Page 38 of Nora Goes Off Script
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Arthur says. “He can order the DVD.” This might take a while.
When I get into bed, my phone dings. Leo:How’d it go?
Me:He was fantastic, stole the show. How’s it going there?
Leo:It’s chaos, but we’re making progress. I think it’s going to be a good movie.
I lie:That’s great! So happy for you!
Leo:Thanks. I have to head out to dinner. But I love you and I really miss you.
Me:Love you too.
I am awash with relief. He’s coming back; he loves me. I don’t need to act like such a baby. “My boyfriend is away for work,” I say out loud. And I like the sound of it. I mean, I lived with a man who refused to work for a decade, and now I’m complaining that the new guy works too much? Come on. Leo’s work is a huge part of who he is, and that’s going to be part of our relationship. I decide that “relationship” is a nice word, and I fall asleep.
I don’t hear from him on Saturday. Like the whole day, no call and no text. I reassure myself by rereading the transcript. He loves me, he misses me. I don’t hear from him on Sunday. It’s the weekend, I tell myself. Maybe people in L.A. work on the weekend. It occurs to me that I can text him.
Me:Hey
No reply. I stare at my phone and try to come up with the reasons he might not be responding. Well, maybe they’ve started filming already and he’s on set. Maybe he’s out to brunch with his agent. Maybe he’s swimming laps in his giant pool. With deep breaths, I remind myself I’m not in middleschool.
CHAPTER 14
On Monday, I go for a run without my phone, sure that if I leave it in the kitchen, I will return to multiple missed calls from Leo. A watched pot and all that. I finish my run in record time and am surprised, maybe gobsmacked, to find that I’d missed nothing at all.
By Monday night, the feel of my un-ringing phone in my hand is torture. My new plan is to leave the phone in the sunroom so that I can be present with my kids for homework, dinner,Wheel of Fortune. By removing my attention, I will trick my phone into ringing.
I check it before I take my kids upstairs. Nothing. I punish my phone by leaving it in the sunroom while we read. It punishes me back by not ringing. I take it with me out onto the porch to watch the blackness of the night, and I feel uniquely powerless, as if the entirety of my happiness lies in someone else’s hands. I don’t know where I lost my power. Hewanted to stay. He kissed me. He said he loved me. How am I suddenly Elizabeth Bennet, wandering the moors and hoping Mr. Darcy shows up?
This last thought annoys my sensibilities enough that my fingers dial Leo’s number. My throat is tight as the call connects and I hear the first ring. He’s going to say “hey” and explain where he’s been. I’m going to act cool about it. Second ring, third ring. My heart sinks when the call goes to voicemail. I listen all the way to the end, just to hear his voice, before I hang up.
He’ll see that I called and call me back when he’s free. I go to bed with the ringer on high volume so I won’t miss it.
•••
On Tuesday, Itext Kate to tell her he’s not coming back. She’s at my door in ten minutes.
I’m not crying when I open the door. “Let’s quit the usual crap about how maybe he lost his phone or is stuck under a bus. There’s no reality where it’s normal that a person who texts me three hours a night after spending the entire day with me just stops. Unless he’s decided to. And if he was dead, it would be in the news.”
“Are you done?” She pushes past me and puts a box of cookies on the counter.
“Probably not.” I pour some coffee for each of us and take a cookie. “I just need you to be sensible and honest with me. I feel like I can’t trust my own mind right now. ‘I love you. I miss you’ and poof? At least Ben was honest enough to tell me.”
“Okay, so now Ben’s the model for male behavior?” We’re sitting at my kitchen counter, side by side, mugs in hand.
“Tell me what to think,” I say.
“I agree it’s weird. I’d be less surprised if it sort of dwindled away. Like fewer, shorter texts. ‘I love you’ turns to ‘love you’ turns to ‘ly.’ That kind of thing.”
“That’s actually what I thought would happen. The slow exit. Not like immediate out of sight, out of mind. And he’s in freakin’ L.A., where women have actual suntans and highlights. Staring at that all day, it’s hard to remember why you were in love with the woman with the unruly hair and flowy tops.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” she kids.
A car pulls up and my heart is in my throat. He’s changed his mind. He’s returning my text in person to tell me he’s going to stay and direct children’s theater full-time. “Go see what it is,” I tell her, head in hands.
It’s a courier, asking Kate to sign for an envelope with my name on it. It’s too thick to be a love letter, and I hate myself for living in one of my own screenplays. No one writes love letters and has them hand delivered. I open it and find a stack of hundred-dollar bills and a note from Weezie:Hey, Nora, Leo says he owes you back rent. Thanks again for taking care of him. Here’s hoping L.A. works out! Weezie.
I count out twenty-one thousand dollars. “Oh my God. I’m being paid off.” I start to cry, but then I’m so mad that my tears dry up. I explain to Kate how we agreed on seven thousand dollars for seven days. But when he decided to stayand help Arthur, I had no intention of charging him. I was sleeping with him for God’s sake. What did that even make this?
