“And so is Nora,” says Penny.
I thank him and down the rest of my champagne.
“Are you writing anything now?” Candy asks.
“Yes,” I say and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Martin claps his hands. “If this film is as well-received as I anticipate, I plan to be in a bidding war for your next project. What’s it about?”
It’s about Leo and me falling madly in love right after you left. It’s about how the sunrise can be the most important thing in the world to a person who’s lost touch with his soul. It’s about a person turning his back on his soul for fame, I want to say.
“It’s more nonsense about love gone wrong,” I actually say. And now I know for sure I can’t let anyone read that script.
The man passes with more champagne and I take one. Of course, I haven’t eaten anything since a slice of Arthur’s bacon at breakfast. Stupid.
“Has Leo arrived yet?” Penny asks, and I shoot her a look that I perfected when I was twelve.
“That’s probably them now,” says Martin, nodding toward the mob of photographers headed toward a white limo.
As I anticipate Leo stepping out of that limo, I only know one thing: I cannot do this. What I dread most is seeing either guilt or pity on his face. It will be my undoing.
“I’m anxious to see how the movie turned out,” I tell Martin. “Are we allowed to go in early and grab a good seat?”
“Sure, go ahead. We’ll see you at the party after?”
“Of course,” Penny answers for me. I reassure Candy that meeting her has been the highlight of my night, and we make a beeline into the theater. I lead Penny to seats in the back row in the center. I cover myself with my wrap.
“What’s this?” Penny asks. “This is your big night and we’re hiding back here? Take off that wrap so you can sparkle a little at least.”
“I don’t feel like sparkling. This was a huge mistake, Pen.” I gesture toward a row of reserved seats near the front where I’m sure Leo and Naomi will be sitting.
Actual panic is creeping in. I’m not thinking about this film as much as I am about Sunrise. I need to take it back. I don’t care so much about people knowing I had an affair with a movie star, but I do mind them knowing how much it meant to me. I can’t take the chance that Leo ever sees that script, or that, God forbid, it gets made and he’s cast as himself. I imagine him saying everything he ever said to me to some starlet to whom he’s infinitely better suited. I imagine him reading it and thinking, Poor thing, she had it bad.
Heads turn toward the left theater entrance, and I know from the excitement on their faces that Leo and Naomi are walking in. I pull my wrap around me more tightly and try to make myself small. Penny takes in a breath. They make their way down to their seats and greet people as they go. He’s in a tux; she’s in red to match the carpet. I wonder how many haircuts he’s had since I’ve seen him. I’m sure he’s going to turn his head and see me, but instead he motions for Naomi to go first into the row of seats, leading her by the elbow and tossing her a quick smolder.
“He’s about to look over here, sit up,” Penny tells me out of the side of her mouth. “Act like I said something funny.” I have no laugh to give, but he takes his seat without looking our way anyway.
“I have to get out of here,” I say.
The look on Penny’s face tells me I’ve probably gone white. She makes her apologies like Bugs Bunny leaving the opera as we step over people’s feet to get free. She leads me out of the theater to a lobby bench. “Are you going to faint or something?” she asks. “Do you want a Coke?”
“I need to breathe, and I need to rethink everything. Literally everything.” Tears start falling, and I don’t even care. “I feel like I’ve planned a vacation to hell. Like I literally chose every flight and car ride, packed my bags, and now I’m saying, ‘Wait. What am I doing in hell?’？”
Penny puts her arm around me. “You kinda did.”
“What was I thinking falling in love with that guy? What was I thinking writing a movie about my divorce and then showing up here tonight to watch it acted out by my old boyfriend and his girlfriend? Am I seriously supposed to watch them break up in the exact location of the last place I’ll probably ever have sex?”
“You might have sex again,” she says.
“And what was I thinking agreeing to do it all again? Like a whole new movie about my bad taste in men?”