I may be tipsy because instead of responding to that, I pull out my phone. “Can I show you guys something?”
I squeeze between them on the couch so we can all look at my phone. “Leo texted me last month.” I pull up the conversation and wish they didn’t have to see the I love you. I miss you from May. Not to mention my love you too and the dangling Hey.
My mom catches her breath. “You loved him? He loved you?”
“I guess,” I say and proceed to read them the conversation. I explain that Sunrise is loosely based on our relationship. They ask me to read the conversation again.
I return to my chair because I’m feeling too constrained between the two of them. They’re looking too closely at my life and I’m sure they can read my mind. My dad has his hands folded on his belly, and he’s staring out the window at the tea house. “You’re missing something.”
“Yes,” my mom agrees.
“The ability to hang on to a man?” I ask.
“I don’t know what it is, and I wouldn’t make yourself crazy trying to figure it out,” he says. Which, too late. “But there’s a missing link out there. I wish he had the balls to tell you what it is.”
We are quiet. My mom asks, “He’s not going to star in the movie, is he?”
“No, he turned it down. They cast Peter Harper.”
My mom claps her hands. “Peter Harper! Darling, you must have an affair with him too!”
“Marilyn, honestly,” my dad says.
CHAPTER 20
It’s January and my phone rings while I’m watching the sunrise. I’m wearing a coat and a wool hat and two sweaters over my pajamas. The January sunrise is lower than the others, a quieter drama but a drama nonetheless.
“Holy shit,” says Jackie. “Are you sitting down?”
“Why do people ask that?”
“The Tea House has been nominated for four Academy Awards, including Best Original Screenplay.”
I’m silent.
“That’s you. You’ve been nominated for an Academy Award.”
“What about Leo?”
“He’s nominated for Best Actor. Naomi was snubbed. Martin is nominated, as well as Best Original Score, which, to be honest I don’t even remember.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, this is really huge for us, Nora. Huge. You’d better start writing.”
“Can I call you back?” I ask, already hanging up. The sun’s coming up and I want to focus on it. Same sunrise, slightly different because I’ve been nominated for an Oscar.
My hands are texting Leo. Congratulations.
You too, I get back immediately. Sun up yet?
Halfway.
Send me a photo? So I do.
What the hell is that?
It’s called January. They don’t have that in L.A.?
I’m in New York. I freeze at the closeness of him. I’d been picturing him in L.A., if I have to admit that I am occasionally picturing him. It hadn’t occurred to me that he was ninety minutes away. Come over? I want to type, but don’t.
I think the conversation is over, as I can’t come up with a retort for his being in New York, but then there are bubbles. So what have you been up to?
Talk about a broad question. Being a mom? Shoveling snow? Making meatloaf? Trying not to think about you? Selling pain for cash, mostly, I say finally.
Ha. I think you owe me a cut.
I redid my kitchen.
Oh.
It was rude that you sent me all that money, I hope you know I sent it back. I don’t know where this is coming from, but apparently I need to get that off my chest.
I was just trying to make it seem like I was a renter
You were my lover
No kidding. I thought I was covering for you
I’ve got to go. Excited to tell the kids.
Ok I guess I’ll see you guys there.
Where
At the Oscars, Nora.
I need to wake up my kids. It’s a Monday and I’ve sat on the porch way too long. First, texting Leo, then my parents, Penny, and Kate. Kate’s going to take me to lunch to celebrate and also run through this last text conversation for logic.
Bernadette screams when I tell her. Like a real live high-pitched little girl scream. Arthur throws his body around me. “Mom, I knew this was going to happen. I knew you could do it.”
“I see you in lavender,” Bernadette tells me. “But with a spray tan and some highlights.”
“Are you trying to turn me into Writes-A-Lot Barbie?”
Celebratory pancakes are followed by celebratory drop-off and a celebratory run. I meet Kate at the café. She’s waiting with two glasses of champagne. “I can’t freaking believe it.”