Page 44 of Nora Goes Off Script

“I’m really sorry. The agony of it comes across on the page.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I sit up straight, defensive. “I deliberately wrote it Romance Channel style—low emotional stakes and quick resolutions.”

“No, you didn’t. And besides the end, which feels totallyfalse, this is another fantastic script. Here’s my plan, I’m going to tell TRC you have the flu and push off that deadline. Then I’m going to wait until the first reviews ofThe Tea Housecome in, maybe October 5. If they’re as good as I hope they are, I’m going to sell this for a million dollars.”

“Wait. What?”

“I thinkThe Tea Houseis going to be huge, Oscar huge. People are going to want your next script and this one is powerful. Just fix the end.”

I’m so confused when I get off the phone that I go get my wineglass and the bottle and come back to the porch. It sounds like I need to reread what I sent her, maybe it wasn’t as light as I’d thought. Having a film produced about how I really felt about Leo would be epically humiliating. Having a million dollars would be epically relaxing.

And then there’s the trouble with the end. You can’t end a movie with a woman just staring at her un-ringing phone, periodically checking on her dangling “Hey.” There is no setup that allows for him to come back or for her to save face. He just left and never called again. He sent money for chrissake. No, I’d rework the bulk of the script and pull all the feeling out of it. I’d give her a dog and they’d walk the dog a lot together. Maybe she could have a secret dream to start a cupcake shop. I could take this nightmare and turn it into a TRC movie yet.

I spend a week pulling my heart out of that script. The dialogue, I hadn’t noticed, was real conversations we’d had. I replace them with reflections on their hopes and dreams—he had always wanted to try woodworking. She, with thecupcake shop. Long gazes, quick brushing of hands. I make her children identical twin girls and give them all the best lines. I add a set of parents who are appropriately helpful in giving advice, but only when asked.

It takes Jackie one day to get back to me. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s the TRC version of my story. Complete with a dog and cupcakes.”

“So you’d rather have twenty-five thousand dollars than a million? You’d rather give up this moment where you are about to become a majorly sought-after Hollywood writer than just tell the truth?”

This wounds me a little. I like to think of myself as truthful. It felt good to writeThe Tea Housebecause it meant something and explored the gray areas of my life. But sharing that story cost me nothing, I came out victorious in the end because I survived Ben’s leaving. And I survived so well because I was so sick of him. The whole point of the story is that sometimes people leave and don’t take anything with them. Leo took practically everything with him.

He took the sunrise. He took the tea house. Now he’s going to take my million bucks. I think of Leo puttering around in his Bel Air mansion with Naomi, maybe planning a post-shoot trip someplace tropical. I think of my credit card balance and the ugly fact that Arthur’s definitely going to need braces. “Okay,” I tell her. “How about this? Keep this shiny cupcake version in case we need it. Let me see if I can come up with an ending to the other one.”

“Really? I’m so happy!” I can hear the cash register ringing in her mind. I can also see the cash advance I’m going to have to take on my eighteen percent APR credit card to make my October mortgage payment. “Let’s try for mid-October. The film opens October third, so that’s when the buzz will start and we’ll have some idea how it’s going to do. And you’ll be expected at the New York opening. I forget where it is, but I’ll send that to you.”

“I’m not going to that.”

“Nora. This is your time. You’ve written a really powerful script and you deserve to walk the red carpet and enjoy it. Don’t let him take that from you.”

I resolve not to decide. Tomorrow I’ll start reworking the true script, the version calledSunrise, not the one calledCountry Love. I like the idea of being a serious writer and making real money. I like the idea of flying out to Hollywood to, well, I don’t even know what they do out there. I’d need highlights and different clothes, and that feels good too. As long as I can keep getting men to leave me, I’ll be a huge success. Shouldn’t be a problem.

My kids are arguing in the living room. There’s an issue with the Xbox, and I decide not to engage. “Let’s all go up and brush teeth,” I say.

“Fine,” they say together, scowling.

When I’ve tucked Bernadette in, I find Arthur in bed. At the squeak of his bedroom door, he’s a frenzy of sheets and something is hidden under the covers. “Oh hey, Mom,” he says in a voice I don’t know.

It’s porn, I think. How can this be happening? He’s in thesixth grade, he barely has hair on his legs. I have no man in the house to talk with him about this, and I certainly don’t know where to start. For the actual first time, I kind of wish Ben was here.

I sit down on the side of his bed and give him a hug. “What’s under the covers?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You had something. This is nothing to be ashamed about but we do need to talk about it. Where did you get it?”

Arthur looks at his hands. He looks at me. He starts to say something but can’t.

“Sweetie, it’s okay to be curious. But this isn’t the way. Where’d you get it?”

“Leo,” he says, and my heart stops.

Rage is beginning to spread through my chest when he pulls “it” out from under his covers and hands it to me. It’s a first edition copy ofOliver Twist. “Oh,” I say with a laugh. “Well, that’s nice. Wait, when did he give you this?”

“He sent it. In the mail. At the beginning of the summer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

---