1
Would you still love me
if I couldn't pay for dinner?
Possibly.
Yeah.
What do we do?
I'm thinking.
We could have a big row.
And... and throw some shit.
They might kick us out.
Been done, and it would
draw too much attention.
What are you doing?
- Taking my shoes off.
- Mmm.
I'm going to leave first,
and then when the time is right,
like when the matre d's not looking,
you meet me down the street.
Uh, excuse me, sir?
Hey, run! Run, run, run!
Fucker!
Baby!
- Are you OK?
- Oh, I'm dying.
That was so epic!
Well, did we lose him?
I don't know.
Really, did they even chase us?
- Hey.
- What?
Hey, hey, hey, look, look, look.
Look at them.
This is pretty good, isn't it?
Yeah, it is.
Hey.
What?
There's only one heart in this body.
Have mercy on me.
Shut up.
Hey!
Mrs. Ludlow? You ready?
Yep.
- Hey.
- Hi.
Can I... Is it gonna hurt?
No, it's fine.
- Is this all your stuff?
- Mmm-hmm.
Uh.
You sure?
- Nice meeting you.
- Yeah. Have a great day.
Where's Philip?
He's asleep. He's exhausted.
What should I do?
Just put it somewhere.
I closed your wireless account.
Thanks.
What do you want to do about
all your stuff in the city?
You've got some clothes
here in the closet
and I have some more stuff for you
in the attic, if you want.
I'm sure that'll do fine.
It's just like old times.
Hey, Daddy.
So, what happens now?
I'm guessing you give
a speech of some sort.
What do you want to do, El?
Something else.
I'm open to ideas.
You could take some classes.
Could we talk about it later?
What about Conor?
Hey...
- Auntie Em!
- Hi.
Missed you.
I missed you.
What'd you guys do today, huh?
- Chasing butterflies.
- Mmm.
- I catched one.
- You did?
Let's give her some time
to get settled in, OK, babe?
- Bye, honey.
- Bye.
Do you need anything?
Nope. Thank you.
I'm going into town in a bit
if you want to join, get out?
Yeah. You yell up at me
when you're going?
That's brutal, man.
Maybe she wants you to go after her.
No. She doesn't.
Maybe wait a couple of days,
then go after her?
Stu, don't.
Well, I guess...
- if someone flirts with extinction...
- Shut the fuck up.
OK, I'm sorry, I don't know what to say.
What am I supposed to say?
You don't have to say anything.
Just shut up,
drink and... talk about the weather.
Hey, the dude at table two says he's
gonna kick your ass if he doesn't
- get his chicken satay soon.
- Well, he can suck my balls.
Well, maybe you should
tell him that yourself.
- Table two?
- Mmm-hmm.
I'll deal with it.
Hey, we're out of beer.
What? How can we be out of beer?
We got two boxes back there.
- Go and check...
- Sorry.
You don't throw shit in my place, man.
What's your problem?
- Where's our fucking food, man?
- Listen, don't threaten my chef.
- OK, calm down.
- Don't tell me to fucking calm down.
Hey! If you threaten my chef again,
I will dropkick you
out of the fucking door.
- Are you fucking kidding me?
- Hey, come on!
Hey, Stu!
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.
You are gonna pay.
- Conor, Conor, buddy, you all right?
- Get the fuck out!
- Fuck you!
- Yeah, fuck you, man!
Nice comeback. Very nice.
Get out of here. You, too.
Get out.
You forget your stupid sunglasses,
too, fuckhead?
You have reached
a number that is no longer in service.
- Please check the number...
- Shit.
...and try your call again.
Thank you.
- Hello?
- Mary?
- Yes?
- It's Conor.
Is El there?
Hel...
Hello?
Hello?
Hey.
I thought I could, um...
I thought I could stay here
for a little bit.
Hi, Ralph.
You know where the guest bedroom is.
Yup.
There's towels in a closet
in the hallway.
Not much in the fridge.
Got some Cheerios.
That's fine with me.
I can go get some stuff. That's easy.
Well, I got to get to the restaurant.
- OK.
- Good night.
Night.
Whoa, hey. Hey, El.
Hey.
- Hey, Stu.
- Wow.
How are you?
You remember my dad?
Hey.
- How are you?
- Good, thanks.
You're the chef.
Yeah, I'm the chef.
It's all right.
How is the restaurant?
Good.
Yeah, it's going good.
Going really well.
El, you have to register.
We, we have to head off.
All right, yeah, I got to get this back
to the restaurant, but it's good...
- Good to see you.
- Yeah, you, too.
Hey, if you ever want to get, like,
coffee or... or something,
you know, shoot me a text
or call or something.
- OK.
- Good seeing you.
So, Lillian is expecting you.
Mmm-hmm.
She and I were colleagues at NYU.
I know. You told me.
You have...
...pencils and notebooks and all that?
Yes, Dad.
I have class, and...
...then I have patients.
So I guess I'll...
...see you at the house later tonight.
OK.
