Nora Goes Off Script(63)

My mother is crying. “He’s just so handsome. I felt so badly for you. I looked straight into that young man’s eyes and thought, ‘Poor Nora’s never going to get over this.’?”

I call Penny and she makes me tell the story twice, which I enjoy because I’m still sort of telling myself the story. “You know what, you weren’t ready for this relationship a year ago. Arthur did you a favor. Now he’s back and you’re ready.” Ridiculous, but maybe.

“This whole time he thought you were with Ben,” she says. “Gross. Thank God Arthur came clean about the whole thing. I see a wedding at Lake Como. That’s where the Clooneys go. I can have Melissa’s travel people look into it. Are you thinking fall? I’m thinking fall.”

I look down at my little gold band. “Doesn’t matter to me,” I say.

I call Kate who conferences in Mickey at work. Mickey is swooning like maybe he’s the bride here and hangs up so he can call Leo before his plane takes off.

I get a text from Luke. Hey. Welcome to the family. Jenn and I are so happy Leo’s going to stop moping around. We’ll celebrate when he gets back.

Weezie calls. “I’m speechless. Like he just called me and I cried the whole time. He says my first job is to get my shit together. So I’m trying.” Weezie is already in New Zealand preparing for Leo’s arrival. She’s been given instructions to give his fiancée anything she asks for.

“You know I’m not going to ask for anything,” I say.

“I know. And that’s the best part.” She’s crying again.



* * *



? ? ?

It’s March and the kids are on spring break. We are in New Zealand, on the set of Ruin, a romance Leo’s starring in opposite Tatum Hunter, a younger, sweeter version of Naomi. I read the script on the plane and really couldn’t get over all the sobbing and dead-eye staring into the distance. I guess this is what they’d call realistic romance. They don’t do this on TRC. Their movies offer a sub-fantasy of resilience: The guy leaves and the girl is sad, but then thinks, Hey, I still have my cupcakes and my friends and family. I’ll be okay. He returns to find her nearly thriving. He never returns to find her in the fetal position, clutching a fifth of gin.

Leo does the leaving in this movie, so Tatum does the sobbing. There are a few love scenes toward the beginning that, of course, we don’t see filmed. Now the three of us are sitting up on a cliff, watching as they film Leo and Tatum walking on the beach. Arthur asks, “Is he going to have to kiss that girl?”

“Yes. Poor guy,” I say and put my arm around him.

“Is that going to freak you out?” Bernadette asks. Bernadette, who’s wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat like she doesn’t want to be recognized, but really wants to be recognized.

“Nope. I don’t think so. Well, I won’t watch too closely.”

A van pulls up behind us, and a man in our hotel’s uniform asks, “Are you Mr. Vance’s family?” He has a picnic lunch ready to be laid out.

“Yes,” Arthur says before I can.



* * *



? ? ?

Someone from the Post gets their hands on a photo of the two of us watching the kids swim off the back of a boat in Milford Sound. The headline reads MEGA MARRIED. There’s an insert where they’ve blown up a photo of my left hand to show Leo’s mom’s wedding ring, and the article goes on to speculate that we’ve had a secret wedding. Leo instructs his publicity people not to respond, because he likes the idea of it.

“First of all,” he tells us over lunch by the hotel pool, “we are married. We got married on the porch. But this also means that we can have a wedding and no one’s going to bug us. They think it already happened.”

“Sneaky,” says Arthur.

“Can we talk about the wedding? I have ideas,” says Bernadette.

We’re poolside but in a cabana that protects us both from the sun and curious passersby. It’s available for us all day with sunscreen, snacks, and a bowl of orchids. Two uniformed men stand right outside to satisfy any thirst or whim that might come up. I’m in a bathing suit and my favorite white cover-up, but a box arrived this morning with several new, better cover-ups that were chosen by Weezie’s stylist. They are beaded and fringed and sort of uncomfortable. I hope they are not a metaphor for this life I am entering.

I wonder if Ben knows about Leo and me. I wonder if he’s at a location on the globe where people read the Post. How is it possible that I’ve ended up with the bigger life when I was always the one selling him the smaller things? I have a man who calls himself my butler waiting twenty inches away to refresh my iced tea, and I have to say that’s pretty nice. But I don’t want to end up at arm’s distance from my life. I want to pick out my own bananas, watch the sunrise from my own porch.

“What do you think, Mom?” I’ve missed their whole wedding discussion.

“I think I want to marry Leo,” I say.

Leo smiles at me. “Well, that’s a relief. We’re debating location.”

Bernadette makes her case. “Let’s rent out a castle in France. Like that big one where the Louis used to live. And everyone can stay there, and the wedding will be in the back garden. We’ll make your hair high on your head like a queen.”