Arthur takes in a deep breath. “Okay. A week.” They all hug again, and I’m far away, watching this scene unfold.
“All right, you guys, it’s late and tomorrow is huge!” I stretch out my arms to show just how huge tomorrow is and then hug them tight. “Run upstairs and brush teeth.”
I haven’t had a glass of wine and pouring one would give me something to do with my hands. I pull a bottle out of the fridge and start to open it. I need to find that thing that cuts the foil off. I think it’s in the drawer with the carrot scraper but it’s not. I am sure I used it yesterday so I look in the dishwasher, not that you’d ever wash that thing. The dishwasher is mercifully clean, so I start to unload it.
“Stop it,” I hear. He’s opening the bottle and pouring a glass. Just one.
“Thank you,” I manage. My back is to the sink and I hold on to the cold porcelain.
“Listen, you have to understand how important this is to me. This is a huge movie, not a film. I think it’s just the fun, family, normal thing I’ve been needing. It really feels right.”
I notice he’s holding my hand. And I think Ben did too, but I’m not sure. I thought we were just the fun, family, normal thing he needed. I thought this felt right. I suddenly remember what part of the movie we’re in.
“How is this just a week? You need to film an entire movie.” I don’t know what I was thinking this whole time. How is he going to be a movie star while hanging out in my tea house all day?
“I’m going to go for the audition. Then, if it works out, I’ll stay while they make a deal around the whole thing. Then I’ll come back here until we start filming. And you can come with me. Or I’ll come back on days off. Nora, I have a million ways to make this work. I have an airplane.”
I want to be cool. I want to be the kind of person who can get through a week without Leo. I remember I used to be this person. I can barely remember her. I try to channel Naomi playing me while Ben is leaving.
“Okay. I’m excited for you. We’ll figure it out. Have you packed everything?” My voice isn’t right, but he’s too revved up about this stupid movie to notice.
“There’s not much, but my car’s coming in twenty minutes so I should . . .” He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. It’s sweet and sad and I can’t keep the tears from rolling down my face. “Hey, this isn’t good-bye. I’ll be back. Or you can come out. Whatever you want.” He raises my chin so I’m forced to look at him. “It’s just L.A.”
And I don’t know what that means. Does that mean I should be happy he’s not disappearing into the ever-vague Asia? “It’s just L.A.,” I repeat back to him. And I like the sound of it. L.A. is a place you can come back from. I kiss him again and say, “Okay, go. I’m going up to the kids. Good luck.”
Ten minutes later, there’s a car in the driveway. Door open, door shut. It pulls away and I notice I’ve stopped reading The Lightning Thief out loud. Bernadette and Arthur are both in my bed, snuggled on each side. “It’s okay to be sad, Mom. I’m sad,” says Bernadette.
I squeeze her perfect little shoulder. “Thanks, Bernie. It’ll be okay.” I let them fall asleep in my bed because none of us is ready to be alone.
* * *
? ? ?
When the light starts to fill my room, I am already awake. I decide to skip the sunrise for the first time in forever and just lie in bed with my kids. The trickiest part of being a mom, especially a single mom, is knowing when it’s okay to fall apart. Today they will wake up to a familiar feeling of loss, the light scab they’ve formed over the wound Ben left will be dislodged. I invited this in. Arthur will have to go to rehearsals and perform. I will too.
I stare at the cracked ceiling until I’m sure the sun’s all the way up. I wake my children with a hug. Bernadette wakes immediately and runs to get dressed. Arthur’s not moving. “I think Fagin needs pancakes,” I say, kissing his eyes awake.
“With chocolate chips,” he mumbles.
I use up all of my adrenaline being chipper and getting them to school. Leo is in the air by now, but I check my phone for a text anyway. He’ll be in L.A. by the time school’s out, and I realize that will be the end of my knowing where he is. I grab my running shoes by the front door, and know I can’t run. There is one single wineglass sitting on the counter, and I am stuck in time staring at it. I reach for my phone and text Kate: Come over.