- El?
- Yeah?
Have a good first day.
I Will.
- How's the weather down there?
- Balmy.
- Do we have an appointment?
- I'm Eleanor Rigby.
That must be tough.
I'm here to talk my way
into your Identity Theory class.
Oh, you're Julian's kid.
I need some caffeine.
You're welcome to walk with me.
OK.
So, was Julian into The Beatles
or something?
- Sort of.
- What do you mean, "sort of"?
Um, he met my mom on the street during
one of the Beatles' hoax reunions.
There was a rumor they were gonna
play a show here before Lennon died.
Just like the one they did
on the rooftop in London.
My parents stood next to each other
waiting for the band to never show.
Nostalgists.
That, and my dad's surname is Rigby.
- You must detest the Beatles.
- No, not really.
- Do you want something?
- Uh-uh.
Double espresso, three Splendas, please.
So, why do you want to be in my class?
Your course sounds interesting.
And... look, you're a colleague
of my dad's, so...
Yeah, well, you got to do
better than that.
You want me to make something up?
Well, most people do.
You're just taking classes
just to take classes, right?
- Something like that.
- Well, let me save you some time.
All the perpetual students,
the hedge-fund wives,
and your generation of too many choices,
they usually go to Tim Gunn's class
and listen to him talk about
Project Runway,
or you could take the Art History class
on the advent of color photography
just for good cocktail party
conversation.
My "generation of too many choices"?
Democracy has its drawbacks.
Here's your double espresso,
three Splendas.
Thank you.
You're... teaching classes
just to teach classes, right?
Something like that.
I'm having a month, I'm sorry.
Your father didn't give me much warning
or tell me much about you.
And I'm really not one for nepotism.
I just got the call asking
if I could squeeze you into a class.
So I don't really know who you are.
It's OK.
Neither do I.
You want to help me?
You making chemise?
Mmm-hmm.
With summer vegetables and...
and some basil.
Mmm.
You remember when you
first had them, in Luberon?
- Mmm-mmm
- No?
You were four, and you were so fat.
My mother and I would cook
a big plate of them,
and left it on the kitchen table,
and you would eat
one and one and one and the other
until the plate was completely empty.
You went to nursery school that fall,
and all these women
gave me those weird looks and...
they were wondering
what I was feeding you with.
Well, I was a butterball.
I felt completely stupid.
Like I had no idea what I was doing,
the way those women looked at me.
Did you?
Did I what?
Did you know what you were doing?
I think I didn't realize
I wouldn't be able to retrieve
all the opportunities I threw away then.
You're not the only one who's
done stupid things to herself.
My darling.
I have no clue where she's going.
She turns off her cell phone,
and like that, she's vanished.
And... does that make sense to you?
- No comment.
- Come on, knock it off.
No, no, you know, whatever...
what do you call it, I plead the Fifth.
Like, I tried to be helpful,
I pretended,
but it didn't work out,
so I'm not gonna do that.
All right, look, I realize that
I've been a little off balance lately,
but I think with hindsight,
I'm learning to deal with it better.
A couple of weeks counts as hindsight?
Fuckin' A, Stu.
I got nothing for you.
Come on, come on. Look,
I'm just asking you a simple question.
You don't have to candy-coat it
like you're gonna hurt my feelings,
but... did you see this coming?
Look, with the exception of my dog,
I haven't slept next to the same person
for more than two or three days in a
row, so I don't know what I'm gonna say
that's gonna be relevant
to your situation.
I opened a restaurant for you, asshole.
No, you opened a restaurant
for you, asshole.
And according to the Village Voice,
it's "a bar with uninspired food."
Whatever. Look, I'm simply asking
for my best friend's opinion,
even it is an uninformed piece of crap.
OK. "We are young.
Heartache to heartache, we stand.
No promises, no demands.
Love is a battlefield."
Pat Benatar.
You're a fucking idiot.
Look, I feel like I walk on eggshells
around you.
You know, uh, I tried to talk to you
about this for months...
- I'm not talking about that.
- This is what I'm talking about, man.
I don't know how to be
your friend anymore.
You know, you're no fucking picnic.
Look, I saw her the other day.
- You what?
- I saw her.
- Where?
- Astor Place.
- Did you talk to her?
- No.
- You didn't talk to her?
- No. No. She was, uh, far away.
She was walking away.
She was going to class or something.
Class?
Yeah. She had her book bags
with her or something.
- She was going to class.
- What school?
- Like NYU or Cooper Union or...
- I don't know!
- The New School?
- I don't know.
- It's not hard to find out.
- Why didn't you tell me?
I just did.
What are you guys talking about?
- You.
- Oh.
Hey.
- OK?
- Um...
I'm not here to approve or disapprove,
just so you know.
Hmm?
Your mother always gave me crap
for never stepping up to the plate.
Uh...
OK. What?
She said I never stepped up.
Uh, I'm sorry, what does that
have to do with anything?
Well... you're a bit like me.
