Page 22 of Nora Goes Off Script
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I swear weare in slow motion walking past the pickup line into the front entrance of the school. I’d changed into a dress because I know for a fact it’s three hundred degrees inside the auditorium on an April afternoon. “Legs!” Leo said as I came back down the stairs. On my advice, he changed from jeans into linen pants. Leo is absolutely focused, moving like we should have been there hours ago.
We pass through security (“he’s my houseguest”), and we have to show our drivers’ licenses. The security guard looks at Leo’s and says, “For real?” Leo replies, “ ’Fraid so.”
We meet Mrs. Sasaki in the auditorium. “Hi? I’m Nora Hamilton? Arthur’s mom? We’re here to watch the kids backstage?” I’ve met Mrs. Sasaki ten times and have never garnered much interest. Until now. Her eyes move from me to Leo and she actually smiles. “This is my friend Leo. We’ve been working together and he offered to help me with the kids, if that’s okay?”
“Well, of course. Thank you! This is quite unexpected. Call me Brenda. We could use any help you can offer, Mr.Vance. I heard you were in town. I daresay you know a little more about the theater than I do.” Was she flirting with him? I look up at Leo to see how he’s reacting, and he’s smoldering. Smoldering poor Mrs. Sasaki. Poor Mrs. Sasaki who has to go home to poor Mr. Sasaki tonight. I swear Leo’s going to ruin all of us for normal men.
As we make our way to the stage door, I say, “Stop it.”
“What?”
“The smoldering.”
He stops walking. “I don’t smolder you.”
I turn to face him, and I just ask it. “Why not?”
Leo holds my gaze. “I wish I knew.”
Now, there’s only so long you can stand that close to Leo Vance and look into his eyes without melting into molten lava, so I say, “Well, stop smoldering the other unsuspecting middle-aged ladies around here. Come on.”
Bernadette meets us backstage to work as our assistant, but mainly to take a victory lap. No longer would anyone at Laurel Ridge Elementary question the fact that she is very good friends with The Leo Vance.
Arthur walks in, muttering lines to himself, and runs over to Leo. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping?” He shrugs. “You’ve got this, no worries. Just feel it, the whole thing. And eye contact.”
We have the kids line up by scene according to the call list Mrs. Sasaki had given me. My job is pretty much to send the right group out on the stage and keep the rest of them quiet. The orphans are a little rowdy, showing off for the market girls, who are too preoccupied with Leo to notice.
The first time Arthur steps onstage, I lose Leo’s help completely. He stands stage left, mouthing Arthur’s lines and wringing his hands. Mrs. Sasaki stops Arthur to offer a suggestion; she’d like him to look out at the audience more while saying his lines.
“Okay.” Arthur looks at Leo for confirmation.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Vance?”
“Well, I love the thought, Brenda. I do. And I really love it for his musical numbers. But in this scene, I think it’s important that he connects with the orphans, that we can feel how he takes care of them. That’s what’ll grab the audience.” Smolder.
He doesn’t release her gaze until she finishes saying, “I see. I like that. What an absolutely helpful suggestion, Leo. Can I call you Leo?”
And, with that, Leo takes his place in the seat next to Mrs. Sasaki for the remainder of the rehearsal.
CHAPTER 8
There’s a large metal box waiting for us on the porch, warming three brick oven pizzas from Mario’s in the city. On top is a bag with a huge chopped salad and four cannoli. Apparently, Leo has taken care of dinner.
We plop down, exhausted, and tear into the pizza. Leo’s opened a bottle of pinot noir. Arthur and Bernadette are talking over each other. Who’s any good, who can’t dance. Who’s going to be thrown out of the production by Monday. Arthur sits a little taller than usual, his quiet uncertainty morphing into quiet confidence. It hasn’t been the role in the play, I realize, it’s been the attention and interest Leo’s shown him. I think Arthur feels supported.
Bernadette says the thing I cannot say. “So, tonight’s your last night?”
Leo looks at me, and I look at my wineglass. I don’t knowwhat my face is doing but he doesn’t need to see it. Arthur is silent.
“Well, this is awkward,” he says. “I’ve been offered a job in town, co-director ofOliver Twist. I sort of promised Brenda I’d stay until opening night.”
Bernadette squeals, and Arthur is still. “That’s three weeks away,” he says.
“It is.” Leo fills both of our glasses.
