Page 37 of Nora Goes Off Script

•••

I can’t waitto 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.

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 painof 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 thirtyminutes 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 nightso 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.

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