Nora Goes Off Script(37)

I don’t hear from Leo all day Thursday. I assume whatever is keeping him in L.A. is keeping him busy. He’s working with the new director. There was something about getting fitted for a slightly different costume situation. I know he’s busy, but when he hasn’t called by dinnertime to say those three little words, “See you tomorrow!” I feel kind of sick. My own selfish heart needs him back. More than that, I cannot bear the thought of his disappointing Arthur.

I wake Friday morning to see he texted during the night: I’m really sorry, there’s no way out of here. If I leave the whole project falls apart. I’m not sure when I can get back. I’ll call you when I can.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Besides the pain of it, my overwhelming feeling is that I should not have let myself get punched in the gut. I have let down my guard in the most epic way. Arthur is going to be devastated. Frankly, the whole town is. The thought of walking into that auditorium tonight to a chorus of “Where’s Leo?” makes me want to scream.

Arthur finds me on the porch with my coffee. “I got the text too,” he says. “This sucks.”

“It does,” I say and put my arm around him. “It really does. But you are going to be so great tonight, and the whole town is coming to cheer you on.”

“We don’t need him.” He looks at me hard, studying my face. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and we both know I’m lying.

“Your eyes look like you were crying,” he says.

“Allergies,” I say.

He scoots closer to me and takes my hand in his. “Please be okay, Mom.” And I know what he means: I’m all he has.



* * *



? ? ?

We are thirty minutes till curtain and I am scanning the crowd, because deep down, I am still a romance writer. I know this scene, I’ve written it thirty-four times. The commercial break is over. This is the community event, and just after it’s gotten started and the heroine has moved on and found a way to manage alone, he appears as if by magic. He’s had an epiphany and this is the life he wants. Chaste kiss and on with the town fair, soup kitchen opening, ballet performance. Fifth-grade play.

Kate’s covering for me backstage so Bernadette and I can sit in the third row and watch. Mrs. Sasaki seems thrilled to take the credit for Leo’s directorial debut. Oliver is good. Fagin is great. I’m grateful for the dark when he sings “You can go but be back soon . . .” because there are tears. Bernadette takes my hand.

In the end there are standing ovations. Arthur smiles from the inside, a smile that tells me that he knows who he is and he knows he can do things. The basic truth of parenting fills my heart: If your kids are okay, you don’t really have any problems. I will relish this feeling. I will keep squeezing Bernadette’s hand.



* * *



? ? ?

It’s Friday night so there’s no homework and no rush to bed. It’s cool enough to light a fire and we squeeze together on the sunroom couch. We haven’t sat out here in a while, because there would have been no room for Leo. Now that he’s gone, everything feels sort of empty, so we gravitate toward the smaller space. We review the performance as if we are unbiased and conclude that Fagin stole the show. They are so tentative with me that I realize I need to say something about Leo to break the tension.

“I bet Leo’s really sorry he missed tonight. He worked almost as hard as you did.” It’s an opening.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Arthur says. “He can order the DVD.” This might take a while.

When I get into bed, my phone dings. Leo: How’d it go?

Me: He was fantastic, stole the show. How’s it going there?

Leo: It’s chaos, but we’re making progress. I think it’s going to be a good movie.

I lie: That’s great! So happy for you!

Leo: Thanks. I have to head out to dinner. But I love you and I really miss you.

Me: Love you too.

I am awash with relief. He’s coming back; he loves me. I don’t need to act like such a baby. “My boyfriend is away for work,” I say out loud. And I like the sound of it. I mean, I lived with a man who refused to work for a decade, and now I’m complaining that the new guy works too much? Come on. Leo’s work is a huge part of who he is, and that’s going to be part of our relationship. I decide that “relationship” is a nice word, and I fall asleep.

I don’t hear from him on Saturday. Like the whole day, no call and no text. I reassure myself by rereading the transcript. He loves me, he misses me. I don’t hear from him on Sunday. It’s the weekend, I tell myself. Maybe people in L.A. work on the weekend. It occurs to me that I can text him.

Me: Hey

No reply. I stare at my phone and try to come up with the reasons he might not be responding. Well, maybe they’ve started filming already and he’s on set. Maybe he’s out to brunch with his agent. Maybe he’s swimming laps in his giant pool. With deep breaths, I remind myself I’m not in middle school.





CHAPTER 14





On Monday, I go for a run without my phone, sure that if I leave it in the kitchen, I will return to multiple missed calls from Leo. A watched pot and all that. I finish my run in record time and am surprised, maybe gobsmacked, to find that I’d missed nothing at all.