It's your oldest fear
That the love you can hear
Will go r
And it's a deafening sound
We become light
on the ground
Then soil
To be one with the sky
Where the souls all collide
and turn to gold...
Woman:
In the middle,
you feel like it's never
going to end.
But he was with me.
I was going to make it.
I remember that morning.
Hunter made me a deal.
He'd clean out the basement
if I swam all the way
across the lake.
I dove right in.
Our basement was a nightmare.
But it turns out
that gliding along behind me
that's when the last song
on the album came to him.
The first time I brought him here
to show him where I grew up,
he decided that this was where
he wanted to write music,
have a zillion kids,
have a yard big enough
to get lost in...
We are stones to be seen
In the meadows
we are dreams to be free
...to become part of the wilderness
instead of just part of some scene.
It's where we bow
our heads to pray
- We are echoes...
- Most of the songs on the album,
I don't really know
where they came from,
but I was there for that one.
So I hold onto that track
as the one that we wrote together.
Together as it was
supposed to be,
because the plan was never to live
in the fricking woods all my myself.
We are free...
But here I am,
still way out in the middle...
without him.
Don't look at me
with that tone of voice.
We are stones to be seen
In the meadows
we are dreams to be free
It's where we bow
our heads to pray
We are echoes God creates
into shapes
It's where the love
can come in
Your breath becomes the wind
in the trees
We are free
We are free
All are welcome in
All are welcome in.
Mr. Popular today.
All right.
Man: Do you have any books
on how you write books?
You know, all the rules and grammar,
semicolons and whatnot?
Yes, I would recommend
"The Voyage Out" by Virginia Woolf.
It's on the fiction aisle,
bottom shelf, lilac spine.
I'm ready for
my next assignment.
Hannah, don't waste
your time, all right?
I'm giving the column
to somebody else this week.
What? Who?
I am done playing the fiddle
to your procrastination dance.
Oh, hey, Upton, no,
don't test me today.
I worked all morning.
I did.
Give me an interview.
Come on.
And make it a good one, hmm?
Esther Greeley.
Birthdate number 88.
- Bless her heart.
- Now, 600 words,
and I insist you spend a minimum
amount of time on it.
That "Franklin Journal,"
it's always striving for excellence.
Yeah.
Did my special order come in?
The biographies?
Yes, they did.
I have to be well-versed
in the full spectrum of the genre.
Well, this ought to do it.
That's going to be
some good writing.
- Here.
- Give me that.
All right.
You're a man of such loose morals
behind the cash register.
- Thank you.
- You know what?
- Keep that one.
- I don't want that one.
Well, you might.
- Maybe I do.
- You're going to love it.
Hmm. Ooh.
Hey! Hello.
Okay, guys'
Off we go.
Come on, come on.
Answering machine:
You have two unheard messages.
First message.
Man: Hello, Miss Miles.
It's Andrew McCabe again.
You know, I'm not sure if you're getting
any of these messages,
but I still would like to speak to you
about your late husband.
- I've been studying his work--
- Answering machine: Message erased.
- Next message.
- Come on. There you go.
Andrew: Well, maybe you'll pick up
one of these days.
So in the meantime,
I'll just go ahead and tell your machine
a little bit about myself.
I'm a scholar, writer,
associate professor
- at Hofstra University...
- Good boy.
...in pop culture
and American studies.
Go! Go! Fetch!
Andrew McCabe.
Let's see.
Professor.
Stalker, possibly. Huh.
Uh-huh. Well, congratulations.
You write for the Internet.
Man:
Howdy.
- Hi, Hannah.
- Oh, hi.
You brought a bird.
- Had to evict this little critter.
- Hmm.
- Real little fella.
- Aw.
Thought maybe you'd want
to tend to him.
You know, I--
I actually just sat down
to do some work.
Well, I'm on my lunch break
presently
and I guess I thought
a bird in the hand
was worth me in the bush.
Hannah on machine:
Hi, I'm not here.
Leave a message.
Woman: Noodle?
Noodle, are you there?
- It's Mom.
- Mom!
You're not going to like this,
sweetie,
but apparently there's
some tight-jeaned fast-talker
from the Big Apple
who showed up in town today
riding some fancy motorcycle.
He's been asking everybody all sorts
of personal questions about Hunter.
No.
So I guess you've got
another muckraking reporter type--
What? Mom?
Hey, what? From New York?
Yeah, hi, honey.
I guess he teaches
at Hofstra or something.
Anyway, he's in the Chickadee Suite
at the Mount Blue Motel
in case you want to pay him
a little visit.
No. Okay, Mom. I got to go.
Hofstra? Hello?
Hofstra?
You in?
What is that?
I got it.
Upton!
There's some underhanded,
citified star-humper all up my in grill.
I think he's at the coffee shop.
Will you come with me
and help me crush him, please?
- Crush me?
- What the...?
I could fling you like a Frisbee.
Okay.
- Told you she was a spunky one.
- I love spunky.
Hannah, this is Andrew McCabe.
We were just talking
about some really cool stuff.
- Yes.
- You know, he teaches at--
Hofstra.
- Hofstra.
- That's right, yeah.
You want the restraining order now
or you want to wait for the libel suit?
Huh?
' Sorry?
You parasites are done running
Hunter through the rumor mill.
- Got that?
- Oh, boy.
Talk about barking up
the wrong tree.
If you're talking about magazines,
I agree with you-- they're trash.
- No, I'm writing a book.
- He's writing a book.
Traitor.
Look, and everybody that matters
is going to be in it, okay?
But Hunter Miles
could be its heart and soul.
All right.
Well, you're awfully tenacious,
I'll give you that.
Thank you.
But my husband was a person,
a real man.
And every song he ever wrote
and everything he ever touched is mine.
Got that? Mine.
The end.
Mine.
This crazy widow routine of yours,
does that work on people?
I mean, it seems
a little over the top.
- Sorry. That's too much.
- Yeah.
Andrew:
Sorry. Um, hey, look.
I've got respect fathoms deep
for everything your husband had to say
in those shattering songs, okay?
Those too few so--
where did you get that?
Hey! What are you doing?
Hey! Hey, whoa!
Come here!
Hey! Give that back.
Okay, lady, look.
That's not yours to ruin, okay?
Sorry. One second.
Please, will you give me back
my book?
Are you-- it's like
a snow globe in here.
It's-- a lot of work
went into this, you know?
Go ahead, sir. Please, please.
Are you kidding me?
Who does this?
You make a very lousy
first impression.
You know, there are
many stages of grief.
Oh: yeah?
Hannah's currently
going through vandalism.
Yeah.
Spunky, huh?
Thanks for the warning.
"Lend an open heart
to Hunter's words
and you soon recognize
that these were always
wounded impre--
impre-- imprecations
from some distant remove,
a windswept field of high grass
and dying light,
otherworldly, Elysian."
Ugh. "The man was singing
from transcendence
long before his soul floated
across that deep cold river...
yet he shines with hope.
He pulls you beneath the covers
for a flashlit whisper session...
shining on to who we are,
what we run from...
and who we hope
in our hearts to become."
