Original subtitles

We have Mr. Incognito,

Mr. Fancy Pants.

Who could possibly win?

When Margo was little, she played with dolls

- and practiced her make-believe… - I'll destroy you.

- …with a vengeance. - That's what you think, punk.

You're a dead man.

Try me, loser.

Die!

Kill and crush!

An only child needs to develop a complex inner world,

and this one could pretend just about anything.

…and they're still down, and they're fighting.

Eventually, her imagination became her playmate.

Entire alien worlds bloomed inside her head.

Lives she never lived.

Impossible possibilities.

Sometimes she wondered if this was a curse.

Was her father's carny lifestyle and career as a fabulist in her blood?

Or was she just trying to avoid reality by rewriting it?

The beginning of a story, when you start to read it, is like a first date.

You hope that from the opening lines, the magic will happen,

and that you will sink into the narrative like a hot bath,

giving yourself over entirely.

That's what you want, for the author to come right up to you

in the dark of your twisted mind

and kiss you on the throat.

Ms. Millet.

Can you hold back a second?

Did I write it?

Of course I wrote it.

I do not plagiarize.

I wrote that.

Okay, then, my…

my second question is why are you here?

This paper is excellent.

Why are you at Fullerton College? You can go anywhere.

Yeah, right. Like Harvard?

Yes, like Harvard.

I don't think they let you in there for writing a good English paper.

That is exactly why they let you in.

I'm meeting him for coffee.

I'm sorry, what?

- Why? - Well…

Margo, if a professor asks a student to get coffee,

it's because he wants to fuck her.

They've actually done studies.

- He's married. - Oh, gee, then.

I want to get coffee with him, okay?

Why? Is he cute?

He thinks my writing is brilliant.

- And he meant it. - Okay. Do you not see the irony here?

He wows you with, "The characters in books are not real.

It's why the reader falls for them," and now here you are falling for him,

who's equally unreal.

In fact just the title "professor" makes him mysteriously nonhuman

- in your eyes. - Can you for once not analyze me?

I don't need to analyze you. I know you.

And you're probably a character in a book for him too.

One with sticky pages.

Don't be gross.

I'm being your mother.

Do I need to call your mother?

I'm not gonna sleep with the guy, okay?

I'm not.

It's possible that I might be a leg man.

I always thought I was a forearm man because of this little nook

between the bicep and the forearm, but…

my Lord, this leg.

Oh, my mother has the best legs in the history of the planet.

I used to think that I wanted to grow up to be them.

- Her legs? - And then I thought, no,

I wanna be her sheer black pantyhose.

She works at Bloomingdale's.

I think maybe I was imprinted like a baby duck to her stockings.

I mean, can you imagine wanting to grow up to be hose?

Good that you reset your aspirations.

You remember when you first wanted to become a writer?

Ever since I was little.

Probably because of my father.

He used to read to me when I was a baby.

Really?

- What does he think of your writing? - He's never read me.

I was raised by a single mom, so he would pop in and out, but…

…it's not like I can really claim to know him.

Well, I think you should send him one of your pieces.

I think he would be quite proud to know you.

So, I wrote you a poem.

"The Hungry Ghost."

"In the dark, we turn to one another.

Like deformed doves,

confused that we have bodies.

I feel nothing.

Keep touching me.

I feel nothing.

I'm a hungry ghost."

Isn't it amazing?

- It's creepy. - It's beautiful.

Maybe your blood sugar is low.

Go to the store right now and buy some OJ

- and Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips. - I'm fine.

I don't want orange meal.

Honestly, Margo, I think you should get away from this douche.

Get him to write a recommendation for you.

Either that or you report him.

Maybe he can shoehorn you into NYU.

We have real professors here, by the way,

who are more into teaching than getting into their students' pants.

Fuck off!

Hello? Did you just throw me?

Margo, pick up that phone.

Stay away from him.

Margo, stay away from him.

Thank you for coming.

No. Not here.

This is a sacred place.

That is actually why I had you meet me here today.

- So? - So, this place is obviously

an important part of me.

As are you. As is God.

I'd like to incorporate God more into the equation of us.

- Okay. - It's great that you're with us

on Sundays.

I want you to be among us.

Okay.

The choir?

You agreed to be in the choir?

Well, it would be less painful than being on some committee.

- Is it a cult, this church? - No.

Kenny wants me to be among the Episcopalians.

How's school?

Any upticks in your intelligence?

Some.

- Hold on. - Mom!

You can't just do this to somebody.

I only do this to you. You have such beautiful eyes,

and I'm tired of being the only one who thinks so.

- What are you studying? - Well,

my lit class.

I have this amazing professor.

Which, I mean, who knew, at Fullerton College, right?

He thinks that I could have a real future as a writer.

Could you imagine? Me as a real writer?

Yes, I can imagine that.

Tell me about him.

Who?

Your professor.

Well, he's great.

There's this contagion in the way that he teaches.

He has a way of really making you feel the books.

Feel the characters.

Tell me more.

That's it. There's nothing really more to tell.

That isn't true, is it?

Oh, my God.

Shut the fuck up!

- Who's that? - It's one of my roommates.

- Roommates? - Yeah, I told you I had roommates.

- You didn't say they would be home. - Well, seems one of them is.

Here, let's go over there. It's a stress-bearing wall.

Wait. My pants.

He is tender and thoughtful and sweet.

And he writes beautiful emails.

- Let me read you one. - Margo,

he's a 30-something-year-old professor schtupping a student.

Do not be falling in love with him.

I'm not gonna fall in love with him.

But he's making you fall in love with you some.

And that's the oldest trick in the book.

You're too smart for this.

Jinx! Jinx! Jinx!

Oh, my God.

Sorry.

It's how I…

…how I exercise.

- To that? To him? - Yeah.

I love wrestling, and he's my favorite.

Isn't he retired?

You follow wrestling?

No.

Well, yeah.

He has the most amazing bellow.

It's like Tarzan.

Jinx! Jinx! Jinx!

Happy birthday to you

So this bitch Becca,

she's probably just jealous, you know?

Friends can get envious that way.

And what exactly would she have to be envious of?

Well, she's stuck in the Big Apple studying at a major university,

while you get to be here in Fullerton, working a night shift.

- With you. - Exactly. With me.

- Are you still nauseous? - It's just a…

I don't know, a bad taco I think. It's fine.

- Dude, that is not cool. - I'm so sorry.

You've been nauseous for three days, dude.

You think maybe you should take a test?

- What do you mean a test? - I mean a test.

The kind you can't study for at Fullerton College.

Oh, my fuck.

Holy shit.

Okay.

Okay.

Well,

I want to be there to support you in any way possible.

Yeah, like,

I would start by calling Planned Parenthood,

but I don't know if a private doctor does it or if it's nicer.

I don't want you to have to go to some cheap clinic.

- What? - Sounds like you've made my decision.

- Excuse me? - That I should have an abortion.

What?

I would never make such a decision for you.

That is your decision to make.

I mean, ours. Together.

But, a woman's body, your body, your right.

I totally respect that.

Of course. Obviously.

- Are you Catholic? - No.

But terminating a life…

that's something to think about.

As is aborting your future, Margo. Your promise.

Ever had one of these before?

No.

Well, when the fetus is this size,

we can't see well enough through the belly,

so we have to take a peek internally.

You're gonna stick that in me?

Well, the gel is heated, so it shouldn't be too bad.

How could it not be bad?

I'm about to be fucked by a robot.

- Sorry, that just came out. - I've heard worse.

Are we ready?

"Are we ready?" Yeah.

Yeah, I guess we're ready.

Make yourself comfortable.

Here we go.

What's that?

That's the heartbeat.

- It is? - I would say,

based on these measurements,

that you're about nine to ten weeks.

- What? - I should've asked.

Do you want a copy of the photo?

Yeah.

Do we know what we want to do about the pregnancy?

I like your nails.

Thanks.

Ten weeks.

Do you want to see the picture?

No.

You wanna keep it, don't you?

I don't know.

You keep this baby, you're taking care of it.

- It would be your child. - I know.

Goddamn it. You were in college.

You were gonna be somebody.

- Who was I gonna be? - You know what I mean.

You were gonna have a career, and you were gonna, like, do things.

- What things? - Whatever you wanted!

Oh, my God.

My God.

- How do I tell Kenny? - Kenny?

He's religious!

He'll either be shocked that you're having an abortion,

or that you got knocked up in the first place.

I don't really care what Kenny thinks.

Well, you need to, because he could end up your stepdad.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

I'm sorry.

You know me well enough when I get scared.

God, when I got pregnant with you, I was terrified.

You kept me.

A one-night stand from a guy who picked you up at Hooters.

I mean, what would possess you?

I thought he was the one.

- Your dad. - You didn't even know his name.

I guess, I'm gonna have to tell Dad, by the way,

if I decide to keep it.

Promised that I'd keep him in the loop on the big stuff.

Yeah, when was the last time you talked to him?

Not in a while.

Closer to never than recently.

How did you break the news when you were pregnant?

One night, he and a few of his friends came into the restaurant and…

Drunk off their asses…

and after my shift, he took me back to his hotel room,

and, you know, I told him.

He seemed really happy.

It was weird.

Like, he couldn't stop smiling and he was rubbing my tummy.

And then he told me he was married,

and that kinda broke my heart.

And I was crying,

and he said,

"I'm really glad that I met you."

And I realized I was…

I was really glad that I met him too.

You know, he'd come into town, we'd get together,

and he'd sometimes bring you a toy, rock you on his knee,

and… you know, and hoist you around some.

Hoist me around some and…

Oh, yeah. My friends thought I was the biggest dumbass on earth,

but I…

I loved him.

You chose to keep me.

I did.

Do you believe things happen for a reason?

I don't know.

I think you want to wreck your life.

I ruined your life.

You ruined my life so pretty.

Are you in love with him?

Your professor?

I'm not in love with him.

And I don't want him.

But for whatever reason…

…I want this baby.

I want it more than I've ever wanted anything.

It's very important that you not judge her.

Why would we do that? We're not judgy people.

I'm just saying. She's gonna need our support.

I'm not gonna feign support for a decision I don't approve of.

She's a student. Supposedly a feminist.

I mean, what message is she sending?

Hey. Sup?

We were planning your baby shower.

We were?

I really don't want a baby shower.

Whether you want one or not, you're gonna need stuff,

- and that's the best way to get it. - Hey, may I ask,

is he going to be part of the picture?

- Evidently not. - What do you mean evidently?

He's gone a bit silent after I told him I'm having it.

He's gone stone-cold silent?

He sent me another poem.

Jinx! Jinx! Jinx!

I'm not a serious person.

What kind of person are you?

A cheesy one.

Can I ask you something?

Why do you always write in the third person?

I think that it makes me have more sympathy for the character.

My character.

Makes it easier for me to like myself.

You're the most singular woman I've ever met.

- Hey. - Hey.

You all right?

You been kind of quiet.

I get triggered by long stretches of silences.

How did I let this happen?

Becca made a comment that

it's not about me falling in love with him, as it is

him making me fall in love with myself.

I think that's what he did.

He made me feel important.

What am I gonna do?

Can't even get a deep breath. It causes this stabbing pain.

What I do is, I just pretend that stuff is make-believe.

It's why I watch wrestling, you know, instead of other sports,

'cause it's all scripted. It's pre-thought-out.

I feel safe watching it.

This is definitely not pre-thought-out,

and I don't feel safe.

Maybe try your father again.

Dads are always good at making their daughters feel important.

I've texted him a gazillion times.

Maybe your mom?