No, I'm fuckin' not.
I stepped up.
OK.
So what else?
Nothing.
Nothing. We don't have to keep talking.
Yeah, but you're the one
who came into the room.
- Yeah, to turn down your stupid music.
- Oh.
Every day I do one thing
that makes me happy.
All right, one thing.
And that is I listen to my stupid music
while reading the stupid paper.
And that's the best way
I've found to deal with myself.
So just go back to the guest room
and count the fuckin' raindrops.
"Count the fuckin' raindrops"?
I was never very good
at this kind of thing.
OK.
It isn't your job to investigate
the expansive memory
that's called "the past"
and judge what is right and what isn't.
Seriously, what the fuck
are you talking about?
You shouldn't be interested
in regretting things.
I'm not.
Let's do this.
...intuitive answer
to this question.
At the bottom,
the sense of self corresponds
to that experience of ownership
and impenetrability of one's thoughts,
of one's internal dialogues,
of one's affective states
that many, but not all,
- of us have from infancy.
- Hey.
Can I borrow a piece
of paper and a pen?
- ...solitude is held as constituting...
- Please.
...our sense of personal uniqueness...
Thanks. And... the pen?
- And it's perhaps that very same...
- I'll give it back.
...solitude that Descartes had in mind
when he redefined
the concepts of subject
and subjectivity.
You know, ultimately,
being oneself means
that the faculty of knowing...
...the faculty of knowing lies
within the subject in his head
and the subject has such a status
by dint of being enclosed
within himself,
- separate and...
- Hi again.
Would you mind passing this
to the girl with the red hair?
Come on, please?
...we say, "What's got into you?"
to express surprise.
Thanks a lot.
Don't forgot your pen.
...disapproval of
unexpected and bizarre behavior.
And again...
- doesn't common sense tell us that...
- Red hair. Thank you.
...strange behavior is signaled
by tapping one's forehead
with one's forefinger.
Boy, I'm learning something.
"Why the Mind Is in the Head" is the
title of one of the lectures delivered
- at the 1951 symposium.
- Hey.
One of the most authoritative voices
in this chorus is Ken Bergens,
who asked the question:
Can we compellingly reinscribe
what it is to be a person...
...in the way that moves us away
from the individualist premise
and toward the relational...
Hey!
- Hey, Rigby.
- What the fuck are you doing?
What? Come on, I barely got a chance
to respond before you went AWOL.
- What did I ask you, Conor?
- Just give me a second to talk.
- What the fuck did I ask you!
- Just give a goddamn second...
I gave you plenty of seconds!
Do me a favor, leave me the fuck alone!
Fine.
Fine, you do what you got to do.
You just keep fuckin' walking...
Conor?
Oh, shit! Conor?
You know this guy?
He's my husband.
Well, that was exciting.
Yeah, it was awesome.
So, you're...
...you're back in school?
I'm taking some classes.
I almost didn't recognize you.
What do you mean?
It's just your hair.
It's really pretty.
Where are you living, El?
None of your business.
Is that what you so desperately
needed to talk to me about?
No.
What is it, then?
I was gonna say something good,
something that would have
solved all our problems
and made everything all better,
but you know what,
I forgot what it was.
- That's too bad.
- Isn't it?
I'm gonna go.
No.
All I want...
...is a chance to just talk it out.
Then after that,
after that you can disappear,
- to wherever it is you disappear to.
- You ready, sir?
Yeah... yeah, I was born ready.
Nice and easy. Watch your step.
I'll see you around.
All right, watch your head coming up.
- You got him?
- I got him.
Now, take it easy.
- Strap in for me.
- OK.
May I keep stalking you?
- Are you awake?
- Mm.
- Auntie Em, are you awake?
- No, Philip.
Your eyes are open.
Apparently.
Why do you have your shoes on in bed?
Morning, sunshine.
Mom's making French toast.
All right, I'll be right down.
OK.
You came in late last night.
What's with the feast?
We have a special guest star.
Outside.
But it's been hard.
There's a barrier...
Good morning.
- No fucking way.
- El...
You sandbagged me.
He chairs the Psychology Department.
Good for him.
Well, I just thought he'd be
a bit more qualified to...
...to deal with your circumstance.
- What's my circumstance?
He was my grandson.
I lost him, too.
None of us know how to help you.
Well, neither do I.
I'm so glad they delegated
the speech to you.
He's not a stranger
that some hospital referred you to.
He's a colleague of mine.
I don't think one session
a week would hurt.
Why can't you talk to me
once a week, Dad?
- Why outsource it?
- I'm not outsourcing it,
and I don't really think you want
to talk to me about it.
I don't need to talk
to another therapist.
Eleanor...
Please, stop reminding me
that something's wrong.
That's... not my intention.
Then... please let me
stop thinking about it.
Tragedy is a foreign country.
We don't know
how to talk to the natives.
What are you talking about?
You know, there's this
really cool thing called chairs.
Yeah, I heard about those.
It's actually not too shabby down here.
