Nora Goes Off Script(22)
“She’s a professional pastry chef. But yes.” We’re all laughing, and Leo’s handing me a glass of the most delicious wine ever.
* * *
? ? ?
Leo’s up for the sunrise before I am. He’s left a mug out for my coffee.
“Hey,” he says.
“Thanks.” I settle in next to him and take my mug. “So, this is your last Laurel Ridge sunrise.”
“No. This is day six, which includes night six, which includes the sunrise tomorrow. What time’s checkout?”
“We’re pretty relaxed about that here.” He looks at me with something that resembles gratitude, and I wonder if this time has done him any good.
“Are you glad you stayed? I mean, do you feel any better?”
“I feel pretty good. I was just thinking how much I miss being a part of a family. Like when I was growing up, we were this unit, and there was so much give-and-take. My brother, Luke, and I had to share food and space and attention. Now I barely see him, and my life’s all about me. It’s exhausting.”
“Must be nice,” I say out loud by mistake.
He gives me a nudge. “I know I sound like an asshole, but look at your life. You live for your kids, and they live for you. There’s something almost sacred about what you have. In my life, I live for my career, and all the people around me are paid to live for my career. I swear last Thanksgiving I looked around my table and realized everyone there was on my payroll.”
“Come on. You must have had some kind of normal relationship. Like with a woman who liked you and laughed at your lame jokes.”
“Sure, tons. But the thing is they all liked me before they met me, like they fell in love with something they saw in People magazine. When my mom died, I thought: I just lost the last woman in the world who knew me. Of course, I don’t bother getting to know them either.”
“I met Ben so young that I never got to have that kind of quick meaningless relationship. Though I guess I had a long meaningless relationship instead.” We both laugh at this, like Ben’s an inside joke.
“This morning I woke up worried about Arthur. It was the strangest feeling to want something so much for someone else. You’re really lucky.”
I want to tell him he’s welcome to stay, that maybe another week or two of this is just what he needs. But I know I’m on a slippery slope, because he’s brought something with him, and he’s going to take it when he leaves.
* * *
? ? ?
He leaves me alone all day, so that I have the tea house to myself from ten to two. My pencils are in position, and I haven’t built a fire because it’s warm outside. I listen to the birds through the open back windows. I sneak peeks through the front door to see if he’s coming to see me.
I write garbage, more garbage-y than usual. Icky romantic scenes with long kisses and an otherwise sensible woman pouring her heart out. There’s a marriage proposal at sunrise in the mountains, and well, I have officially lost my mind.
At one-thirty he’s still not bothering me, so I decide to take a nap. It’s still my tea house, my daybed, so I figure I have the right to lie down. I don’t dare get under his covers, that’s way too personal, but I sink into his linen-covered pillow and smell his smell until I fall asleep.
There’s a hand on my shoulder and a person sitting on the side of the bed. I’ve gone into one of those daytime stupors where you wake up and you don’t know where you are. I blink at him. “Oh shit. Sorry. This is your bed. What time is it?”
“It’s two-thirty. I came out to bring you some tea and you were passed out. I guess I was too late.” He’s really close to me. And I’m lying down. I don’t know how I can sit up without getting even closer to him, so I just stay lying down.
“I was writing a lot of really terrible scenes. Bad writing wears me out.” I’m still not entirely awake. “What have you been doing?”
“Pacing. Waiting for you to finish writing.”
My stomach drops. “Oh?” is all I can muster.
“Yeah.” He gets up and starts pacing the short length of the room. “I’m not sure about Arthur. I mean we were ready last night, but today, after a full day of school, he could have forgotten all of it. I mean, what if it’s a disaster?”
Oh, sweet reality. Thank you. I sit up, scoot back, and comb my hair with my fingers. I am a person and a mother again. “Leo, he’s ten. This is an elementary school play. Half the kids will throw up or start crying during the rehearsal. Arthur’ll be fine.”
“What time do we pick him up?”
“Oh my God. Okay.” I stand up and take a deep breath. “I’m really off my game. I’m in charge of the kids during rehearsal, like the ones waiting backstage.” I check my phone. “I’ve got to go.”
Leo follows me out. “I’m coming. You can’t make me wait here.”
“Fine. We’ll leave in ten. I need to organize dinner.”
“I’ll do that. What do we eat on Wednesdays again?”
“Surprise me,” I say.
* * *
? ? ?
I swear we are in slow motion walking past the pickup line into the front entrance of the school. I’d changed into a dress because I know for a fact it’s three hundred degrees inside the auditorium on an April afternoon. “Legs!” Leo said as I came back down the stairs. On my advice, he changed from jeans into linen pants. Leo is absolutely focused, moving like we should have been there hours ago.