Could try the Goodwill. They might have a used UPPAbaby.

They won't have anything there but crap.

Brown floral fabric and cheap plastic.

You want him to grow up and spit from truck windows

and laugh at racist jokes?

Come on. I get a discount.

God, look at this stuff.

How can they be so expensive?

Twelve hundred dollars.

- Yeah. - That's more than I paid for my car.

Well, it's, you know, of higher quality, so…

It's just all so beautiful.

It really is.

What are you doing?

This is the world that my baby deserves.

The one I won't come close to being able to afford.

Get up off the floor.

This is so wrong.

You are making a scene.

Get yourself back up off the floor, young lady.

There are no victims in Bloomingdale's.

Fine.

I'm buying you this one.

Let's go.

Oh, God.

Mom!

…in. It will not hold me. Give in.

Here, let me try. Let me try.

My God.

Thanks, Mom. Even with the discount.

I don't care.

No grandchild of mine is riding in a boring-ass stroller.

What?

Do not tell me…

Yeah. That's him.

Mom, listen to me.

I'm gonna go talk to him.

You're gonna take the stroller to the car.

Let me just smash his face in. I can be quick about it.

You're gonna mind your own business.

- I don't do that. - I fucking swear.

Just take the stroller to the car.

I will deal.

Professor.

Margo Millet, I took your lit class. You probably don't remember.

Do you remember?

I do.

- This is my wife… - Hi.

…Sarah.

- Daughter, Hailey. - Hi.

My son, Max.

Hello.

Well, I'm sorry to intrude,

but there's no time like the present to take exception, right?

She was very disappointed by her final grade.

She felt you treated her unfairly.

Honey,

- do you wanna just go inside for a sec? - Yeah.

- Sure thing. - I'll be right there.

- Come on, guys. - I'll be right there, bud. Okay?

Daddy will be back.

Did you follow me here?

- Are you stalking me? - Stalking you?

I was shopping here.

Not like I can really afford to.

- It's nice to see that you can. - Look, Margo,

- I don't know what this is about, okay? - Look at me, Mark.

- Take a guess. - I endeavored to be responsible here,

and the most responsible thing that I could've possibly done,

which I did do, was to discourage you from having this baby.

Do you want me in this baby's life?

Is that what this encounter is about?

If it even is my child.

Excuse me?

What do you want from me, Margo?

You know what, Mark?

Nothing.

I want absolutely nothing.

He actually questioned whether the baby was his.

He checked you out.

As you walked by,

the father of my child took a beat to check out my mother.

I told you to stay out of it.

I did stay out of it.

I didn't even look at you.

- I just walked to the car. - No. Yeah, you walked right by us.

Okay, clearly you are looking for a fight, I suspect at him,

and he's not here, so I'll do!

Yeah, I'm angry at him and you.

Because maybe this was a stupid decision, and maybe you were right.

But this is my decision, and I'm having this baby.

Your grandson.

And for you to not show an inch of joy.

How dare you not celebrate it?

Because I don't!

Will I love him? Of course.

Just as I love you. From the day you were born.

But no, I don't celebrate this tragedy for one second.

Your life as you know it…

No, check that…

as you never got to know, is over.

So, no, I don't rejoice in that.

Life breaks people.

Nobody tells you that, and you won't read that

in those What to Expect When You're Expecting books.

But this will break you.

I'm not broken.

I…

Can you just get out of the car for two seconds?

- You want me to get out of the car? - Yes, because I need to scream,

and it's not good for the baby.

And it'll reduce my stress, but might not his.

So, please get out.

It'll just take a second.

- She's not doing it right. - Ma'am.

Would you just give her the epidural?

- Please. - God's sake. Give it to me then.

- Push. Push. - You're almost there.

One more giant push.

Come on.

Push!

Is he okay?

- He's perfect. - He's so beautiful.

Mom, can you believe it?

I did it.

You did it, noodle.

Yes.

- My baby. - You've done it.