You OK?
Sure.
Liar.
Sure.
When's your next class?
It's yours.
Oh.
Do you like hamburgers?
I used to be a vegan.
Mostly 'cause my husband was a vegan.
Not that I don't agree with most
of the tenets of vegan ideology, but...
...he was one
of those reformed socialists
who seemed sexy
before the '60s started to fade.
Does he teach?
He won tenure at University of Oregon,
and I got it here.
He went soft, I stayed hard.
That was that.
- You have kids?
- A son.
I'm not sure why people have kids.
You know, first there's
the nine months of agony,
your body hurts, it's hot, it's cold,
you crave pickles,
and there's no words to describe
whatever the fuck labor is.
And then this little stranger comes out,
sucking every bit of life
you have left in you,
and as soon as you're ready to jump out
of a window, all of a sudden he smiles.
Jesus Christ, this is good.
And whatever you do,
however you do it,
however you imagine your child's life,
or what kind of parent you'd be,
29 years later,
he's in some shrink's office
accusing you of some stupid thing
that you said or did
that for the life of you
you can't remember saying or doing.
Tell me at your age, you're not
taking classes out of boredom.
I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
What was before this?
- Life in general.
- Any kids?
Mmm-hmm.
Boy or girl?
- Boy.
- Good luck.
Thanks.
Who's that man who chased you
out of my classroom the other day?
He went soft, I stayed hard.
That was that.
- Well, it's been real, everybody.
- No, it hasn't.
Hey. Goddamn it.
Slow night?
Couple of people came in
to use the bathroom.
How we doing?
Well, aside from being
an endangered species, not so good.
Can you translate that for me, please?
Friday night, it's the only night
we're making any money.
I... I've missed some bills,
and we can't cover the overhead.
- I see.
- Yeah.
You got a plan B?
Burger King?
Seriously. Come on,
I want to show you something.
- This is the spreadsheet from...
- No, no, I can't. Um...
Oh.
You got protection?
Shh.
- Viagra?
- Please, be quiet.
- Want me to hold your hand?
- Shut your mouth.
- Can I watch?
- Shut up.
Dude, I'm being serious. Shut up.
I believe.
- In what?
- A higher power. Can you hear it?
Not right now.
- Later.
- Bye.
- Bye.
- You guys have fun.
- You know, I got a plan B.
- Oh, yeah?
You know what,
you can get out of here.
I was thinking about getting
my real estate license.
- What?
- Mmm-hmm.
Why would...
Why would you do something like that?
Uh, 'cause it seems more impressive
than pouring drinks.
Does it? What happened
to your life in the arts?
Oh, that'll probably phase in to a
Sunday afternoon hobby kind of thing.
You?
Plus, I think it's kind of indecent
to have things so worked out
that they wind up exactly
like you thought they would.
Oh.
Are you gonna be OK?
Probably.
We live in a world full of probablys.
Well...
I'm a decent listener...
if you ever want to talk about,
you know... whatever.
Talking about whatever's overrated.
I prefer just to, you know,
let things stew inside of me,
then have a violent out...
What'd you do that for?
It just seemed like the next
interesting thing to do.
I'm kind of married.
Yeah, I don't mind.
I kind of do.
- Uh, there's nobody looking.
- You know, in another life, I...
Mmm, we shouldn't even...
When's the last time that
you got laid properly?
Oh, fuck, I can already
taste the regret.
Well, stop thinking,
because it's not healthy for you.
- Alexis?
- Yes?
Tomorrow's gonna be awkward.
Probably.
Oh.
What the...
I'm sorry.
I wasn't expecting you.
No, no, no.
No, I wasn't expecting me,
either, so...
- Hi.
- Hey.
Is she here?
No.
Is she living here?
Do you want to come in for a second?
Would that be all right?
Yeah, come in.
OK.
Can I ask how she's doing?
I don't know, to be completely honest.
As good as she can be.
Do I seem like
a different person to you?
Do you feel like a different person?
Kind of.
You look the same to me.
You know I didn't like you when Eleanor
first brought you out here for dinner.
However long ago it was.
How long ago was it?
Seven years.
- Seven years?
- Yeah.
You sat there in the exact same spot
seven years ago,
with a glass of water because you were
afraid to have a drink in front of me.
This obnoxiously perfect kid who walked
off with my daughter's attention.
You grew on me, though.
Oh, well...
It's true.
Look, I...
I don't want to interfere
with your life,
or whatever she has to do,
but I can't...
I can't just chalk this up to destiny.
I walked on with my life because...
moving forward was the only way to go.
I guess people grieve differently.
I wish there was some appropriate,
articulate thing to say,
but I just wanted the mundane
daily bullshit back.
I think Eleanor wanted something else.
And I think that, um...
...there was nothing appropriate
about any of this.
Hey.
Guess what?
What?
I got asked out on a date.
I feel fat.
Katy, shut up.
You're not fat.
That's gorgeous.
Goddamn it!
Uh, excuse me?