I'll make other plans
To meet you
On a distant shore
Of your choosing
Be your guiding light
On the horizon...
Hannah on machine:
Hi, I'm not here.
Leave a message.
Andrew:
Okay, look, um,
I just assumed
after a couple of years...
you might be ready to talk about him.
I misjudged that
and I am really sorry.
But your husband means
a lot to me, genuinely.
All right, I'll tell you what.
I'm getting something
to eat at the diner
and then I'm leaving town, okay?
But I-- I really want
my notebook back, man.
Or what's left of it, anyway.
All right.
All I've decided
is that I'll listen to you.
Okay, but it's going to be
the sound of chewing for a minute.
You got 30 seconds.
Make your case.
Okay, well, I'm not going
to need that long.
I want to make
your husband immortal.
That's a cruel thing to say.
No, no, what's cruel is no matter
how good his music was,
it's getting buried in an avalanche
of cheesy singles.
Someone needs to build a monument
to raise him up above the rubble.
Right, and that's you?
Associate Professor of Truth
on your hog?
It's not a hog.
It's a cafe racer.
It's European.
Come on.
Here. Ahem.
Got a few questions.
Yeah, well, me first.
So this book of yours...
It's not gossip.
It's not reference,
it's not fiction, okay?
But it is wildly romantic.
It's about the chorus
of lost voices--
artists, poets, musicians,
all of whom failed to navigate
out of the woods of their youth.
And to understand why,
what I'm trying to do
is deconstruct the edifice
of commodification
that I believe our society
has entombed the creative urge.
I mean, he's like the patron saint
of this whole ethos.
You know what?
I'm not that worried.
Nobody's reading this book.
What do you want to know?
Um, yeah.
Okay, so Hunter grew up in Philly.
Yeah? He's a drummer
in a punk band, right?
Suddenly he's singing
his heart out
on the edge of the earth
with an acoustic guitar.
- How the hell does that happen?
- He loved it up here.
Did he?
I mean, I--
he loved you
and you're from up here.
All right, yeah.
The whole thing is my fault.
- Can I get that out of the way for you?
- Oh, yeah. Right.
You know what?
I'll take that home for the hounds.
- Are we done?
- No. No, no, no.
You know what?
What I really want to know is,
you know, like--
okay, here is a sensitive soul
who gives us a single,
nearly perfect album
from the woods of Maine, right?
And then before all the tours
and the radio play
the chaos, the corruption...
poof, he's gone.
You know, what happened?
Like, some accident
or something?
Yeah.
I'll be right back.
Hey, Hannah, just let me
talk to you, okay?
Okay, McCabe.
You got good taste in music.
You got your theories about
consumer blah-blah, but here's the deal.
Any monument
that gets built for him,
I'm laying the bricks.
Okay, will you--
hold on, all right?
Whoa! Hey, easy.
Look, I just want to say, man,
I'm sorry.
I'm terribly sorry you want
to just let him slip away for good.
You know, I hope you get promoted
or rich or on "The View"
or whatever it is that made you
haul yourself up here.
Get off my truck.
You're condemning
a genius to obscurity.
Work on this with me.
I am working on it, dickweed.
- I'm writing his biography.
- What?
Wait, hold on.
Stop.
- No.
- Roll it down right now, please.
Come on, let's talk about this.
Please!
Okay. Fine.
Never mind.
Nice meeting you.
Andrew:
She just stonewalled me.
I mean, I don't even know
if I can use him in the book at all.
That sucks,
because he would have been
the cornerstone
of the whole frigging'...
Look, he wrote
one surprising album,
he had a lot of potential,
and it sucks that he died so young.
Yeah, but, honey,
how many stacks of dissertations
have been written about,
you know--
I mean, hell, you got Cobain,
Buckley, Arbus.
Elliott Smith, Nick Drake,
David Foster Wallace.
On and on, you know?
Hunter Miles?
Uncharted territory.
Walked out
on the frozen lake...
Tenure in the bag, man.
No, no, no.
This does not make or break you.
Come downtown with me.
I scout three bands a week
that are much more cutting-edge
than Hunter Miles.
I know that, honey,
but that's what's so great about him.
There's nothing
cutting-edge about him.
He's timeless.
He's...
Oh, well. Hmm?
Hey, to Hunter Miles.
Echo, echo all again
Rewind and then erase
Mainstays and saving grace
Mainstays and my resting...
Curtis: Howdy!
Upton: As the space pod
zoomed across the horizon,
the captain roared
in his reptilian voice,
"Lizardbot,
unleash your snot fire!"
Ha!
Upton:
Unleash!
Hannah.
Hannah Miles.
- I'll come back.
- Get over here.
I didn't know you were a fan
of "The Worm of Gondolak."
Uh, here.
Just read it, please.
It's part of an intro,
and then something like a first chapter,
and then some epilogue.
- It's a start, right?
- Uh-huh.
Um...
Uh, hold--
There's some interesting
stuff here.
It's just that I know
what you're capable of.
You know, when you're on,
you're like a fanged wolf
howling from a mountain top.
But this is a toothless piglet
lost in the woods.
Great. Thank you.
Hannah, you're attempting
the impossible.
It's okay to ask for help.
Yeah, well,
thank you, Upton,
but I'm not going
to drop this in your lap.
Well, you're welcome,
but it's not my lap I'm thinking of.
Never.
Come here.
Huh?
Andrew:
Fiction or autobiography?
Pose or confession,
Biggie was as much defined by
as he was killed by
his Ten Crack Commandments.
So I ask you,
what does that mean,
to hinge your street cred
on your own mortal evanescence?
That is all.
Oh, and, hey, just to look ahead,
after the break we're going to be
diving into the Kool Herc materials,
so start thinking
cultural appropriation,
sampling the break.
Which is not the same thing
as copy-pasting your midterms
from a Wikipedia page,
Mr. O'Brien.
Busted.
Oh, Professor.
Oh, nice surprise.
What are you doing here?
I thought you might like
some sushi.
Lifesaver. Yes, very much so.
- Yeah, we'll eat over here.
- All right.
Hold on one sec.
Hello?
Hi, it's your uncooperative
widow friend.
Well, hello there,
Miss Hannah Miles.
- How are you?
- I'm good. How's New York?
Full of too many people,
as always?
So here's the thing,
this research or whatever it is
that you're doing on my husband,
I-- I don't like it,
and Hunter would have
kicked your ass for so many reasons,
but I also think that he would have
respected your take on the songs.
Well, I'm sorry.
Respect me?
The muckraking,
star-humping dickweed?
Did I forget any?
lam willing to let go
of my first impressions--
Oh, good, good.
Well, then me, too.
Hold on a second here.
Psychotic, ball-busting widow.
Poof. To the wind.
Proceed.
You know, you're just the last
in a long line of bloodsuckers
coming here
to dig up dirt, so you--
No, no, no.
I'm not digging up a damn thing.
What are you doing?
Are you just calling to screw with me?
No, no, no.
I have a proposition.
A proposal.
Have you ever written
a biography?
- Finley: What?
- Shh. Shh.
Okay, I see what's going on here.
You're just a crazy person.
