She finds me still standing in the kitchen. “What happened? Where is he?”
“He’s gone. L.A. Big movie.” And I start to cry. Kate moves me to the couch, and I am so grateful to give in to it. Between sobs, I give details, and she is patient with me.
When I’ve cried myself out, she says, “Okay. You’ve got to bear with me. This is really uncharted territory. I’ve never seen you cry before. Like even last time when your actual husband left.”
I nod. “That was different. Like, why would I want him around if he didn’t want to be here. But this.” I start to cry again. “I still want him here.”
“He’s only been gone twelve hours, and he says he’s coming back.”
“Do you really think he is?” I’m mopping my face with my sleeve and clinging to her words.
“Why would he say he’s coming back if he didn’t mean it? He’s going to be back a week from yesterday. That’s not even a week.”
“It’s too long,” I say, slumping into her lap.
* * *
? ? ?
It’s Saturday, and Bernadette stops six goals against the Vipers. It’s a big deal if you’re eight years old, but instead of “Congratulations,” all anyone says to us is, “Where’s Leo?” It’s the only thing people can think of to say to me. “Where’s Leo?” is practically a greeting. I say the words “L.A.,” “audition,” “Thursday” so many times that it becomes a tune that I sing as I move through the crowd. When we’re finally at my car and I’ve loaded my single chair into the trunk, I text Leo a video clip of Bernadette winning the game with a diving catch.
He responds immediately, and my heart rate quickens: I can’t believe I missed that. Give her a hug from me.
Me: She’s so happy
Leo: What’s next?
Me: Quick lunch, lightbulbs, and then Little League
Leo: Ugh. Good luck. Love you.
* * *
? ? ?
“Where’s Leo?” Mr. Mapleton greets us as we walk into his store.
“L.A. An audition,” I say again.
“He’s coming back,” says Bernadette.
“Did he give a specific day?” he asks. He’s stopped sorting through the pile of drill bits on the counter. I have his full attention.
“Thursday,” I say.
Mr. Mapleton smiles. “Ah, then he’s coming back. As long as he has a plane ticket for a specific day, he’ll be back. Good,” he says, reassuring himself.
Leo doesn’t buy plane tickets, I don’t say. “Arthur’s play is Friday night. That’s more solid than a plane ticket,” I say. I am promising things over which I have no control, but I’ve succeeded in saying the words that will soothe me and keep Mr. Mapleton from feeling sorry for me. Arthur squeezes my hand, making me feel like maybe I’ve soothed him too.
Arthur actually has a pretty good game. He has a base hit and no errors. I want to text Leo about this, but sort of feel like it’s too much. I’ll tell him when he reaches out to me. That’s what a normal, not obsessed, girlfriend would do. And for now, that’s what I’ll pretend to be. He’s doing his thing and has other stuff on his mind, I’ll pretend I do too.
* * *
? ? ?
There’s something going on with the director. Leo’s telling me about it on the phone Tuesday night. I’m lying in bed and he’s saying a lot of words. I just like hearing the sound of his voice.
“I mean, I would have wanted the part without Bohai directing,” he’s saying. “But the chance to work with him sort of clinched it. If they fire him, it’ll be a lot of starting over again.”
“And why would they fire him again?” I’m getting sleepy. I want him to keep talking.
“If these accusations have any truth to them, then he’s a creep and no one’s going to want to work with him, including me. I was supposed to have dinner tonight with the producer to find out more, but she canceled.”
“What are you doing for dinner then?”
“I bought a chicken, actually.” Leo sounds truly pleased with himself. “And a salad.”
“Wait. You’re cooking?”
“No. Well, I thought about it. I went to Whole Foods. Have you ever been to a Whole Foods?”
“I have.”
“It’s nicer than the Stop n’ Save.”
“It is.”
“Well, they have a lot of chicken. I just stood there looking at all the raw chickens and kind of freaked out. Two people stopped and took my picture while I was studying them. I didn’t think I could figure it out without you, but did you know they sell chickens already cooked? And salad?”