Hey, come in here.
What was that?
This keeps breaking off.
OK, but we don't say that, lovey.
Why?
'Cause it's not a nice thing to say.
Are you sure that you're OK
to watch him?
Mom and Dad should be back pretty soon.
He's here.
Are you sure?
Yes, I'm positive.
- Change.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
So, what do you want to do?
What do you want to do?
Can I get electrocuted
by lightning bugs?
No, they're harmless.
This song is horrible.
- It's not good.
- It's not.
I think that bad music turns you on.
Seriously.
Oh, oh, oh, car, car, car, car. Do the
thing! Do the thing! Do the thing!
Do the... Shh. Shh.
I don't want them
to see your ta-tas.
We're good, we're good.
- Help me.
- What?
You know what you're doing.
Stop it.
- There you go. Should I do it?
- Yeah.
OK, this is kind of counter-intuitive.
I think I'm instinctually wired
not to be able to do this.
There we go.
Three, two, one.
Just like that.
- You look good.
- Very impressed.
We have to listen to this?
Hey!
You want it? You want it?
- Top 40?
- No.
- Country?
- No.
Can I have some?
- Baby?
- Mmm-hmm.
- As comfortable as this is...
- Mmm-hmm.
...I'm losing circulation in my legs.
- What are you trying to say?
- That you're fat.
And I love every pound of you.
Come here.
Mmm.
Did you see where my shirt went?
Try the backseat.
- Where are you going?
- Out here.
You coming?
Yeah.
Where are we?
Someplace good.
- Amazing.
- I know.
It went that badly?
I could've given him
a normal kiss good night
instead of jamming
my tongue down his throat.
So he's cool?
I am so fucked.
You have a little to drink tonight?
Yeah.
What's that?
Philip gave it to me so I won't
be afraid of the dark.
You still having trouble with that?
Yeah, guess so. Come on.
Were you OK with him?
Yeah.
Oh, I don't mean...
That's not what I was...
I just...
I'm OK.
Is it OK to be OK?
Yeah, be OK all you want.
Are you really OK?
I can pretend.
All of a sudden, I kind of miss him.
Who?
Conor.
He came by the house the other day.
He talked with mom,
and she told me not to tell you.
I'm sorry, Katy.
What for?
I feel like I just dropped in
on you guys,
and I sucked all the air
out of the room.
You are kind of a selfish bitch.
Hey.
You don't have to be so honest.
No.
I was really mad at you.
I know.
- I'm still really mad at you.
- I know.
And you pulled the floorboards
out from under Conor.
He threw Cody's stuff into the closet.
And then ten minutes later,
he ordered Chinese from Madame Wu's.
I tried for six months.
We were a million miles away
in the same room, and...
...I started to think thoughts
I never thought I'd have.
How have you and mom made it this far?
I'm not sure.
Endurance.
Everyone starts out thinking,
"This is forever."
But then things get hard,
at some point or another.
And then other things don't pan out
the way you thought they would.
I suppose the trick is
not running for the hills,
even when you think it's
the most rational thing to do.
I don't know.
- I hate this room.
- I've seen worse.
- Where?
- Huh?
Where have you seen worse?
- NYU, Yale...
- Oh, Yale's butt ugly.
New Haven's butt ugly.
Did you attend any
of those fine institutions?
NYU, and then I grew up at Yale
when my dad was there.
- Oh, of course, you're a faculty brat.
- Mmm-hmm.
You and my son would
get along like hotcakes.
Not that I'm trying to set you up
or anything.
He lives in Washington, the state.
He's been pretending to write a novel
there for the last four years.
Learn anything interesting at NYU?
I abandoned a dissertation.
- Mmm, bold!
- Mmm-hmm.
- What department?
- Anthropology.
Mmm, social? Linguistic?
I was writing an ethnography
on the social world
of performance artists in Paris.
Musicians, dancers, actors, et cetera.
Why?
I don't know. My mom is a musician
and she's French, so...
No, I mean why did you abandon it?
Don't tell me something stupid
like love.
You're very talkative.
- It's more fun listening to you.
- You'll get over that.
I got pregnant.
Ah, that.
Come on, wake up.
Wake up.
What?
I went into your room
to check about you,
and you were gone
and the car was gone.
Yeah, I went for a drive.
Well, don't ever do it again.
Why were you checking on me?
I've always checked on you.
You feeling a bit dramatic today?
No, why?
OK.
I played second violin on this.
Boston Symphony. Itzhak Perlman.
I haven't forgotten.
No, I was just reminding myself.
What?
I never wanted to be a mother.
Not much you can do about that now.
Yeah. It's too late.
I was too young when I had you.
I was the baby.
Why are you telling me this?
I'm telling you this because...
I don't want to lie to you.
I don't want you to take
our relationship too personally.
I don't.
- No.
- Give... No, give me my wine.
Give me my wine.
Why didn't you tell me Conor came
by the house the other day?
Run for your life, El.
What is that supposed to mean?
Well, this is all too realistic.
Run away for a while.
You sure you're not projecting?
Yes, yes, I'm sure I'm not projecting.
You liked your semester in Paris,
so why don't you go back there
and finish your dissertation?
You could write in cafes,
read Le Monde et Les Inrocks.
Eat bread, make eyes at strangers.
Yeah, I could.
So why are you still here?
I don't know.
I don't get it, man.
What don't you get?
Well, your dad is, like,
the, like, a culinary maverick.
He's, like, the Mick Jagger
of the restaurant game.
All you got to do is make one phone call
and it saves our asses,
but instead you want us to drown,
like 90 percent
of the other restaurants in the city.
- I don't get it.
- Stu, Stu...
Well, I... What did he do?
What do you mean, "What did he do?"
Your dad, what did he do?
I mean, at least take a page out
of his book. What did he do?
- He married my mom.
- What does that mean?
That means he married my mom.
She gave him all the money
that her family left her,
and he opened the restaurant.
It was a big success and then
he dropped her like a bad habit.
So, you know what?
Why don't you go and find yourself
some lonely loaded old lady
- and then we can take it from there.
- Well...
You know what, I'd rather fail
catastrophically than, you know,
give him the satisfaction of thinking
he handed me my life on a platter.
That is the stupidest thing
in the history of stupid things
- to say.
- Whoa, why is that stupid?
You know what's stupid? You think I'm
gonna call my dad, and he's gonna go,
"Hey, son, why don't you come and bring
your friends, they can work here, too."
- Yeah!
- It's not a fucking slumber party.
It's not a slumber party,
it's a job.
- Stu, as decent a cook as you are...
- I'm a chef.
All right, chef, you don't exactly
cut it in those kitchens.
Oh, relax. You don't want
to have this conversation.
No, let's talk about it. When's
the last time you julienned a carrot?
- All right.
- Seriously.
When's the last time you cooked an egg
and you didn't blanch the yolk?
You know, in those kinds of kitchens,
in that world...
- I've been pulling my weight fine.
- ...you would be a busboy.
- You fuckhead. Fucking failure.
- Yeah, no. I'm telling you.
- Those glasses need picking up.
- You're Spencer Ludlow's son. Fuck you.
- You like that? Fucking asshole.
- Wait! Whoa!
You hit me with fucking kale?
That all you got? Come on.
Oh, God! Jesus.
Ow.
Ow.
Ow, ow, oh.
OK, OK, yeah, yeah.
This is what you want?
- Is that a joke?
- No, they're really going at it.
- That doesn't sound so good to me.
- We're not quite open yet.
I was third in my class at the New York
Academy of Culinary Arts, you fuckhead.
I know that, asshole.
Then cut the shit.
Hey.
I love our little set-up here.
I do.
But the lease has gotten
prohibitively expensive,
and unless you want
to camp out in the kitchen...
Yeah. I'll bring the sleeping bags.
Just... time to let go.
Time to grow up.
I am grown up.
- I am.
- Fine.
When do we call it quits?
End of next week.
Can we have one last banger
before we close shop?
Yeah.
Can we abuse some heavy narcotics?
- Whatever tickles your thing.
- Good.
I'm sorry.
- Blow me.
- OK.
Yeah, it's amazing.
So you're well?
I'm OK.
- Good.
- Yeah.
I'm just painting and here,
you know, that same stuff.
- Eat me.
- Hey, hey, hey.
Sorry.
Holy Shatner.
Nice to see you, too, Stuart.
Well, this is nice.
Like old times, reconnecting and all.
- I'm gonna go to the kitchen.
- Yeah.
I will join you.
Shirley Temple?
Please.
What do I owe you?
Your money's no good here.
You know that.
OK.
Business is good?
It's great.
We're closing.
- I'm sorry.
- Yeah.
Yeah, me, too.
So, what's next?
I don't know.
I thought I might...
develop some interests in things
that people actually take
an interest in.
You gonna work with your dad?
Hmm?
You know, before you,
I had no idea who I was.
Then when we were together,
I thought I had it all figured out.
Now I'm just back to wondering again.
Well, when you figure it out,
tell me how, OK?
OK.
- Let's get out of here.
- What?
Let's go.
- Right now?
- Yeah. That's the idea.
OK.
Yeah, uh...
Don't forget to fill it up
before you drop it off.
You got it.
- That.
- What are you doing?
Do you want to listen to that?
Yeah. Suck it up, Ludlow.
Is it gonna rain?
Fuck me!
Ah...
Of course, we get the car
with the retarded wipers.
We could just wait it out.
What are we doing here?
You tell me. You're the one who said
that we needed to talk.
You stalked me,
you went to my parents' house.
What are we doing here?
Just recently, like an hour ago,
you walked into my bar
and you suggested we drive aimlessly
into the perfect fucking storm here.
This is funny.
Yeah.
Yeah, it's fucking hilarious.
You know, for a while there,
I thought we'd actually pieced together
a pretty decent life.
I have to move everything
out of the apartment next week.
Do you want me to
keep anything for you?
Where will you move to?
I don't know.
I could stay with my dad
for a little while,
- until I get things figured out.
- How is he?
Oh...
I'm pretty certain he's losing his mind.
- Fernanda left him. Yeah.
- Oh.
He's getting all talkative.
Waxing philosophical.
Same shit he pulls every time
he's between significant others.
I think it's probably more than that.
Yeah, maybe.
- At least you guys are talking.
- Yeah.
What did you tell your parents about us?
What would I say?
That we're fabulous.
I feel like we're living
some dreadful disaster clich.
We are.
You're sopping wet.
Oh, you noticed? Thank you.
- Wait...
- No, no, no, no.
No, wait, wait.
Just a second, wait.
Shh.
Shit.
I slept with someone else.
I'm sorry.
It doesn't matter.
What do you mean, it doesn't matter?
Get off me.
Don't, El...
- Come on.
- Get off.
What do you mean, it doesn't matter?
Get over yourself, Conor.
- You don't care?
- No.
That's bullshit. I know you care.
El, you're supposed to say,
"What the fuck are you thinking, Conor?"
You're supposed to say,
"You're a selfish piece of shit."
No.
We're past that.
And you just said it for me.
Come on, let's go back to the city.
I'm gonna get out of here.
- Ma'am?
- Yes?
You're a dick.
And you look like ass.
Thank you.
Where were you last night?
Do you want to take a load off?
I come here on breaks.
One of the librarians
advocates a whole nap philosophy.
Nap philosophy?
Yeah, naps throughout the day, like,
help with productivity and stuff.
Mmm.
If you want to read this.
What?
I was hoping you could read my mind.
Wouldn't that be nice?
You want to do something stupid
this weekend?
Yeah. I'm the queen
of doing something stupid.
What are you thinking?
Get bent, take a train into the city,
save the world.
When did you become an idealist?
A couple seconds ago.
I have a date
with the dentist this weekend.
It's OK. He can be our third wheel.
- You like drinks?
- Yeah.
Yeah, I'll have a drink.
- Should we get, like...
- A shot?
- Three shots?
- Tequila.
A round of tequila.
I feel old!
- What?
- I feel...
I feel old!
Me, too!
Cheers.
What's your name?
I'm good, thanks.
Oh, wait.
Wait... No, wait, wait, wait.
- What? What?
- Wait.
What is it?
Uh...
Did I hurt you?
No, no.
What is it?
You're a stranger.
So are you.
You ever have that moment where you
know you're doing something stupid,
but you do it anyway?
Yeah, every day.
What? Come on.
- No.
- Come on.
Stay there.
- I'm gonna go.
- No, don't go.
- Don't.
- Oh, Jesus.
Just stay for a minute.
Really?
Sorry.
Where to?
Uh...
Just make a loop around the city.
Got a destination?
Eventually.
Hey, Phoebe.
- Hey, how are you?
- How are you?
Good. Your hair got long.
- Not really.
- Yeah.
He's in his spot.
You could make this place your own,
if you want.
Do what you like with it.
Seriously, I...
I'm done.
Used to be pretty cool,
once upon a time.
Some of the same faces still show up,
except more wrinkled.
Some of them less so.
The Stones were in last week
after playing the Garden,
but... mostly people
are just fading away.
I've been doing this way too long.
I think you've done pretty good.
Yeah, well... complacency scares
the shit out of me.
- Yeah?
- Mmm-hmm.
Then how's this?
I forfeited the loan the bank gave me,
I'm losing the lease on my bar,
Eleanor's gone with the fucking wind.
I'm 33 years old,
and my life's a fucking boat wreck.
I'm in my 60s.
I lost a grandson this year that
I'm basically forbidden to talk about.
My third wife just walked out on me,
and I come here every afternoon to this
restaurant named after your mother.
It's time to shoot the crow.
Where are you gonna go?
You gonna fly off to Never-Never Land?
Become a Buddhist?
What are you doing here, anyway?
I was...
I was just in the neighborhood.
"Just in the neighborhood."
What is it?
Do you ever wonder why we fall in love
with a specific person?
Not really.
I think to myself,
"Something's wrong here, but I can't
quite put my finger on what it is."
There's always one that haunts us.
So give her time.
It's the right thing to do,
given the circumstances.
- Circumstances suck.
- Yeah.
I really forbid you
from talking about him?
Uh-huh.
What the fuck are you gonna say to me?
Ever since he...
Ever since what happened happened,
any thought or memory of him
has been something just to run my mind
as far as fuck away from as I can get,
and...
A shooting star only lasts a second,
but... aren't you glad
to at least have seen it?
That's nice.
It's a little Hallmark,
but it's nice.
I mean it, it's nice.
You have a delicate soul, Dad.
Oh, nobody ever said that to me before.
You know, we're in imminent danger
of sappiness.
- Oh, we can't have that, can we?