Yes, apparently, because I think
that you have half a brain,
and I need it...
to help me distill the life
of an incredible person
into a couple dozen thousand words.
But, I mean, I've got a book deal
with Random House.
And a pub date,
you know what I mean?
- What do you got?
- Nothing.
Well, I got the truth
of his last 10 years.
I'd give you access
to all the fun stuff--
the sheet music
and drafts of his lyrics.
Okay, okay.
Hold on.
Let's just talk this through
for a second, will ya?
All right, so I write this bio...
We write this bio.
We write it?
Like, together?
Okay, I call left side
of the keyboard.
We co-author it.
Your name goes on the spine
right under mine.
Okay, Hannah,
I have an advance.
Well--
well, Hunter's life insurance
policy wasn't huge,
but, uh...
I could do 40.
- Um"
- Finley: Are you kidding me?
- Jack it up, jack it up.
- What do you mean, jack it up?
That's, like,
five times my advance,
plus she's giving me
the keys to the kingdom.
50. That's all I got.
Okay, look, take your time.
Think it over.
I tell you what, Miss Miles.
You just bought yourself a typist.
Yes!
What? Really?
Okay, so I guess that means
that you'd be coming up here.
Uh, yeah, yeah.
We've got spring break coming up.
I have a guest room.
You could stay in the guest room.
Uh, yeah. Yeah, no.
I guess that would work.
Okay, well, I will see you
in vacation land.
- I will bring my swim trunks.
- Ha.
You know, there she is
Matches of sunlight
Keep me honest and true
One won't need me
Worn out my welcome
Sing you never in a song...
Okay, we'll let...
...the strange man into our house.
- Hi.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Oh, look at these guys.
- Show no fear.
- Look at that.
These are the hounds.
This is Ripken. This is Glover.
Ripken, Glover.
Excellent
Hi, I'm Andrew. Hello.
This is what I smell like.
Yeah, okay.
He's not sure.
Okay, we'll take you in here.
- Yeah.
- Come on.
In you go.
Bedtime. Bedtime.
- Hello, again.
- Hi.
Yeah. You know, it's nice to be
in business with you.
- Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.
How were the roads?
Oh, I'm--
unmarked, tractionless,
a waking nightmare
of snow blindness.
- You, uh...?
- Yes. No, yeah, please.
That would be helpful.
I mean,
don't get me wrong,
I find moonlight as romantic
as the next guy,
but kiss my ass if I'm expected
to drive by it.
You city people,
you have this whole
"don't mess with me" exoskeleton,
but you're generally
just such pussies.
I mean, this will be done
by the morning.
- It's just a tease.
- Mm-hmm.
You sure you don't want some tea
or something to help you, uh...?
No, thanks. No, no, no.
That's all right.
No, you know what?
Maybe you can just show me
where I'll be warehousing
myself this evening.
- Mm-hmm.
- And there I shall build
a cocoon of many blankets.
Call my gal, let her know I survived.
She's very worried.
But I will rise again,
I'll tell you that.
I'll be ready and raring to dive
into my new job.
At that point,
I'll drink your tea.
And by then maybe,
just maybe,
I'll have forgiven you
for just calling me a pussy.
All right?
Oh, boy.
Hello there.
You're right.
You're right.
You're sleeping.
My fault. You got it.
- Oh!
Dick move.
Dick move.
And you're his enabler.
Andrew: Ah. Oh, hello.
Hmm. Walk of shame.
So this is where
the magic happens, huh?
Uh-huh,
if smashing your head
against a screen is magic,
then, yes.
Mm.
What do you got so far?
You have one of those drawers
in your kitchen
full of unrelated items
like the small appliance manuals,
dead batteries, egg beaters,
how he lost his virginity,
his go-to joke,
his theories on why Thursday
was the greatest day,
and everything else that I can't forget
in no apparent order.
"Nothing stinks like a pile
of unpublished writing,"
quoth Silvia Plath
before preheating herself to 350.
Yeah, well, enter the dragon.
So I guess we can start
with my notes.
It's kind of like a book
without any verbs.
Yeah, sure,
but what about his notes?
You know, did he keep a journal,
song ideas, things like that?
No, it was mostly in his head.
I do have
the last interview he did.
Yeah, Hannah, look,
I'm all for diving right in,
but I can't start thinking about
the beginning of the story
without knowing how it--
you know.
Right.
He should've been home by then.
His cell kept going
to voice mail,
so I thought
he must be still up there.
There's no reception up there
on Tumbledown.
It got dark
and I drove the roads
looking for him pulled off
with a flat tire
or having hit a deer,
worst case scenario.
And then I saw his truck
at the trail head.
And later they went up
the mountain
with flashlights
and dogs, and...
in the middle of the night,
in a shallow ravine, they found him.
He was rock-climbing?
Hiking.
Had he never been
on that trail before?
Nope. He'd done it
a hundred times
in the same pair of boots that I got him
our first Christmas in Maine.
You know, sometimes
you make a little mistake,
you bump your knee,
get a bruise.
Other times
you make a little mistake,
and you fall off
the face of a mountain.
I am so sorry.
It's the least interesting thing
about him.
Can we work on his life now?
Yes. Yeah, of course.
But, you know, I really think
I should go up there sometime.
Why? To satisfy
your morbid curiosity?
Sure, I mean, maybe my dad
will take you up there.
That is if you get to meet them.
Maybe at Easter or something.
Oh, will they be joining me
in the guest room for spring break?
No, they live in town.
- Hmm.
- They do a big Easter dinner thing.
It's-- yeah, don't worry.
You're totally off the hook.
What are you talking about?
I earned my master's
in American Studies.
Family gatherings
are my bread and butter.
Tried my hand...
That's just this thing
I was talking about earlier.
It's on here.
Just--
- Thank you.
- Okay.
And a friend
I know who I was then
I know who I am now
Love take away
- I won't need it...
- Ooh.
Salvation's pain
Glory be
Follow me down
on this road
One more hand to let go...
Hmm.
Hey, dude.
- Uh...
- You know, this thing's out of tune!
Yeah, sat by the fire too long,
probably.
Mm-hmm, that'll do it.
Plus, I'm playing it left-handed
and don't know what I'm doing.
- There's that, too.
- Those three things...
- Definitely.
- ...add up to what you're hearing.
I'm going into town
to interview this, uh...
Yeah, I'll be back soon.
Wait, someone that knew Hunter?
I'll come with.
No, no. Not that.
I work freelance
for a local paper
and write these little
community portrait things.
That is very sweet.
Okay. I'm late.
Work hard.
Okay.
Mm-hmm.
So tell me what you ate
at your birthday.
The Lord's largest whoopee pie
with 88 candles on it,
and I blew out those puppies
all by myself.
Are you going to tell me
what you wished for?
Oh, can't do that, Hannah.
Hey, it's called
investigative journalism, guys.
Okay? Your mom's
paying me to do this.
All right?
Go! Go, go, go!
All right?
Have fun, all right?
And consider what I said
about Jessie's kid.
Kenny ROY?
Oh, he's one big hunk
of man, child.
Keep it in your pants, Esther.
You shush.
This is my interview.
Happy birthday, my dear.
Yeah. Hannah?
You want to know
what I wished for?
Off the record.
Well, not if it's going
to break the rules.
There are no rules to it,
sweetheart.
I wished to keep
living in the present,
to die just as happy as I was
at my birthday party,
and to be reincarnated
as my granddaughter's cat.
Next Friday's paper, Esther.
Keep your eyes peeled.
Hey, hey!
Hey, hey, he!!!
Back inside. Back inside!
Oh, no. No, please.
Are you kidding me?
Hey! Guys, guys, guys.
Come here!
No, no, no!
Ripken! Glover!
Whoa!
Oh, you freezing?
You freezing cold?
Oh! Oh, hey!
Hey, you're back.
I didn't see--
see you get here.
Hey, what's everybody doing out here
in a state of undress?
I'll give you two guesses.
- You didn't--
- Oh, yeah. Oh, yes, I did.
No, I took them on a walk
and locked all the doors by instinct.
Yeah, very primal.
Our Neanderthal cousins
were constantly locking themselves out.
Uh-huh. Yeah.
This is one wet T-shirt contest
I don't want to win.
I'll get a fire going.
Wow.
You're still freezing, huh?
Oh, thank you.
Uh-huh. Yeah.
Hunter was prone to the bone chill, too,
if he wasn't wearing his long johns.
I made him wear two pairs
the day we got married.
Hmm. Well, you know,
special occasion and all.
We had a whole
spring wedding planned.
Daffodils were just coming up
and days were getting longer,
and a foot of snow the day before
we were supposed to get married
in my parents' backyard.
So Hunter says,
"Come on, Buttercup,
put your snowshoes on."
And we clamber up and...
say our vows
on top of Bald Mountain.
Hunt said the whole world
was wearing a wedding dress that day.
- Well, the man was a poet.
- Hmm.
I had been made redundant,
so I decided to wear magenta.
Yeah. Plus, you would have been
camouflaged, right?
"Hannah, do you take this man
to be your-- wait, Hannah?
Hannah, are you there?
I don't see you."
- Oh.
- Hmm.
Hannah? Are you there?
I can't see you.
Hannah, you all right?
Oh, hey, Curtis.
What are you, uh--
what's going on?
- Whole county's gone black.
- Huh. Right, well, great timing.
Looks like we're going to
have to ride this one out till morning.
God, you are wicked pretty
with your hair--
Jeezum crow, boss!
Who are you, if you don't mind
my barging in?
This is my friend
Andrew McCabe.
We were at college together.
He's just...
This is Curtis.
He provides light
for western Maine...
- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.
...and single-handedly keeps
the deer population under control.
- Well...
- Andrew: Oh, yeah?
You make deer condoms, huh?
Kidding.
Speak of the devil.
Got some venison
from the deep-freeze.
Looks like I thawed out
a bit more than I could chew.
Curtis, that's sweet.
Here, let me take it from you.
Here. Thank you.
Okay. There we go.
I'll cook it up tonight.
Oh, you want to--
you want to stay?
Wha-- aw, no.
I-- I wouldn't want to interrupt
you and your old friend
catching up on whatever,
et cetera.
See, that's the good thing
about being a hunter, Andy,
is that even when
the gatherers are up a creek
because they realize
they haven't put away
enough nuts and seeds
to last the winter,
a hunter, he can find himself dinner
any day of the week
as long as he can sniff out
the right dung,
keep a steady shot.
Yeah.
Oh, boy, I hear you.
Loud and clear.
Couldn't agree more.
I don't think I'd get on in the city
without my Glock.
You know,
when things get really nasty
and I haven't been able to gather up
enough takeout menus,
I just head up to the park,
blow up a beaver.
See, I'd probably go
for the raccoon first.
- Oh, yeah? Why's that?
- More white meat.
Yeah, that's a good tip.
Appreciate that.
So, Curt, what do you do
for fun up here?
Is it too cold for ice cream?
That's all right, Hannie.
I, uh, ahem--
sure I'll be up licking
the crack of dawn tomorrow.
But it sure was nice meeting
your smart-ass buddy.
And I look forward
to our next rendezvous.
Hannah:
Okay.
- Oh, hey.
- Hmm?
Sometime we should, uh--
we should get dinner and a dump.
Mmm! It's very neighborly of you
to check in on me.
I will see you sometime, hmm?
Mm-hmm.
- Oh.
- What?
What? I didn't say anything!
What are you--
what are you talking about?
Aw, come on!
No, I-- what?
It's very rare for me to get to dine
with the executioned
and its executioner,
that's all I'm saying.
No, you don't know me well enough
to bust my chops.
- Here.
- What?
Here. Come on,
get over there,
unless you want to die of cold.
No. No, thank you.
Honestly, I think it's great.
No, seriously, though.
I think it's good.
I think it's a good thing for you
to be getting back on that horse.
And that guy-- oh, boy.
What a thoroughbred.
Hold on, young lady.
You might be falling in love again.
Good for you.
I've known him since high school
and he's awesome in bed,
and that's all he is.
Wow. Never had
any intention of, uh...
hearing you say those words.
There they are.
Hey-
- Shh!
- But seriously.
- What?
- If I freeze to death...
- Mm-hmm.
I just want you to know this has been
some of the weirdest shit
I've ever dealt with in my life.
You're welcome.
Good night.
Andrew:
No, it-- it's actually pretty nice out.
Well, it's Easter, so I assume we'll be
beheading the sacrificial lamb
before dinner, right?
Okay.
Wait, hold on one sec.
Look, you know, you really
don't have to do this.
Why don't you
just take the truck home
and there's a nice bottle of Macallan
under the kitchen sink.
No, no, no.
I'm solid as a rock.
And hungry.
This is going to be great.
- Great.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right?
Hey, hon, we're here,
so I should really get rolling.
Mm-hmm.
Yeah.
No, I'm curious what I can discover
from the rest of the flock.
Hello!
- Hi! Happy Easter!
- Hello!
Oh, hey!
Holy smokes.
- The gang's all here.
- My favorite sister!
- Hi.
- Hey, get in here.
Hey, you grew a beard, huh?
Incoming!
Oh, my God.
Where did you get that?
Fresh fruit!
Be still, my heart.
Yeah, I caught it, Mom,
in my World Wide Web.
Ah.
Dad, can you do me a favor
and just set another place?
- I brought a friend along.
- What, what?
You couldn't tell me?
I hope I have enough food.
- No, it's fine.
- Everybody pretend to be normal.
You know what?
Better still, just sit her next to me.
Yeah, actually, it's--
he's a he.
- Andrew.
- Andrew?
Mm-hmm.
He's a friend of a friend
and from LA.
He's doing research
on lakefront property in western Maine.
- He's a contractor.
- Well, where is he?
Is he incredibly thin
or something?
- He's in the car on the phone.
- Yeah, that's LA.
So LA. So LA.
- Oh!
- No, Mom, I'll get the door!
I'll get the door.
No, no, I'll get it, I'll get it.
I'll get it.
No, no, no. No.
- Oh, hello! Hi!
- I'll get the door.
- Welcome! Come in here.
- Oh, hi!
- Hello. How you doing?
- Oh!
