Original subtitles

So, whafd you think of that one, Jackie?

I got to stay home from school the day the president died.

Beautiful Jackie. Sad, but beautiful, Jackie.

The perfect mommy, Jackie. The bereaved wife.

Jackie in black, Jackie in pain.

Strong, strong, strong Jackie.

No cheap soap opera theatrics, no ma'am.

My brother had this buddy named Alan.

He seemed to understand Jackie's allure.

I'll never forget the look on my brother's face

when Alan described the crimson blood stains on Jackie's pink suit.

Crimson.

One day, when my brother wasn't at home,

Alan came into my room to look at my Jackie photos

adorning every square inch of my bedroom walls.

He called it Jackie wallpaper.

One day, when my tediously butch brother wasn't at home,

Alan and I kissed.

I imagine it was like the first time Jack kissed Jackie.

So... deep, somtruthful.

Somromantic.

Jackie seemed to enjoy watching it.

We enjoyed having her there.

It was kinda like a three-way.

We had one summer of love,

and then he went off to Vietnam.

I was in my senior year of high school when it happened.

What's the matter?

What happened?

Alan got killed.

Look at Jackie.

She didn't cry.

Can you meet cute at the Vietnam wall?

"Meeting cute" is a movie expression

describing that initial encounter between onscreen people

who are destined to fall in love.

It was silent at the wall.

Except for the sounds of sniffling.

All of a sudden, I realized there's this guy behind me.

So, I turn around, and he gives me this big smile.

Well, I must've looked at him like a moonstruck teenager,

because he started to laugh.

He was there looking for his brother's name.

We decided to get together the next morning.

Staring at that quilt, we fell in love.

Died about ten years ago in my arms.

We always joked that whoever was the first to go

would have to carry the other one's ashes around

to every fuckin' cruise and every Napa Valley wine tasting. Well,

on one of those wine tastings,

after one wine too many,

I decided to scatter his ashes.

On the road.

Where he always wanted to be.

On the road.

Well, I vowed never to marry again.

Liz Taylor, I ain't.

So I just embarked on a series of anonymous sexual encounters.

Figured I'd burn out in a matter of months.

But, no. Enter the three things that saved this girl's life:

Protease inhibitors,

Viagra.

And A.O.L.

I met Carlos online under my "Hot Paws Dad" screen name.

My three favorite words used to be "l Love You."

Nmnwllmmummfi m...

Fuck me, Daddy.

♪ These are what it seems ♪

♪ These erotic dreams ♪

♪ These inner feelings are concealing ♪

♪ I just can't breathe ♪

♪ Wait for another day ♪

This one therapist said

that I'm searching for my real father.

Maybe it's a sperm I'm in search of.

You know, the seed that bred me?

That's what they say.

True, my father is unknown.

I mean, that's what it says on my birth certificate.

"Father unknown."

I'm a mutt.

He musta been Latin.

Or maybe he was Mexican.

Salvadorian, Rican.

He coulda been a mix.

A splash of black, a dash of Asian.

A pinch of nigger, a dab of gook.

Who knows? "Unknown."

I don't know what the fuck I'm lookin' for.

I sure do like those daddy types.

If you're a gay dude who's lived to be 50,

you must have somethin' goin' on.

Some kinda energy I want inside me.

♪ I am hungry for more ♪

♪ I want it ♪

.'You.'

♪ I need it ♪

.'You.'

♪ You need it and lam hungry for more ♪

That was called "Daddy, Come."

I wonder if my mother was searching for a father.

She was a slut, that's for sure.

I used to watch her get plowed, night after night.

On her knees, on her back, on the floor.

And all of these guys were potential husbands.

Oh, if, uh...

If Mr. Right hung around, you know,

for like a month or more,

I'd have to start callin' him "Dad."

One of my dads...

he seemed to like me as much as he liked Mommy.

Well, one night Mommy caught us.

She flipped, of course.

And, you know, it was all my fault.

How could I do this to her?

Forget about the asshole with the unscrupulous cock.

It was at this point, she made me go visit the parish priest.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

How long has it been since your last confession?

I don't know.

It's been a long time.

What's troubling you, my son?

I can't tell you.

