudging.“Justtellme.Iknowhowtomakeascene.”
“Whyareyouasking?”
“I’mjustgatheringinformation.”Leoisvulnerableinthismoment.Hisfaceisexpectantandhisshouldersarebracedasifhe’sexpectingablow.
“I’dcarealot,”Isay.Andhekissesme,rightthereonthesidewalkattwoo’clockinthemiddleoftown.
Aswewalktothecar,he’slaughing.“Iknewit.You’resointome.”
???
MickeyhastakentostoppingbyonhiswayhomefromworktohaveabeerwithLeo.Apparently,Leowonhimoveratthebarbecue.There’ssomethingaboutthewayLeoissocomfortablewithhissuccessthatmakesiteasyforyoutoforgetaboutit.BythetimeMickeyandKateleft,theyweremakingfishingplansforAugust.August.SonowMickey’salittleinlovewithLeotoo.Theysitontheporch,andIcookandtrynottoeavesdropuntilKatecallsandtellsmetosendhimhome.Leowantstoknowaboutbarbecuingribs.Leowantstoknowaboutsolarpanels.MickeywantstoknowwhoinHollywoodLeo’sseennaked.
MickeytellsLeoaboutthebirdsanctuary,andhewantstocheckitout.ThoughIsuggestitwouldbeeasiertodrivethere,wedecidetomakeitournextmorningrun.I’mgratefulforanewrouteandforthebirds,andalsoforthefactthatLeocomesonmyrunsnowbecauseit’sanotherhourwe’renotapart
Ifyou’renotgoingtodrive,theonlywayintothebirdsanctuaryisthroughtheforestonaroughpaththatrunsparalleltoacreek.Themapletreeshavesproutedfuzzygreenflowersthatdotthebrightbluesky.Everythingwilllookdifferentinamonth.ItakethisinquicklybecauseI’mconcentratingonthepathaheadofme,strategicallyplacingeachfoottoavoidthemazeofabovegroundrootsatmyfeet.Partsofthisrunfeelmorelikeanobstaclecoursethanacasualjog.We’resweatingandwe’relaughingaseachturnpresentsuswithanotherfallenbirchormuddypuddletododge.LeocallsoverhisshoulderthathekindofmissesmySubaru,andIfeelvindicated.
Whentheforestends,I’mrelieved.Thepathbecomeswider,withseven-foot-tallwildpampasgrassliningeitherside.Thefeatherytopsbendwiththebreeze,directingusforward.Icannolongerseethecreek,butIcanhearitaswerun.
Wedisturbafamilyofturkeys,andwhentheyrunoff,weseethatwe’vearrived.Westoptocatchourbreath.Weareinameadowofyellowandlavenderwildflowerswitholdoakandappletreesscatteredamongthem.Thecreekhasreappearedandwindsitswaythroughthemeadowandbeyond.Westayquiettolistentothebirdssingatoneanotheracrossthetrees.It’ssoorderly,intheback-and-forthrhythmofaconversation.Ihaveneverwitnessedanythingsobeautiful.
“Well,thisisnew,”Isay.
“Itis,”hesaysandtakesmysweatyhand.
“Imean,it’sanicechangefrommyoldloop.”
“Imean,you’rethefirstpersonI’veeverbeeninlovewith,”hesays.Justlikethat.It’saWednesday,Ithink,butI’mnotevensure.Inameadowdottedwithtrees,coveredinsweatwithbirdschirpingaroundus,LeoVanceisinlovewithme.Inthatsecond,mylifeisliketheteahouse—Icanseeallthewaythroughtotheothersidewherethere’sanentirelydifferentreality.CHAPTER13
Everyone’sexcitedaswepullintothedrivewayafterThursdaynight’srehearsal.Weareaweekawayfromopeningnight,andwiththeexceptionofFrankieBowfoxsteppingonEmmaSchwab’sdressandmakinghercry,itwentoffperfectly.Leo’sorderedpizza,sothebigmetalboxwaitsforusontheporch.
“There’sapackagehereforyou,”Isay,handingittoLeo.
“Me?”Hebringsthepizzasinsideandtossesthepackagebythesink.“I’mstarving.”
“Doyouneedtoopenit?”
“Doyou?”Hesmilesatmewithamouthfullofpizza.
“Kinda,”Ishootback.Iopentheenvelopeandpulloutascript.MegaMan,it’scalled,andthere’saPost-itnoteonthefront:CALLMEIMMEDIATELY
Ihandittohimandhebarelyreacts,wipingtomatosauceoffofBernadette’scheekandthencarefullyrubbingitontheotherone.There’salotoflaughing,andit’seasy,andthefuture’srollingoutinfrontofusperfectly.
Isometimesforgetlife’snotamovie.
???
Leo’sonthephoneintheteahouseforalongtimeafterdinner.Thekidsdotheirhomeworkandlinger.Allofusknowsomething’soff.Webusyourselveswiththingssowecanstaydownstairs.Iover-cleanthekitchen,checkandrecheckthecoffeemaker.Arthur’srunninglinesinarobot’svoice.Bernadettecolorsinthecoverofhernotebook.
Leoissomeoneelsewhenhewalksthroughthebackdoor.Hisshoesarewetfromthelawnandhedoesn’tstoptotakethemoff.AsiftryingtoavoidtheawfulpremonitionI’mhaving,Ifocusonhisshoes.They’reblacksneakerswithabrownrubbersole.They’rethesameoneshealwayswearsifhe’snotrunningorwearingflip-flops.IlikethisaboutLeo,thefactthatasfarasIknowheonlyhasthreepairsofshoes.Ilikeseeingthemtuckedunderthedaybedintheteahouse.Ineedtheseshoestostay.
“Hey,guys.Canwetalkforaminute?Ihavesomebignews.”He’sallenergy,pacingthensittingdownandstandingup.Thethreeofussitandwait;Ican’tthinkofanywords.“Sothatwasmyagent,Jeremy.Paramountisgoingtodoabig-budgetactionmoviecalledMegaMan.”
“IloveMegaMan,”saysArthur.IhateMegaMan,Ithink.
“Well,whodoesn’t?”HegivesArthurhisbiggesteyes.“Thedirectorwantsmefortherole.Ihavetoaudition,buthe’sprettysureI’mrightforit.”
Ihavewords:“That’sexciting.Right,guys?”I’mamomagain.He’sleavingandI’mnolongerapersonwhohassexallday.I’mneitherbeautifulnorcompelling.IamNora,andIamtumblingdownahill.Leoisgoingto“Asia,”themythicalplacewheremengowhenthey’retiredofme.IneedtograbmychildrenandmovethemtosafetybeforeIrollintotheabyss.
Bernadette’ssuspicious.“Sowhatdoyouhavetodo?”
“Thethingisthey’reonatightscheduleandneedtogetmeapprovedrightaway.”Ialmostjumpintoexplainhowthesethingswork,butIdecidenottohelphim.He’sgoingtohavetosayithimself.“I’mflyingouttoL.A.tomorrowmorning.”
Sothereitis.Myheartisdisintegratingintomyintestines.Itakeadeepbreathandlookatmybeautifulchildren.IcannotbelieveI’vedonethistothem.IcannotbelieveIletthemgetinsodeepwiththisguy,andhe’sleaving.We’re0for2.
Arthurshakeshishead.“Leo,youcan’tgo.Theplay’sinaweek.Wehaven’tevendonedressrehearsals.”
Bernadettepipesup,“AndI’mplayinggoalieSaturdayagainsttheVipers.”It’simpossibletolookawayfromthefactthatmykidsdonotthinkofLeoasjustafundiversion,ahouseguestwho’shelpingwiththeplay.Theyarecountingonhim.
Leostopspacing.“Iknow,guys,andIcan’tbelieveI’mgoingtomissallthat.ButI’llbebackbythistimenextweek,forthelastdressrehearsalandthebignight.Mrs.SasakicantotallyhandleitwhileI’mgone.Actually,youguysaresogoodyoudon’tevenneedadirectoratthispoint.And,Bernie,I’llbeherenextweekendwhenyouplayBrookeville.You’regoingtokillit.”
Arthur’squietforabeat,asifdecidingsomething.Iwonderifhe’scomparingthismomenttowhenBenleft.Bensaidhe’dbebackinavagueway;henevergaveanexacttime.It’sdifferent,butthere’sasamenesstoo.Finally,hespeaks.“Ohokay,that’scool.Well,goodluckwiththeaudition.”He’stryingnottocry,andhewantstoleavewiththeupperhand.HeoffersLeohishandtoshake.“Thanksforallyourhelp.”Leopullshimintoahug.Bernadettethrowsherarmsaroundthetwoofthem.She’scrying.
Leobreaksthehugsandgetsrightintheirfaces.“Youguys.Hearme.Thisisaweek.Andit’sjusthowmyworkis.Myplansgetmessedup.”
Arthurtakesinadeepbreath.“Okay.Aweek.”Theyallhugagain,andI’mfaraway,watchingthissceneunfold.
“Allright,youguys,it’slateandtomorrowishuge!”Istretchoutmyarmstoshowjusthowhugetomorrowisandthenhugthemtight.“Runupstairsandbrushteeth.”
Ihaven’thadaglassofwineandpouringonewouldgivemesomethingtodowithmyhands.Ipullabottleoutofthefridgeandstarttoopenit.Ineedtofindthatthingthatcutsthefoiloff.Ithinkit’sinthedrawerwiththecarrotscraperbutit’snot.IamsureIusedityesterdaysoIlookinthedishwasher,notthatyou’deverwashthatthing.Thedishwasherismercifullyclean,soIstarttounloadit.
“Stopit,”Ihear.He’sopeningthebottleandpouringaglass.Justone.
“Thankyou,”Imanage.MybackistothesinkandIholdontothecoldporcelain.
“Listen,youhavetounderstandhowimportantthisistome.Thisisahugemovie,notafilm.Ithinkit’sjustthefun,family,normalthingI’vebeenneeding.Itreallyfeelsright.”
Inoticehe’sholdingmyhand.AndIthinkBendidtoo,butI’mnotsure.Ithoughtwewerejustthefun,family,normalthingheneeded.Ithoughtthisfeltright.Isuddenlyrememberwhatpartofthemoviewe’rein.
“Howisthisjustaweek?Youneedtofilmanentiremovie.”Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinkingthiswholetime.Howishegoingtobeamoviestarwhilehangingoutinmyteahouseallday?
“I’mgoingtogofortheaudition.Then,ifitworksout,I’llstaywhiletheymakeadealaroundthewholething.ThenI’llcomebackhereuntilwestartfilming.Andyoucancomewithme.OrI’llcomebackondaysoff.Nora,Ihaveamillionwaystomakethiswork.Ihaveanairplane.”
Iwanttobecool.IwanttobethekindofpersonwhocangetthroughaweekwithoutLeo.IrememberIusedtobethisperson.Icanbarelyrememberher.ItrytochannelNaomiplayingmewhileBenisleaving.
“Okay.I’mexcitedforyou.We’llfigureitout.Haveyoupackedeverything?”Myvoiceisn’tright,buthe’stoorevvedupaboutthisstupidmovietonotice.
“There’snotmuch,butmycar’scomingintwentyminutessoIshould…”Hepullsmeintohisarmsandkissesme.It’ssweetandsadandIcan’tkeepthetearsfromrollingdownmyface.“Hey,thisisn’tgood-bye.I’llbeback.Oryoucancomeout.Whateveryouwant.”HeraisesmychinsoI’mforcedtolookathim.“It’sjustL.A.”
AndIdon’tknowwhatthatmeans.DoesthatmeanIshouldbehappyhe’snotdisappearingintotheever-vagueAsia?“It’sjustL.A.,”Irepeatbacktohim.AndIlikethesoundofit.L.A.isaplaceyoucancomebackfrom.Ikisshimagainandsay,“Okay,go.I’mgoinguptothekids.Goodluck.”
Tenminuteslater,there’sacarinthedriveway.Dooropen,doorshut.ItpullsawayandInoticeI’vestoppedreadingTheLightningThiefoutloud.BernadetteandArthurarebothinmybed,snuggledoneachside.“It’sokaytobesad,Mom.I’msad,”saysBernadette.
Isqueezeherperfectlittleshoulder.“Thanks,Bernie.It’llbeokay.”Iletthemfallasleepinmybedbecausenoneofusisreadytobealone.
???
Whenthelightstartstofillmyroom,Iamalreadyawake.Idecidetoskipthesunriseforthefirsttimeinforeverandjustlieinbedwithmykids.Thetrickiestpartofbeingamom,especiallyasinglemom,isknowingwhenit’sokaytofallapart.Todaytheywillwakeuptoafamiliarfeelingofloss,thelightscabthey’veformedoverthewoundBenleftwillbedislodged.Iinvitedthisin.Arthurwillhavetogotorehearsalsandperform.Iwilltoo.
IstareatthecrackedceilinguntilI’msurethesun’sallthewayup.Iwakemychildrenwithahug.Bernadettewakesimmediatelyandrunstogetdressed.Arthur’snotmoving.“IthinkFaginneedspancakes,”Isay,kissinghiseyesawake.
“Withchocolatechips,”hemumbles.
Iuseupallofmyadrenalinebeingchipperandgettingthemtoschool.Leoisintheairbynow,butIcheckmyphoneforatextanyway.He’llbeinL.A.bythetimeschool’sout,andIrealizethatwillbetheendofmyknowingwhereheis.Igrabmyrunningshoesbythefrontdoor,andknowIcan’trun.Thereisonesinglewineglasssittingonthecounter,andIamstuckintimestaringatit.IreachformyphoneandtextKate:Comeover.
Shefindsmestillstandinginthekitchen.“Whathappened?Whereishe?”
“He’sgone.L.A.Bigmovie.”AndIstarttocry.Katemovesmetothecouch,andIamsogratefultogiveintoit.Betweensobs,Igivedetails,andsheispatientwithme.
WhenI’vecriedmyselfout,shesays,“Okay.You’vegottobearwithme.Thisisreallyunchartedterritory.I’veneverseenyoucrybefore.Likeevenlasttimewhenyouractualhusbandleft.”
Inod.“Thatwasdifferent.Like,whywouldIwanthimaroundifhedidn’twanttobehere.Butthis.”Istarttocryagain.“Istillwanthimhere.”
“He’sonlybeengonetwelvehours,andhesayshe’scomingback.”
“Doyoureallythinkheis?”I’mmoppingmyfacewithmysleeveandclingingtoherwords.
“Whywouldhesayhe’scomingbackifhedidn’tmeanit?He’sgoingtobebackaweekfromyesterday.That’snotevenaweek.”
“It’stoolong,”Isay,slumpingintoherlap.
???
It’sSaturday,andBernadettestopssixgoalsagainsttheVipers.It’sabigdealifyou’reeightyearsold,butinsteadof“Congratulations,”allanyonesaystousis,“Where’sLeo?”It’stheonlythingpeoplecanthinkoftosaytome.“Where’sLeo?”ispracticallyagreeting.Isaythewords“L.A.,”“audition,”“Thursday”somanytimesthatitbecomesatunethatIsingasImovethroughthecrowd.Whenwe’refinallyatmycarandI’veloadedmysinglechairintothetrunk,ItextLeoavideoclipofBernadettewinningthegamewithadivingcatch.
Herespondsimmediately,andmyheartratequickens:Ican’tbelieveImissedthat.Giveherahugfromme.
Me:She’ssohappy
Leo:What’snext?
Me:Quicklunch,lightbulbs,andthenLittleLeague
Leo:Ugh.Goodluck.Loveyou.
???
“Where’sLeo?”Mr.Mapletongreetsusaswewalkintohisstore.
“L.A.Anaudition,”Isayagain.
“He’scomingback,”saysBernadette.
“Didhegiveaspecificday?”heasks.He’sstoppedsortingthroughthepileofdrillbitsonthecounter.Ihavehisfullattention.
“Thursday,”Isay.
Mr.Mapletonsmiles.“Ah,thenhe’scomingback.Aslongashehasaplaneticketforaspecificday,he’llbeback.Good,”hesays,reassuringhimself.
Leodoesn’tbuyplanetickets,Idon’tsay.“Arthur’splayisFridaynight.That’smoresolidthanaplaneticket,”Isay.IampromisingthingsoverwhichIhavenocontrol,butI’vesucceededinsayingthewordsthatwillsoothemeandkeepMr.Mapletonfromfeelingsorryforme.Arthursqueezesmyhand,makingmefeellikemaybeI’vesoothedhimtoo.
Arthuractuallyhasaprettygoodgame.Hehasabasehitandnoerrors.IwanttotextLeoaboutthis,butsortoffeellikeit’stoomuch.I’lltellhimwhenhereachesouttome.That’swhatanormal,notobsessed,girlfriendwoulddo.Andfornow,that’swhatI’llpretendtobe.He’sdoinghisthingandhasotherstuffonhismind,I’llpretendIdotoo.
???
There’ssomethinggoingonwiththedirector.Leo’stellingmeaboutitonthephoneTuesdaynight.I’mlyinginbedandhe’ssayingalotofwords.Ijustlikehearingthesoundofhisvoice.
“Imean,IwouldhavewantedthepartwithoutBohaidirecting,”he’ssaying.“Butthechancetoworkwithhimsortofclinchedit.Iftheyfirehim,it’llbealotofstartingoveragain.”
“Andwhywouldtheyfirehimagain?”I’mgettingsleepy.Iwanthimtokeeptalking.
“Iftheseaccusationshaveanytruthtothem,thenhe’sacreepandnoone’sgoingtowanttoworkwithhim,includingme.Iwassupposedtohavedinnertonightwiththeproducertofindoutmore,butshecanceled.”
“Whatareyoudoingfordinnerthen?”
“Iboughtachicken,actually.”Leosoundstrulypleasedwithhimself.“Andasalad.”
“Wait.You’recooking?”
“No.Well,Ithoughtaboutit.IwenttoWholeFoods.HaveyoueverbeentoaWholeFoods?”
“Ihave.”
“It’snicerthantheStopn’Save.”
“Itis.”
“Well,theyhavealotofchicken.Ijuststoodtherelookingatalltherawchickensandkindoffreakedout.TwopeoplestoppedandtookmypicturewhileIwasstudyingthem.Ididn’tthinkIcouldfigureitoutwithoutyou,butdidyouknowtheysellchickensalreadycooked?Andsalad?”
Ilaugh.“Yes,Ididknowthis.Listen,whenyoucomeback,I’llwalkyouthroughroastingachicken.”
Leo’squietforasecond.“No,thanks.Ijustwantyoutoroastmeachicken.Idon’teverwanttoeatanotherchickenthatwasn’troastedbyyou.”
Mydesiretoputonanapronandroastthismanachickenisprofound.Idon’tevenownanapron.IjustwanthimtobecloseenoughtomethatIcanhandhimaplatewithchickenonit.“Okay,”Isay.“Lettonightbethelastnon-Norachickenyouevereat.”
???
Ican’twaittotalktohimonWednesdaynight,becauseI’mgoingtogettosay,“Seeyoutomorrow!”BernadetteandArthurareunusuallyupbeatatdinnerforthesamereason.Theybrushtheirteethandmovetheirbathroomstuffintomine,inpreparation.
Aroundnineo’clockIgetatextfromLeo:It’sallhittingthefan.Justgoogle“Bohai”andyou’llsee.Thestudio’sfiredhimandIneedtomeetthenewdirectortonight.GoodchanceI’mnotgoingtogettheretillFriday.I’lltextyouafterdinner?OrshouldIletyousleep?
Isay:That’sokay,textme.
AndImeanthatit’sokaytowakemeupbecauseI’drathertalktohimthansleep.IdonotmeanthatnotcominguntilFridayisokay.IwaketothesunriseandtwotextsfromLeo.Theycameinattwoo’clockandhadn’twokenme.
Leo:Hey.Toolatetocall?
Tenminuteslater:Gladyou’regettingsomesleep.Tonightwasalot,Iactuallylikethenewguybuttherearegoingtobetonsofchanges.There’snowayIgettherebeforeFriday.Sosorry.Loveyou.
Soit’snottoday.I’llwaitanotherday.What’sthebigdeal?Itellthekidsatbreakfast.“SoLeotextedmeinthemiddleofthenight.Theyhadtohireanewdirectorsohecan’tcometillFriday.”
“Igotthesametext,”saysArthurtohiseggs.
“See,”saysBernadette.“ThisiswhyIneedacellphone.It’snotfairthatLeotextsyouguysandnotme.I’mtotallyleftoutofthisfamily.”Thatlastwordgivesmepause.
“You’reeight,”Isay.“IfIboughtaneight-year-oldacellphonesoshecouldtextwithamoviestar,I’mprettysurethey’drunmeoutofLaurelRidge.”Ismileatherandgetaglareinreturn.
“Youthinkhe’llcomeFriday?”Arthurasks.Icantellhe’snervoustoaskit.
“Ofcourse!It’stheplay.Leo’slivingforthis.”Myvoicehasgonehigh-pitched,likeI’msellingsomething.Arthurgivesmeapinchedsmile.ThetruthisthatIhavenobusinessmakingpromisesaboutaschoolplayonbehalfofamanwho’sworkingonafilmwitha250-million-dollarbudget.Leohasreenteredsomethingthatisbiggerthanweare.I’velostmychancetomanageArthur’sexpectations,mainlybecauseIdon’twanttolookatthepossibilitythatLeowillbreakbothofourhearts.
Idon’thearfromLeoalldayThursday.IassumewhateveriskeepinghiminL.A.iskeepinghimbusy.He’sworkingwiththenewdirector.Therewassomethingaboutgettingfittedforaslightlydifferentcostumesituation.Iknowhe’sbusy,butwhenhehasn’tcalledbydinnertimetosaythosethreelittlewords,“Seeyoutomorrow!”Ifeelkindofsick.Myownselfishheartneedshimback.Morethanthat,IcannotbearthethoughtofhisdisappointingArthur.
IwakeFridaymorningtoseehetextedduringthenight:I’mreallysorry,there’snowayoutofhere.IfIleavethewholeprojectfallsapart.I’mnotsurewhenIcangetback.I’llcallyouwhenIcan.
IfeellikeI’vebeenpunchedinthegut.Besidesthepainofit,myoverwhelmingfeelingisthatIshouldnothaveletmyselfgetpunchedinthegut.Ihaveletdownmyguardinthemostepicway.Arthurisgoingtobedevastated.Frankly,thewholetownis.Thethoughtofwalkingintothatauditoriumtonighttoachorusof“Where’sLeo?”makesmewanttoscream.
