Nora Goes Off Script(58)

“You okay?” It’s Leo.

My mouth is full of mushrooms, so I cover it with my dirty napkin and mumble, “Sure.”

“So congratulations, really,” he says. “Okay if I sit down?”

“Thanks.” I nod. He sits down right next to me, but not close enough that any of our parts are touching. My eyes track that space between us, as if it’s something so familiar but from another lifetime.

“It’s a big deal,” he says.

“Yeah. For you too.”

“Not really. I don’t mean to seem jaded, but the first one felt like a bigger deal. And I can’t get that excited about an award for acting like a total dick.” He’s flustered. “Oh, sorry.”

“No offense taken, that’s how I wrote it.”

“Yeah. So are you happy? You said you were happy a while back.”

“I am. My kids are good. I’m a big success.” I look away, as if on the other side of me might be the answer, a better thing to say.

“Okay. That’s what matters.”

That’s not what matters at all, I think. “That’s not what matters at all,” I say.

“Probably not. Sounded right though.”

“Do you have a pencil?” I ask. He reaches into his coat pocket and hands me a pen. I can feel him watching me as I tie my hair in a knot and secure it with his pen. If only I could wash my face. I turn to him. “That’s better.”

He doesn’t smile. Something hurts, and I’m glad. He says, “I guess I want you to know that what we had was the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m glad it happened.”

I hold his gaze as I consider this. It’s a really nice thing to hear, but it sort of sounds like he’s delivering the breakup speech he should have given me last spring. He wants to be let off the hook, and to my surprise, I find that I want to let him off the hook. I don’t want him to feel bad about leaving me, and I sort of like the idea that he remembers it like I do. Maybe there are moments where people come together and you can just seal them in their own space while you move on with your life. Maybe what we had was a secret you keep hidden in a book to take out and ponder on your birthday. I smile at the thought because I know I’ve stolen it from a movie.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I just hated The Bridges of Madison County.”

“The worst.”

“All that pining away.”

“And she saves that crappy linoleum table.” We’re both laughing, sort of. “I’m not going to hug you,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I just think it would be too much.”

“What’s this? The winners’ circle?” Martin appears on the terrace with three young women.

Leo stands up to be introduced. The girls are talking in the most high-pitched voices I’ve ever heard, literally squealing with delight. Leo dons his gracious public persona as he talks to them. I’m still seated, dirty napkin in hand, and I ponder the fact that I’ve just been broken up with by a person I dated ten months ago. Was it gallant of him to address it, to acknowledge that it was actually something? Maybe. But did that balance out the thoughtlessness of leaving it unsaid for so long? If we were as close as I remember us being, if I didn’t imagine the whole thing, he could have just said it. “I’m not coming back.” I didn’t anticipate that he’d turn out to be a coward, yet here we are.

I decide that I want to leave on this note. We’ve made a little peace; he probably doesn’t feel guilty anymore. I got to hear that our thing was a thing. I’m in a gorgeous dress and I’m about to make off with his pen. Let’s roll the credits on this.

“I’m going to head out,” I say to Martin. He grabs me and hugs me and says how happy he is for all of us. I’m to take his limo and have it return for him later.

I turn to Leo and the girls and say, as if they all have equal importance in my life, “Well, good night. Hope you all get home safely.” And it feels like the second time I’ve won tonight.



* * *



? ? ?

I am certain that if I can get back to my hotel, get into my pajamas, and wash my face raw, that all of life’s mysteries will become perfectly clear to me. It’s two A.M. by the time I’m out of the bathtub and in bed, Oscar on the pillow next to me, compliments of my parents.

Leo hasn’t been with Naomi this whole time. He’s been on his own or with dozens of other women who he decided are better than being with me. It wasn’t like he was swept into some big love affair, he just left. I wasn’t enough to come back for. At a minimum, I wasn’t practical. I fall asleep clinging to new pieces of information: (1) Leo got drunk and told his family about me. (2) Leo isn’t great to talk to; Leo’s great at talking to me. (3) Our thing mattered to him.

I wake at ten o’clock because my kids are FaceTiming me. “You looked so pretty, Mommy. And I liked all the things you said.” I don’t remember anything I said, I’ll have to look that up.

“Can I see the trophy?” Arthur asks and then laughs when I show him Oscar tucked into bed next to me. He studies my face. “Did you talk to Leo?”

“Barely. He was sitting right in front of me, but there were a million people to talk to. Peter Harper is not as tall as you’d think.”