Hi. Nice to meet you.
I'm Andrew.
Happy Easter.
Uh, no. Not Easter.
Uh, Passover.
Both?
Well, I'm Linda, real estate holder
in the state of Maine.
- Great. Great.
- Oh, my God.
Are you really working
all over the holiday?
Isn't your family sore?
What family?
No, I'm joining yours.
You didn't hear that?
- It smells great in here.
- Oh!
Well, it's our pleasure
having you.
- Nice to be had.
- Whoa!
Cheer, cheers,
the gang's all here!
This is my other
lovely girl Shannon.
- This is my lovely boy Seth.
- Andrew: Hey.
- Nice to meet you.
- And this is his special friend Megan.
Come on, guys.
Let the man wipe his boots off.
Bruce Jespersen.
Pleasure.
- Nice to meet you.
- Welcome.
Shannon, will you give Andrew
a tour of the place?
But don't take him into my office.
It's very, very messy.
She just says that
because she thinks
messy means creative
and spontaneous.
- Linda: Oh, you're so hilarious.
- Nice meeting you all.
I'll see you after the tour.
All right, Shannon...
How could you not tell us?
You know how overjoyed I am?
- Well, happy Easter.
- How long is he here?
Ooh, ooh, can he come with us
to the Bogars'
maple syrup barn party?
Ooh! And what about
Matt Frost's band is playing,
so all of Farmington will be there.
Whoa, whoa, Mom.
Just, you know, get all the joy
that you want out of him tonight,
because after his business is done,
he'll be long gone.
Oh, sweetheart.
Oh, there, there.
This is our wall of shame!
- Yes.
- Yes.
My parents love to frame the best
and worst thing we've ever done.
- Huh.
- Yeah, it's constantly challenging us.
- Andrew: Yes.
- Shannon: And up for revision.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
Hannah wrote a book?
Mm-hmm.
Seasonal motifs, poem stuff.
It's a very long title.
I can't really--
plus, she has two best prizes
for some reason.
Yes, like she never did
anything wrong.
- P-H-frigging-D.
- Mm-hmm.
From Brown.
Couldn't get into Harvard.
- Oh.
- Ha!
And Seth's room is upstairs.
- It's sort of creepy.
- Hmm.
Seth: Great, Mom.
It's awesome.
Andrew:
All right, look at this.
Right over here, Andrew.
This is you.
Who needs more sauce?
Everyone good for...
Hello, Doctor.
Bruce: Andrew, right here.
This is you.
- Linda: Yeah.
- Mm.
Let's all take our seats.
Here we go.
Smells delicious, Dad.
- Let's join paws for a sec here.
- Seth: Ah.
Bruce: We are grateful today
to Mother Nature
and Mother Nurture for
the abundant food on this table
and the not entirely unattractive
family around it.
Amen.
We remember those who are
with us in spirit.
Mm-hmm, and a special welcome
to our new friend Andrew.
- Thank you.
- Well, let's dig in, everybody.
- Enjoy your food.
- All right.
- Hannah: Great. Here we go!
- Looks amazing.
So, Andrew, what's the inside scoop
on lakefront prices?
You think Maine's going to explode
like the Boston suburbs after the crash?
- Is Maine going to explode?
- Yeah.
I'm such a sucker.
I'm 29 and still renting.
What do you think, Andrew?
You think I should buy?
Or is the market still softening?
You know, actually,
I think Andrew's specialty
is in commercial real estate, right?
Mm-hmm.
And who wants to talk about work
over Easter dinner?
- Oh, I do.
- I was just curious, man.
Andrew:
Me, yeah. I would love to.
Talk about it anytime,
you know?
Breakfast, lunch,
snack time, dinner.
I mean, I'm a realtor, you know?
It's my passion.
How'd you catch
the real estate bug, Andrew, huh?
Your folks big landholders?
Mmm. Sure.
Mm-hmm.
You ever heard of Wyoming?
Okay.
All right, all right, all right.
- Linda: Kidder.
- Hold your horses.
But I care. I care.
Yeah, she's curious.
It's all right.
No, actually, Mom,
Andrew's research
is for more personal reasons.
He's an associate professor for
American Studies at Hofstra University
and he's here researching
a paper about Hunter.
And when I say paper,
I mean more like a biography
that I have hired him to write,
with me, about Hunter.
Oh, really? So there's nothing
going on here, you mean?
- No.
- No, and he ha-- not that it matters.
- He has a girlfriend...
- Mm-hmm. Finley.
...and can we not talk about this
while he's sitting right here?
- Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo.
- Ooh.
And here I thought
maybe the clouds were lifting.
You know, Mom, it's not actually
any of your business.
So you're just eating my manicotti
and happily lying to my face?
Oh, jeez.
Okay, I'm sorry.
Can we start again
with this, please?
My real name
is still Andrew McCabe.
I'm just-- I'm just the help.
I wasn't briefed on the classified
nature of my employment.
No, I am really hoping to interview
each and every one of you
if you're willing to contribute
to what I believe will be
a very beautiful book someday.
That is, unless I just got fired.
My food got cold.
Meatball?
Yes.
Yes, sir. Thank you.
- There's a spoon in the bowl.
- You're absolutely right.
- No, leave it on.
- No.
- You didn't have to do that.
- Spoon's better way to go.
Bruce:
It's all right.
- Need any help?
- No.
Well, I wanted to thank you
for including me
in such a delicious feast,
Mrs. Jespersen.
The manicotti was dry.
Well, I gobbled it right up.
You sure did.
Hey, uh, so are you a fan
of Hunter's music?
So what is this?
The interview portion
of the program?
Sorry, but I don't support
the whole project.
Gotcha.
Back to Balderdash it is.
Not a problem.
No, see, it is.
She will never break this endless cycle
of keeping Hunter around.
Well, you know, maybe this is her way
of ending that chapter of her life.
Oh! No, no, no.
She does care a great deal
about his legacy, you know.
His legacy is 12 songs.
Does the world care that much?
You'd be surprised.
Yeah, and what do you
care about, huh?
Is this your golden ticket
to tenure at some school
where there's ivy on the walls?
A fan?
He was my son.
That's what he was to me.
No, of course.
I'm sorry.
Well, what was he like?
It's kind of hard to tell
from just listening to the music.
There was darkness in the man,
but, oh, he was one of a kind.
And she felt lucky
to be considered his equal.
Hannah's a pretty smart
cookie herself.
Yeah, you think so?
I know so.
But she can't think her way
out of this one.
Uh-unh.
- Hannah: What is in here?
- Oh, boy.
- Okay.
- Who knows?
- This is heavy.
- All right.
Um, all right.
That was... interesting.
Hey, I got a question for you.
No, that wasn't my real mother.
Here.
Your prize for lying to my folks,
not that you were very good at it.
Seriously, though,
why do you want
to write this book?
'Cause I had so much love
left in my arsenal
and I never got to spend it.
Good night.
- Hey, Hannah?
- Uh-huh?
Kind of dug your family.
Andrew: Easy, Carl Lewis.
What are you doing?
Holy smokes.
- Bruce: Watch the ice here.
- What ice?
I'm kidding, Bruce.
These are jokes.
I thought you invited me over
for French toast.
What's with the bag 0' peat?
I thought as long as the boys
are having their fun,
we could be productive.
Okay.
You got to plant
the seeds early, honey.
Try thinking more
about the future.
Thank you.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa.
- There you go.
- Come on.
- Jesus, you're quick.
Oh, boy.
Of all the days I forget
my pedometer, huh?
If we want to reach
the pond up top,
we have to get through
Fat Man's Misery,
not unlike crawling up
a chimney.
You want the best lookout,
we can hit the Lemon Squeeze
while you make like a piece of bologna
between slices of toast.
Or we can stop here,
eat some granola,
and pay our respects.
Wait, this is it?
It's where they found him.
Always figured probably
on his way down
- it was getting dark.
- Yeah.
He was out on that ridge
above you there.
- Yeah.
- Good Lord.
That is no joke.
Got spooked by some animal
jumped out on the trail.
He just lost his footing.
Bruce...
we both know he didn't lose
his footing, right?
Wouldn't you say he was
a pretty tortured guy?
Real question
for you here, Andrew.
Who do you think you are?
I've studied guys like him
for years.
You know,
Hunter is pretty textbook.
If you really,
really listen to him...
It's like it hasn't occurred
to anyone, right?
Yeah, it never occurred to us.
So thank you, oh, wise one
from the island of tall buildings,
for teaching us native folk
how it is.
Now you just
have to nurture them
like they're your own children.
Smooth segue to my ovaries.
Listen, every year
presents a milestone.
Knocking out your baby teeth,
graduating,
heavy petting.
Ew.
When you're old,
there are only
two milestones left--
grandchildren and death,
and you just pray that one
comes before the other.
I know.
I know I'm impatient,
but I've tasted all the juicy stuff
except this one thing.
You know, Ma,
I used to think
that I wanted children.
Now I just want llamas.
So many llamas.
Just take one step.
Yeah, do a date on the Internet
and cut this hair.
Jesus.
Just take a break from
this morbid writing project.
Wow. Cue the salt
in the wound.
Hey, it's time
to call up your old friends,
lipstick and eyeliner.
These are like raw eggplant.
Okay.
Three strikes, I'm out.
You need a little perking up.
No, I do not need anything.
Just a little bit.
Just a smidge.
You're just going to leave me?
Of course.
Of course!
No, it gets dark at 4:00 PM.
Bed time.
Who needs coffee?
Like I said, the gatherers
always get screwed.
Howdy, Curt.
You here to discuss the food chain
a little bit more?
- How's it go?
- She's a real Maine girl, that Hannah.
Aw, you're telling me.
She likes a good man.
A real man.
A man that smells like pine resin,
not Pierre Cardin.
I've got no claim on her, Curtis.
Hell, if you guys procreate,
it might even out the gene pool, yeah?
Really nice seeing you.
Oh, my God.
Are we going to do this bullshit?
What are you going to do?
Kick my ass?
Not saying that you couldn't.
You'd destroy me.
There's not a soul in this town
that wants to see her
going with a flat-lander like you.
You're going to crawl back
into that exhaust hole you came from.
All right, Curtis.
Curtis Brown.
We live in the slow lane,
not a gravel ditch.
Where are your manners?
Andy...
go screw yourself.
Please and thank you.
- Oh!
- Aw, come on.
- You all right?
- Oh, yeah. No, I'm fine.
Just helping everybody
work through their issues.
He didn't pee on you?
No. Surprisingly, no.
He did not pee on me.
Mm-mm. No, I didn't even know
that would be an option.
No, he just threw down
the gauntlet.
Well, that's, uh--
that's kind of sweet.
No, it is not sweet.
No. Come on,
what are you talking about?
This isn't quaint
or kooky small-town charm.
You know?
And I got to be honest with you.
I am sick of the forest
and all the crazy little creatures
who live in it.
You drag me up here
to write this book--
Okay, Snow White.
Nobody is holding you hostage.
You leave in two days, right?
You can leave tomorrow.
Oh, my God.
Can you just be a chick
for, like, a second,
and say,
"There, there, poor thing,"
or some shit, please?
Some shit.
Thank you.
Was that so hard?
Now I don't know about you,
but I would kill
for an overpriced meal
at a mediocre restaurant.
- Shall we?
- Dinner and a dump.
Purely for journalistic reasons,
I will choose dinner and a dump.
- Excellent.
- Got to see what this is all about.
Let's do it.
Ah, there we go.
Hubba bubba.
Look at that there.
We have a gusher.
I can't believe we go out to eat
and you order the one thing on the menu
that anyone could make
with their eyes shut.
You know, people who can't
toast Eggos can boil a bug.
What are you talking about?
Someone had to cut
this lemon wedge right here.
They had to melt the butter.
There's a lot of steps involved.
- Mm-hmm.
- Oh, man, oh, man.
Look at that.
Are you ever getting the eye from
the woodchucks at the bar over there.
Uh-huh. Hi!
Me or her?
You see, around here,
everybody keeps tabs on everyone else,
and everyone else is pretty sure
I ought to be moving on.
You never thought about moving
to New York? Manhattan?
- No.
- No? Living in the big city?
A change of scenery might help.
No, it's not the kind of thing
that you can take a vacation from.
It's who I am now.
I mean, you try
to seem normal, right?
But here's this thing that looms
so large in your life
you can't even see around it,
you know?
Can't dress yourself because
it's blocking your closet.
I guess you could technically say
that I'm depressed.
No. No, you are not depressed.
That is not depression.
That is just flat-out
certified grief, you know?
That's normal.
That's natural.
And it's not like
you're waking up at noon
or Skyping with your therapist
during office hours
like me and half my colleagues.
What have you got to be
so depressed about?
- Are you serious? Me?
- Yes.
Tons of stuff.
I do!
I mean, little things,
you know,
like having a bunch
of smart-ass students
that don't have a single
original thought in their head.
That's depressing.
Big things?
My dad passing away
way too early.
That's tough, you know?
I mean, the smallest thing
can set me off with that.
You know, like the fall of light
through a window
or a stack of old newspapers.
- Mm-hmm.
- It's true, though.
But my old man took his life
when I was a kid.
You know, so...
Now there, that's a guy
you thought you knew,
but... surprise.
Do they do free refills on booze here,
or how's that work?
- That's terrible.
- Mmm.
Yes, it was terrible.
Yeah.
But it was a long time ago.
And that's what serotonin reuptake
inhibitors are for anyway, right?
- You're medicated?
- Not currently, no.
But a couple more weeks up here
and I may have to call my dealer--
er, I mean, doctor.
- Oh.
- What's going on, boss?
Nothing.
Just talking about stuff.
Hannah, care to join me
on the dance floor?
- Of course.
- Oh.
- Great.
- Yeah.
Go scoot your boots.
Five-- five songs?
Five hours.
Oh, five minutes? Okay.
Got it.
...but I guess
that's why they say
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night
Has its dawn
Just like every cowboy
Sings a sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn...
Go back to my chateau
For a late night snack,
sip a little merlot
Blackened salmon salad
and croutons
Conversate till dawn
on a $50 futon
Me and you until the sunrise
I'm looking in your eyes,
thinking of your thighs
Hey, baby,
do you think maybe
That one day
you can be my lady?
Unh unh...
I have spent my entire adult life
in the city, okay?
I've sat front row
at the Garden.
I've dined
at some very hip spots.
I've done seen
some crazy shit, okay?
But this is what Saturday night
is all about.
Mm-hmm.
Andrew: Yeah.
Hannah:
Well, for some of us it is.
Andrew: That's great.
It's great.
Isn't it weird,
you spend your whole life
trying not to die
some way or other,
and then when something
really terrible happens,
you just wish it were you
and not them?
Yeah, well,
I'm glad it wasn't you.
Right.
There's no way that
he would pay you 40 grand
to write my biography.
Pretty sure it was 50 grand.
Don't look at me like that.
Mmm.
Mmm.
Andrew: Wow.
He's a lot closer now, isn't he?
- Hannah: Just stay calm.
- Should we go?
- Hannah: Put it in reverse and leave.
- Yeah, that's what I was think-- okay.
Hannah: All right, you got
the full rental insurance, right?
Andrew:
No, I'm not too worried about it.
I'm sure those scratches
will just buff right out.
Are you done for the night?
Uh, no.
I mean, no, not if you're not.
Okay. Come on.
- Oh, we're getting out.
- Mm-hmm.
All right.
What were you thinking?
Tada.
There's more.
Come on.
Where the hell
are you taking me?
You'll see.
There may well be
a raccoon in here,
so brace yourself.
Here, wait.
Let me just get the lights.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
- God, it's freezing.
- This is amazing.
- Let me put the heater on.
- Yeah, yeah.
Whoa.
This-- I can't believe--
I mean, this is-- this is
what I'm talking about.
Yeah.
This is the guy
we all want to know.
- Yeah.
- Holy shit.
Look at all this.
I can't believe this.
Oh, boy, oh, boy.
This is incredible.
Inn:
Hey, Hannah.
Thank you.
Thank you for letting me in.
I'll erase your brain later.
- Agreed. Agreed.
- Mm-hmm.
Yes, absolutely.
Yeah.
- May I?
- Sure. Go ahead.
- Knock yourself out.
- Yeah?
Oh, boy.
Oh.
The-- yeah.
Analog, of course.
- Wait, wait. These aren't--
- Oh, God, no.
Those babies
are in a safety deposit box.
That's just an empty
blank canvas.
Yeah. Oh, man.
Yes.
Now we're talking.
Vinyl collection of the gods,
you know?
Great. Love it.
Hmm.
Yeah, well, you know,
he had his muses.
Don't we all?
This is really good.
It is. It's hilarious.
Haven't seen one of these
in a while.
- What is that?
- It's a four track.
It's still plugged in
and everything.
Well, wait-- don't-- don't--
Only you and me
and the trees shall know
Baby, in the cold, cold snow
I guess, Lord,
I couldn't wait to go...
- Oh, whoa.
- I'm a pebble on in the pond...
- Wait, wait.
- What are you doing?
No, I-- I don't, um...
can you go back
to the house?
- What song is that?
- I don't--
- What--
- I don't know. I don't know.
- What do you mean, you don't know?
- I don't know.
Can you go back
to the house, please?
Yeah.
Oh, son of a bitch.
Hunter on tape:
Okay.
No running
out of breath this time.
Here we go.
Way up Little Jackson
There's a split in the stone
Where I lose myself to time
ls it all flesh and bone?
Baby, in the cold, cold snow
Only you and me
and the trees shall know
Baby, in the cold,
cold snow
I guess, Lord,
I couldn't wait to go...
What is it?
ls it a whole album?
Is it any good?
I mean, there's a song.
I don't know.
There's, like, one song.
At least one, or part of one,
but she definitely knew
nothing about it.
- And you don't get to hear it?
- I have no idea.
She could be ripping it
to shreds as we speak.
This track may never see
the light of day.
All I know is there was a ghost
in that room.
Hello?
Andrew.
What's going on?
Hi!
Hey! Finley!
- Is everything okay?
- Yeah.
I hopped on
the 6:00 AM to Portland.
Don't know what happened, but somehow
the cab ended up being $248.
' - Stay, stay!
Finley:
I definitely only had money for tip.
- Crazy expensive, Maine.
- Right?
Yeah. So good to see you.
That's--
- Hannah".
- Hmm?
This is Finley,
right here in the flesh.
I'll go grab my wallet
and get cash for you.
How are you, Hannah?
Oh, my gosh, I've heard
so much about you.
He adores you.
And as a person
in the music industry,
I just want to say that we all grieved
the sudden loss of your husband.
Aw, you, too.
I mean, thank you, I mean.
And sorry to barge in
on you like this.
I just didn't know how good you were
at keeping secrets.
Hannah: Oh, terrible.
You shouldn't tell me anything.
Andrew:
Here it is.
Got it.
- All right.
- I'll leave you to, uh...
Andrew:
Right. Yeah.
- She's cute.
- Huh? Huh?
Yeah. Oh, no.
I guess so, yeah.
I'll be right back.
Bedroom's right up there.
So good to see you.
Not bad, huh?
Can't you imagine
a little cabin up here
for a couple of weeks
in the summer?
Just reading and swimming
and napping and--
Ooh.
Easy, easy.
Sorry, Papa Smurf's
a little chilly.
Well, why don't we warm him up?
Because I've missed you.
No, no, no.
Wait, wait, wait.
Hold it.
Where's she going?
God, do you think she took it?
Way up Little Jackson...
There's a split in the stone
Here I lose myself to time
I surrender flesh and bone.
Forgive me, baby.
I should have told you.
What can I say?
You were always better at this
than I ever was anyhow.
- I love you, Hannah.
- Holy shit.
Andrew on voice mail:
Hey, Hannah. It's Andrew.
I'm not sure where you are
or ended up,
but Finley and I
are going to head
to that maple syrup barn party thing
that your mom invited us to.
And I hope you're doing all right,
and I'll see you there, I guess.
- Hey.
- Hi.
Hey, where's Hannah?
She's been AWOL, like, all day.
Oh, no, we didn't
expect her to show.
I mean, it's just, you know,
it's their--
her wedding anniversary.
That was today?
Yeah.
Rock a little go-go, dude.
- Finn, honey.
- Hi.
- I'm going to roll, okay?
- Oh, I missed you!
- I want to climb you.
- The saps run a little wild here.
Bye, Bates!
Bye, Bates!
Bye-bye.
Oh!
Get in here!
Whoa!
Hey, Finley.
Happy anniversary.
What did you think of the song?
Um, I don't--
what are you talking about?
You forgot to rewind.
It's all right.
I don't blame you.
What did you think of it?
I thought it was beautiful.
And incredibly sad.
No, not sad.
What do you think
I should do with it?
- You're asking me?
- Mm-hmm.
No idea.
Well, if you love somebody,
set them free, right?
Right.
Sting?
I think that might have been
the Dalai Lama first
and then Sting played some incredibly
obscure instrument behind it.
Hannah...
did he have any idea
how lucky he was?