Arthurfindsmeontheporchwithmycoffee.“Igotthetexttoo,”hesays.“Thissucks.”
“Itdoes,”Isayandputmyarmaroundhim.“Itreallydoes.Butyouaregoingtobesogreattonight,andthewholetowniscomingtocheeryouon.”
“Wedon’tneedhim.”Helooksatmehard,studyingmyface.“Areyouokay?”
“Ofcourse,”Isay,andwebothknowI’mlying.
“Youreyeslooklikeyouwerecrying,”hesays.
“Allergies,”Isay.
Hescootsclosertomeandtakesmyhandinhis.“Pleasebeokay,Mom.”AndIknowwhathemeans:I’mallhehas.
???
WearethirtyminutestillcurtainandIamscanningthecrowd,becausedeepdown,Iamstillaromancewriter.Iknowthisscene,I’vewrittenitthirty-fourtimes.Thecommercialbreakisover.Thisisthecommunityevent,andjustafterit’sgottenstartedandtheheroinehasmovedonandfoundawaytomanagealone,heappearsasifbymagic.He’shadanepiphanyandthisisthelifehewants.Chastekissandonwiththetownfair,soupkitchenopening,balletperformance.Fifth-gradeplay.
Kate’scoveringformebackstagesoBernadetteandIcansitinthethirdrowandwatch.Mrs.SasakiseemsthrilledtotakethecreditforLeo’sdirectorialdebut.Oliverisgood.Faginisgreat.I’mgratefulforthedarkwhenhesings“Youcangobutbebacksoon…”becausetherearetears.Bernadettetakesmyhand.
Intheendtherearestandingovations.Arthursmilesfromtheinside,asmilethattellsmethatheknowswhoheisandheknowshecandothings.Thebasictruthofparentingfillsmyheart:Ifyourkidsareokay,youdon’treallyhaveanyproblems.Iwillrelishthisfeeling.IwillkeepsqueezingBernadette’shand.
???
It’sFridaynightsothere’snohomeworkandnorushtobed.It’scoolenoughtolightafireandwesqueezetogetheronthesunroomcouch.Wehaven’tsatouthereinawhile,becausetherewouldhavebeennoroomforLeo.Nowthathe’sgone,everythingfeelssortofempty,sowegravitatetowardthesmallerspace.WereviewtheperformanceasifweareunbiasedandconcludethatFaginstoletheshow.TheyaresotentativewithmethatIrealizeIneedtosaysomethingaboutLeotobreakthetension.
“IbetLeo’sreallysorryhemissedtonight.Heworkedalmostashardasyoudid.”It’sanopening.
“I’msurehe’sfine,”Arthursays.“HecanordertheDVD.”Thismighttakeawhile.
WhenIgetintobed,myphonedings.Leo:How’ditgo?
Me:Hewasfantastic,stoletheshow.How’sitgoingthere?
Leo:It’schaos,butwe’remakingprogress.Ithinkit’sgoingtobeagoodmovie.
Ilie:That’sgreat!Sohappyforyou!
Leo:Thanks.Ihavetoheadouttodinner.ButIloveyouandIreallymissyou.
Me:Loveyoutoo.
Iamawashwithrelief.He’scomingback;helovesme.Idon’tneedtoactlikesuchababy.“Myboyfriendisawayforwork,”Isayoutloud.AndIlikethesoundofit.Imean,Ilivedwithamanwhorefusedtoworkforadecade,andnowI’mcomplainingthatthenewguyworkstoomuch?Comeon.Leo’sworkisahugepartofwhoheis,andthat’sgoingtobepartofourrelationship.Idecidethat“relationship”isaniceword,andIfallasleep.
Idon’thearfromhimonSaturday.Likethewholeday,nocallandnotext.Ireassuremyselfbyrereadingthetranscript.Helovesme,hemissesme.Idon’thearfromhimonSunday.It’stheweekend,Itellmyself.MaybepeopleinL.A.workontheweekend.ItoccurstomethatIcantexthim.
Me:Hey
Noreply.Istareatmyphoneandtrytocomeupwiththereasonshemightnotberesponding.Well,maybethey’vestartedfilmingalreadyandhe’sonset.Maybehe’souttobrunchwithhisagent.Maybehe’sswimminglapsinhisgiantpool.Withdeepbreaths,IremindmyselfI’mnotinmiddleschool.CHAPTER14
OnMonday,Igoforarunwithoutmyphone,surethatifIleaveitinthekitchen,IwillreturntomultiplemissedcallsfromLeo.Awatchedpotandallthat.Ifinishmyruninrecordtimeandamsurprised,maybegobsmacked,tofindthatI’dmissednothingatall.
ByMondaynight,thefeelofmyun-ringingphoneinmyhandistorture.MynewplanistoleavethephoneinthesunroomsothatIcanbepresentwithmykidsforhomework,dinner,WheelofFortune.Byremovingmyattention,Iwilltrickmyphoneintoringing.
IcheckitbeforeItakemykidsupstairs.Nothing.Ipunishmyphonebyleavingitinthesunroomwhileweread.Itpunishesmebackbynotringing.Itakeitwithmeoutontotheporchtowatchtheblacknessofthenight,andIfeeluniquelypowerless,asiftheentiretyofmyhappinessliesinsomeoneelse’shands.Idon’tknowwhereIlostmypower.Hewantedtostay.Hekissedme.Hesaidhelovedme.HowamIsuddenlyElizabethBennet,wanderingthemoorsandhopingMr.Darcyshowsup?
ThislastthoughtannoysmysensibilitiesenoughthatmyfingersdialLeo’snumber.MythroatistightasthecallconnectsandIhearthefirstring.He’sgoingtosay“hey”andexplainwherehe’sbeen.I’mgoingtoactcoolaboutit.Secondring,thirdring.Myheartsinkswhenthecallgoestovoicemail.Ilistenallthewaytotheend,justtohearhisvoice,beforeIhangup.
He’llseethatIcalledandcallmebackwhenhe’sfree.IgotobedwiththeringeronhighvolumesoIwon’tmissit.
???
OnTuesday,ItextKatetotellherhe’snotcomingback.She’satmydoorintenminutes.
I’mnotcryingwhenIopenthedoor.“Let’squittheusualcrapabouthowmaybehelosthisphoneorisstuckunderabus.There’snorealitywhereit’snormalthatapersonwhotextsmethreehoursanightafterspendingtheentiredaywithmejuststops.Unlesshe’sdecidedto.Andifhewasdead,itwouldbeinthenews.”
“Areyoudone?”Shepushespastmeandputsaboxofcookiesonthecounter.
“Probablynot.”Ipoursomecoffeeforeachofusandtakeacookie.“Ijustneedyoutobesensibleandhonestwithme.IfeellikeIcan’ttrustmyownmindrightnow.‘Iloveyou.Imissyou’andpoof?AtleastBenwashonestenoughtotellme.”
“Okay,sonowBen’sthemodelformalebehavior?”We’resittingatmykitchencounter,sidebyside,mugsinhand
“Tellmewhattothink,”Isay.
“Iagreeit’sweird.I’dbelesssurprisedifitsortofdwindledaway.Likefewer,shortertexts.‘Iloveyou’turnsto‘loveyou’turnsto‘ly.’Thatkindofthing.”
“That’sactuallywhatIthoughtwouldhappen.Theslowexit.Notlikeimmediateoutofsight,outofmind.Andhe’sinfreakin’L.A.,wherewomenhaveactualsuntansandhighlights.Staringatthatallday,it’shardtorememberwhyyouwereinlovewiththewomanwiththeunrulyhairandflowytops.”
“I’vebeenmeaningtotalktoyouaboutthat,”shekids.
Acarpullsupandmyheartisinmythroat.He’schangedhismind.He’sreturningmytextinpersontotellmehe’sgoingtostayanddirectchildren’stheaterfull-time.“Goseewhatitis,”Itellher,headinhands.
It’sacourier,askingKatetosignforanenvelopewithmynameonit.It’stoothicktobealoveletter,andIhatemyselfforlivinginoneofmyownscreenplays.Noonewriteslovelettersandhasthemhanddelivered.Iopenitandfindastackofhundred-dollarbillsandanotefromWeezie:Hey,Nora,Leosaysheowesyoubackrent.Thanksagainfortakingcareofhim.Here’shopingL.A.worksout!Weezie
Icountouttwenty-onethousanddollars.“OhmyGod.I’mbeingpaidoff.”Istarttocry,butthenI’msomadthatmytearsdryup.IexplaintoKatehowweagreedonseventhousanddollarsforsevendays.ButwhenhedecidedtostayandhelpArthur,Ihadnointentionofcharginghim.IwassleepingwithhimforGod’ssake.Whatdidthatevenmakethis?
IgrabmyphoneandKatestopsme.“Wait.Let’srehearsebeforeyougooffhalf-cocked.”
“I’mjusttextingWeezie,”Isay.ButmyheartisbeatingsofastthatIcan’ttype.“Youdoit.”Ihandhermyphoneanddictate:“Hey,Weezie!Hopeyou’regood!Thanksforthecash,butthatwaswaytoomuch.Iwasonlycharginghimforthefirstsevendays,soI’llhavetherestdroppedbacktoyou.Pleasesendaddress?Thanks!”
Kateshowsmethetexttoreview.“That’swaytoomanyexclamationpoints.Ilooklikeamaniac.”Shedeletesone,thentwo,andfinallywethinkwe’vestrucktherightmoodandshesends.
Immediatelytypingbubblesappear.Oh,wow.Imusthavemisunderstoodhistext.Okay,thanks!I’mshackedupathisplaceforIdon’tknowhowlong.Nexttextishisaddress,apenthouseonSixty-FifthStreet.
“Welldone.She’smatchedyouinexclamationpoints.Nowweneedtogetyourshittogether.”Kateurgesmetowardtheshowerandgoesouttoinspecttheteahouse.Shereturnswithtwoemptywineglassesandallofhisbedding.Icomedownstairstoweldryingmyhairandfindherfondlinghissheets.
“Sowhatdidyouwantmetodowiththese?AnychanceIcankeepthem?”
“Takethemdirectlytoyourcar.”
OnetimeinhighschoolmyboyfrienddumpedmeandmybestfriendEllenandIateicecreamuntilweweresick.Imadeoutwiththisguyfreshmanyearincollege,andwhenhenevercalledme,myroommateandIgotdrunk.AsIlookatKatenow,Ican’tthinkofanyself-destructivepastimethatwillmakemefeelbetter.I’mawarethatIamgoingtoneedallofmyreservestogetthroughthis.
“Whatareyougoingtotellthekids?”
“Theyknow.”AsIsayit,Irealizethatit’strue.Theyhaven’tmentionedhisnameindays.They’recarefularoundme,overlythoughtful.Wasn’tItheonewhowassupposedtobeprotectingthemfromanotherbrokenheart?“Maybetheyjustassumed.It’sBenalloveragain.”
???
OnWednesdaymorningIdropthekidsatschool,forcemyselftorun,andthensomehowfindmyselfinthecarheadedsouthonI-95towardthecity.Myintentionisbenign;Ineedtoreturnthemoneythatdoesnotbelongtome.Andinreturningthatmoney,IwillsetoffachainofeventswhereinWeezieashisproxywillhavetoinformhimthatthemoneyhasbeenreturned,triggeringthememoryofmeinLeo’smind.Hewillhavenochoicebuttostopwhatheisdoingandcallme.Nora,he’llsay,Imissyousomuch,andyourreturningthismoneyshowsmejustwhatagoodandtruepersonyouare.I’llbeonthenextflight…
Oh,also,I’vegonecompletelyinsane.MysecondreasonfordeliveringthismoneyisthatIdefinitelyneedachangeofscenery.Andby“changeofscenery”ImeanIneedtoseewherehelives.Somehowthiswillhelp,Itellmyself,comingtoseehiscitylifesothatIcanreleasehimtoit.Yes,thisisagreatidea.
IgetofftheFDRonSixty-ThirdStreetandheadwest.IfindaparkinggarageonSixty-FifthandLexingtonAvenueanddecidetostoptheresoIcanenterhisneighborhoodonfoot.AsIwalkwestthestreetsbecomelesscongested,thoughitalwaysfeelslikeit’sgarbagedayinManhattan.IcrossParkAvenueandlookbothways,upanddownthemedian.They’veplantedtulipsinredandyellow,andIstoptotakeaphoto.
WomenpassmeinheelsIcouldneverstandin.Ilookdownatmypeasanttop,jeans,andsandalsandthink,WhendidIturnintoCaroleKing?HisapartmentisbetweenMadisonandFifthAvenues.Thetownhousesthatlinebothsidesofthestreetareexquisitebrickandlimestonebuildings,andIhaveamomentaryfeelingthatIamtrespassing.Hisisaprewardoormanbuildinginthemiddleoftheblock.IloiterandwondernotforthefirsttimehowIgothere.
I’mwalkingintothebuildingthroughthenarrow,gildeddoorandthedoormanstandstogreetme.“MayIhelpyou,ma’am?”
“Yes,IhavesomethingforLeo.Vance.”Iindicatetheenvelopebutdon’tofferittohim.IrealizethatI’mnotreadytoleave.“IsWeeziehere?”
“Ibelieveso.MayIhaveyourname?”
“Nora.NoraHamilton.”HedialsandIamfullofregret.Idon’thaveanythingtosaytoWeezie,andthere’snoreasonforhertoknowIdroveninetyminutestoseeLeo’sapartment.
“Shesaystogorightup.JustpressPHintheelevatorontheleft.”
I’mgratefulit’snotoneofthoseelevatorswherethedoormanhastoridewithyoutooperatethething.IpressPHandtakeadvantageofthemirroredwallandlongridetocheckmyteethandmyoverallbearing.Teetharefine,butI’velostweightinjustthreedays,andIlookreallytired.
Thedooropensintoasmallfoyerwithamarbletableandanumbrellastand.There’sonlyonedoortoknockonandit’salreadyopen.“Nora!Thisissofun!Whatareyoudoinghere?”Weezieisinherpajamasandhasabagelinherhand.“Comein.Comein.”
“I’mreallysorrytodropinlikethis,butIhadanappointmentinthecitysoIthoughtI’ddropoffthemoneyinperson.”Everythingismarbleandcream.Couchesandchairsarearrangedsothatconversationswon’tlastmorethantwentyminutes.Thereisnoplacetogetcozy.Iscanthespaceforapersonalphotograph.Thisplacebelongstonoone.
“Whatkindofappointment?”she’saskingme.
“Hair,”Isaytooquicklyandnowshe’slookingatmine,whichhascertainlynotjuststeppedoutofthesalon.“ImeanI’mgoingtoanappointment.Gottadosomethingaboutthishair,right?”
“Ithinkyoulookgreat.KindaCaroleKing.”OhmyGod.“Itmustfeelsogoodtohaveyourhousebacktoyourself,especiallyafterasurprisehouseguest.”Weezierollshereyesandmotionsmeintothekitchen.“Coffee?”
“Sure,”Isay,becauseIwanttoseehiscoffeemugs.Shehandsmeawhitemugthat’sstraightoutofahotelrestaurant.“Thisplaceisreallystark.DoesLeospendalotoftimehere?”
“Ha.Hehatesittoo.Naomi’sdecoratordidthewholethingwhiletheywereinSaintBart’sinJanuary.Hesaid‘surpriseme!’andshereallydid.NaomiloveditbutLeokeptsayinghedidn’tknowwheretosit.Stilldoesn’t.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”isallIcansay.
“Hejustdidn’tgrowuplikethis;helikesthingsalittlemorehomey.”
“No,ImeanaboutNaomi.Whyweretheyawaytogether?Filming?”
“No,beingmadlyinlove.That’sLeoforyou.Hefallshard,andthenhe’soutjustasfast.Naomiwasactuallyanexceptionbecauseshedumpedhim.I’msurehetoldyou.ThirddayofTheTeaHouseshoot.”
“Isee,”Isay,becauseIdo.Ireallydo.“Thatexplainswhyhewaskindofadrunkmessduringtherestofthefilming.”IgivealittlelaughtoshowthatIfindthissortofjuvenilebehavioramusing.
“Well,heowesyoualot.Seemslikealittlequiettimeinthecountryscrewedhisheadonstraight,andnowhe’sstarringinthehighestbudgetfilmofhislifetime.”
“Isitstillon?”
“Yeah,Ishouldhavesaid.Theystartfilmingweekafternext.”
I’vegottogetmyselfoutofthisroom.Ichugmycoffee,whichishotandburnsmythroat,andsay,“Well,goodlucktobothofyou.I’vegottogetthishairtakencareof,alittlelessCaroleKingandlittlemoreNaomiSanchez,ifyouknowwhatImean.”Iamtalkingtoofastandbeingtooglib.Igrabmybagandgiveheraquickhug.“Takecare.”
“Ohno,”Weeziesays,andIstop.“You’reinlovewithhim.”
I’maprettygoodliar.Icanfakemywaythroughalotofuncomfortablesocialsituations.Heck,mysister’saNewYorksocialite.I’vefakedmywaythroughdinnerswithherfriendswheretheycomplainabouthowtheirnanniesinsistongettingpaidonholidays.Butinthismoment,Icannotmuster,“Oh,don’tberidiculous.”I’msoraw,andthethoughtofspillingittosomeonewhomighthavesomeinsightisirresistible.
“Iam.”
“Ohno,”shesaysagain.“Didyou…?”
“Yes.Andhetoldmehelovesme,aboutathousandtimes.Icanproveit,”Isay,holdingmyphoneup.“Hecouldn’tgotwohourswithoutseeingme,touchingme,textingmefromahundredyardsaway.AndnowIhaven’theardfromhimsinceFriday.”
Weezielookscrestfallen.“I’mreallysorry.That’snothisusualMO,atleastnotasfarasIknow.Noneofthemevertoldmehe’dsaidhelovedthem.”Noneofthem.
“Sohe’snotinjailorlosthisphoneorinthehospitalwithamnesia,”Ioffer.
“Nope.There’sgottobesomethingreallyweirdgoingonhereifhe’sghostingyou.”
IhugWeeziebecauseI’msupremelygratefulthatshe’sbeenhonestwithme.ThelastthingIneedissomeonefeedingmefalsehopethroughamorphinedrip.Ineedtofacetheverysimplefactshereandmoveon.
Theelevatoriswaitingforme,thankGod.Betterstill,therearesunglassesinmypurse.Ismiletothedoormanandheadoutintomiddaysun.Iamafool.It’sallsocleartomenowthatIdon’tknowhowItwistedmymindtoavoidit.Imusthavebeenhavingapost-divorcepsychoticbreak.I’veletmyselfslipintooneofmyidioticfantasystories.
Facts:LeowassleepingwithNaomiSanchez.MenwhosleepwithwomenlikeNaomiSanchezdon’tfallinlovewithwomenlikeme.Iwasawomanwithawelcoming,homeyhouse.Iwasaplacewherehestoppedforawhiletorecover.He’shadfourdaystocallandhehasn’t.Heusedmoneytoassuagehisguilt.Iwasaplacetorestsothathewouldbeintherightstateofmindtoriseupandscorethebiggestmovieofhiscareer.IsuddenlyregretreturningthemoneyCHAPTER15
Ispendtheweektryingtoreclaimmyhouse.Istartwiththesunrise,whichItrytoenjoybutmostlycrythrough.Ifindbrightgreenbeddingfortheteahouseandforcemyselftositatthetableforanhouraday.Idon’twrite.HowdidIletthismanstopbyforthreeweeksandstealmyheart,myhouse,andmycareer?
SometimesIcan’tbreathe.LikeIwalkintoaspaceweoncesharedandthesoundofhisvoicearrestsme.Icanhearhisvoicesayingsomethingthatmustnotbetrue.I’lljuststandthere,struckbythepainofit.Mymindchasesitstail—hesaidhelovedmeandhewascomingbackandhe’snotcallingandhehadathirdpartysendcashbuthesaidhelovedmeandhewascomingback.
Schoolpickupisaslowdeath,thirtyminutesatatime.ItrytoarrivealittlebitlatesoIdon’thavetosaythesethings:Yes,it’sexcitingaboutthemovie.No,Ihaven’theardfromhim.I’mfine,really.
Katemovesmearoundlikeshe’smyhandler,throwingherbodybetweenmeandanyparticularlyoffensivecomments.I’mrawandexposed.Iunderstandwhatthatmeansnow;IfeellikeIdon’thaveskin.Ishouldneverhavebeenoutwithhiminpublic.Icouldhavekeptthistomyself.Ididn’tneedtokisshimattwoP.M.inthemiddleoftown.
PeoplefeltbadformewhenBenleft,butnoonereallylikedhim.NoonereallythoughtIwashappyeither.TohaveseenmewithLeo,probablygrinninglikealovesickkid,theymusthaveseenthiscoming.LeoVanceisn’tgoingtostayinLaurelRidgewiththatwomanforever.She’ssettingherselfupforafall.Realorimagined,Weknewit!iswhatIseeontheirfaces.Everyonebutmesawthiscoming.
Idon’tknowwhereKateiswhenIfindmyselfonthereceivingendofVickyMiller’spoutyface.IhavetogiveBencredit,shereallyisaveryattractivewoman.Blondandfitandnicelymaintained.“Iheard,”shesays.
“Oh,”Isay,lookingoverhershoulderforawayout.She’ssteppingclosertomeandtomyhorrorherarmsarereachingouttopullmeintoahug.Thethoughtofitisunbearable.“Wait.You’renotgoingtotouchme,areyou?”
“Ofcourse.Ijustwanttogiveyouahug.Ifeelterrible.”
“Becauseyousleptwithmyhusband?OraboutLeo?”That’showrawIam.Idon’tcarewhoontheplaygroundknows.Idon’tcareifIseemalittlecrazy.AllIknowisthatifthiswomantouchesmewithherself-pity,Iwilldie.
“Nora,”Vickysaysinthemostmaddeningway,acousinof“calmdown.”
Kateswoopsinfromwherevershe’sbeenslackingoffandlinksherarminminetodragmeaway.“Sheknows,”shesaystoVickyoverhershoulder.“Everyoneknows,andwethinkyou’regross.”
Thismakesmesmileasshemaneuversmetotheotherendoftheblacktop.“Gross?”Isay.“That’slikethekidinschoolwhoeatshisboogers.”
