Nora Goes Off Script(53)
Naturally.
My parents want to come, which sort of feels like it’s complicating things, but it’s fun that they’re so excited. Martin says he can get them tickets and an invitation to the Vanity Fair party. Penny makes us an appointment at Bergdorf Goodman to try on dresses. My dad springs for a new tux. Everything suddenly feels like I’m getting married, and I resist the urge to cycle between remembering my actual wedding to Ben and imagining I’m flying out to marry Leo.
The dress lady’s name is Olympia, and she escorts my mom, Penny, and me into a large dressing room and offers us champagne. Bernadette is at school, probably still livid that she’s missing this. Olympia brings in four black dresses for my mom before she accepts the fact that my mom lives in Technicolor.
“I’m almost seventy years old,” my mom tells her, “and I’ve never even been to California. This is the biggest moment of my life. I want to be in yellow, like a lemon on a tree.”
Penny and I smile at each other, because my mom is adorable. I don’t know what Pantone’s saying about the color of the year, but there’s no chance there’s a wide selection of yellow dresses for women of a certain age.
Olympia is thrilled. “Oh yay! I was worried you were a bore. I’ll be right back. And, Nora, what about you?”
“My daughter wants me in lavender,” I say. “But I’m open to suggestions.” Olympia claps her hands.
When she’s gone, Penny says, “I’m overthinking the dress. I know I am. I just want Leo to look at you and drop dead from regret. Like I want him to stand and weep. Is that too much to ask?”
“Probably,” I say.
“Like I imagine you in a skintight gold dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. And his jaw dropping to the ground. All of it caught on camera.”
My mom is laughing. “Penny, I don’t know how it ever happened that you’re not the romance writer.”
“I’ve given this some thought too,” I say, which is the biggest understatement of all time. “And the last thing I want is to put myself in a beauty competition with Naomi. And I don’t believe that Leo would fall back in love with me just because I look good. He’s not that kind of person, and I wouldn’t want him if he was. Painful truth, right there. I just want to show up looking like myself and feeling comfortable so I can enjoy the whole thing.”
Penny sighs. “Fine. You can look like yourself, but we’ll fix you up a little.”
My mom ends up with a canary-yellow chiffon gown with long billowing sleeves. She looks like old Hollywood, glamorous in a carefree kind of way. I am more excited seeing my mom in this dress than I have been since I got the call.
In a stroke of good luck, they have one lavender dress, and I happen to love it. It has a wide scoop neck that shows off my collarbones (take that, Leo) and hangs in heavy crepe to the floor. It fits where it should, but nothing pulls, nothing grabs. It’s completely comfortable. When I put it on, my mom says, “That’s the one. I like the way you feel in it.”
Over meatloaf, the week before the event, Bernadette has a million questions. I’ve already answered most of them. Will there be snacks? What if I get cold? Who will drive me to the party after? Have I practiced walking up stairs in my shoes?
Arthur is quiet. “Are you worried about this, Arthur? I don’t expect to win, I just think it’ll be fun to get dressed up and be on TV.”
“Will Leo have a date?” he asks.
“He’ll be with Naomi Sanchez, his co-star.” And I’m not sure why I say it this way, as if Arthur is going to be upset that she’s his girlfriend.
“I bet he liked hanging out with you more than he likes hanging out with her.”
Bernadette and I both look at him, surprised. This isn’t something we really talk about anymore, but it sort of feels like he’s been stewing about it for a while. “Well, who wouldn’t?” I say, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
“Poor Naomi,” Bernadette kids.
“She’s a real charity case,” I say.
CHAPTER 21
It’s the end of February and I wake up in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Because I’m an Oscar nominee, I remind myself. I go to my balcony to see if I can see the sunrise, but I can’t. Los Angeles seems to center entirely around the sunset. I make myself a cup of coffee and look over the treetops.
I am happy, I think. Whenever I remember to think of the things I’m grateful for, my health, my kids, and the sunrise have been top of the list. Throw in my house, and I really have nothing to complain about. Even when Ben was around and belittling me for selling out and writing crappy romance movies, I felt grateful for my work. I mean someone had to sell out, you can’t walk into the Stop n’ Save and trade big ideas for chicken.
But this. To have written a screenplay that is essentially my truth, or at least represents my feelings about my truth, and to have it produced and then appreciated. It’s almost too much for me to contain at this moment. What if people like Sunrise? What if this is my new normal—showing people my heart and having them applaud it?
And as for my heart, it’s okay. I’ve read that quote a million times, the one about knowing when to let go of things that were not meant for you. Leo was not meant for me. I mean, look at him. We had a moment, and it was perfect. Can’t I just leave it at that? Encapsulate the memory and protect it? Maybe the whole thing was just a dream, anyway. Frankly, if his sheets weren’t sitting on Kate’s guest room bed, I might actually think I made the whole thing up.