“Well, that’s bullshit, because you have me. Let me go with you to the premiere, and I’ll pay for the shoes. When they see the Larson sisters all done up, Hollywood won’t know what hit them.”
* * *
? ? ?
I get ready in my tiny bathroom with Bernadette at my elbow and Kate sitting on the side of the bathtub. There’s barely enough air for the three of us, and Arthur has the good sense to wait on my bed. When my hair is blown straight and my makeup is starting to make me sweat, I shoo them all downstairs so that I can get into my dress.
I regret the dress immediately. The shimmery silver shouts, and I realize I was hoping to move through this evening like a whisper. Or maybe I want the evening to pass without me being there at all. It’s too late to right any of these decisions; I don’t own another dress this fancy, and the car is coming for me in fifteen minutes.
Kate and Bernadette gasp when I come downstairs. Apparently, they love this noisy dress. Arthur is more reserved. “You look pretty, Mom. So you’re just going to watch the movie and then you’re coming back, right?”
Kate says, “Well, there’s an after-party and who knows what else; it’s New York City!” Then to me, “You go and stay out as late as you want, I’ve got the kids and you can grab them in the morning.”
Arthur is not having this. I say, “I’m not exactly a party-all-night kind of a person; don’t let this dress fool you. I’m going to watch the movie and come right back home.”
“Okay, good,” says Arthur. Bernadette shakes her head in disappointment.
* * *
? ? ?
Penny steps out of her building in a strapless black gown and a black version of the shoes I’m wearing. She breaks into a little run when she sees me in the waiting car on the corner, and I wonder if she wears shoes like this all the time. “I am so ready,” she says as she gets in the car. “Are you ready?”
“Well, I don’t think I could get any more makeup on my face, so I must be ready,” I say.
“You look beautiful,” she says and takes my hand. “So do you know how you’re going to play this? Like he’s going to be there, and there’s going to be a moment where you’re face-to-face and you have to say something.”
My hand flies up to my heart, as if to protect it, and I notice it’s beating too quickly. “I’m not ready. I thought I was ready. I was going to say ‘hello’ and just see what he says back. That was my big plan. But no, I’m actually not ready.”
“Okay, let’s work backward. What do you want him to walk away thinking? That he’s a jerk? That you’re absolutely fine?”
I crack the window and let the fall air fill my lungs. “I want him to think I’m fine, I guess. But I don’t know if I can pull it off. I’m not fine, Pen.”
“Okay, we need to get your head organized. Put these things in the front: You look gorgeous in that dress. You’re the reason all these people are here tonight; you wrote the thing. You’re the star. He’s only there because of what you created. I want to see shoulders back, forehead at rest, and a smile, like you know what I’m saying is true.”
When we were little, Penny’s Barbies always put their best foot forward. They were groomed and well dressed, and, no matter what kind of tragic story line I threw their way, she always had them coming out on top. Tonight, she’s doing the same for me.
“Okay, I’m as gorgeous and brilliant as my shoes,” I say.
“At least.”
Our car has clearance to pull up right in front of the theater. Someone with a headset opens my door and helps me out. I adjust my dress and lay my black wrap over my arm. I blink into the lights. I look back and watch Penny get out of the car and notice she is smiling. I remember to do the same. We pose together for a photo and then start walking the red carpet in small steps and then normal ones. I imagine that my beautiful dress and magic shoes are a confidence costume. They are the cloak of self-assuredness, and I try to walk down the red carpet with a gait and an expression to match them. Plus, Penny is close enough to catch me if I stumble.
When we have completed our trek, I am relieved. People are milling around in the theater lobby, and someone hands us glasses of champagne off of a tray. “Nora, you look gorgeous,” I hear from behind me. It’s Martin. We hug hello. I introduce him to Penny, and he introduces us to his too-young wife, Candy. “This here is the next big thing in Hollywood,” he tells her. “As long as she keeps writing, I’m going to be rich.”