“Givemeabreak,”shesays.“I’mnewtothis.”
“You’reagoodegg,”Isay.
“Ihavetotellyousomething,”shesays.Andshe’snervous.
“Tellmeyou’repregnant,”Isay.
“No.I’vebeenpaidofftoo.ByLeo.”
It’sreallyhotontheblacktopandIamfeelinghazy.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“IgotachecktodayforReadySetforahundredthousanddollarsfromLeoVance’sCharitableTrust.”Shegivesmeasecondtohearit.“AndIknowhe’sthedevilandheusesmoneytoeasehisguiltforbeingatotalcreep,butthatmoneycouldhelpmedoublethereachofmyprogramoverthenexttwoyears.Like,itcouldchangeeverything.”
“Whatiswrongwithhim?”Isay,repeatingmyfavoriterhetoricalquestion.
“Soyouwantmetoreturnit?”Katelookslikeshe’sabouttostartbegging
“Sorry.No,ofcoursenot.Keepthemoney,that’samazing.Ijustdon’tknowhowaguywhohasthetimetocallhischaritabletrustandinitiateadonationdoesn’thavetimetoreturnmytextandsay,‘Heysorry,I’mout.’?”
“Atleasthefeelsguilty;like,atleastheknowshe’sajerk,”shesays.
“Idon’tknow.Ididn’tthinkIcouldfeelworse.ButLeofeelingsorryformeissortofnext-levelbad.”
???
Whenschool’soutinJune,Idecidetotakemykidsuptomyparents’houseintheAdirondacksfortwoweeks.WhenmyparentsmovedoutofChestervilleandmydadsoldhispool-cleaningbusiness,heinsistedtheyretireonalake.Allthatwatertoswimin,hesaidtoanyonewhowouldlisten,andnoonehastocleanit.
I’vepaidthismonth’smortgageandtaxes,mycreditcardsarepaidoff,andIhave$8,329inthebank.Iamnotreadytogobackintotheteahousetowrite.MaybeI’llbeabletowritesomethingsomeplaceelse.Ialsohopethatwithmyparentsasadistractionformykids,Imightbeabletofallapartalittle.
Myparentsmakeeverythingseemeasy.Mymomtoldmeonce,“Thesecrettoahappymarriageisthatyougiveahundredandtenpercenttohimandhegivesahundredandtenpercenttoyou.”Inspiteofthemaddeningmathematicalimpossibilityofthisstatement,Ialwayslikedthesoundofit.Myparentsarelikeacoupleofcartoonmagpies,alwaysofferingthemselvesuptoeachother.Theywerehighschoolsweethearts,andsheworkedasanannywhilehestartedhispool-cleaningbusiness.Everythinghehas,hecreditstoher.Andviceversa.
It’spossiblethatgrowingupwatchingthefantasyofthismarriageiswhatmakeswritingromancemoviessoeasy.Myparentsmakemebelievethatsomepeoplereallyaremadeforeachotherandthatajoyful,easymarriageispossible.Twopeoplewholoveeachotherandarelookinginthesamedirectioncanbuildawonderfullife.I’vecaughtmyselfusingmyparents’gesturesandquirksinmovies,makingmewonderifthey’retheprototypecoupleIkeeptweakingoverandoveragain.
PennyandRickhavetheirownhigh-poweredversionofthispartnership,thoughI’veneverreallywitnessedthejoyinit.Theybothgiveahundredandtenpercent,andthey’refocusedonthesamethings.Theyjustdon’tseemallthatfocusedoneachother.Igotmarriagehalfright.IgaveahundredandtenpercentandBengavenothing,leavingusatanaverageofjustfifty-fivepercent,whichisafailinprettymuchanyone’sbook.
Atthecabin,mydadtakesmykidsoutintheboateverymorningtowater-skiandrideinnertubes.Arthurdoesn’tleavemydad’sside,likehethinkshe’sthelastmanintheworld.Whichhemaybe.
Intheafternoonsweplaycardsandnapandtalkaboutdinner.Itakewalksandcry,butit’slessrawhere.It’sactuallyaLeo-freezone.Noonementionshim,andIdon’thavetowalkthroughtheroomwherehekissedmeforthefirsttime.Idon’thavetoseethepityinMr.Mapleton’seyeseverytimeIneedvacuumcleanerbags.
OrtherageinMickey’s.Mickeyhastakenthiswholethingpersonally,likehehimselfwasseducedbyLeoandthenabandoned.“Hesaidhewasstaying,”hesays,incredulous.“HewasgoingtobuytheBigGreenEggandweweregoingtocookribs.”ThoseribswereMickey’sforever.Itotallygetit.Wewereallduped.
MomandIareinthekitchencleaningupthedinnerdishes,whilemydadandthekidstaketheirfoodcomastotheTVroom.“You’reawfullythin,”shestarts.
“AmI?”
“It’snotahappythineither.What’sgoingon?”
“Nothing.Thesame.Mayberunningtoomuch.”
“NowordfromBen?”
“He’snotcomingback,Mom.”
“Whatanasshole,”shesays,andwebothlaugh.Mymomsavesherswearsforspecialoccasions.
“Idon’tmisshim,”Isay.“I’mreallymuchhappierwithouthim.”
“That’sgood.Andalltheexcitementwiththemovieandthatmoviestarstayingwithyou,thatmusthavebeenarealpick-me-up.”
“Yeah,itwassomething.”
“Mom!It’sLeo!”BernadettescreamsfromtheTVroom,andIdroptheglassI’mdrying.
MomandIrunover,andthereheisonTMZ,walkingoutofaclubwithNaomi,hisarmaroundhershoulders.Ican’tlookaway,butIcanfeelmymomwatchingme.“Ohdear,”shesays.
Thenextdayshewantstohike.“Tellme,”shesaysbeforewe’reevenoutofthedriveway.
“Longversionorshortversion?”
“I’vegotallthetimeintheworld,”shesays.
“IthinkIonlyhavetheenergyfortheshortversion.Wehadthisbigromance,likereallybig.Hegotcalledawaytofilmamovie,andIhaven’theardfromhimsince.Andclearly,he’snotdead.”
“Thatsoundslikesomekindofafantasy,likesomethingPennywouldhavecookedup.”
“Ifyou’retryingtosayitdoesn’tsoundlikeme,Icouldn’tagreemore.It’slikeIsufferedtemporaryinsanity.”
“Sometimesthat’swhatloveis,”shesays.
???
Pennyarrivesthenextdaywithherfamily,andasIwatchthemfileoutofhersquareofaMercedesG-Wagon,twoadultsfollowedbytwomatchingchildren,anothersquare,Iamacutelyawarethatmyfamilyisatriangle.
Mykidsappearoutofnowhereandthrowthemselvesintothetwins.EthanandMaxwellarenineandslideinperfectlybetweenArthurandBernadette.Wheneverhe’swithhiscousins,Arthurbecomesalmostmanly.Heconcoctsfeatsofstrengthasgames,andIsuspectit’sbecausethey’retheonlykidshe’severknownwhoarelessathleticthanhe.Asaresult,PennythinksArthur’skindofrough,whichcracksmeup.
“Hey,Pen.Hey,Rick,”Isay,huggingthemboth.Pennyholdsmeforanextrafewbeatstoconveyherloveandsupportandsympathyforhowpatheticmylifeis.Iamgratefultoreceivethesentimentwithouthavingtohearthewords.RickpointstohisAirPodsindicatingthathe’sonacall.Rick’sprettymuchalwaysonacall.
“You’rethin,”Pennysays,puttingherarmaroundmeandleadingmeawayfromRick.
“I’veheard.”
“Sonoword?”
“Notaone,”Isay.
“Ifyouwant,youcanletthisgo,”shesays.“BecauseIhatehimenoughforbothofus.”Pennyisfierce,andmywholelifeIhavelovedhavingheronmyside.Iwanttoborrowherhatredandinjectitintomyheart.AngerwouldfeelbetterthanwhatI’mfeeling.
Thekidsareallgoingtobunkupintheloft,andthey’verunuptheretonegotiatebeds.Igrabsomebeersandwesettleinonthedeck,watchingtheboatsgoby.Justtwosummersago,duringthisweek,Benwaswithus.Myfamilywasasquaretoo.HewasslightlyhostiletoRickthewholetime,fornoreasonthatIcoulddiscern,exceptforthefactthatRickisrichandpayswhenwegoouttodinner.That’sactuallymyfavoritethingaboutRick.
Penny’sinitialenthusiasmaboutBenandhisfamilyfadedasshegottoknowhim.Benwasnevershyaboutbelittlingmyworkinfrontofotherpeople,almostasifhewashopingtobuildaconsensusabouthowpointlessitwas.SheandRickgotexcitedhearingabouthisfirstcoupleofbusinessventures,butthenjustgotsortofquietoverthenextdozen.Thelasttimethefourofushaddinner,BendronedonaboutanapphewasgoingtodevelopwithaChineseguyhemetonline.“You’resureluckyyouhaveNora,”Ricksaidashesignedthecheck.
Besidesthatmoment,I’veneverreallylikedRick,ormoreaccurately,I’veneverbeenabletoseehishumanity.Likehe’sformalwithhiskids,politetomyparentsandme.HetreatsPennylikeabusinesspartner,likethey’reboardmembersoftheirfamilyunit.Whilethispartoftheirmarriagedoesn’texactlysweepthisromancewriteroffherfeet,Iknowthatatthecoreoftheirmarriageisanunshakablemutualrespect.Noeyerolling,nosarcasm.Still,I’vealwayshadthefeelingI’dlikeRickmoreifIsawhimcryorthrowup.
Rickfinishessendinganemailandsurveysusall,asifrememberingwhereheis.“So,Nora,how’sHollywoodtreatingyou?Bigtime,right?”
“Yeah,wellwe’llsee.ThemoviecomesoutinOctober;Ihopepeoplelikeit.”
“So’dyougetatwo-moviedealoranything?What’snext?”
“Nope.ButIwasthinkingaboutasecondbeer,”Isay,lookingtomymomtochangethesubject.
Pennygetsexcited.“Youknowwhatyoushoulddonow?”Ohbrother.“Youshouldwriteanepicallyromantic,big-screenlovestory.Likeafantasyromance,withsceneslikethosetwopaddlingthroughtheraininTheNotebook.Likethekindwe’dcryallthewaythrough.”
“I’mnotsureI’mcutoutforthat,”Isay.
“Justthinkofthemostromanticmomentofyourlifeandbuildastoryaroundit.Thisiswhatyoudo.Itdoesn’tneedtobeformulaic,justmakeitreal.”
There’ssomethingaboutPenny’suseoftheword“just”thatalwaysremindsmehowmucheasierherlifeisthanmine.It’snotonlyhermoneyandhersupportivehusband.Pennyispronetodoingwithoutoverthinking.Justhireacleaninglady.Justmeetsomeoneelse.Justwhipupanothermovie.Butinthisinstance,she’sontosomething.Icanfeelittinglingonthetopofmyhead.WhatifIcouldwritethestoryofLeoandme?Whatifbywritingit,Icouldberidofit,stopruminatingonit?WhatifIcouldwritemywayoutofthishole?
???
AftertheFourthofJulywearebackinLaurelRidgeandsettledintotheslowsoupyroutineofsummer.Arthurhasturnedelevenandissleepinglater,leavingBernadetteandmetoourmorningroutines.Bernadettehasanall-daysoccercampthatstartsatnine.Arthurhasanactingcampthatstartsatnoon.Ihavetimeformyrunbetweendrop-offs,butthereisnorealtimetosettleinandwrite.
Idecidenottofightthesituation,togivemyselfarealsummervacationfromwork.I’llbebrokebytheendofSeptember,andI’llprobablyhavetorunupalittledebtbeforeIsellanotherTRCmovie.Thethoughtofgoingbackintoanydebtatallmakesmefeellikemyhairhasbeensetonfire,butthethoughtofgoingbackintotheteahouse
Evenjuststandingatthesunroomwindowandseeingthosegorgeoushydrangeaateithersideoftheteahousedoor,theonesthatLeoisnot,infact,hereinJulytosee,istoomuchforme.It’sridiculousbutIlookatthemandseealie:HedidnotwaitaroundtoseewhatwouldbloominJuly;hedidnotstay.Bernadettelikestocutthemandbringthemintothehouse,whichisnormallythejoyofoursummer,openwindowsandgiantbluehydrangeacoveringeverysurface.ThisyearIsuggestsheputthemallinherroom.
Iconsidertryingtowriteatthelibrary,butthetruthisI’mnotreadytowriteatall.I’mnotreadytomakelightofloveaffairsandheartbreak.Icertainlycan’tseemyselfmovingtowardahappyending.IknowthatIneedtobuildmyworldbackuparoundme.MyschedulewasmyarmorandIneedtoreconstructit.IneednewroutinessothatIdon’tseeLeoeverytimeIroastachicken.Plentyofpeopledon’troastchickens,andIwillbeoneofthem.
I’mnotentirelyfocusedonself-improvement.Duringthequiethourswhenbothofmykidsaregone,IcurluponthecouchandwatchDr.Philorrealityshowsaboutpeoplewhohaveitworsethanme.Theideahere,Itellmyself,isthatitwillhelpmefeelbetteraboutmylife.AtleastIdidn’tsendmylifesavingstoafakeonlineboyfriend.At
AtnightIgetinbedandscrollthroughhisInstagramaccount.Iknowhedoesn’tposthisownstuff;Idon’teventhinkhehasInstagramonhisphone.ButwhoeverhisagenthiredtoentertainLeo’sthirtymillionfollowershastobegettinghisphotosfromsomewhere.TherearephotosfromthesetofMegaMan,afewfromaroundhishouseinL.A.Leo’shairislonger.Leo’swearingpastelsnow.There’sahappybirthdayposttoNaomi,acandidshotofthetwoofthemonthesetofTheTeaHouse.IzoominonLeoforcluesastowhoheis.Oneofthesenightstherewillbeaphotoofhimthatrevealsatraceofmaliceor,better,heartacheonhisface,anditwillallmakesensetome.
There’sonephotoofthesunsetthatIswearhedidn’ttake.Idon’tknowhowIknowthis,butIjustknowitisn’thowhewouldhavecapturedit.Thisthoughtsetsmeback.ItbothersmethatIknewhimsowell.ItbothersmethatIcanjumprightbackintohisheadandknowwhathe’dthink,whenIactuallyhavenoideawhoheisnow.Maybehedidtakethatphoto,Ithink.Maybethat’showheseesthingsnow.IvowtodeleteInstagramfrommyphoneinthemorning.Idon’tdeleteInstagram.
MykidsandIarecarefulwithoneanother.Theydon’tknowhowtotalkaboutthissituationwithLeo,andIsuspectit’sbecausetheydon’tknowwhatitwas.Alltheyknowisthateverythingfeelsdifferentwithouthim,especiallyme.ItrytobringLeoupinpassingtokeephimfrombeingsuchaloadedtopic.Itrytotalkabouthimasathingthathappened,alittleexcitement,butnotathingthatwearebringingintothefuture.
Arthur’scampisputtingonaproductionofWestSideStorytobeperformedforthewholetowninmid-August.Hecan’tstandthedirector.“It’slikehedoesn’tknowanythingaboutacting.He’sagymteachertherestoftheyear.Allheeverdoesistelluswheretostand.”Themainproblemwiththisguy,Isuspect,isthathe’snotLeo.
Idecidetotaketheopening.“That’sdisappointing.Butitwasprettyunusualthatyouhadarealmoviestardirectingyourlastplay.”
“Iguess.”Arthurlooksoutthecarwindow.
Itryagain.“Goodthingyoudidn’tpromiseLeoyou’dneverpursueacting.Seemslikeit’sstartingtobeyourthing.”
“Yeah,likeLeo’ssobigonpromises.”CHAPTER16
It’sSeptember,andI’mback.ThisiswhatItellmyself.I’dallottedmyselfalazyperiodofmourning,andnowit’sover.Iamalmostcompletelyoutofmoneyso,effectively,IhaveconstructedasituationwhereIwillbeforcedtowritetosurvive.IevenspenttwohundreddollarsIprobablyshouldn’thavehostingabigLaborDaybarbecueinthebackyard.Itwasworthit.Isetupthebaronthetableintheteahouse,andpeoplewanderedinandout,cleansingit.Someonespilledamargaritaonthefloor,andIalmostsaid,Thankyou.Thebestantidotetooldmemoriesisnewones.
Atsunriseonthefirstdayofschool,Ivowtostaysnappedoutofit.TodayIwillreturntomypre–TheTeaHouseself,andIwillwrite.I’malittletan;I’mmynormalweight.I’mevendoingsomeoftherunsLeoandIdidtogether,thoughIhaven’tbeentothebirdsanctuary.I’mnotinsane.
WhenIwalkouttotheteahouse,thedoorisclosed.Thishastoworktoday,soIopenthedoor,justthewayIlikeit,andgobackintomyhousetostartagain.Imakeafreshmugofteaandre-sharpenmypencils.Iapproachtheteahouseandthatoldfeelingisthere.It’sacombinationofinspirationandmotivation.It’smagic,andI’mabouttoenteranotherworld.Isetmythingsdownjustsoandbuildthefire.
Hairinaknot,Iopenmylaptopandbegintotype.IpromisedJackieI’dhaveacompletescriptforTRCbyOctober1,whichreallyshouldn’tbeaproblem.IwritethestoryofamaleactorfromManhattanwhogoesouttoanoldcountryhousetofilmamovieandfallsinlovewiththewomanwholivesthere.Theybuttheadsforawhile,butthenhestepsinandhelpswiththeschoolplay.Onthedayoftheplayhe’ssuckedbackintohisownworld,buthasachangeofheartandreturnsasthecurtainrises.There’sachastekissasthecamerapullsback.
I’mlightwhileIwriteit,andasIdoso,IunderstandwhyIwrite.Towriteistore-createsomethingasyou’dlikeittobe.Icanfiltermyheartbreakthroughthegiddyweightlessnessofanafternoonromancemovie,andsuddenlyit’ssilly.It’spracticallytrite.Mybigloveaffairisaneighty-minutevehicleforsellingtamponsandlifeinsurance.
Hefindsherschedulesadorable.Sheshowshimthesimplepleasureofthesunrise.Hesharesthathiscoldpenthouseapartmenthasnoviewatall,evenbeingsoclosetothepark.Thefirstkissisinterrupted,pernormal.Theybothchangeforthebetter.
Tellingmyselfthisstoryinthiswayconfirmsthatitwasn’treal.Itwasafantasy,somethingIshouldrecognizebecauseI’minthefantasybusiness.Allofthatintensityandlovenonsensewasnewtome,buttoLeoitwasjustthedramathathebringstoapart.AndI’llhandittohim,he’sapro.Inreality,Iwaslivingaboilerplatemovie,assimpleasMadLibs.IdecideI’llprobablyfinishthisoneinthreedays,becausesomuchofitiswrittenforme.Easymoney,IthinkasIliedownformynap.
IwaituntilSeptember20tosendittoJackie,mainlybecauseIdon’twanthertoknowhowfastIwroteit.Ialwaysthinkshe’llnegotiateformoremoneyifshethinksitwasawholemonth’swork.Idon’twaituntilOctober1,mainlybecauseIdon’twanttoputanentiremortgagepaymentonmycreditcard.
Shecallsmeduringdinnerthreedayslater.“Soyoufellinlovewithhim?”
“Who?”I’mjustbuyingtimeasItakemyphoneouttothefrontporchsoIcanhavethisconversationinprivate.
“Leo!Nora,I’mnotanidiot.”
“That’sfunny,becauseIam.”
“Justwow.Isitalltrue?”
“Sortof.Butinreallifetherewasalotofsex,andhedidn’tcomeback.”Iregretnotbringingmywineglassoutsidewithme.
“I’mreallysorry.Theagonyofitcomesacrossonthepage.”
“No,itdoesn’t.”Isitupstraight,defensive.“IdeliberatelywroteitRomanceChannelstyle—lowemotionalstakesandquickresolutions.”
“No,youdidn’t.Andbesidestheend,whichfeelstotallyfalse,thisisanotherfantasticscript.Here’smyplan,I’mgoingtotellTRCyouhavethefluandpushoffthatdeadline.ThenI’mgoingtowaituntilthefirstreviewsofTheTeaHousecomein,maybeOctober5.Ifthey’reasgoodasIhopetheyare,I’mgoingtosellthisforamilliondollars.”
“Wait.What?”
“IthinkTheTeaHouseisgoingtobehuge,Oscarhuge.Peoplearegoingtowantyournextscriptandthisoneispowerful.Justfixtheend.”
I’msoconfusedwhenIgetoffthephonethatIgogetmywineglassandthebottleandcomebacktotheporch.ItsoundslikeIneedtorereadwhatIsenther,maybeitwasn’taslightasI’dthought.HavingafilmproducedabouthowIreallyfeltaboutLeowouldbeepicallyhumiliating.Havingamilliondollarswouldbeepicallyrelaxing.
Andthenthere’sthetroublewiththeend.Youcan’tendamoviewithawomanjuststaringatherun-ringingphone,periodicallycheckingonherdangling“Hey.”Thereisnosetupthatallowsforhimtocomebackorforhertosaveface.Hejustleftandnevercalledagain.Hesentmoneyforchrissake.No,I’dreworkthebulkofthescriptandpullallthefeelingoutofit.I’dgiveheradogandthey’dwalkthedogalottogether.Maybeshecouldhaveasecretdreamtostartacupcakeshop.IcouldtakethisnightmareandturnitintoaTRCmovieyet.
Ispendaweekpullingmyheartoutofthatscript.Thedialogue,Ihadn’tnoticed,wasrealconversationswe’dhad.Ireplacethemwithreflectionsontheirhopesanddreams—hehadalwayswantedtotrywoodworking.She,withthecupcakeshop.Longgazes,quickbrushingofhands.Imakeherchildrenidenticaltwingirlsandgivethemallthebestlines.Iaddasetofparentswhoareappropriatelyhelpfulingivingadvice,butonlywhenasked.
IttakesJackieonedaytogetbacktome.“Whatthehellisthis?”
“It’stheTRCversionofmystory.Completewithadogandcupcakes.”
“Soyou’dratherhavetwenty-fivethousanddollarsthanamillion?You’drathergiveupthismomentwhereyouareabouttobecomeamajorlysought-afterHollywoodwriterthanjusttellthetruth?”