God will hate me.

Whatever it is, God already knows, my son.

It's never too much for him to forgive.

So I told him.

The truth.

Well, he didn't prescribe three Hail Marys and six Our Fathers.

My son, my son.

For not havin' a father,

I had a lot of motherfuckers callin' me "son."

It was only a few weeks before Dad was back in my bed,

pumping me with a load.

She caught us for the second time, in the middle of the night.

And like some wacko in a Telemundo soap opera,

she threw me out of the house.

I started livin' at a friend's house, and I never saw Mommy.

But, you know, small towns.

They started talkin' about her health.

I ran into her at the 7-Eleven. I almost didn't recognize her.

I mean, this was a town where AIDS didn't exist,

because queers and whores and drug users didn't exist.

Letting me back in her life was not easy.

I took care of her for... about a year or so.

Sometimes I'd read the newspaper to her.

You know, just the good stuff.

But there was one story, all about a group of guys who lived in our town.

Men in their late twenties, early thirties.

They all tested positive for HIV.

Two of them were almost dead.

There was only one thing these guys had in common.

They were all Catholic.

And they all had attended Father Maloney's church.

Open the door!

Open the fucking door, you coward!

When I got home that day, she was dead.

There were, uh, no last rites,

no priest. None of that God crap.

Just me.

There are these guys I do work for.

They both give me the eye, but for different reasons.

See, when you're a mutt, you're regarded in a certain way.

Either I'm exotic, or I'm inferior, depending.

Corey thinks I'm exotic. Daniel thinks I'm inferior.

But it amounts to the same thing.

They both want me.

♪ Young and pretty in Los Angeles ♪

♪ Young and pretty in Los Angeles ♪

When do you guys think you're gonna need me again?

I mean, I can come-- Let's see, Monday...

I can come Thursday.

Daniel doesn't kiss.

I felt like I was in The Young and the Restless or some shit.

We never used condoms because we both tested negative.

I've been faithful.

I don't know why.

Fear, maybe.

You know, I think he's had me followed.

You mean now?

No. Not now.

Some part of me probably wants him to know.

You're not gonna tell him about this, are you?

I want him to know you kissed me.

I want him to know you fucked me.

Daniel doesn't do that.

[Laughfl

What do you guys do?

Look.

You're not gonna tell him about this, right?

You're clean, aren't you?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm clean.

I took a shower this mornin'.

Carlos gave me crabs.

And I gave them to Daniel.

I gave Corey crabs. Courtesy of that little spic Carlita.

I practically convinced myself that I got them at the gym.

I gotta take a dump.

You can get them from sitting on a bench where someone sat.

Or from a towel.

Well, we better make sure that Carlos doesn't touch our towel.

He knew that I let Carlos use the pool and asked if he used our towels.

Our pristine, oversize, white Martha Stewart bath sheets.

That's probably how you got it.

Not from the gym.

That little sp-- Mexican.

Corey, you're dripping.

- What? - You're dripping.

You're getting water all over the floor.

Jesus.

Is this his way of letting me know he suspected?

We speak in riddles.

I don't regret what happened with Carlos. I needed to be kissed.

It was more than the fucking.

It was the taste of his mouth.

Daniel kisses me the way he'd kiss your aunt.

And now, with all the plastic surgery,

Daniel's face is off limits. Too intimate.

Although he couldn't get enough of my cock up his ass.

I deserve a good fuck when I need it.

For what I pay him to trim a few trees?

Probably a daddy thing.

Wanted to fuck his powerful papa's white butt.

Actually, he seduced me.

Don't you dare come inside me. Puto.

After five years, Corey's lily-white, circumcised dick bores me.

He treats me like he treats everyone else.

He belittles people. It's his hobby.

Even though he works on a TV show

that is completely dependent on a gay audience,

he's in the closet. It's so fucked!

I haven't been entirely faithful.

There's this straight black kid who works in the mailroom.

I let him plow me with his oversized, uncut piece of darky meat.

Ohh! Ohh!

Don't shoot inside me, Mandingo.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!

Gotta get out of this.

I have to end it.

What'd you say?

What did you say?

What did you say?!

Did you say somethin'?

No. