Page 53 of Nora Goes Off Script
“Maybe you actually dumped him, but you blacked out.”
“That doesn’t happen, though I like the thought,” I say.
When I get back in the car I have a series of all-caps texts from Weezie. To summarize, she’s really happy for me, and if I haven’t started looking for a dress yet, I’m already behind schedule.
I agonize over who to bring with me. The simplest answer is to go alone, but what if I win and I have strangers on either side. Who do I hug? Of course I’m not going to win, but one has to be prepared. I have a lifelong recurring dream that I am about to give a speech that I’ve known about for a long time, and I’ve forgotten to prepare anything. In the Oscar situation, I’m told I’ll have thirty seconds, which is twenty-five too many anyway. I resolve to memorize three sentences so that I won’t have to resort to notes. I always wonder at actors who thank the six people in the world they are most grateful for and have to look at an index card to remember their names.
I call Jackie and share my concern about who to bring, and she calls Martin. Apparently, this is her first brush with the Oscars too. It turns out Martin and Candy are separated and I could go as his date. He thinks it’s cleaner for the movie if we don’t dilute our block of seats with dates. “Leo and Naomi will be going together,” she tells me.
Naturally.
My parents want to come, which sort of feels like it’s complicating things, but it’s fun that they’re so excited. Martin says he can get them tickets and an invitation to theVanity Fairparty. Penny makes us an appointment at Bergdorf Goodman to try on dresses. My dad springs for a new tux.Everything suddenly feels like I’m getting married, and I resist the urge to cycle between remembering my actual wedding to Ben and imagining I’m flying out to marry Leo.
The dress lady’s name is Olympia, and she escorts my mom, Penny, and me into a large dressing room and offers us champagne. Bernadette is at school, probably still livid that she’s missing this. Olympia brings in four black dresses for my mom before she accepts the fact that my mom lives in Technicolor.
“I’m almost seventy years old,” my mom tells her, “and I’ve never even been to California. This is the biggest moment of my life. I want to be in yellow, like a lemon on a tree.”
Penny and I smile at each other, because my mom is adorable. I don’t know what Pantone’s saying about the color of the year, but there’s no chance there’s a wide selection of yellow dresses for women of a certain age.
Olympia is thrilled. “Oh yay! I was worried you were a bore. I’ll be right back. And, Nora, what about you?”
“My daughter wants me in lavender,” I say. “But I’m open to suggestions.” Olympia claps her hands.
When she’s gone, Penny says, “I’m overthinking the dress. I know I am. I just want Leo to look at you and drop dead from regret. Like I want him to stand and weep. Is that too much to ask?”
“Probably,” I say.
“Like I imagine you in a skintight gold dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. And his jaw dropping to the ground. All of it caught on camera.”
My mom is laughing. “Penny, I don’t know how it ever happened that you’re not the romance writer.”
“I’ve given this some thought too,” I say, which is the biggest understatement of all time. “And the last thing I want is to put myself in a beauty competition with Naomi. And I don’t believe that Leo would fall back in love with me just because I look good. He’s not that kind of person, and I wouldn’t want him if he was. Painful truth, right there. I just want to show up looking like myself and feeling comfortable so I can enjoy the whole thing.”
Penny sighs. “Fine. You can look like yourself, but we’ll fix you up a little.”
My mom ends up with a canary-yellow chiffon gown with long billowing sleeves. She looks like old Hollywood, glamorous in a carefree kind of way. I am more excited seeing my mom in this dress than I have been since I got the call.
In a stroke of good luck, they have one lavender dress, and I happen to love it. It has a wide scoop neck that shows off my collarbones (take that, Leo) and hangs in heavy crepe to the floor. It fits where it should, but nothing pulls, nothing grabs. It’s completely comfortable. When I put it on, my mom says, “That’s the one. I like the way you feel in it.”
Over meatloaf, the week before the event, Bernadette has a million questions. I’ve already answered most of them. Will there be snacks? What if I get cold? Who will drive me to the party after? Have I practiced walking up stairs in my shoes?
Arthur is quiet. “Are you worried about this, Arthur? I don’t expect to win, I just think it’ll be fun to get dressed up and be on TV.”
“Will Leo have a date?” he asks.
“He’ll be with Naomi Sanchez, his co-star.” And I’m notsure why I say it this way, as if Arthur is going to be upset that she’s his girlfriend.
“I bet he liked hanging out with you more than he likes hanging out with her.”
Bernadette and I both look at him, surprised. This isn’t something we really talk about anymore, but it sort of feels like he’s been stewing about it for a while. “Well, who wouldn’t?” I say, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
“Poor Naomi,” Bernadette kids.
“She’s a real charity case,” I say.
CHAPTER 21
It’s the end of February and I wake up in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Because I’m an Oscar nominee, I remind myself. I go to my balcony to see if I can see the sunrise, but I can’t. Los Angeles seems to center entirely around the sunset. I make myself a cup of coffee and look over the treetops.