Thiswoundsmealittle.Iliketothinkofmyselfastruthful.ItfeltgoodtowriteTheTeaHousebecauseitmeantsomethingandexploredthegrayareasofmylife.Butsharingthatstorycostmenothing,IcameoutvictoriousintheendbecauseIsurvivedBen’sleaving.AndIsurvivedsowellbecauseIwassosickofhim.Thewholepointofthestoryisthatsometimespeopleleaveanddon’ttakeanythingwiththem.Leotookpracticallyeverythingwithhim.
Hetookthesunrise.Hetooktheteahouse.Nowhe’sgoingtotakemymillionbucks.IthinkofLeoputteringaroundinhisBelAirmansionwithNaomi,maybeplanningapost-shoottripsomeplacetropical.IthinkofmycreditcardbalanceandtheuglyfactthatArthur’sdefinitelygoingtoneedbraces.“Okay,”Itellher.“Howaboutthis?Keepthisshinycupcakeversionincaseweneedit.LetmeseeifIcancomeupwithanendingtotheotherone.”
“Really?I’msohappy!”Icanhearthecashregisterringinginhermind.IcanalsoseethecashadvanceI’mgoingtohavetotakeonmyeighteenpercentAPRcreditcardtomakemyOctobermortgagepayment.“Let’stryformid-October.ThefilmopensOctoberthird,sothat’swhenthebuzzwillstartandwe’llhavesomeideahowit’sgoingtodo.Andyou’llbeexpectedattheNewYorkopening.Iforgetwhereitis,butI’llsendthattoyou.”
“I’mnotgoingtothat.”
“Nora.Thisisyourtime.You’vewrittenareallypowerfulscriptandyoudeservetowalktheredcarpetandenjoyit.Don’tlethimtakethatfromyou.”
Iresolvenottodecide.TomorrowI’llstartreworkingthetruescript,theversioncalledSunrise,nottheonecalledCountryLove.Iliketheideaofbeingaseriouswriterandmakingrealmoney.IliketheideaofflyingouttoHollywoodto,well,Idon’tevenknowwhattheydooutthere.I’dneedhighlightsanddifferentclothes,andthatfeelsgoodtoo.AslongasIcankeepgettingmentoleaveme,I’llbeahugesuccess.Shouldn’tbeaproblem.
Mykidsarearguinginthelivingroom.There’sanissuewiththeXbox,andIdecidenottoengage.“Let’sallgoupandbrushteeth,”Isay.
“Fine,”theysaytogether,scowling.
WhenI’vetuckedBernadettein,IfindArthurinbed.Atthesqueakofhisbedroomdoor,he’safrenzyofsheetsandsomethingishiddenunderthecovers.“Ohhey,Mom,”hesaysinavoiceIdon’tknow.
It’sporn,Ithink.Howcanthisbehappening?He’sinthesixthgrade,hebarelyhashaironhislegs.Ihavenomaninthehousetotalkwithhimaboutthis,andIcertainlydon’tknowwheretostart.Fortheactualfirsttime,IkindofwishBenwashere.
Isitdownonthesideofhisbedandgivehimahug.“What’sunderthecovers?”
“Nothing.”
“It’snotnothing.Youhadsomething.Thisisnothingtobeashamedaboutbutwedoneedtotalkaboutit.Wheredidyougetit?”
Arthurlooksathishands.Helooksatme.Hestartstosaysomethingbutcan’t.
“Sweetie,it’sokaytobecurious.Butthisisn’ttheway.Where’dyougetit?”
“Leo,”hesays,andmyheartstops.
Rageisbeginningtospreadthroughmychestwhenhepulls“it”outfromunderhiscoversandhandsittome.It’safirsteditioncopyofOliverTwist.“Oh,”Isaywithalaugh.“Well,that’snice.Wait,whendidhegiveyouthis?”
“Hesentit.Inthemail.Atthebeginningofthesummer.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
Arthurwaitsaneternitybeforeanswering.“BecauseIthoughtitwouldmakeyousad.”
“Oh,sweetie.”Irunmyhandsoverhistoo-longhair.Itouchhistoo-young-for-pornface.“Youdon’tneedtoworryaboutme.I’mhappyyougotsuchanicepresent.”
“Therewasanote.”Hethinksbeforeasking,“Doyouwanttoreadit?”
Ithinkbeforeanswering,“Yes.”
DearArthur,
Mrs.SasakisentmetheDVDofopeningnight,andI’vewatchedittwicealready.Younailedit,everysingleline,everysinglesong.Idon’tthinkthatIcouldhavehadsuchcommandofthestageatyourage.Ineverythingyoudo,Ihopeyoucanownitlikeyoudidthatnight.
Ihopeyouhaveachancetoreadthisbook.It’llbeeasy,youknowallthelinesalready.Haveafunsummerandpleasesayhitoeverybody.
Love,
Leo
Whattheactualfuck.
???
TheendingstoSunrisearecomingatmeinfullforce.Leoisonhiswaybacktomebutgetshitbyatrain.Maybeit’saslowtrainsoitdoesn’tkillhimrightawayandhe’sinagonylivinginadirtythirdworldhospital.Hehaslice.Somuchlice.
IwantLeotohaveliceandabladderinfectionintheworstway.Igoogle“canmengetbladderinfections?”Theycan!“…sayhitoeverybody.”Itwasn’tevenitsownsentence.Isharedhalfasentencewithmyeight-year-olddaughter,Mrs.Sasaki,Kate.Hell,everybody.Wehadaromance.Oratleastweslepttogether.IshouldgobacktoSunriseandreadit,becauseIswearI’mgettingconfused.
No,itwasaromance.Atnight,whenhewasintheteahouseandIwasinmyroom,he’dtextmeMissyouandallofthecellsinmybodywouldstartmovingattriplespeed.We’dtextbackandforthforhourssomenights,untilfinallyI’dtellhimthatthesunwascomingupinfourhours,andthatmaybeweshouldgetsomesleep.He’dreply,Can’twait.
Ibarelysleptthosetwoweeks,exceptfortheafternoonsintheteahouse.Evensomeofthosedays,I’dstayawakeandwatchhimsleep.Isn’tthishowyoubrainwashsomeone?Deprivethemofsleepandfeedthemalotoflies?IdecideI’vebeenbrainwashedandwonderhowmanyotherwomenhavefallenforthisnonsense.
WhenIsettleonanendingtoSunrise,it’sbecauseitsatisfiesme.He’sjustcomeoffadisastrousbreakupwithastarletandthreeweeksinrehab(I’vetakenthelibertyofratchetingupthedrinkinghere)andreturnstomyhouse.Inmymind,hishairisinfestedwithlice,butIdon’twritethisbecauseIdon’twanttofreakoutthemoviegoers.He’sallapologiesandexplanations;hefinallyknowswhathewants.
“IknowwhatIwanttoo,”shetellshimasheholdsherhand.“Andit’snotyou.”
Igetupfrommytableintheteahouseandsitonthedaybed.“Andit’snotyou,”Isayoutloud.Itfeelsgood,thisrebuke.Iimaginethestingonhisface.ThesurprisethatIwouldhavemovedon,meinmylittlelife.“Andit’snotyou,”Isayagainandstarttocry,becauseofcourseit’snottrue.CHAPTER17
AweekbeforetheNewYorkopening,TheTeaHousehasscreenedinsomesmallertheaters,andcriticsseemtolikeit.Theycallit“thoughtful”and“powerful,”whichisfunnybecauseIjustcallit“whathappened.”ItoldJackieI’dbeattheNewYorkpremiere,aftersheremindsmenottoletLeostealmymomentinthesun.
WeezietextsmetoaskifI’llbethere.Who’sasking?Ikid.
Justme,butIwanttomakesureyoulookkiller.Sheasksifshecanhaveherfriend,astylist,sendmeafewdressestochoosefrom,andIfigurewhynot.I’mnotgoingtoshowuplookinglikeIjustwalkedoffthecoveroftheTapestryalbum.Ihaveasecondcreditcardwithnobalancethatsortoffeelslikealoadedgun.IkeepitinmywalletincaseIneedit,reallyneedit.Benusedtocountourunspentcreditlimitasanasset,asin,“Ofcoursewecanaffordit,wehavetwelvehundreddollarsleftontheVisa.”
Aboxarriveswiththreedressesandtwopairsofshoes.Theyallhavepricetagsonthem,andItrynottolook.Theyareemeraldgreen,silver,andblack,allfittedenoughtomakemelookyoungandviable,butalsotailoredandlinedenoughtomakemelooklikeagrown-up.WithBernadette’shelpIchoosethesilverone,becauseshethinksitmakesmelooklikeIsparkle.Theshoesareabsurdandcostmorethanthedress.Theyarealsosilverandhavethetinieststrapofleatheroverthetoeandanotheraroundtheankle.Theyarenothing,weightless,yettheycostamortgagepayment.ItellBernadettethatIcanjustaseasilyweartheblackshoesthatIgotforGranny’sfuneral.
“Fine.”Bernadettestormsoutoftheroomandcomesbackwiththephone.“I’msorry,buthere.”Sheshovesthephoneatmelikeit’smedicine.
“Hello?”
“Forchrissake,Nora.Justbuytheshoes.”Just.
“Hey,Pen.”
“Youareabigdeal.You’regoingtotheopeningofyourownmovie.FromwhatBernietellsme,you’regoingtobegorgeousinthatdress.Justforonce,gotherestoftheway.Forme.Ican’tbeartothinkofLeoseeingyouinthosefuneralshoes.”
OnethingIloveaboutPennyishowmuchshecaresaboutthestuffshecaresabout.Thetimeshefoundwhitepeoniesforherwhiteparty.Thewaythenewbuildingacrossthestreetfromherapartmentcentersperfectlyinherpicturewindow.Bernadettesharesthisquality,theabilitytogetnuclear-levelexcitedaboutthesmallestthing.
Itrythemonwhilewe’retalking.“Pen,they’rethemostridiculouslyoverpricedounceofleather…”Istoptalkingandturninfrontofthemirror.
“What?”
“They’reapieceofart,”Isay.IsitpossiblethatIhaveprettyfeet?Andmaybethatprettytravelsrightuptomylegs?Imaybehallucinating,butIthinkmyfacemightlookyounger.Whatarethese,magicshoes?
“ThisiswhatI’msaying.Gobigorgohome.Foronceinyourlife,justbuytheshoes.”
“Pen,howamIgoingtogetoutofacarandwalkallthewaydowntheredcarpetintheseshoes?”ItrytoimagineitasIsayit,meclunkingalonguntilthatpointyheelcatchesasnagandIfallflatonmyface,whileLeoandNaomishaketheirheadsinpity.Penny’sknownmemywholelife;sheknowswhatImean.“Ihavenothingtoholdonto,”Isay.
“Well,that’sbullshit,becauseyouhaveme.Letmegowithyoutothepremiere,andI’llpayfortheshoes.WhentheyseetheLarsonsistersalldoneup,Hollywoodwon’tknowwhathitthem.”
???
IgetreadyinmytinybathroomwithBernadetteatmyelbowandKatesittingonthesideofthebathtub.There’sbarelyenoughairforthethreeofus,andArthurhasthegoodsensetowaitonmybed.Whenmyhairisblownstraightandmymakeupisstartingtomakemesweat,IshoothemalldownstairssothatIcangetintomydress.
Iregretthedressimmediately.Theshimmerysilvershouts,andIrealizeIwashopingtomovethroughthiseveninglikeawhisper.OrmaybeIwanttheeveningtopasswithoutmebeingthereatall.It’stoolatetorightanyofthesedecisions;Idon’townanotherdressthisfancy,andthecariscomingformeinfifteenminutes
KateandBernadettegaspwhenIcomedownstairs.Apparently,theylovethisnoisydress.Arthurismorereserved.“Youlookpretty,Mom.Soyou’rejustgoingtowatchthemovieandthenyou’recomingback,right?”
Katesays,“Well,there’sanafter-partyandwhoknowswhatelse;it’sNewYorkCity!”Thentome,“Yougoandstayoutaslateasyouwant,I’vegotthekidsandyoucangrabtheminthemorning.”
Arthurisnothavingthis.Isay,“I’mnotexactlyaparty-all-nightkindofaperson;don’tletthisdressfoolyou.I’mgoingtowatchthemovieandcomerightbackhome.”
“Okay,good,”saysArthur.Bernadetteshakesherheadindisappointment.
???
PennystepsoutofherbuildinginastraplessblackgownandablackversionoftheshoesI’mwearing.Shebreaksintoalittlerunwhensheseesmeinthewaitingcaronthecorner,andIwonderifshewearsshoeslikethisallthetime.“Iamsoready,”shesaysasshegetsinthecar.“Areyouready?”
“Well,Idon’tthinkIcouldgetanymoremakeuponmyface,soImustbeready,”Isay.
“Youlookbeautiful,”shesaysandtakesmyhand.“Sodoyouknowhowyou’regoingtoplaythis?Likehe’sgoingtobethere,andthere’sgoingtobeamomentwhereyou’reface-to-faceandyouhavetosaysomething.”
Myhandfliesuptomyheart,asiftoprotectit,andInoticeit’sbeatingtooquickly.“I’mnotready.IthoughtIwasready.Iwasgoingtosay‘hello’andjustseewhathesaysback.Thatwasmybigplan.Butno,I’mactuallynotready.”
“Okay,let’sworkbackward.Whatdoyouwanthimtowalkawaythinking?Thathe’sajerk?Thatyou’reabsolutelyfine?”
Icrackthewindowandletthefallairfillmylungs.“IwanthimtothinkI’mfine,Iguess.ButIdon’tknowifIcanpullitoff.I’mnotfine,Pen.”
“Okay,weneedtogetyourheadorganized.Putthesethingsinthefront:Youlookgorgeousinthatdress.You’rethereasonallthesepeopleareheretonight;youwrotethething.You’rethestar.He’sonlytherebecauseofwhatyoucreated.Iwanttoseeshouldersback,foreheadatrest,andasmile,likeyouknowwhatI’msayingistrue.”
Whenwewerelittle,Penny’sBarbiesalwaysputtheirbestfootforward.Theyweregroomedandwelldressed,and,nomatterwhatkindoftragicstorylineIthrewtheirway,shealwayshadthemcomingoutontop.Tonight,she’sdoingthesameforme.
“Okay,I’masgorgeousandbrilliantasmyshoes,”Isay.
“Atleast.”
Ourcarhasclearancetopulluprightinfrontofthetheater.Someonewithaheadsetopensmydoorandhelpsmeout.Iadjustmydressandlaymyblackwrapovermyarm.Iblinkintothelights.IlookbackandwatchPennygetoutofthecarandnoticesheissmiling.Iremembertodothesame.Weposetogetherforaphotoandthenstartwalkingtheredcarpetinsmallstepsandthennormalones.Iimaginethatmybeautifuldressandmagicshoesareaconfidencecostume.Theyarethecloakofself-assuredness,andItrytowalkdowntheredcarpetwithagaitandanexpressiontomatchthem.Plus,PennyiscloseenoughtocatchmeifIstumble.
Whenwehavecompletedourtrek,Iamrelieved.Peoplearemillingaroundinthetheaterlobby,andsomeonehandsusglassesofchampagneoffofatray.“Nora,youlookgorgeous,”Ihearfrombehindme.It’sMartin.Wehughello.IintroducehimtoPenny,andheintroducesustohistoo-youngwife,Candy.“ThishereisthenextbigthinginHollywood,”hetellsher.“Aslongasshekeepswriting,I’mgoingtoberich.”
“AndsoisNora,”saysPenny.
Ithankhimanddowntherestofmychampagne.
“Areyouwritinganythingnow?”Candyasks.
“Yes,”IsayandimmediatelywishIhadn’t.
Martinclapshishands.“Ifthisfilmisaswell-receivedasIanticipate,Iplantobeinabiddingwarforyournextproject.What’sitabout?”
It’saboutLeoandmefallingmadlyinloverightafteryouleft.It’sabouthowthesunrisecanbethemostimportantthingintheworldtoapersonwho’slosttouchwithhissoul.It’saboutapersonturninghisbackonhissoulforfame,Iwanttosay.
“It’smorenonsenseaboutlovegonewrong,”Iactuallysay.AndnowIknowforsureIcan’tletanyonereadthatscript.
ThemanpasseswithmorechampagneandItakeone.Ofcourse,Ihaven’teatenanythingsinceasliceofArthur’sbaconatbreakfast.Stupid.
“HasLeoarrivedyet?”Pennyasks,andIshootheralookthatIperfectedwhenIwastwelve.
“That’sprobablythemnow,”saysMartin,noddingtowardthemobofphotographersheadedtowardawhitelimo.
AsIanticipateLeosteppingoutofthatlimo,Ionlyknowonething:Icannotdothis.WhatIdreadmostisseeingeitherguiltorpityonhisface.Itwillbemyundoing.
“I’manxioustoseehowthemovieturnedout,”ItellMartin.“Areweallowedtogoinearlyandgrabagoodseat?”
“Sure,goahead.We’llseeyouatthepartyafter?”
“Ofcourse,”Pennyanswersforme.IreassureCandythatmeetingherhasbeenthehighlightofmynight,andwemakeabeelineintothetheater.IleadPennytoseatsinthebackrowinthecenter.Icovermyselfwithmywrap.
“What’sthis?”Pennyasks.“Thisisyourbignightandwe’rehidingbackhere?Takeoffthatwrapsoyoucansparklealittleatleast.”
“Idon’tfeellikesparkling.Thiswasahugemistake,Pen.”IgesturetowardarowofreservedseatsnearthefrontwhereI’msureLeoandNaomiwillbesitting.
Actualpaniciscreepingin.I’mnotthinkingaboutthisfilmasmuchasIamaboutSunrise.Ineedtotakeitback.Idon’tcaresomuchaboutpeopleknowingIhadanaffairwithamoviestar,butIdomindthemknowinghowmuchitmeanttome.Ican’ttakethechancethatLeoeverseesthatscript,orthat,Godforbid,itgetsmadeandhe’scastashimself.Iimaginehimsayingeverythingheeversaidtometosomestarlettowhomhe’sinfinitelybettersuited.Iimaginehimreadingitandthinking,Poorthing,shehaditbad
Headsturntowardthelefttheaterentrance,andIknowfromtheexcitementontheirfacesthatLeoandNaomiarewalkingin.Ipullmywraparoundmemoretightlyandtrytomakemyselfsmall.Pennytakesinabreath.Theymaketheirwaydowntotheirseatsandgreetpeopleastheygo.He’sinatux;she’sinredtomatchthecarpet.Iwonderhow
“He’sabouttolookoverhere,situp,”Pennytellsmeoutofthesideofhermouth.“ActlikeIsaidsomethingfunny.”Ihavenolaughtogive,buthetakeshisseatwithoutlookingourwayanyway.
“Ihavetogetoutofhere,”Isay.
ThelookonPenny’sfacetellsmeI’veprobablygonewhite.ShemakesherapologieslikeBugsBunnyleavingtheoperaaswestepoverpeople’sfeettogetfree.Sheleadsmeoutofthetheatertoalobbybench.“Areyougoingtofaintorsomething?”sheasks.“DoyouwantaCoke?”
“Ineedtobreathe,andIneedtorethinkeverything.Literallyeverything.”Tearsstartfalling,andIdon’tevencare.“IfeellikeI’veplannedavacationtohell.LikeIliterallychoseeveryflightandcarride,packedmybags,andnowI’msaying,‘Wait.WhatamIdoinginhell?’?”
Pennyputsherarmaroundme.“Youkindadid.”
“WhatwasIthinkingfallinginlovewiththatguy?WhatwasIthinkingwritingamovieaboutmydivorceandthenshowingupheretonighttowatchitactedoutbymyoldboyfriendandhisgirlfriend?AmIseriouslysupposedtowatchthembreakupintheexactlocationofthelastplaceI’llprobablyeverhavesex?”
“Youmighthavesexagain,”shesays.
“AndwhatwasIthinkingagreeingtodoitallagain?Likeawholenewmovieaboutmybadtasteinmen?”
“Nora?”It’sWeeziewithaclipboardandasweetsmile.Shehandsmeatissue.“Youlookbeautiful.”
“Thanks,”Isay.“Thisismysister,Penny.”
Shetakesaseatontheothersideofme.“Toohard?”
“Toohard.”
“I’msorry.IguessIjustwantedyoutohavethatpartofthemoviewhereheseesyouinyoursilverdressandrealizeswhatafoolhe’sbeen.”
“Metoo!”saysPenny.“That’sallIwanted.Icouldtasteit.”
“Isortofimaginedtheireyesmeetingashegotoutofthelimo,”startsWeezie.
“Andhe’dsmilesoftlyandremembereverythingtheyhad,”Pennycontinues.
“Andhe’dslowlymakehiswayovertoherandtouchherface.Ortakeherhand?Idon’tknowexactly,butyouknowwhatImean.”
“Ilikethatpartofthemovietoo,”Isay,andtheysigh.“Well,Ido,andIdon’t.Thatsceneissortofaninsulttobothofthem.Likeallthat’shappeningthereisthatheremembersshe’sprettysohelovesheragain.It’snotlikeheseesherrunintoaburningbuildingtorescueanoldguy.It’snotlikeanything’schanged.It’slikehejustgotdistractedbysomethingshiny.”
“Screenwriters,”Weeziesaysandrollshereyes.
“Youcan’tbuildalifearoundaguythinkingyou’repretty.It’snotathing.”
“Okay,”shesays.
“It’sjustnotenough.Don’teversettleforthat.”
Penny’shadenough.“Weezie,weneedaplan.Like,she’sgoingtohavetosayhellotohimatsomepoint.Iimaginetheafter-party’saprettysmallaffair.Shouldshecallhimout?Playitcool?What’syourtake?”
“Tellmethosearen’ttheonlytwochoices,”Isay.“I’mincapableofeitherofthosethings.”
Weezielaughs.“Polite’sasafebet.Youcouldpullthatoff.”
Politeprobablyisthebestwaytosaveface.Icanbepoliteandwishthembothwellandtheycanstopfeelingsorryformeandwecanallmoveon.ButIknowIcan’tpullitoff,notevenintheseshoes.IfIhavetostandrightinfrontofLeoandlookinhiseyes,I’mgoingtoshowmyhand.Andby“hand,”Imeanbrokenheart.