- He was lucky.
- Yeah.
Until he was profoundly unlucky.
I know how you feel.
All that uncertainty
of how and why you lost him.
What?
He doesn't deserve this,
you know?
He couldn't bear the weight,
so he put it all on you.
He traded you for some
poetic notion of immortality.
Mmm, no, Andrew, he--
Hannah, it's all--
I mean, those lyrics.
I mean, "Lay me in the snow
where I lose myself to time?
Is there more
than flesh and bone?"
And then at the end he--
I mean, he just--
I mean, he tells you
he's giving up.
I'm so sorry.
All this time and you've just
been gathering evidence
for some suicide theory.
That's-- no.
That's not true.
Because, well, whose suicide
are you trying to figure out?
Oh.
Oh, great. Oh, okay.
Psychoanalysis, hmm?
Oh, we're going to do
a little-- okay.
Because those lyrics, if we're honest
about those lyrics, it seems to me--
Andrew, the song means nothing.
- How can you say that?
- Because I wrote it.
What?
It's a poem.
It's my little jokey poem
about making frostbitten love
on top of Little Jackson.
Hunter set it to music for a surprise
or I don't know what.
It-- "Lay me in the snow"
doesn't mean "bury me."
You're the one
who's obsessed with death.
My Hunter was obsessed with life.
Go away.
Go upstairs.
Go to New York.
Do you know where
Hunter Miles is buried?
Mm-hmm.
Right here.
Thanks.
You ever heard his song
"Sweet Spring"?
Wow, right?
What's your email?
Uh...
muffinator66@outlook.
Muffinator.
Why?
I have a song for you.
Share it around if--
if you like it.
Oh!
Man: The truth of the matter is
I raked it in last year.
Kids would much rather
hitch a ride on a four-wheeler
than take the bus.
Coolness factor.
I charge five bucks.
Marginal profit each ride,
but you get to buzz around
Franklin County all day.
Demand's high
and chicks dig it.
Feel free to print that.
Well, thank you for the scoop,
Mr. Woodcock.
You know, Miss Miles,
I don't just drive around
high school girls,
if you, ahem, catch my drift.
All right, Ethan.
Andrew on tape:
Hannah, hear me out.
I did my best to let go,
but I had to write it anyway,
a couple chapters at least,
and I think we're onto something.
Please forgive me for thinking
brilliance comes with torture,
but I'm not from
your neck of the woods.
Just read it, please?
Right now, actually,
because I'm waiting for you
to walk through the door
at Upton's bookstore.
I'll be reading "Anna Karenina,"
and if she throws herself under a train
and you haven't shown up yet, Ill--
Do you come with peace pipe
or bearing musket?
Hasn't anyone
ever told you no before?
Well, not as frequently
or as emphatically as you have, no.
You just dropped
a grenade in my lap.
What do you want me to say?
I don't know
what I want you to say.
I just like it
when you say things.
You want to go look at some ice?
Take a walk?
Get out of here?
Yeah. Are you kidding me?
Ice? Frozen water?
It's like my favorite thing
in the whole world.
Eight trillion hits on YouTube.
That ain't bad, you know,
for your first song.
How pissed is your girlfriend?
Um, I would not know.
Hannah: God, I wish you could
see this place in the summer.
Yeah.
Oh.
You hear that sound?
What is that?
A pod of whales communicating?
Lake whales, yes.
I always thought God's belly
after a burrito.
I don't know.
Sounded like a warning.
Just winter crying uncle.
I love living in a place where you earn
your seasons, you know?
Tough it out, see the ice
return itself to mud,
slimy reeds...
become hopeful again.
Hannah, do you feel that?
I want to.
Would you mind if I kissed you?
You know, I swam all the way
across this lake once.
In the middle it feels like
it'll never end.
Yeah, but you made it.
Yeah, there again and back.
Please let me kiss you.
No.
Look at this.
Yeah.
Hi.
Mmm.
Mmm, you smell good.
Hannah, you smell
like dessert and Hawaii
and a long winter's--
He'! '
Hey' he)!' hey, hey,
You Okay?
- What's wrong?
- God.
Hey, it's okay.
It's okay.
It's okay, all right?
I get it.
I'm telling you,
he doesn't want you
to be a puddle of tears
the rest of your life, okay?
I promise you that, okay?
It's not--
it's not what he would want.
Okay?
You don't get to say that.
Why not?
'Cause-- 'cause
it's a conflict of interest.
How is this supposed to work?
Hmm?
Hmm?
I mean...
I mean, I am competing
with a saint.
What?
His recording studio
is a shrine, you know?
You've got a single album
on your iPod.
Hannah, there is grief
and then there is worship.
Yeah, please stop talking.
- Mm, I totally fell for it.
- Fell for what?
I paid you everything I had left.
Take the money.
I don't care about the money.
I put you up.
Hell, I'm even putting out.
And I'm rescuing you.
Okay? I wrote that book
so you wouldn't have to.
It's just a bunch of words.
It'll never be enough.
I know! I know.
Hunter was an amazing guy.
He really was.
But all I see is the girl that he wrote
his best songs about,
and I love the shit out of her.
I mean, I love her.
But she loves him.
Hannah.
Al.
I'm so sorry.
She really appreciated
all those articles you wrote about her.
We got emails about it
for weeks after.
Oh, Al.
He'! '
I hope you got
all your wishes.
You're going to come back
as one awesome kitty.
Do me a favor.
When you see him...
say good-bye for me.
Ethan!
Ethan Woodcock!
River Birch Road!
- Nobody...
- Andrew!
ls going to tell me
- That you don't love me, baby...
- Andrew!
No! no; "Q!
They just don't know
that you're an angel...
Stop the car!
Sent down from heaven...
- What are you doing?
- Stop the car!
- Nobody...
- Be careful!
ls going to tell me
that you don't love me, baby
Whoa, oh, oh
Time's going round
in circles, baby
But you know
that talk is cheap...
Thanks, Woodcock.
So...
Let me sleep
In the slumber of the morning
There's nowhere I need to be
And my dreams still are calling
Lay your troubles
on the ground
No need to worry
about them now
Daylight's shaking
through the trees
Do not disturb me
Let me be
And if you need
a place to land
Come down
when you are weary
No more clouds to put away
In the slumber
of the morning
Keep me with you
on the ground
All of my worries
behind me now
Daylight's shaking
through the trees
Do not disturb me
Let me be.
I will always remember
our hands
On the table and I...
I could not unlock
from your stare
And though I tried to untie
From your anger, I can't
I am no good at giving up
And the ink,
it is bleeding through pages
Where I wrote down
your name
Carefully planned
our escape
I would pass you a key
To pay off the judges
to free you
If that's what it takes
to buy a way
I am one cloud shy
in your gray sky
Do not go over my road
Do not go over my road
I was crippled and blurry
The day I walked
into your frame
I'm so focused now
on your name
And my colors were fading
From the days
of exchanging my tune
On trains
that I took home to you
When the signal broke
I spoke to you on paper
From the parking lot
to your bed
Where you are not now
Do not go over my road
Do not go over my road
Soon my mood will fall
Soon my mood will fall.