Nora Goes Off Script(20)

“Asia,” Ben said. As if that explained everything.

“I’ll come with you,” said Arthur. “I can help you there, and we’ll learn Chinese.” He spoke through tears and this is when my heart broke a little. I was better off without Ben, and my kids were too, but seeing the desperation behind Arthur’s eyes killed me.

“Sorry, buddy, but I’ll be back.”

“When?” asked Bernadette.

“Soon.” He gave them each a hug. “You guys be good for your mom, okay?”

They didn’t reply, just looked at him in what I assume was disbelief. He grabbed his keys and his phone and his stupid puffer vest and left. We three stayed in the same room for the rest of the day, none of us wanting anyone out of our sight. For weeks afterward, I tried to get them to talk about it. Bernadette seemed more annoyed than hurt, like whatever her dad had to do that was dragging him away was probably nonsense. I was careful not to agree. Arthur was sad and asked a lot of questions I didn’t have answers to. Doesn’t he miss us? Does he wonder how we are? We talked about it every day for a while, until we’d sort of exhausted our own explanations. None of us thought he was coming back.

The house was bigger without his stuff and his anger. I cleared out furniture and luxuriated in the open spaces. I felt like the house could finally breathe. I started running before I wrote, and I swear my writing got better. I hoped my kids could feel how much stronger I was without Ben dragging me down. Without Ben, I had the energy to be mother and father and provider and playmate. People usually talk about their new normal as some sort of difficult adjustment, but mine left me lighter. I was released from worrying about what Ben would spend. I no longer needed to deflect his criticisms of the kids or myself. I was free.

But Leo in my house is fun. I like the space he takes up. It’s light and exciting, and I am slipping into a daydream that this is my new reality. I have a handsome playmate who listens to me when I speak. He asks follow-up questions because he wants to hear more. I cannot shake the feeling that Leo likes talking to me. Like, he likes the actual me. He’s not in it for the free meal or anything I can do to improve his situation. Leo Vance is just fine without me, yet he still follows me around with rapt attention.

He’s leaving in two days, and I need to screw my head on straight. It’s Tuesday. Bernadette has dance after school. I have to get the recycling out. Tomorrow is the first day of rehearsals and I’m in charge of shushing the children while they wait their turns. I’m also, as it turns out, in charge of the whole play, so I’d better get a committee together. Costumes? Sets? Snacks?

“Crap. I almost missed it.” Leo barrels through the door with a blanket in his arms. He sits down next to me and covers us both up. The sun’s halfway up and he hasn’t missed the best of it. This is the part where the pink starts to move up the trees.

“Want me to get you some coffee?” I ask, because I’d never do this without coffee.

“No. Stay till it’s over.”

So I do and we sit there and stare in silence until the sky is bright. “What were you thinking about?” he asks. “You were all furrowed when I came out.”

“Nothing.” Talking about Ben is going to make me feel like a loser, so I’m quiet. Leo turns his head to me and gives me a look like he’s not buying it. I say, “How nice it is that Ben’s gone.”

“Where is he now?”

“Who knows. He said Asia.”

“So, you don’t hear from him? He doesn’t see the kids?”

“Nope. Well, he calls sometimes and makes plans but doesn’t show.”

“Wow. Where do the checks come from?”

And I laugh at this, a real whole-bodied laugh that ends in my coughing up a little of my coffee. Leo offers his blanket to wipe my mouth. I use my sleeve. “Sorry,” I say, gathering myself. “That was a totally legitimate question. This part wasn’t in the script. He doesn’t send checks. Our deal was pretty cut and dried—I get the house, the mortgage, the credit card debt, and the pleasure of supporting the kids and myself. And he gets to walk away. I didn’t argue because I didn’t want to have to sell the house. And I actually might have ended up paying him alimony for the rest of his life. And then I’d probably have to kill him. So. This was for the best.”

“I’m starting to see why Ruth was so nonplussed when Trevor left. So just like in the movie, he’s sort of too good to work?”

“?‘Hamiltons don’t work for other people.’ That’s sort of their thing. His great-grandfather actually worked hard and made a fortune in cattle. Ben grew up with that wealth but didn’t really internalize the ‘work hard’ part of the story. It’s like he missed the part where his great-grandfather shoveled cow shit for years before he made it. So he dabbles. He tries lots of stuff that doesn’t work out, mainly because other people are incompetent.” I hold his gaze to show him that I really am okay with it. Which I am. Not the part that he’s made no effort to see or contact the kids in nearly a year, that part lives in my chest in the form of an easily triggered rage. But the part where Ben is who he is and it’s not my problem anymore, that’s fine with me.

Leo studies the tree line again and then looks back at me. “What happened to the see-through nightgown?”