“I’mnotquitethereyet,”Itellthem.“IthinkI’mgoingtogetsomepopcornandwecanheadhome.”CHAPTER18
OnedayIwakeupandI’mafeministhero.WhichisfunnybecauseI’mstillfantasizingaboutthereallycuteguyshowingupandrescuingmefrommyself.TheTeaHouseisbeingcalled“aprimeronretainingyourpersonalpower.”Womenarecomparingittoboththeirownlifeexperiencesandthoseofwomenthroughouthistory.MyfavoritequoteisfromoneofthewomenonTheView:“TheTeaHouseshowsusthatvictimhoodisachoice.Wegettodecidehowwefeel.”Whataloadofcrap.
Peoplewanttointerviewme,butI’mpretendingtobereclusiveandhardtoget.GodknowsI’mnotthelatter.I’mafraidthatiftheyreallypressmeonit,I’llburstthismovie’sbubble.I’llhavetoadmitthatitwasn’tthatIrefusedtobeavictim.It’sjustthatIdidn’tcareforBenallthatmuch.
Naomidoesn’tseemtobeascamerashy.She’sonthedaytimeshowsandtheeveningshowstalkingaboutwhatthefilmhasmeanttoher.Shelooksradianteverysingletime.“Thisfilmwasreallyimportanttomefromthebeginning,”shetellsEllen.“Ifeellikeifsomeoneleavesyouit’saself-correctingproblem.Whywouldyouwanttobewithsomeonewhodidn’twanttostay?”Theaudienceeruptswithapplause.Sure,takemyline,becauseit’sstupid.You’dwanthimtostayifyoulovedhim.You’dwanthimtostartlovingyouagainsoyoucanstophurting.Duh,Naomi.
Ihave$0inthebankandabalanceof$3,463onmycreditcard,andit’saweekbeforeJackiewantstostartmarketingSunrise.Iseemtohavebackedmyselfintoabitofacorner.Ineedtosellthismovie,butIcannotsendthetruestoryofhowLeobrokemyheartintotheworld.Ialsocan’tshowtheworldmyfantasyversion,theonewhereLeocomesback.Nothingwouldmakememorevulnerablethanthat.I’mrunningoutoftimesoIstartbrainstormingseveralchoppy,sentimentalendings.Bernadettefindsmeontheporchswingwithmynotebookandsharppencilsafterdinner.“What’reyoudoing?”
“Tryingtofigureouthowtoendmymovie.”
“Endithappy.”
“I’mnotsurethisstoryhastheingredientsforahappyending.It’salovestory,andthepeoplearen’tmeanttobetogether.”
“Canyouchangetheingredients?”Bernadettepullsherlegsintoherchestandletsmeputmyarmaroundher.She’sturningninethismonthandItrytoimagineherasateenager,ragingagainstme.Itdoesn’tseemlikeshehasitinher.
“HowdoIdothat?”
“Switchthemup.Makethemdifferent.Sothatthey’llendupinadifferentplace.”
“Ikindofwantoneofthemdead.Toodark?”
“Jeez,Mom.Yes.Toodark.”
???
Bernadettehasapoint,thoughit’snotuntilI’mintheteahousethenextmorningthatIseeit.Somethingneedstobeswitchedup,andIdecidetochangethepowerstructure.She’sapopstarwhocomestothecountryfromManhattantofilmamusicvideoonthepropertyofawidowedfatheroftwo.Theybuttheadsabitbutgettoknoweachotheroverthedurationoftheshootandfallinlove.Sheevenofferstohelpwithhisdaughter’sschoolchorusconcert.
Ileaveinallthefeelings.Shetellshim,inaclearingfullofbirds,thathe’sthefirstmanshe’severbeeninlovewith.Hebelievesherandthinksit’sforever.Intheend,he’stheonewho’sabandoned.I’mgoingtoghosthim.
Andthenitcanhaveahappyending.She’llwriteasongforhim,andhe’llhearitontheradiodrivingdownacountryroad,andhe’llknowthatshereallyloveshim.She’llwinaGrammyforitandmentionhiminheracceptancespeech.Thenthenextdayhecomeshomefromwhateverhedoesalldayandfindsherstrummingherguitaronhisfrontporch.Bigmoment,bigkiss.ItseemstoworkwhenI’mincharge.
???
It’sNovemberandI’vesoldSunrisetoPurviewPicturesfor$750,000.Martinhassignedonasdirector,andthey’restartingcastingsoon.IaskJackieifIcancashmycheckandnothaveanythingmoretodowiththefilm.Ihavetherighttobeonset,whichtheytellmewillbeinMississippi,butIhavenointentionofgoing.
Ihavemoneynow,andIlikeit.Ican’tgetoverthefactthatIactuallymadethatmuchmoney,likeImadeitoutofnothingbutwordsandheartbreak.Iwanthavingthatmoneytobeworthit,soafterpayingmycreditcardbillIlettherestofitsitinmyaccountforawhileandtrytodecidewhattodowithit.
OnaThursdaynight,afterWheelofFortune,IscrollthroughLeo’sInstagramfeedonelasttime.Moviepromotion,fancy-lookingcheeseburger,asidelineshotofafootballplayerIdon’trecognize.WhenI’mdone,IceremoniallydeletetheInstagramappandmovemybankingapptotheexactspotwhereitusedtosit.Igetinbedandscrollthroughmyaccount.Thebigdeposit,theinterestLIKEbuttontopress.
Myparentsaren’tnecessarilyfrugalpeople.AndPennycertainlyisn’t.Icamebymyspartanwaysoutofnecessity.EverytimeIwouldgetaheadfinancially,Benwouldgoonsomekindofbender.Ineverknewwhenitwasgoingtohappen,soIlearnedtoliveinastateofpreparedness.BuythechickenonsalebecauseBenmightdecideheneedsflyinglessons.LetthehemoutofBernadette’sEasterdressbecauseBenmightdecidehewantsofficespace.IamnotcoveringforBenanymore,Iremindmyself.It’smyownmoney.WhenIwakeupinthemorning,it’srighttherewhereIleftit.
IcallPennytodiscussthis,becauseshe’stheonlypersonIknowwiththiskindofmoney.“Money’senergy,”shetellsme.IrollmyeyesbecauseIknowthisisgoingtobelikethetimeshetoldmetomovemybedtoanotherwalltoimprovemysexlife.IshouldprobablytellherthattherealfixwasmovingBentoanothercontinent.“Yousentyourheartbreakoutintotheworld,anditbroughtyoumoney.Nowbeforeyousendthemoneybackout,trytoimaginethefeelingsyouwantittobring.”Ohbrother.
“Pen.Seriously.”ThisisthelastbrandofcrapIwanttolistentorightnow.
“I’mdeadserious.Andyouneedtobehonest.WhatyouwantistofeelthewayyoufeltwhenLeowasthere.”
“YouwantmetopayLeotocomeback?”Honestly,sometimesshemakesmealittleviolent.
“No,justreplicatethefeelings.Thinkaboutit,evenjustforaday.Howdoyouwanttofeel?”WehangupafterItellherIlovehereventhoughshehasnoconceptofreality,andsherepliesthatwecreateourownreality.Weendmany,manyconversationsthisway.
ButIgiveitsomethought.ItmightbeworththinkingabouthowIwanttofeel,becauseI’vereallyburnedoutonfeelingthewayIcurrentlyfeel.MyfirstthoughtisthatIwanttofeelsecure,likethefutureissolid,soIopencollegeaccountsformykids.ThisissomethingIneverthoughtI’dbeabletodo,andIluxuriateinit.IreplacethesleeplessnightsthatIspentworryingaboutthefuturewithdaydreamsabouthowthatfuturemightbe.It’spossiblethatI’mtwoinchestallerstandingonsolidground.
There’sanotherfeelingthough,alittlehardertoface.AtPenny’ssuggestion,IthinkabouthowitfeltwhenLeowashere.Notthefeelingofbeingloved—Ihearyoucan’tbuythat—butjustthefeelingthatit’sokaytoenjoynicethings.Ilikedthebetterwineandthenicersheets.Ireallylikethosenewtowels.Ilikedlettinggoofmyprairiewomanmentalityandenjoyingsomethingasfrivolousaslightshangingoverapicnictable.WithBen,nicethingsmeantwewereabouttogowithout.Theyfeltlikeanassaultonmyhardwork,apunishment.WithLeo,nicethingsweren’tsoloaded.Theywerejustnice.
SoIhireacontractortostartrenovationsonmyhouse.He’snottotouchtheporchortheteahouse,butwedesignanewkitchenwhereeverythingworksandaddapowderroomonthefirstfloor.Iordernewwindowsthatlookexactlyliketheoriginalonesbutareairtight.SuddenlymyhouseisstrongerandsoamIforhavingtakencareofit.Money,Idecide,isnotevil.
???
OnNovember22attwoA.M.,Igetatext.ThechimewakesmeupandI’msuresomeone’sdead.It’sLeo:Howcouldyouwritethis?
Myheartraces.ThelasttextIhavefromhimiswhenwewerestillinthebubble.Iloveyou.Imissyou.LoveyoutooFollowedbymyeternallydanglingHeyAndnowrightunderit,allthesemonthslater,he’sback.
Me:Sunrise?
Leo:Yes,fuckingSunrise.Youtookthewholethingandpackageditandsoldit.HowdidyouthinkIwasgoingtofeelwhenIreadit?
Me:Whyareyoureadingit?
Leo:TheysentittometoseeifIwantthepart.Toplayyou,Iguess
Me:Ha.Walkamileinmyshoes
Leo:You’reruthless
Me:Iliterallydon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout
Leo:Itmatteredandyouturneditintooneofyourbullshitstories.I’msurprisedyoudidn’tgiveyourselfacupcakeshop
Me:Leoyou’retheonewholeft
Leo:Iwascomingback
Athousandrepliesrunthroughmymind:Haveyoubeenintrafficforsevenmonths?Wereyouincarcerated?Sidetracked?Sleepy?Goofy?BeforeI’vechosenone,hetexts:
Leo:Forgetit.I’mgladyou’rehappy.Gobacktosleep.
Iwaitforanothertext.IhavethefeelingofjusthavingwokenupfromadreamwhereI’mtryingtosortdisjoinedfragmentsintoanarrative.
Itype:Whydidn’tyoucomeback?Buteraseit.Itype:Iamhappy,andhitSEND.IsaythisinpartbecauseIdon’twanthimfeelingsorryformeandalsobecauseit’snearlytrue,I’mnottoofarfromhappy.I’vegottenthroughtheworstofthisheartbreak.I’mgettinganewkitchen.Arthurhasfriendsinmiddleschoolandapartinthewinterplay.
Isensethathe’sgone.Itype:Leo?AnditturnsoutI’mright.
Thenicethingaboutatextexchangeisthatthere’sanofficialtranscript.Ireadthewholethingoverandoveragain.InthemorningIscreenshotitandsendittoKate.
“Wasthereanyindicationwhileyouweretogetherthatmaybehe’spsychotic?”
“Seriously.Ithoughtthesamething.‘Iwascomingback.’Imeanyoudon’tcall,youdon’ttext,andthenintheendyoudon’tcomeback,sowhatdoes‘Iwascomingback’mean?I’veseenhimonTVandinperson,actually;hehasn’tlostbothofhislegs.”
“Iwonderedaboutthattoo,”Katesays.“AnAffairtoRemember.ButIdidn’twanttosayanything.Maybehe’sanarcissist.”
“Maybe,”Isay.“Doyouevenknowwhatthatmeans?”
“Idonot,”sheconsents.
“Meeither.”Welaugh.
“Itcouldbethatthetechnicaltermis‘asshole,’?”shesays.
“Maybe.”
“Hetellsyouyou’rethefirstwomanhe’severbeeninlovewithwhilehe’snursingabrokenheartoverNaomi.Thenleavesyoutogobacktoherandaccusesyouofbeingheartless.There’sadiagnosisintheresomewhere.”
“DidItellyoumycontractor’skindofcute?”Isay.
“Oh,herewego.”CHAPTER19
MykitchenisdonebyChristmasandeverythinglooksbeautiful.Ihavefreshlypaintedcabinets,newappliances,andashinymarblecountertop.WhenIpressthebuttontorunmydishwasher,itruns.Everysingletime.WhenIturntheknobononeofmyburners,there’sfire.Nomatches.Iwalkdownmystillricketystairseachmorningandgaspatmygoodfortune.Mykidsstillsitintheexactsamespotandeattheexactsamefood,buttheyappreciatethefactthattheDecemberchillstaysoutside.Eventhoughthey’resickofpeopletalkingaboutmeandmymovie,Icantellthey’reproudofme.Mycontractorwas,infact,cuteandalsosingle,buthehadawayofoverpronouncinghisG’swhenusingthegerundtensethatIjustcouldn’tgetpast.It’spossibleI’mnotreadytomoveon.
MyparentscomeforfourdaysandstayinArthur’sroom,becausehehasthedoublebed.Idelightinhavinghimbunkinwithme.He’sonthevergeofshuttingdownthecuddling,asIamsureisappropriate,andIwonderifeachtimeisthelast.We’rereadingHarryPotter,whichIfindshockinglylackinginromance.
Mydadcallsme“Hollywood”now.Asin,“Hey,Hollywood,wanttoscramblemeupsomeeggs?”They’reexcitedformebutalsoworried.TheyruntheirhandsovermynewcountertopsandaskifI’vesavedanyforarainyday.IassurethemthatIhave.
“Sowhat’snext?”mymomasksoverChristmasEvedinner.
“Dessert,”Bernadettetellsher.
Mymomlaughs.“No,Imeanbigpicture.Areyouwritingsomethingnew?Areyoustrictlywritingforthebigscreennow?”
“I’mnotsure.I’mthinkingofwritingsomethingthat’snotromanceforachange.Likefriendshipormurder.”
Arthur’slookingdownathisplate.Isay,“Oradventure.Arthur,youcouldhelpmewiththat.”Helooksupbutdoesn’tspeak.“Sweetie?Youokay?”
“WhatdoyouthinkDadandLeodoonChristmas?”DadandLeo.Inhismind,it’sonething.
IfIspeak,I’llcry.Mymomknowsthisandfillstheroomwithwords.Thisisoneofthebestpartsofmymom,herabilitytofillaspacewithwordsthatwilltakethingsinanewdirection.Iremembergettingatoothpulledasachildandmymothersittinginthechairbehindthedentist,tellingthestoryofaroostershemetonherwaytochurchlastweek.
“Well,”shestarts,“yourdadisinAsia,Iassume,celebratingChristmasinanoldBuddhisttemple.He’seatingriceandtryingtoconvincehisfriendsthateggnogisn’tdisgusting.Whichitis.”ShegivesArthurasidewayssmileandmyheartstartstoloosenup.
“DoLeo,”saysBernadette.“Where’she?”
“OhpoorLeo,he’scelebratingChristmasinMexico.CaboSanLucastobeexact.He’sjoinedupwithatravelingmariachibandwhomakehimcarryalltheirluggagebecausehedoesn’tknowhowtoplaytheguitar.I’mafraidhe’sgettingasunburn.”
Arthurlaughs,tomygreatrelief,andwegothroughallofourotherfriendsandfamilywhoaren’twithus.Penny’scomingfromthecitywithherfamilytomorrowforChristmaslunch,somymomtellsusthattonightsheandRickareatMcDonald’sloadinguponBigMacs.
PennyatMcDonald’ssendsusallintopealsoflaughter.Infact,inthatmomentasI’mopeningasecondbottleofwine,IthinkthatPennyatMcDonald’shassavedourChristmas.Ismilemyappreciationatmymomandpouruseachanotherglass.
Santa’sbringingArthurthenewbikehe’sbeenaskingforfortwoyears.Itwasavailableinaboxorfullyassembledforanextrafiftybucks.Isplurged.He’sbringingBernadettethishorribledollworldthatshe’daskedforthatcomesinathousandtinypiecesforhertoputtogether.IfindmyselfinthesunroomwithmyparentsandtheChristmastree,withabsolutelynothingtoassembleaftermykidshavegonetobed.
Mydadasks,“Sonowordfromeitherofthem?”
“Imustbereallyscary,”Isay.
“Ididn’tknowthisLeoofcourse,butBenwasajerk.”
Iraisemyglass.“Hear,hear.”
Wesitandlookatthetree.MymomhastextedPennytwicetoremindhertobringsnowpantsandbootsfortheboyssothattheycanplayoutsideafterlunch.Shethinkswedon’tnotice,butitishermissiontoloosenthemupeverytimesheseesthem,towrinkletheirstarchedshirtsataminimum.Mymombelievesthatit’sakid’sjobtogetasdirtyaspossibleforbathtimeeveryday.IamoverwhelmedbyhowmuchIlovemyparents.
Imaybetipsybecauseinsteadofrespondingtothat,Ipulloutmyphone.“CanIshowyouguyssomething?”
Isqueezebetweenthemonthecouchsowecanalllookatmyphone.“Leotextedmelastmonth.”Ipulluptheconversationandwishtheydidn’thavetoseetheIloveyou.ImissyoufromMay.NottomentionmyloveyoutooandthedanglingHey
Mymomcatchesherbreath.“Youlovedhim?Helovedyou?”
“Iguess,”Isayandproceedtoreadthemtheconversation.IexplainthatSunriseislooselybasedonourrelationship.Theyaskmetoreadtheconversationagain.
IreturntomychairbecauseI’mfeelingtooconstrainedbetweenthetwoofthem.They’relookingtoocloselyatmylifeandI’msuretheycanreadmymind.Mydadhashishandsfoldedonhisbelly,andhe’sstaringoutthewindowattheteahouse.“You’remissingsomething.”
“Yes,”mymomagrees.
“Theabilitytohangontoaman?”Iask.
“Idon’tknowwhatitis,andIwouldn’tmakeyourselfcrazytryingtofigureitout,”hesays.Which,toolate.“Butthere’samissinglinkoutthere.Iwishhehadtheballstotellyouwhatitis.”
Wearequiet.Mymomasks,“He’snotgoingtostarinthemovie,ishe?”
“No,heturneditdown.TheycastPeterHarper.”
Mymomclapsherhands.“PeterHarper!Darling,youmusthaveanaffairwithhimtoo!”
“Marilyn,honestly,”mydadsays.CHAPTER20
It’sJanuaryandmyphoneringswhileI’mwatchingthesunrise.I’mwearingacoatandawoolhatandtwosweatersovermypajamas.TheJanuarysunriseislowerthantheothers,aquieterdramabutadramanonetheless.
“Holyshit,”saysJackie.“Areyousittingdown?”
“Whydopeopleaskthat?”
“TheTeaHousehasbeennominatedforfourAcademyAwards,includingBestOriginalScreenplay.”
I’msilent.
“That’syou.You’vebeennominatedforanAcademyAward.”
“WhataboutLeo?”
“He’snominatedforBestActor.Naomiwassnubbed.Martinisnominated,aswellasBestOriginalScore,which,tobehonestIdon’tevenremember.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,thisisreallyhugeforus,Nora.Huge.You’dbetterstartwriting.”
“CanIcallyouback?”Iask,alreadyhangingup.Thesun’scomingupandIwanttofocusonit.Samesunrise,slightlydifferentbecauseI’vebeennominatedforanOscar.
MyhandsaretextingLeo.Congratulations.
Youtoo,Igetbackimmediately.Sunupyet?
Halfway.
Sendmeaphoto?SoIdo.
Whatthehellisthat?
It’scalledJanuary.Theydon’thavethatinL.A.?
I’minNewYork.Ifreezeattheclosenessofhim.I’dbeenpicturinghiminL.A.,ifIhavetoadmitthatIamoccasionallypicturinghim.Ithadn’toccurredtomethathewasninetyminutesaway.Comeover?Iwanttotype,butdon’t.
Ithinktheconversationisover,asIcan’tcomeupwitharetortforhisbeinginNewYork,butthentherearebubbles.Sowhathaveyoubeenupto?
Talkaboutabroadquestion.Beingamom?Shovelingsnow?Makingmeatloaf?Tryingnottothinkaboutyou?Sellingpainforcash,mostly,Isayfinally.
Ha.Ithinkyouowemeacut.
Iredidmykitchen.
Oh.
Itwasrudethatyousentmeallthatmoney,IhopeyouknowIsentitback.Idon’tknowwherethisiscomingfrom,butapparentlyIneedtogetthatoffmychest.
IwasjusttryingtomakeitseemlikeIwasarenter
Youweremylover
Nokidding.IthoughtIwascoveringforyou
I’vegottogo.Excitedtotellthekids.
OkIguessI’llseeyouguysthere.
Where
AttheOscars,Nora.
Ineedtowakeupmykids.It’saMondayandI’vesatontheporchwaytoolong.First,textingLeo,thenmyparents,Penny,andKate.Kate’sgoingtotakemetolunchtocelebrateandalsorunthroughthislasttextconversationforlogic.
BernadettescreamswhenItellher.Likeareallivehigh-pitchedlittlegirlscream.Arthurthrowshisbodyaroundme.“Mom,Iknewthiswasgoingtohappen.Iknewyoucoulddoit.”
“Iseeyouinlavender,”Bernadettetellsme.“Butwithaspraytanandsomehighlights.”
“AreyoutryingtoturnmeintoWrites-A-LotBarbie?”
Celebratorypancakesarefollowedbycelebratorydrop-offandacelebratoryrun.ImeetKateatthecafé.She’swaitingwithtwoglassesofchampagne.“Ican’tfreakingbelieveit.”
“Same.”Wetoasttothatandlaugh.
“Sowhatdidhesay?”
Ihandhermyphone.
“Whatwashe‘coveringforyou’for?”
“Noidea.”IpickatmyCobbsalad.“Like,isheprotectingmefrompeoplefindingoutwewereshackedup?Iwroteamovieaboutitforchrissake.WhatdoIcare?”
“I’dtelleverybody,”saysKate.
“Ican’tdecidewhethertofocusonthis,themostexcitingmomentofmycareer,maybelife.OrthefactthatI’mgoingtoseehim.”
“I’dbefocusedonseeinghim,”shesaysasshespearsapieceofshrimp.“Thoughyouneedtopsychyourselfupsoyoudon’tfreakoutlikelasttime.”
“Thisfeelsdifferent.LikelasttimeIsawthetwoofthemIwasterrifiedthey’dturnandseemeandfeelsorryforme.Nowthatitseemslikehe’sborderlineangryatme,Ifeelkindalikeabadass.”
