Nora Goes Off Script(36)

“L.A. An audition,” I say again.

“He’s coming back,” says Bernadette.

“Did he give a specific day?” he asks. He’s stopped sorting through the pile of drill bits on the counter. I have his full attention.

“Thursday,” I say.

Mr. Mapleton smiles. “Ah, then he’s coming back. As long as he has a plane ticket for a specific day, he’ll be back. Good,” he says, reassuring himself.

Leo doesn’t buy plane tickets, I don’t say. “Arthur’s play is Friday night. That’s more solid than a plane ticket,” I say. I am promising things over which I have no control, but I’ve succeeded in saying the words that will soothe me and keep Mr. Mapleton from feeling sorry for me. Arthur squeezes my hand, making me feel like maybe I’ve soothed him too.

Arthur actually has a pretty good game. He has a base hit and no errors. I want to text Leo about this, but sort of feel like it’s too much. I’ll tell him when he reaches out to me. That’s what a normal, not obsessed, girlfriend would do. And for now, that’s what I’ll pretend to be. He’s doing his thing and has other stuff on his mind, I’ll pretend I do too.



* * *



? ? ?

There’s something going on with the director. Leo’s telling me about it on the phone Tuesday night. I’m lying in bed and he’s saying a lot of words. I just like hearing the sound of his voice.

“I mean, I would have wanted the part without Bohai directing,” he’s saying. “But the chance to work with him sort of clinched it. If they fire him, it’ll be a lot of starting over again.”

“And why would they fire him again?” I’m getting sleepy. I want him to keep talking.

“If these accusations have any truth to them, then he’s a creep and no one’s going to want to work with him, including me. I was supposed to have dinner tonight with the producer to find out more, but she canceled.”

“What are you doing for dinner then?”

“I bought a chicken, actually.” Leo sounds truly pleased with himself. “And a salad.”

“Wait. You’re cooking?”

“No. Well, I thought about it. I went to Whole Foods. Have you ever been to a Whole Foods?”

“I have.”

“It’s nicer than the Stop n’ Save.”

“It is.”

“Well, they have a lot of chicken. I just stood there looking at all the raw chickens and kind of freaked out. Two people stopped and took my picture while I was studying them. I didn’t think I could figure it out without you, but did you know they sell chickens already cooked? And salad?”

I laugh. “Yes, I did know this. Listen, when you come back, I’ll walk you through roasting a chicken.”

Leo’s quiet for a second. “No, thanks. I just want you to roast me a chicken. I don’t ever want to eat another chicken that wasn’t roasted by you.”

My desire to put on an apron and roast this man a chicken is profound. I don’t even own an apron. I just want him to be close enough to me that I can hand him a plate with chicken on it. “Okay,” I say. “Let tonight be the last non-Nora chicken you ever eat.”



* * *



? ? ?

I can’t wait to talk to him on Wednesday night, because I’m going to get to say, “See you tomorrow!” Bernadette and Arthur are unusually upbeat at dinner for the same reason. They brush their teeth and move their bathroom stuff into mine, in preparation.

Around nine o’clock I get a text from Leo: It’s all hitting the fan. Just google “Bohai” and you’ll see. The studio’s fired him and I need to meet the new director tonight. Good chance I’m not going to get there till Friday. I’ll text you after dinner? Or should I let you sleep?

I say: That’s okay, text me.

And I mean that it’s okay to wake me up because I’d rather talk to him than sleep. I do not mean that not coming until Friday is okay. I wake to the sunrise and two texts from Leo. They came in at two o’clock and hadn’t woken me.

Leo: Hey. Too late to call?

Ten minutes later: Glad you’re getting some sleep. Tonight was a lot, I actually like the new guy but there are going to be tons of changes. There’s no way I get there before Friday. So sorry. Love you.

So it’s not today. I’ll wait another day. What’s the big deal? I tell the kids at breakfast. “So Leo texted me in the middle of the night. They had to hire a new director so he can’t come till Friday.”

“I got the same text,” says Arthur to his eggs.

“See,” says Bernadette. “This is why I need a cell phone. It’s not fair that Leo texts you guys and not me. I’m totally left out of this family.” That last word gives me pause.

“You’re eight,” I say. “If I bought an eight-year-old a cell phone so she could text with a movie star, I’m pretty sure they’d run me out of Laurel Ridge.” I smile at her and get a glare in return.

“You think he’ll come Friday?” Arthur asks. I can tell he’s nervous to ask it.

“Of course! It’s the play. Leo’s living for this.” My voice has gone high-pitched, like I’m selling something. Arthur gives me a pinched smile. The truth is that I have no business making promises about a school play on behalf of a man who’s working on a film with a 250-million-dollar budget. Leo has reentered something that is bigger than we are. I’ve lost my chance to manage Arthur’s expectations, mainly because I don’t want to look at the possibility that Leo will break both of our hearts.