- Mmm-mmm.
- You hungry?
- Yeah.
- I'll fix you something up.
- OK.
"All the lonely people,
where do they all come from?"
Hmm?
That's the Beatles song
you were named after.
Ah...
Three Splendas.
Wow, full service.
Want me to come down there
or you want to join me in here?
I think I'm gonna leave your class.
You're breaking up with me.
So this is what heartbreak feels like.
You never had your heart broken?
Only read about it in books.
Liar.
Sure.
You know, you don't have to tell me
this. You could've just not shown up.
I just got to get out of here.
"Here"?
- The tri-state area.
- Oh.
You know, they say
that if you walk away from things,
then you'll just keep walking away.
Start a whole history of walk-aways.
Did that sound
as lame as I thought it did?
No.
Good, 'cause I don't have a fucking clue
as to how life should be lived.
Well, could you refer me
to someone who does, please?
Yeah.
I had a dog... Miles.
I got him from a pound.
He did it pretty well.
Lived every day
like he won the lottery.
Where's Miles when we need him?
Somewhere in Pennsylvania.
Took him on a road trip,
trying to be all Travels with Charley.
As soon as we hit the open countryside,
he starts jumping up and down
like he picked up a scent
or found something
he'd always been looking for.
Let him out.
He hightails it,
chasing the sun to nowhere.
He ran away?
Mmm-hmm.
I imagine he's happy
wherever he wound up.
Hooked up with some Amish people.
Lives on a dairy farm.
It's possible.
I have a colleague at NYU.
From my days of working
with your dad there.
Teaches anthropology at the
American University in Paris,
does some work
at the Musee du Quai Branly.
I can make a phone call.
Send him that dissertation
you started on.
Want half a bagel?
No, I'm good, I'm good.
You getting enough to eat?
You're starting to sound maternal.
Oh, that would be a first.
When's the last time you got
to talk to your son?
Some holiday too long ago.
Is it sad that I don't remember?
Probably.
I should call, shouldn't I?
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
Now you sound maternal.
Hello?
Hello?
Hello?
Hey.
Do I seem like
a different person to you?
You look the same to me.
I'm sorry.
For what?
For disappearing.
We'll never get to where we were.
Where was that?
Someplace good.
Yeah.
Tell me what you're thinking.
I forgot what he looked like.
Sometimes I'll get a glimpse
of his eyes or...
...the way he'd smile at me
from his crib.
But then he'll vanish.
I can't picture his face.
I can't picture his face anymore.
He was pale.
He frowned a lot.
He had your eyes, he had your nose,
he had your... your lips,
he had your cheeks.
El, he was all you.
He was the most beautiful thing
I've ever seen.
I wasn't prepared
for what this feels like.
I know. Neither was I.
I love you.
I know.
- How's it coming?
- It's coming.
There's a great cafe
called Le Cafe
at the Rue Tiquetonne that
a lot of artsy fartsies go to.
Your mother and I used to go there
when we visited her parents.
I met Jean-Marie Le Clezio there once,
before he won his Nobel.
Cool.
And you should get
some of those big French macaroons
at Laduree
in Saint-Germain.
Call me when you do...
...and I will live
vicariously through you.
I will. Thanks.
I lost you in the ocean once.
What?
I lost you in the ocean once.
We had rented a house
at Ditch Plains Beach on Montauk,
when you could afford Montauk.
You were about two.
Your mother was pregnant with Katy,
and I took you down swimming
one afternoon.
Not a lot of people down there.
I...
I waded out...
...holding you.
Thinking, at one point,
"This might not be the best idea."
But you were game.
Or I imagined that you were game
because you never, ever seemed scared.
Of anything.
The Atlantic is moody,
and a big set of waves snuck in.
We made it under the first one.
You were clinging to my neck.
But we got caught
in front of the second.
And I came up without you.
I have never felt anything like that.
The throes of that
stupid couple seconds,
treading the white water.
And then, miraculously, I...
...felt you at my feet.
I never told your mother.
I never told anyone.
That was the worst
and the best moment of my life.
OK.
- Is this ready?
- Yeah.
- I'll be downstairs in a bit.
- OK.
What have you got?
Chardonnay.
- It's good? Hmm?
- Hmm.
Mmm.
You know I'm full of shit, right?
Depends on the day.
But you know that I love you, hmm?
Say good-bye to Auntie Em, OK?
OK.
Good-bye, chickadee.
You make sure that they behave, OK?
- OK.
- OK, kiss.
What time is it in France?
Um, it is past your bedtime.
Why?
Don't be a stranger.
I won't.
I don't want to go to bed.
It's still light out.
You don't have to go to bed, sweetie.
Be good, OK? I'll be back.
When is Auntie Em coming back?
She'll be back next summer.
Hey, guys, I'm gonna go take a stroll
before the rush, OK?
- OK.
- OK.
Aren't you worried about
these 15 people in that section?
What are we going to do with them?
Um, you know what we do is we
open up this back room here...