“Maybeyouactuallydumpedhim,butyoublackedout.”
“Thatdoesn’thappen,thoughIlikethethought,”Isay.
WhenIgetbackinthecarIhaveaseriesofall-capstextsfromWeezie.Tosummarize,she’sreallyhappyforme,andifIhaven’tstartedlookingforadressyet,I’malreadybehindschedule
Iagonizeoverwhotobringwithme.Thesimplestansweristogoalone,butwhatifIwinandIhavestrangersoneitherside.WhodoIhug?OfcourseI’mnotgoingtowin,butonehastobeprepared.IhavealifelongrecurringdreamthatIamabouttogiveaspeechthatI’veknownaboutforalongtime,andI’veforgottentoprepareanything.IntheOscarsituation,I’mtoldI’llhavethirtyseconds,whichistwenty-fivetoomanyanyway.IresolvetomemorizethreesentencessothatIwon’thavetoresorttonotes.Ialwayswonderatactorswhothankthesixpeopleintheworldtheyaremostgratefulforandhavetolookatanindexcardtoremembertheirnames.
IcallJackieandsharemyconcernaboutwhotobring,andshecallsMartin.Apparently,thisisherfirstbrushwiththeOscarstoo.ItturnsoutMartinandCandyareseparatedandIcouldgoashisdate.Hethinksit’scleanerforthemovieifwedon’tdiluteourblockofseatswithdates.“LeoandNaomiwillbegoingtogether,”shetellsme.
Naturally.
Myparentswanttocome,whichsortoffeelslikeit’scomplicatingthings,butit’sfunthatthey’resoexcited.MartinsayshecangetthemticketsandaninvitationtotheVanityFairparty.PennymakesusanappointmentatBergdorfGoodmantotryondresses.Mydadspringsforanewtux.EverythingsuddenlyfeelslikeI’mgettingmarried,andIresisttheurgetocyclebetweenrememberingmyactualweddingtoBenandimaginingI’mflyingouttomarryLeo.
Thedresslady’snameisOlympia,andsheescortsmymom,Penny,andmeintoalargedressingroomandoffersuschampagne.Bernadetteisatschool,probablystilllividthatshe’smissingthis.OlympiabringsinfourblackdressesformymombeforesheacceptsthefactthatmymomlivesinTechnicolor.
“I’malmostseventyyearsold,”mymomtellsher,“andI’veneverevenbeentoCalifornia.Thisisthebiggestmomentofmylife.Iwanttobeinyellow,likealemononatree.”
PennyandIsmileateachother,becausemymomisadorable.Idon’tknowwhatPantone’ssayingaboutthecoloroftheyear,butthere’snochancethere’sawideselectionofyellowdressesforwomenofacertainage.
Olympiaisthrilled.“Ohyay!Iwasworriedyouwereabore.I’llberightback.And,Nora,whataboutyou?”
“Mydaughterwantsmeinlavender,”Isay.“ButI’mopentosuggestions.”Olympiaclapsherhands.
Whenshe’sgone,Pennysays,“I’moverthinkingthedress.IknowIam.IjustwantLeotolookatyouanddropdeadfromregret.LikeIwanthimtostandandweep.Isthattoomuchtoask?”
“Probably,”Isay.
“LikeIimagineyouinaskintightgolddressthatleavesnothingtotheimagination.Andhisjawdroppingtotheground.Allofitcaughtoncamera.”
Mymomislaughing.“Penny,Idon’tknowhowiteverhappenedthatyou’renottheromancewriter.”
“I’vegiventhissomethoughttoo,”Isay,whichisthebiggestunderstatementofalltime.“AndthelastthingIwantistoputmyselfinabeautycompetitionwithNaomi.AndIdon’tbelievethatLeowouldfallbackinlovewithmejustbecauseIlookgood.He’snotthatkindofperson,andIwouldn’twanthimifhewas.Painfultruth,rightthere.IjustwanttoshowuplookinglikemyselfandfeelingcomfortablesoIcanenjoythewholething.”
Pennysighs.“Fine.Youcanlooklikeyourself,butwe’llfixyouupalittle.”
Mymomendsupwithacanary-yellowchiffongownwithlongbillowingsleeves.ShelookslikeoldHollywood,glamorousinacarefreekindofway.IammoreexcitedseeingmymominthisdressthanIhavebeensinceIgotthecall.
Inastrokeofgoodluck,theyhaveonelavenderdress,andIhappentoloveit.Ithasawidescoopneckthatshowsoffmycollarbones(takethat,Leo)andhangsinheavycrepetothefloor.Itfitswhereitshould,butnothingpulls,nothinggrabs.It’scompletelycomfortable.WhenIputiton,mymomsays,“That’stheone.Ilikethewayyoufeelinit.”
Overmeatloaf,theweekbeforetheevent,Bernadettehasamillionquestions.I’vealreadyansweredmostofthem.Willtherebesnacks?WhatifIgetcold?Whowilldrivemetothepartyafter?HaveIpracticedwalkingupstairsinmyshoes?
Arthurisquiet.“Areyouworriedaboutthis,Arthur?Idon’texpecttowin,Ijustthinkit’llbefuntogetdressedupandbeonTV.”
“WillLeohaveadate?”heasks.
“He’llbewithNaomiSanchez,hisco-star.”AndI’mnotsurewhyIsayitthisway,asifArthurisgoingtobeupsetthatshe’shisgirlfriend.
“Ibethelikedhangingoutwithyoumorethanhelikeshangingoutwithher.”
BernadetteandIbothlookathim,surprised.Thisisn’tsomethingwereallytalkaboutanymore,butitsortoffeelslikehe’sbeenstewingaboutitforawhile.“Well,whowouldn’t?”Isay,andI’mrewardedwithasmile.
“PoorNaomi,”Bernadettekids.
“She’sarealcharitycase,”Isay.CHAPTER21
It’stheendofFebruaryandIwakeupintheBeverlyHillsHotel.BecauseI’manOscarnominee,Iremindmyself.IgotomybalconytoseeifIcanseethesunrise,butIcan’t.LosAngelesseemstocenterentirelyaroundthesunset.Imakemyselfacupofcoffeeandlookoverthetreetops.
Iamhappy,Ithink.WheneverIremembertothinkofthethingsI’mgratefulfor,myhealth,mykids,andthesunrisehavebeentopofthelist.Throwinmyhouse,andIreallyhavenothingtocomplainabout.EvenwhenBenwasaroundandbelittlingmeforsellingoutandwritingcrappyromancemovies,Ifeltgratefulformywork.Imeansomeonehadtosellout,youcan’twalkintotheStopn’Saveandtradebigideasforchicken.
Butthis.Tohavewrittenascreenplaythatisessentiallymytruth,oratleastrepresentsmyfeelingsaboutmytruth,andtohaveitproducedandthenappreciated.It’salmosttoomuchformetocontainatthismoment.WhatifpeoplelikeSunrise?Whatifthisismynewnormal—showingpeoplemyheartandhavingthemapplaudit?
Andasformyheart,it’sokay.I’vereadthatquoteamilliontimes,theoneaboutknowingwhentoletgoofthingsthatwerenotmeantforyou.Leowasnotmeantforme.Imean,lookathim.Wehadamoment,anditwasperfect.Can’tIjustleaveitatthat?Encapsulatethememoryandprotectit?Maybethewholethingwasjustadream,anyway.Frankly,ifhissheetsweren’tsittingonKate’sguestroombed,ImightactuallythinkImadethewholethingup.
IgoforarunthroughtheflatsofBeverlyHillsandmeetmyparentsatIn-N-OutBurgerforlunch.Iwantrealfoodinmystomachtonight;Iwanttofeelsolid.“Ihopeyourfairygodmother’sbringingbackup,”mydadjokesasIwipethegreaseoffmyfacewiththelastnapkin.I’minmymostcomfortablejeansandanover-washedsweatshirt.
“Charlie!”mymomadmonisheswithagrin.
“YouthinkI’mgoingtohaveachancetomeetLeo?”mydadasks.
“Maybe.Butifyoudo,justpretendhe’sanyguy,likethisneverhappened.Noquestions.Noinnuendos.”
“Oh,I’vegotquestionsallright.Putz.”
Thisfeelslikearealwildcard.“Dad,let’salljustactlikehe’saguywhoshoweduptocelebratemybignight.We’renotmadathim.We’renotintimidatedbyhim.We’rejusthappy,neutralpeoplewhohavemovedon.”
“I’mnotanactor,sweetheart.”
???
Theglamsquadshowsupatmyroomandtheyblowoutmyhairandcurltheends,makingmelooklikeIdidn’thavemyhairdonebutthatI’mjustapersonwithgoodhair.ThisiswhatIaskedthemfor.
Someoneshowsupwithaspraytantent.“Weeziesentme,”shesays.Itipherandsendherhome.ThisisthecolorIam,I’mafraid.ItellthemakeupladythatIdon’tfeelcomfortableinmakeup,thatsheneedstogoonthelightside.
“Theyallsaythat,”shesays.
“ButImeanit.”
Sherollshereyes.“Youneedtolooklikeacheapstripperinreallifesothatyoudon’tlooklikeacorpseoncamera.Canyoujusttrustme?”
No,notatall.“Sure,”Isay.
Mydressishangingonthebackofthebathroomdoor.Ilovethisdress.IaskedforlavendertopleaseBernadetteandalsotonotseemtooovert.Thisdressissimpleenoughthatitdoesn’tshoutanything,butitmakesmefeellikeI’mbeautifulinmyownright.MyshoesarethesameexquisitesilveronesIworetothefilmpremierewhenImademyCinderellaexit.
WhenIamready,Ifeelready.Martinispickingmeup,andallIneedtodoisgetmybodyintothelobby.Thisisnotmyworld,andIcouldeasilyshrinkfromthemagnitudeofthisthing,butIkeeprepeatingtomyself,“I’mnominated.”It’snotjustlikeIwasinvitedtothisparty;theparty’sforme.
Martingetsoutofthelimotohelpmein.“Well,lookwhogotoutofthesticks.”
“Me,”Isayandkisshimonthecheek.Whenwe’resettledandI’vere-smoothedmydressseveraltimes,Isay,“Howdoyouthinkwe’lldotonight?”
“Ihaveabsolutelynowayofknowing.WartimeSisterscouldknockusout.Oritcouldn’t.Anyoneofuswinningisawinthough;we’llalwaysbereferredtoasAcademyAward–winningTheTeaHouse.Evenifit’sjustthatdullmusicalscore.”
Ilookoutthewindow.
“Wereyouinlovewithhim?”
“Yes,”Isayafterawhile.Ismile.“I’mfinenow.”
We’resilentforawhilebeforeIask,“DoesNaomiknow?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Eventuallyshe’llseeSunrise,andshe’llknow.”HowhaveIneverthoughtofthis?IsthisgoingtocauseaproblembetweenLeoandher?IdecidethatIdon’treallycare,thathedeservesit.Andatleastshewasn’tcastforthepart.I’mgratefulthatIdon’thavetowatchthegreatlovestoryofmylifeplayoutwiththegreatloveofhislifeintheleadingrole.
We’rehere.Martinknowsthatthisismorenerve-rackingtomethanitistohim.Hetakesmyhand.“I’mgoingtogetoutfirstandthenhelpyouout.PeoplearegoingtobetakingpicturessoyourbestlookisshouldersbackandamildMonaLisasmile.ArealsmileandyouenduplookingliketheJokerinthepapers.”Unfortunately,thismakesmesmileforreal.Itrytocontainmyself.
Walkingtheredcarpetisexactlywhatyou’dexpect.I’msureI’vewatchedthepastthirty-fiveAcademyAwardsceremoniesonTV,andtherearenosurprises.FansseemtoknowwhoMartinis,andIassumetheythinkI’mhisdate.There’salogjamwheresomeofusaresupposedtowaittotalkwithwhoever’sreplacedJoanRivers.Ican’trememberwhoI’mwearing,andIhopetheywon’task
There’sahandonmyelbow,andIknowit’shim.Iturnaroundandfacehim,gladI’veoptedforthetoo-highversionoftheseshoesandthatmycollarbonesareexposed.
“Hi,”Imanage.
“Youlookbeautiful,”hesays.
“Thanks.It’salotofsmokeandmirrors.”Iindicatethedress,thehair,thetinyhandbag.AnythingtobreakthetensionofthismomentbecauseanymoreeyecontactandI’mgoingtostarttocry.
Martinisnowatmyside,protective.“Best-lookingdateI’veeverbroughttooneofthesethings—amIright,Leo?”
“Careful,”hesays.“She’llbreakyourheart.”
AndsuddenlyIunderstandrage.Iunderstandsettingfiresandsmashinginpeople’sfaceswithironknuckles.IballupmyfistsandsearchmyragefortherightwordswhenNaomiapproachesandbreaksmyfocus.Sheisetherealinawhitesilkgown.I’mpreoccupiedwithwhetherornotshe’swearingunderwear.I’monehundredpercentsureshedidn’thaveaburgerforlunch.
“Nora!”Shekissestheairbymyface,notbecauseshe’saninsincereperson,Iactuallydon’tthinksheis,butbecausethemakeupsituationissointense.
“Youlookabsolutelystunning,”Itellher.I’mbackonthehighroad,andhonestlywhatelsecouldIsay?Sheglows.
“Well,goodlucktonight,”shesaystoMartinandme,holdingLeo’sarm.“Goodlucktoallofus,Iguess.”
TheassistantfromtheE!channelapproachestobringLeoandNaomiforaquickinterview.Leogivesherhisfullattentionandaquicksmolder.Shegoesredandstartstotalkattriplespeed.“Okay,okay,sojustthisway,youtwoweresogreatinthatmovie,okay,okay…”Leoturnsandhastheabsolutefreakin’nervetogivemeawink.
???
Myawardisearly,becausenoonereallycaresaboutthescreenplaycategory.I’mgladwe’llgetitoverwithsothatIwon’thavetobenervousfortherestoftheshow.I’mnotnervousaboutwinningandhavingtogetupthereonstage,I’vemanagedmyexpectations.I’mnervousaboutthepartwheretheyshowthefacesofthenomineesonTVastheyannouncethemandthenshowthemagainwhentheynamethewinner.I’vebeenunabletodecidehowmyfaceissupposedtogo.MonaLisasmile?Glee?WhentheyannounceBarrySterns’snameasthewinner(that’swhoI’dpick),doInodinagreementandapplaud?Idecidethat’swhatMerylStreepwoulddo.Nodandapplaud.That’sthegraciouswayout.
MartinandIareontheaisleinthesecondrow.LeoandNaomiaredirectlyinfrontofusintoday’sepisodeoffreshhell.Theylooksorighttogether,liketheyshouldbethemodelsforallofthewedding-caketoppersinalltheworld.Theymustbeinthatcomfortablesilencepartoftherelationship,becausetheydon’tspeak.
PeterHarperfromSunriseisannouncingthecategory.Hispresspeoplehavebeentryingtogethimeverywhereinanticipationofthatfilmcomingoutlaterthisyear.Hislastfilm,Shrapnel,aWorldWarIIpiece,gothimalotofattentionandaquickrelationshipwithaswimsuitmodel.
Hecomesoutinatuxedoandsayssomewordsabouttheimportanceofstory.I’munderwaternowandcan’treallyhearanything.“Thenomineesare,”hestarts,andMartinpinchesme,actuallypinchesme.IturntohimandseehisbestMonaLisasmile,whichIgratefullyreplicate.Ibreathe.
“AndtheOscargoesto…NoraHamilton,forTheTeaHouse.”IhearthisandMonaLisaisgone.IbeamwithwhatmustbeBernadette’ssmile,andIcanonlyimaginemykidsatPenny’shousejumpingupanddownonthecouch.
IambeinghuggedbyMartin.Hewhispersinmyear,“Youhavetogoupnow,”soIdo.ThispartisnotwhatIimaginedfromwatchingitonTV.Thestepsaretreacherous,thoughImanagethembyliftingthefrontofmydressandwalkingtooslowly.PeterHarperisatleastthreeinchesshorterthanIimagined,andhekissesmycheekashehandsmethestatue.It’sheavy,justliketheysay.
IamatthepodiumandtherearesomanymorepeopletherethanIcouldhaveimagined.Thirtysecondscountdownontheclock,andmythreesentencesarelosttome.Leoisinthefrontrowandgivesmeasmile,hisrealsmile,andthesurpriseofitbringsmeto.
Iad-lib.“IamreallygratefulthatIhadtheopportunitytotellthisstory.AndI’mmoregratefulthatitwaswelcomed,nurtured,andperformedbysuchtalentedpeople.It’swonderfultospeakyourtruthandbeheard.Thankyouall.”
AndnowPeterHarperhashisarmaroundmywaistandhe’sleadingmeoffstage.Ididn’tthankMartinorshoutouttomykidsorevenmentiontheAcademy.Inowseewhatthedealiswiththeindexcards.
Ireturntomyseatatthecommercialbreak,andNaomihugsmeandsaysalltherightthings.Leosays,“Iknewit,”andgivesmehisrealsmileagain.
“Don’tdothat,”Isay,tooquickly.
Theorchestrastartsandsomeone’scomingouttointroduceadancenumber.Icanfeelmyphoneblowingupinmytinybag.Icanfeeltheweightofthisgorgeousstatueonmylap.IseeLeowhispersomethingtoNaomithatmakeshersmile.Lifereallyisamixedbag.
Martinwinsandthanksmeforsuchaheartfeltstory.Leowinsandsays,“AndI’dliketothankNoraHamiltonforthestoryandforlettingusoverstayourwelcomeinherteahouse.”Thismakesmecry,andIknowthathesees.Ifishinmybagforatissue,moretoprotectmymakeupthanmypride.Youwerewelcometostay,Iwanttosay.Imighthaveevenletyoustartsleepinginside.
Whenit’soverweposeforphotos.TheywantMartin,Leo,andmeallwithourOscarsagainstthelogobackdrop.“Canyoumoveinabitcloser,Mr.Vance?”asksthephotographer.“Maybeputyourarmaroundher?”Heputshisarmaroundmywaistinsteadofmyshouldersandpullsmeclosetohim.Thistakesmebysurprise,andIturntolookupathim.Thecameraflashes,andIthinkthisisthephotothatwillmakeitintoallthepress.TheonewithmelookingupatLeolikehe’sthepromking.CHAPTER22
AttheVanityFairparty,Isortoffloataround.TheOscarI’mcarryingshouts,“Talktome!It’simportantthatyouknowme!”ImeetdirectorsandproducersandactorsthatI’vebeenwatchingfordecades.IdrinkchampagneandeatoffofpassedtrayswhilepeopletaketurnscarryingmyOscar.It’sjustbeenengravedwithmynamesoIassumeit’llmakeitswaybacktome.Ikeepaneyeoutjustincase.
Idon’tseeLeo,andItrynottolookforhim.Or,rather,ItellmyselfI’mlookingformyparentswhileactuallylookingforhim.IwanderaroundwithMartin,meetingeveryonehewantsmetomeet.IfeelcomfortableinawayIcouldn’thaveimagined;winninghasemboldenedme.ThereisnothingIcandotowipethesmileoffofmyfaceaspeoplecongratulatemeandIsipchampagne.“Hello.Thankyou.Nicetomeetyou.”Ilovethisnight.
MartinwantsmetomeetsomeonenamedCaylawhodoesn’tseemoldenoughtobabysit.“Thisrighthere,”hetellsme,“ismynextbigstar.”Caylagiggles,andIdrainmyglasssoIhaveareasontowalkaway.
I’mwaitingatthebarwhenmymindstartsplayingtricksonme.HowmanyglassesofchampagnehaveIhad,Iwonder.Leoisstandingnexttome.“YoumustbeNora,”hesays,whichmakesnosense.ThisLeoisslightlytallerwithshorterhair.“I’mLukeVance.Thebrother.”
“IreallythoughtIwasdrunkthereforasecond,”Isay,becausemyfilterisnotworking.“Imeanyoureallylookalotalike.Wow.”Ishakehishand.
“Congratulations,”hesays.“Youguysreallysweptittonight.Wecheeredyouonfromthenosebleedseats.”
“Thanks.Istillcan’tbelieveit.”There’smoreofanordinarinesstoLuke,whichIfindrefreshing.LikeLuke’sbeentoCostco.He’sashandsomeasLeo,buthedoesn’tseemtoexpectanyonetonotice.HehasLeo’swayoflookingatyouasifyouhaveallofhisattention,whichIfindslightlypainful.Iwonderifthisissomethingtheypickedupfromtheirparents.“I’msorryaboutyourmom,”Isay.
He’stakenaback,andIresolvenottofinishthisglass.“Thankyou.Leonevertalksaboutit.IguessIshouldn’tbesurprisedthathetoldyou.”
Apretty,dark-hairedwomanrushesovertousandputsherarmthroughLuke’s.“Oh,Idon’twanttomissthis.I’mJenn.I’vebeendyingtomeetyou.”She’soutofplaceinhernormalness,likewe’reatabarbecue.Ilikeherimmediately.
Shecongratulatesme,whichisn’tgettingold.Shesaysshelikesmydress,whichisn’tgettingold.Andthen,“Youreallygottohim.LukeandIneverthoughtitwouldhappen.Allthesestarletsrollingthroughyearafteryear,andit’sarealwoman—amomeven—whodoeshimin.”Luke’snoddingasshesaysthis,likethisisthethingtheywerejusttalkingaboutonthedriveover.Andalsolikethisisafunfact,ratherthanthesaddestthingintheworld.
AnoldermanhandsJennamargaritabeforeturninghissmileonme.“Ah,heresheis.I’mWilliamVance,theirfather.Ithoughtitwasagreatfilm,congratulations.”There’sahairlinecrackinmyheartasIlookatLeo’sdad.It’slikelookingatfutureLeo,theoneI’mnotgoingtogrowoldwith.Seeinghisdadalsoroundshimout,likehe’saguywithapastandparents.Ibrieflywanthimtobeheldaccountable.
“You’reallsohandsome,”Ihearmyselfsayingasweshakehands.
Williamlaughs.“Well,thankyou.LukeandIarejusthandsomeasahobby.OnlyLeomakesalivingatit.”LukeandJennlaugh,soIdotoo.ThesearesomeoftheeasiestpeopleI’veevermet.They’regroundedandopen,likethebestpartsofLeo.Andtheydon’tthinkLeocanhandlehospice.
Leoappearsandgivesthemeachahug.“Thanksforcoming.IseeyoumetNora.”
“Shelivesuptoyourdescription,”Lukesays,andLeowinces.He’svisiblyuncomfortable.IwonderifheseriouslythinksI’mgoingtocallhimoutfordumpingme,righthereinfrontofeveryone.Ithinkwe’veestablishedthatI’mnotexactlythekindofpersonwhocallspeopleout.
PeopleseemtobeinchingclosertousasIstandandstareatthesetwobrothers,onewhoisLeoandonewhoisnot.Imustlookconfused,becauseLukelaughsandsays,“HegotdrunkatThanksgivingandtoldusthewholestory.”
“Youdid?”I’mlookingstraightatLeo,buthewon’tlookatme.
“Maybe,”saysLeo.“Hardtoremember.”
“AtThanksgiving,”Isay.WhatIreallywanttosayisWhat’s“thewholestory”?Canyouexplainittome?
“Leobroughtabottleofscotchandfinishedit.Performanceofhislife,”Williamsays.
“WishIcouldhaveseenit,”Isay,mostlytomyself.
“Itsoundsbeautiful,whereyoulive,”Jennsaystome.
“Okay,wow,funthatyouguysarehere,”Leosays,“butwedon’tneedtodothis.It’sfine.WhathappensatThanksgivingstaysatThanksgiving,right?”
“ItaughtLeohowtogroceryshop,”Isay.“IwaslikeacounseloratCampNormalLife,andhedidprettywell.”I’vehadexactlytherightamountofchampagnetowanttokeepthisgoing,asitturnsout.
Nowhe’slookingrightatme,hard.“Please,”hesays.
Aflourishofyellowappearsoutofthecornerofmyeye.Myparentsarestandingafewfeetaway,unsureifit’sokaytoapproach.TheonlythingintheworldthatcouldmakethissituationmoreawkwardisLeomeetingmyparents.Thiscertainlyisn’thowIdreamedofithappening.Mydadmakeseyecontactandapproaches,draggingmymomwithhim.
“Leo,”hesays,extendinghishandmoreformallythanI’dexpect.“CharlieLarson.Nora’sfather.”There’ssomethinginthewayheenunciatestheword“father”thatmakesitsoundlikeathreat.
Leoiscompletelyflustered,andthismakesLukesmile.“Oh,sir,nicetomeetyou.AndareyouMarilyn?”Heshakestheirhands,holdingmymom’sbetweenhisforabeatlongerthannecessary.“Sonicetomeetyou.I’mabigfanofyourgrandkids.”
“Sowe’veheard,”saysmydad.Ineedtomakethisstop.
IintroducethemtoLuke,Jenn,andWilliam.AndIeyemymom,willinghertofillthespace.Shedelivers.“Well,thishasbeenthesinglemostexcitingnightofmyentirelife.MydaughterwinsanOscarandacceptsitsobeautifully.Youreallydidlookbeautifulupthere,sweetheart.AndthenjustnowIwalkedoutofthebathroomandrightintoDirkRichardson!Hewasjuststandingrightthere,likehewaswaitingforme.Idon’tknowwhatcameovermebutIsaid,‘Dirk,I’mMarilyn’becauseI’veseeneveryoneofhismoviesandIfeellikeI’veknownhimmywholelife.Andhetookmyhandandsaid,‘Hello,Marilyn.’Canyouimaginethat?”
“AndnowI’vegottogofindhimandpunchhislightsout,”mydadkids.They’resmilingateachotherandIcanfeelLeolookingmyway.Idon’tdarelookathimincasehecanstillreadmymind.Myparentsarethehappyendingoftheromancemovie.Myparentsarewhatwecouldhavebeenifhe’djustcomeback.
“Martinwantedtomeetyouguys,”Itellthem.“Let’sgofindhimbeforeherunsoffwithateenager.”Everyoneexchangesgood-byesandnice-to-meet-yous.Williamhugsme,likehard.AsIushermyparentsofftofindMartin,oranyoneforthatmatter,IrealizethatLeoandIaretheonlytwowhodidn’tsaygood-bye.Iguessthat’sjustourthing.
???
It’snearlymidnight,andI’minthebathroomhappilynoticingthatmostofmymakeuphaswornoff.I’msickofallthishaironmyshouldersandwishIhadapenciltosecureitinaknot.IcheckmyphoneandseethateveryoneI’veevermethastextedme,includingBen:Imustbeahellofamuse,I’vegottoseethismovie!That’sascloseto“congratulations”asBen’sgoingtoget.
“Thereyouare,”saysNaomi,comingoutofastall.“Youmustfeellikeamillionbucks.”
“Itdoesfeelprettygood,Ihavetosay.Ineversawitcoming.”
“Well,itwasapowerfulstory,Ithinkyouhelpedalotofwomenbytellingit.”She’sreapplyingherlipstick,whichseemslikeanormalthingtodo,soIpulloutmine.
“Thanks.”That’sallIshouldsay,butI’malittlecrackedopenafterseeingsomuchofLeotonight.I’mrawalloveragain,andIjustwanttohearallthefactssoIcanresealmyheart.“SowhatdoyouandLeodonow?StayinL.A.?”
“IthinkLeo’sheadedbacktoNewYork,butI’mnotsure.I’mgoingtoFrance.I’mgoingtotakeafullmonthofftoreadandeatdeliciousthings.”
Myenvyisprofound,butthiswholescenariosoundslikeitwouldbebetterwithLeo.“Hedidn’twanttocome?”
“Who?”
“Leo.”
Shelaughs.“LeoandIwouldn’tevenshareacoffeetogether,letaloneamonth’sgetaway.Neitherofuswouldsurvive.”She’sdustingherfacewithpowderandstops.“Nora.Youdon’tthinkLeoandIareathing?Tellmeyoudon’t.”
“Aren’tyou?”
“That’smoviepromotion.Ifpeoplearegossipingaboutus,themoviegetsmentioned.That’sprettymuchHollywood101.”
“Oh.”IfeellikesomeonewhojustwanderedofftheKansascornfieldsontoHollywoodBoulevard.“Butyouweretogetherbefore,right?”
“Likeforaminute.Butitwasnothing.Look,Leo’ssuperattractive,butweliterallyhavenothingtotalkabout.Itgotoldfast.”
Wehadeverythingtotalkabout,Iwanttosay.Howisthatpossible?He’sgotnothingtosaytoherbutcantalktomefortwentyhoursadayandpickupinthemorningwhereheleftoff.Myheartisnotadequatelyshut,andIamstartingtofeelsick.Thatonethought,thatwehadsomuchtotalkabout,wantstodragmebacktothebeliefthatwehadsomething,thathewassomethingmeantforme.
She’ssayinggood-bye.She’shuggingme.WhenI’maloneinthebathroomstaringatmyonlyslightlytoo-made-upreflection,IrealizethatIamnewlyhurt.HisnotbeingwithNaomiisafreshwound.Hisleavingmetogobacktoherobeysallthelawsofnature.Anymanwouldhavedonethesame.Buthisleavingmejusttobenotwithmeachesalloveragain.
IfindMartinmildlydrunkatalittletabletalkingtoanothergorgeousyoungwoman.Hemotionsformetositonhisotherside.“Come,there’sroomforbothofyou.”Oh,brother.
“SoLeoandNaomiaren’ttogether?”Ihearmyselfsay.
“Shhhhhh.We’restillmarketingthisthing.Shhhhhh,”hesayswithElmerFuddeyes,glancingleft,thenright.
Ineedsomeairandmaybeacracker.AwaiterpasseswithatrayofstuffedmushroomsandIputfouronanapkin.Imakemywaytoaterraceoffthemainroomwherepeoplearestillmillingaroundbutwherethere’sroomtobreathe.Itakeaseatonthesideofafountainanddigintomysnack.
MyparentshavegonebacktotheirhotelandtheytookOscarwiththem,soIdon’tneedtoworryaboutthethreeofthem.IguessIcanleaveanytimeIwantto.Ineedtounpackmyfeelingsandthenrepackthemmoresecurely.Buttheairfeelsnice,crispforLosAngelesIguess,andIaminthemiddleofmybigmoment.IwroteamovieandwonanOscar.I’mwearingthisbeautifuldress,andonceItakeitoff,Idon’tknowwhenI’lleverwearitagain.Ijustwanttositandenjoyitalittlelonger.
“Youokay?”It’sLeo.
Mymouthisfullofmushrooms,soIcoveritwithmydirtynapkinandmumble,“Sure.”
“Socongratulations,really,”hesays.“OkayifIsitdown?”
“Thanks.”Inod.Hesitsdownrightnexttome,butnotcloseenoughthatanyofourpartsaretouching.Myeyestrackthatspacebetweenus,asifit’ssomethingsofamiliarbutfromanotherlifetime.
“It’sabigdeal,”hesays.
“Yeah.Foryoutoo.”
“Notreally.Idon’tmeantoseemjaded,butthefirstonefeltlikeabiggerdeal.AndIcan’tgetthatexcitedaboutanawardforactinglikeatotaldick.”He’sflustered.“Oh,sorry.”
“Nooffensetaken,that’showIwroteit.”
“Yeah.Soareyouhappy?Yousaidyouwerehappyawhileback.”
“Iam.Mykidsaregood.I’mabigsuccess.”Ilookaway,asifontheothersideofmemightbetheanswer,abetterthingtosay.
“Okay.That’swhatmatters.”
That’snotwhatmattersatall,Ithink.“That’snotwhatmattersatall,”Isay.
“Probablynot.Soundedrightthough.”
“Doyouhaveapencil?”Iask.Hereachesintohiscoatpocketandhandsmeapen.IcanfeelhimwatchingmeasItiemyhairinaknotandsecureitwithhispen.IfonlyIcouldwashmyface.Iturntohim.“That’sbetter.”
Hedoesn’tsmile.Somethinghurts,andI’mglad.Hesays,“IguessIwantyoutoknowthatwhatwehadwasthemostimportantthingthat’severhappenedtome.AndI’mgladithappened.”
IholdhisgazeasIconsiderthis.It’sareallynicethingtohear,butitsortofsoundslikehe’sdeliveringthebreakupspeechheshouldhavegivenmelastspring.Hewantstobeletoffthehook,andtomysurprise,IfindthatIwanttolethimoffthehook.Idon’twanthimtofeelbadaboutleavingme,andIsortofliketheideathatheremembersitlikeIdo.Maybetherearemomentswherepeoplecometogetherandyoucanjustsealthemintheirownspacewhileyoumoveonwithyourlife.Maybewhatwehadwasasecretyoukeephiddeninabooktotakeoutandponderonyourbirthday.IsmileatthethoughtbecauseIknowI’vestolenitfromamovie.
“What?”heasks.
“Nothing.IjusthatedTheBridgesofMadisonCounty.”
“Theworst.”
“Allthatpiningaway.”
“Andshesavesthatcrappylinoleumtable.”We’rebothlaughing,sortof.“I’mnotgoingtohugyou,”hesays.
“Okay.”
“Ijustthinkitwouldbetoomuch.”
“What’sthis?Thewinners’circle?”Martinappearsontheterracewiththreeyoungwomen.
Leostandsuptobeintroduced.Thegirlsaretalkinginthemosthigh-pitchedvoicesI’veeverheard,literallysquealingwithdelight.Leodonshisgraciouspublicpersonaashetalkstothem.I’mstillseated,dirtynapkininhand,andIponderthefactthatI’vejustbeenbrokenupwithbyapersonIdatedtenmonthsago.Wasitgallantofhimtoaddressit,toacknowledgethatitwasactuallysomething?Maybe.Butdidthatbalanceoutthethoughtlessnessofleavingitunsaidforsolong?IfwewereascloseasIrememberusbeing,ifIdidn’timaginethewholething,hecouldhavejustsaidit.“I’mnotcomingback.”Ididn’tanticipatethathe’dturnouttobeacoward,yethereweare
IdecidethatIwanttoleaveonthisnote.We’vemadealittlepeace;heprobablydoesn’tfeelguiltyanymore.Igottohearthatourthingwasathing.I’minagorgeousdressandI’mabouttomakeoffwithhispen.Let’srollthecreditsonthis.
“I’mgoingtoheadout,”IsaytoMartin.Hegrabsmeandhugsmeandsayshowhappyheisforallofus.I’mtotakehislimoandhaveitreturnforhimlater.
IturntoLeoandthegirlsandsay,asiftheyallhaveequalimportanceinmylife,“Well,goodnight.Hopeyouallgethomesafely.”AnditfeelslikethesecondtimeI’vewontonight.
???
IamcertainthatifIcangetbacktomyhotel,getintomypajamas,andwashmyfaceraw,thatalloflife’smysterieswillbecomeperfectlycleartome.It’stwoA.M.bythetimeI’moutofthebathtubandinbed,Oscaronthepillownexttome,complimentsofmyparents.
Leohasn’tbeenwithNaomithiswholetime.He’sbeenonhisownorwithdozensofotherwomenwhohedecidedarebetterthanbeingwithme.Itwasn’tlikehewassweptintosomebigloveaffair,hejustleft.Iwasn’tenoughtocomebackfor.Ataminimum,Iwasn’tpractical.Ifallasleepclingingtonewpiecesofinformation:(1)Leogotdrunkandtoldhisfamilyaboutme.(2)Leoisn’tgreattotalkto;Leo’sgreatattalkingtome.(3)Ourthingmatteredtohim.
Iwakeatteno’clockbecausemykidsareFaceTimingme.“Youlookedsopretty,Mommy.AndIlikedallthethingsyousaid.”Idon’trememberanythingIsaid,I’llhavetolookthatup.
“CanIseethetrophy?”ArthurasksandthenlaughswhenIshowhimOscartuckedintobednexttome.Hestudiesmyface.“DidyoutalktoLeo?”
“Barely.Hewassittingrightinfrontofme,buttherewereamillionpeopletotalkto.PeterHarperisnotastallasyou’dthink.”
Bernadettegrabsthephone.“Ohmigod,Mom,Naomilookedsopretty.Couldwedothatwithmyhair?”There’saskirmishofsomesort,Arthurwantshertoshutupandgivehimthephone.Iliebackonmypillow,relishingboththeloveIfeelforthesekidsandthefactthatIcanhangupanytimeIwant.
“Wanttohearsomethingcrazy?”Isay.“NaomiandLeowereneverevendating.Itwasallpublicityforthemovie.”I’mnotentirelysurewhyIfeeltheneedtogossipwithmykids.It’spossiblethatIjustneedtosayittosomeone.
Bernadette’seyesgowide.“That’ssosneaky.Anditworked!”
Arthurseemshesitant.Hisfacefillshalfthescreen,andIthinkabouthowIcansooftenreadhismind.He’srunningsomethingthroughhisprocessors;Icanalmostheartheclickclickclickofit.Thenagain,onetimeIwassurehewasbeingbulliedatschool,anditturnedouthewasjustupsetbecauseIkeptbreakingtheyokesonhiseggsandwiches.
“Listen.Guys.TellPennyI’llbetheretonight;I’llcomestraightfromtheairportandmaybewecanhaveasleepoverinherguestroom—youguys,me,andOscar.”
Theyeruptincheersbeforegoingbacktotheirfight.CHAPTER23
IambackinLaurelRidgefortwenty-fourhoursbeforetheshithitsthefan.Lookingback,IknewsomethingwaswrongwithArthur.Itriedtoteasehisfeelingsoutofhim,butIdidn’ttryhardenough.IwasinsomuchpainforsolongthatIwasn’twillingtomakeroomforwhatwassoobvious.There’snothingmoreshamefulthanthisretrospectiveknowing,becauseitremindsyouhowblindyoucanbetothingsthatdon’tjibewiththerealityyou’retryingtobelievein.ItwasthesamewaywithBenandVickyMiller.IknewbeforeIfoundtheunderwear.IprobablyknewwhatBenwasgoingtodobeforehedid.Ijustdidn’tfeellikeknowing.
SowhentheschoolcallsatnoonandaskswhyArthur’sabsenttoday,IknowandIdon’tknow.It’stheWednesdayaftertheOscars.I’ddroppedthembothinthetrafficcircleinfrontofschoollikeanyotherday.Isayasmuchtotheattendancelady,andsheissilent.Iimaginethisdoesn’thappenmuchatourschool,whichiswhythey’recomfortablewaitinguntilnoontocall.IconfessthatIdon’tknowwhereheis,butthatI’llcallherback.
Itexthim:Arthur?Textmebackplease.It’safullminutebeforehetextsback:I’mfineMom.Ijustneedtodosomething.Don’tbemad.Me:Whereareyou?
Noreply.
IrememberthatIcantrackhisphone.IcursemyfumblingfingersasItrytorememberhowtologin.Finally,myphonefindshim.He’sinHarlem,andIgocoldwonderingwhataneleven-year-oldboycouldbedoingwanderingaroundsofarfromhome.Itakeadeepbreathandpraytoseewithclearereyes.Ilookagainandseethathe’sonatrain.It’smovedalreadythrough125thStreetStationandisheadedtothelaststop,GrandCentralTerminal.
Itwilltakemeninetyminutestogettothecityandanythingcanhappenbetweennowandthen.IcallPenny,andshedoesn’tanswer.IcallLeo.
“Hey.”
“Arthur’smissing,”andIstarttocry.“Ineedhelp.”
Leoisclearheadedanddecisive,whereIaminaloudredfog.Hetellsmetodrivetohisapartment.Heasksmeforthelog-ininformationsothatheandWeeziecantrackArthur’sphoneandgettowhereheis.I’mtogointohisapartmentandwait.
Thesethingsmakesense.Isay“thankyou”alotandheadintothecity.Thisdoesn’tfeellikerunningaway.Whatcouldhepossiblyneedtodo?Ishebeingbullied?Hashejoinedagangandneedstofollowthroughonsomekindofadare?Isthis,atlonglast,somethingtodowithporn?
IcallKateonthewayandaskhertogetBernadetteafterschool.IfillherinonwhatlittleIknowandtellhertomakesomethinguptotellBernadette.MyadrenalinereservesarerunningthinandI’moutofideas.
IpictureArthursneakingofffromtheschoolplaygroundandwalkingtothetrainstation.Iimaginehimbuyingaticketonthetrainbecausehewouldn’thaveacreditcardtouseatthekiosk.Hewouldhavechosenatwo-seaterandsatbythewindow,musteringupallofhiscourageforwhateveritisheneedstodo.Itoccurstomethathe’sfound
Myphonebeeps.It’sLeo:Gothim.Seeyouatmyapartment.
Icrythetearsofapersonwho’slosteverythingandhashaditcasuallyhandedbacktoher.ReliefcomeslikeactualwavesandIfindthatI’veslowedtofortymilesperhourandpeoplearepassingme.IcallKateandcryuntilI’movertheTriboroughBridge.
ImopmyselfupasbestIcan,butI’mnotoverlyconcernedwithmypuffyeyesandrednose,anosethatI’vebeenwipingonthesleeveofmypeasanttopforthepasthour.CaroleKingwiththeflu.IamgoingtograbArthurandsmellhishair.I’mgoingtolookdeepintohisbeautifuleyes.AndthenI’mgoingtokillhim.
Theelevatoropens,andIwalkthroughtheapartmentdoorwithoutknocking.ArthurisonthecouchnexttoLeo,they’rewatchingTheOffice.Leogivesmeasmallsmile,andArthurlookslikeheknowshe’sindeeptrouble.
“I’msorry,Mom,”hesaysasIsitdownnexttohimandwraphiminmyarms
Iholdhisfaceinmyhandsandfeeltearscomingagain.“Arthur,wecangetthroughanything.Whateveritis,wecanhandleittogether.Ihaveafeelingthere’salotofpainwehaven’tsortedthrough,andthat’smyfault.”
IfeelLeo’seyesonme.“Where’dyoufindhim?”Iask.
“ThestinkerwasbuyingadonutinGrandCentral,hidinginplainsight.”
IlaughandhugArthuragain.“Well,thankyou,”toLeo.“Mysisterwasn’tpickingupandIdidn’tknowwhoelsetocall.”
“Youshouldalwayscallme.”HeturnsofftheTVandsaystoArthur,“Youreadytospillit?What’sgoingon?”
Arthurstaresathishands.Itouchhischintotrytogethimtolookatme,buthewon’t.I’mpositivethisisaboutporn.“Doyouwanttotalktomealone?LikewithoutLeohere?”Iask.
“No,”hesays.“IcameheretotellLeoanyway.Youguysaregoingtohateme.”Arthurseemsterrified.
“Icouldneverhateyou,”Leosays.
“Idon’teventhinkI’mallowed,”Isay.
Arthurtakesadeepbreath.“So,whenDadleft,thatwasreallyshittyofhim,”hestarts.
“Arthur,”Isay.
“Sorry,butitwas.”
“Itwas.Goon,”Isay.
“Andyouactedlikeitwasnobigdeal,butitwasabigdealtome.BecauseIdon’thaveadadanymore,likeatall,butitalsosuckedthathecoulddothattoyou.”
“Itwasshitty,Iagree.”
“SowheneverIwouldthinkabouthimcomingback,I’dendupimagininghimfindingustotallyfineandlikewedidn’tevenneedhim.Andhe’dfeeldumb.Ithinkaboutthatalot.Allofusjustfinewithouthim.”
“Whichwekindofare?”Iask.“Imeanitsucks,butwehaveeachotherandMimiandPapa.Andourfriends.”
“Lethimtalk,”Leosays.ItakeadeepbreathandletArthurgoon.
“WhenLeocame,IthoughthowawesomeitwouldbeforDadtoshowupandfindLeothereinstead.IlikedtothinkofDaddrivinguptoourhouseandfindingyouandLeoontheporch,likeallhappy.”
Thisstings.IcanfeelLeowatchingmebutIdon’tdaremeethiseyes.“Andthat’showyou’dgetbackatDad?”
“Idon’tknow.Ijustlikedtheideathathe’dleaveagainknowingwedidn’twanthim.Yeah,IguessI’dbegettingbackathim.”
“Thesefeelingsreallymakesensetome,sweetie.AndIthinkdaydreamingandtalkingaboutthingsisagoodwaytoprocessanger.IjustwriteandtrytocreateaworldIcancontrolforalittlewhile.But,wait,whydidyoucometothecity?”
“ToseeLeo.”
“Becauseyouwantedtotellhimthis?”
“Becausewhenheleftus,everythinghurtalloveragain.Ididn’tcareabouttheplaythatmuch,butjustthatheleftlikewedidn’tmatter.”
There’snothingIcandotoconcealmyhurtfromLeo.Mychildisexpressingthedeepestpartofmypain,therebyincreasingitexponentially.Habittellsmetosaveface,tominimizethewholething.Buthere’sArthurinpain,anditfeelsdisrespectfultohimtolieaboutmine.
“Ifeltlikethattoo.Didyoucomeheretotellhimthat?That’sverybrave.”
“No.Hereitis.Thenightoftheplay,Leotextedmetoseehowitwas.AndIkilledit,”hesaystoLeo.“Ireallywasgood.Anyway,Iwasmadthatheleftus,soItoldhimthatDadcamebackjustasthecurtainwasgoingup,andthatyoutwowerebacktogetherandreallyhappy.”
I’mstunned.I’mstaringatArthur,whostillhaswordscomingoutofhismouth.Leoissilent.
“I’msorry,”Arthurfinishes.
“Sothiswholetime?YouthoughtBenwasback?”IsaytoLeo.
“I’msorry,”Arthursaysagain.
Leoisonhisfeet,handsonhisheadlikehe’stryingtokeepfromhurtingsomeone.“Isthisafuckingjoke?”
“Iwasmadatyou.”Arthur’svoiceissosmall.
“Well,youbrokemyheart,dude,”Leosays.
“Oh,”isallIcanmanage.Everything’scomingintoplace,thesilence,thehostility.HereallythoughtBenwasback.Andthelastpiece:Leo’sheartwasbrokentoo.
ItakeArthurintomyarms,becauseIknowhe’sinalotofpain.Ifeelapeacethatsurprisesme,likewhenthere’sanexplosionandthencompletesilence.Thatsilenceisasupersilence,quieterthananythingthatcamebefore.IknowwhereArthuris.Iknowwhathe’supsetabout.Ididn’timaginethisthingbetweenLeoandme.He’snotamonster.
“Iwascomingback,”LeoissayingtoArthur,notme.“Idon’tknowhowIcouldhavemadethatmoreclear.IknowIleftinahurry,that’sjustkindofhowmylifeis.Justbecauseyourdad’sadickdoesn’tmeanIam.Andyouknowwhat?Justbecausehehurtyoudoesn’tmeanyouneededtohurtme.”Leo’slegitimatelyangry,andItightenmygriponArthur.
ArthurwigglesawayfrommeandfacesLeo.IfeellikeI’mnotinvolved,likethetwoofthemareworkingthroughtheirbreakup,andI’mjustthereformoralsupport.
“Leo,I’msorry.IthinkmymomlovedyouandIwastryingtoprotecther.Ishouldn’thavelied.”He’ssittingupstraight,lookingLeorightintheeye.“AndIownedup.”
Leostandsthereforawhile,silent.“Youdid.ButIfeellikeyoujustranmywholelifethroughameatgrinder.”Hestartswalkingtowardthekitchen.“Maybeyouguysshouldleave.”CHAPTER24
IsortoffeelbadforArthurbeingtrappedinthecarwithmefortheninety-minutedrivehome.Ihavealotofmomthingstosayabouthisfeelingsandwhathappenswhenyoumisdirectyouranger.Wetalkaboutthetruthandhowpreciousitisandaboutliesandhowtheycanspreadandtakeoveryourlife.IhavealottosayabouthisdadthatIprobablyshouldhavesaidsooner.
“Youknowthatyourdadleavinghadnothingtodowithyou,right?”Idon’tknowhowit’spossiblethatit’stakenmetwoyearstosaythis.
“Icouldhavebeenbetteratshortstop,”hesaystothewindow.
“YoucouldhavebeenDerekJeteratshortstopandyourdadwouldstillhaveleft.HelovesyouandBernie,buthejustdoesn’tknowhowtolovehisownlife.You’regoodenough,Arthur.Theproblemisyourdaddoesn’tthinkheis.”
Arthur’slookingoutthewindowstill,andIknowI’mnotbeingentirelyhonest.“WhenyourdadandIweremarried,Ikindoffeltlikeyoudo.IthoughtthatifIcoulddoeverythingperfectly,we’dbehappy.”
“Butyouareperfect,Mom.”
“Right?”Isay,andwebothlaugh.“Loveisn’tsomethingyouneedtoearn.DadleftbecauseofDad,notus.”
Arthurcriesalittle,sayshe’ssorryalot.Italkaboutthebeautyofcomingcleanandgivingandreceivingforgiveness.It’salotoftalking,somuchtalkinginfactthatthereisnoroomforthesecondsetofthoughtsthatwanttointroducethemselves:Leowascomingback.Leo’sheartwasbrokentoo.ItucktheseawaylikeIwouldaWednesdaycrosswordpuzzleorabagofchocolatepretzels.IwilltakethemoutandenjoythemwhenIamalone.
WepickupBernadetteatKate’s,andIpromisetotextherlaterwiththedetails.Wegohome,westarthomework,Imakemeatloaf.WereadachapterofthelastHarryPotterbook,andIinsisteveryonegoestotheirownbed.
WhenI’vecleanedthekitchenandlockedthedoors,Ipourmyselfaglassofwine.IfeelasifIhavetorunthepasttenmonthsthroughanewlens.LeothoughtIwasbackwithBen,thatmykidshadtheirfamilyback.HethoughtBencamebackandmyfeelingsturnedonadime.Heevensentthemoneytomakeitlooklikehewasarenterallthoseextranights.
Iholdmyphonelikeithasapulse.Leoshouldhavetextedbynow:Wowthatwascrazy.Kidsthesedays!AmIright?Butno,he’sreallyupset,andthere’snotext.Maybejusttoomuchtimehaspassed.Maybeinthattimehe’sfalleninlovewithsomeoneelse.That’shardlyastretchoftheimagination.
Itypeadozentextsanddeletethem.IfeellikeIshouldbeapologizing,becauseArthurisanoffshootofme.IfIwasabettermother,maybehewouldhaveworkedthroughallthisangerbynow.MaybeifIwasalittlelessguarded,Iwouldn’thaveletLeowalkawaysoeasily.Afterall,Icouldhaveleftavoicemail.Ifhe’dknownIwasfallingapart,hewouldhaveknownitwasallalie.
Iamstartledbyatext.Leo:Doyouhavesomethingyouwanttosay?I’veseentextbubblesappearanddisappearforthepast20minutes.
Well,that’sembarrassing.Me:IguessIdon’treallyknowwhattosay.I’msorrythishappened.
Leo:Thewholething?
Me:Nojusttheendpart
Leo:I’mleavingforNewZealandtomorrowforthreemonths.MaybewetalkwhenI’mback
Me:Okay
Andthat’sit.Iholdmyphoneforawhiletoseeifthere’smore,butthere’snot.It’sokay,actually.IfinishmywineandlookattheblackFebruarynightthroughthesunroomwindows.Theteahouseisinvisibletonight,butIknowit’sthere.
???
It’smorning,andI’mfeelingcareful.There’sapotentialnewrealityoutthere,andIwanttoletitincubate.IfIopenmyhearttoittoofully,itwillsurelydisappear.Ihaveplentyofevidencetosuggestthatcouldhappen.Idecidenottotellmyparents.IdecidenottotellPenny.IdecidethatI’lljusttuckitawaylikeafortunecookiethatsays,“Somethingnicemighthappen.”
IwilltendtoArthurandremembertocheckinonBernadettetoseeifshe’sharboringthatkindofhurtandanger.ThethingaboutBernadetteisthatshedoesn’treallyharbor.Shefeelsit,letsitout,andmoveson.WithBernadette,theexplosionusuallyhappensinrealtime.
Icreepdownstairsandthrowonmyheaviestcoatwhilethecoffeebrews.TheFebruarysunrisefeelsquickersomehow,likemaybethesunknowsitdoesn’thavemuchtimetogetitsworkdone.
Iwalkoutontotheporchjustasit’sinmidrise,andthereonmyswingisLeo.He’sbundledupinapeacoatandanavywoolcap.Hehasathermosandahotmugofcoffee.“Goodmorning,”hesays.
Isitnexttohim,unsurehowcloseI’msupposedtobe.“Youmustbefreezing.”
“Iam.”
“Aren’tyousupposedtobegoingtoNewZealand?”
“I’mleavinginalittlebit.IjustthoughtmaybewecoulddothisbeforeIgo.”
He’slookingatthesunrise,notme,soIfollowsuit.Wewatchastheremaininggraylightenstopinkandthendeepblue.
Heturnstome.“So,thiswholetimeyou’vebeensittinghereeverymorningbyyourself.”
“Yep.”
“AndeverymorningIwaspicturingyouherewithBen.Beninmyspot,sayingstupidstuffaboutthingshe’dneverdo.Benputtingyoudown.Beninyourbed.Iwassoangry.”
“Ithoughtyoujustghostedme.”I’mlookingatmyhandsrestingonmypajamabottoms,whichareabadflannelwithtoomanycolors.Ifoldthefabrictohidetwomustardstains.
“Nora.”Heturnshiswholebodytomenow,exasperated.“Howwasthatapossibilitygiveneverythingyouknowaboutme?Thatwouldhavemeantourwholethingwasalie.”
Idon’tlookathim.I’mafraidofwhathe’llseeifhelooksdirectlyintomyeyes.Inod.“Thatwastheworstpart.AtsomepointIsortoffiguredI’dimaginedit.”
Heturnsbacktothetrees,andwe’requietforawhile.Therearen’talotofbirds,butthereareafewheartycardinalsflyingaround,landingonleaflessbranches.EverythingIwantedtosaytoLeowhenwewereapartdoesn’tmakeanysenseanymore.AllthestorylinesI’ddevisedtoanswerthequestion“Why?”areirrelevant.
Andthenitreallyhitsme.“YouseriouslybelievedI’djusttakeBenback?Wereyouevenlistening?Didyouevenwatchthemovie?Eew.”
“Iknow.I’vebeenwrestlingwiththatallnight.ButIthinkwhenyouloveaten-year-oldkidandhetellsyousomething,youjusttakeitatfacevalue.Andyoufourwereafamily,ifyourkidscouldhavehadthatback,Iwouldnevermesswiththat.”
Hetakesmyhand,justbarely.He’stouchingthetipsofhisfingerstomine,andwearebothstaringatthem.It’snothingandeverything,ourhandstouching.Isay,“Itwasacrazybiglie.”
“Itwas,”hesays.“AndmaybethewholetimeIwashereIfeltlikeIwasborrowingthis.LikeIdidn’tdeservetokeepit.”
“This?”Isay,motioningtotherottingporchdeckingandtherustedchainontheswing.
“No,this,”hesaysandsqueezesmyhand.Hekissesme,andit’sallbackinasecond—thedizzyswirlyfloodofhappinessandexcitement.It’slastyearagain,andLeo’skissingmeontheporch.Exceptit’snotlastyear.It’sthisyear,andI’mMe2.0.
Hepullsawaybutdoesn’tletgoofmyhand.“SoIwanttoleavetodayandthencomeback.Like,here.”
“Okay,”Isay.Okay!Imean.
“Like,IwantyoutoknowI’mcomingback.AndifyouthinkI’mnotcomingback,thenIwantyoutosay,‘Hey,asshole,howcomeitseemslikeyou’renotcomingback?’Likeanormalwoman.”
Inod.“Ishouldhavesaidthat.Wouldhavesavedalotoftrouble.”
“Welostalotoftime.Anditwashorrible.Nomoreofthisstoiccrap.”
It’ssonicetobesittingnexttohimonthisswingthatI’mdoingalotmorefeelingthanlistening.Leowantsmetoknowhe’scomingback.Leo’scomingback.“Okay,”Isay.
“Youknowwhat?Idon’ttrustyou.Here.”Leograbsmylefthandandshovesathingoldbandonmyfinger.Thisislesslikearomanticgestureandmorelikethehandcuffingofafugitive.“We’remarriednow,okay?Likeinyourhead,justgetthatstraight.Thisishappening.”
Ilaughbecauseit’ssoabsurd,andalsobecauseIamsolight.Athousandpoundsofhurthavebeenliftedoffmychest.“Okay,we’remarried,”Isay,andhekissesmeagain.Ican’thelpbutthinkthisisbetterthananyweddingIcouldimagine.
“That’smymom’sring,”hesays.“ItwasthebestIcoulddointhelastthreehours.ButwearittillIgetback,andthenI’llgetyouanewbiggrossoneifyouwant.Togowithyourmarblecountertops.”Hetiltshisheadtomynewkitchen.
There’sacarpullingintothedriveway.Leogivesthedriverawaveandmakesnomovetogetup.“Soyou’recomingbackhere?LiketoliveinLaurelRidge?”Iask.Suddenly,thewholethingmakesnosense.
“Sure.Andeverywhereelse.Wecanfigureitout.We’regoingtobetogether,whereverweneedtobe.Idon’twantanyotherlifebutthatlife.”
BernadettecomesouttotheporchandfreezeswhensheseesLeo.“YourmomandIaregettingmarried,”hetellsher
Sheopensthekitchendoorandscreamsintothehouse,“Arthur!”
ArthurcomesoutofthehousealreadyyellingatBernadettetoshutupwhenheseesthethreeofussnuggledupontheswing.
“Tellhim,”saysBernadette.
“We’regettingmarried,”saysLeo.
“Forreal?”asksArthur.Iholdupmyhandandshowhimtheweddingring.
HehugsLeo,thenme,andInoticeeveryone’scrying.
“Nowgodoyourmorningthings.I’vegottokissyourmomgood-bye.”CHAPTER25
Iknewit,”mydadsayswhenI’vegotthembothonthephone.“Thewholethingmadenosense,andthenwemeettheguyandhe’sfawningoveryourmotherlikeafool.”
Mymotheriscrying.“He’sjustsohandsome.Ifeltsobadlyforyou.Ilookedstraightintothatyoungman’seyesandthought,‘PoorNora’snevergoingtogetoverthis.’?”
IcallPennyandshemakesmetellthestorytwice,whichIenjoybecauseI’mstillsortoftellingmyselfthestory.“Youknowwhat,youweren’treadyforthisrelationshipayearago.Arthurdidyouafavor.Nowhe’sbackandyou’reready.”Ridiculous,butmaybe.
“ThiswholetimehethoughtyouwerewithBen,”shesays.“Gross.ThankGodArthurcamecleanaboutthewholething.IseeaweddingatLakeComo.That’swheretheClooneysgo.IcanhaveMelissa’stravelpeoplelookintoit.Areyouthinkingfall?I’mthinkingfall.”
Ilookdownatmylittlegoldband.“Doesn’tmattertome,”Isay.
IcallKatewhoconferencesinMickeyatwork.Mickeyisswooninglikemaybehe’sthebridehereandhangsupsohecancallLeobeforehisplanetakesoff
IgetatextfromLuke.Hey.Welcometothefamily.JennandIaresohappyLeo’sgoingtostopmopingaround.We’llcelebratewhenhegetsback.
Weeziecalls.“I’mspeechless.LikehejustcalledmeandIcriedthewholetime.Hesaysmyfirstjobistogetmyshittogether.SoI’mtrying.”WeezieisalreadyinNewZealandpreparingforLeo’sarrival.She’sbeengiveninstructionstogivehisfiancéeanythingsheasksfor.
“YouknowI’mnotgoingtoaskforanything,”Isay.
“Iknow.Andthat’sthebestpart.”She’scryingagain.
???
It’sMarchandthekidsareonspringbreak.WeareinNewZealand,onthesetofRuin,aromanceLeo’sstarringinoppositeTatumHunter,ayounger,sweeterversionofNaomi.Ireadthescriptontheplaneandreallycouldn’tgetoverallthesobbinganddead-eyestaringintothedistance.Iguessthisiswhatthey’dcallrealisticromance.Theydon’tdothisonTRC.Theirmoviesofferasub-fantasyofresilience:Theguyleavesandthegirlissad,butthenthinks,Hey,Istillhavemycupcakesandmyfriendsandfamily.I’llbeokay.Hereturnstofindhernearlythriving.Heneverreturnstofindherinthefetalposition,clutchingafifthofgin.
Leodoestheleavinginthismovie,soTatumdoesthesobbing.Thereareafewlovescenestowardthebeginningthat,ofcourse,wedon’tseefilmed.Nowthethreeofusaresittinguponacliff,watchingastheyfilmLeoandTatumwalkingonthebeach.Arthurasks,“Ishegoingtohavetokissthatgirl?”
“Yes.Poorguy,”Isayandputmyarmaroundhim.
“Isthatgoingtofreakyouout?”Bernadetteasks.Bernadette,who’swearingsunglassesandafloppyhatlikeshedoesn’twanttoberecognized,butreallywantstoberecognized.
“Nope.Idon’tthinkso.Well,Iwon’twatchtooclosely.”
Avanpullsupbehindus,andamaninourhotel’suniformasks,“AreyouMr.Vance’sfamily?”Hehasapicniclunchreadytobelaidout.
“Yes,”ArthursaysbeforeIcan.
???
SomeonefromthePostgetstheirhandsonaphotoofthetwoofuswatchingthekidsswimoffthebackofaboatinMilfordSound.TheheadlinereadsMEGAMARRIED.There’saninsertwherethey’veblownupaphotoofmylefthandtoshowLeo’smom’sweddingring,andthearticlegoesontospeculatethatwe’vehadasecretwedding.Leoinstructshispublicitypeoplenottorespond,becausehelikestheideaofit.
“Firstofall,”hetellsusoverlunchbythehotelpool,“wearemarried.Wegotmarriedontheporch.Butthisalsomeansthatwecanhaveaweddingandnoone’sgoingtobugus.Theythinkitalreadyhappened.”
“Sneaky,”saysArthur.
“Canwetalkaboutthewedding?Ihaveideas,”saysBernadette.
We’repoolsidebutinacabanathatprotectsusbothfromthesunandcuriouspassersby.It’savailableforusalldaywithsunscreen,snacks,andabowloforchids.Twouniformedmenstandrightoutsidetosatisfyanythirstorwhimthatmightcomeup.I’minabathingsuitandmyfavoritewhitecover-up,butaboxarrivedthismorningwithseveralnew,bettercover-upsthatwerechosenbyWeezie’sstylist.Theyarebeadedandfringedandsortofuncomfortable.IhopetheyarenotametaphorforthislifeIamentering.
IwonderifBenknowsaboutLeoandme.Iwonderifhe’satalocationontheglobewherepeoplereadthePost.HowisitpossiblethatI’veendedupwiththebiggerlifewhenIwasalwaystheonesellinghimthesmallerthings?Ihaveamanwhocallshimselfmybutlerwaitingtwentyinchesawaytorefreshmyicedtea,andIhavetosaythat’sprettynice.ButIdon’twanttoendupatarm’sdistancefrommylife.Iwanttopickoutmyownbananas,watchthesunrisefrommyownporch.
“Whatdoyouthink,Mom?”I’vemissedtheirwholeweddingdiscussion.
“IthinkIwanttomarryLeo,”Isay.
Leosmilesatme.“Well,that’sarelief.We’redebatinglocation.”
Bernadettemakeshercase.“Let’srentoutacastleinFrance.LikethatbigonewheretheLouisusedtolive.Andeveryonecanstaythere,andtheweddingwillbeinthebackgarden.We’llmakeyourhairhighonyourheadlikeaqueen.”
Myfaceshowsmytrepidation.“Wasthereanotheroption?”
Leosays,“Isaylet’sgetmarriedonthelawninfrontoftheteahouse,withthedoorwideopensowecanlookoutintotheforest.Justfamilyandourclosestfriends.”HeseesthatBernadetteisrollinghereyes.“AndBerniegetsfullcontroloverdecorations.Nobudget.”
Arthursays,“CanIpicktheband?”
“Done.”
MybutlerisremovingmyplateandisreplacingitwithaplateofthemostexquisitefreshfruitIhaveeverseen.Icanhavethisandabackyardwedding,Ithink.Iwonderatthepossibilityofhavingitall.CHAPTER26
InJuly,wegetmarried.LeoandBernadettehavehiredacrewtocreateacanopyofwhitelightsovertheentirebacklawn.LeoandArthurareinwhitelinensuits.BernadetteandIwearsimplewhitesundresses,chosenbyWeezie.It’shot,andatthelastminutewealldecidenottowearshoes.
There’snoneedtoaddcolor—theforestbehindtheteahouseisacurtainofallshadesofgreen.Aboveitisaclearsummersky.Oneithersideoftheteahouse’sopendooristheannualexplosionofbluehydrangea.Theywelcomemedowntheaisle,perfectlyframingLeoinmylineofsight.Leo’shereinJuly.Andhe’sstayingforalloftheJulysafterthis.Somethingblue,indeed.
Aftertheceremony,wemovetothefrontyard,whichhasbeentransformedbycandlelittables,aband,andadancefloor.Thecaterershavetakenovermykitchenandmyporch,butthewholeplacestillfeelslikehome.ThetreesthatsurroundthepropertygiveafeelingofprivacythatIneverreallyfeltlikeIneededbefore.LaurelRidgemightbetheperfectplaceforacelebritytogetmarried.
LukegetsuptomakeatoastabouthowIturnedhisbrotherintoarealperson.Leorollshiseyesandgivesmeasqueeze.“Momwassoproudofyou.Shetriednottobragaboutyou,butshecouldn’thelpherself,”hegoeson.“Andthisfamilyyou’vewiggledyourwayinto,thisiswhatshewouldhavebraggedaboutthemost.”Leotakesmyhandandkissesit.
There’ssomethingextraordinarilycelebratoryaboutthiswedding.It’snotjustbecausethepeoplethereloveusandwantustobehappy.Itmightbebecausetheylivedthroughthetimethatwewereapartandmiserable.ItmightbebecausetheyalleitherlivedthroughorsawthemovieversionofmymarriagetoBen.LukeandJenn,KateandMickey.
Weezieisgiddy.“ImetNorarightherelastyear,”shetellsmyparents.“Shewasworriedwe’dwreckherlawn,andshewasright.Andallthewhilethere’sthisthingbrewingbetweenherandLeo.”
MartinistherewithCandy,whoappearstobebackintherotation.“Itakefullresponsibilityforthis,”hetellseverybody.“Itwasmyideatofilmhere.IbroughtLeorighttoherdoorandlethimsleeponherlawn.”
???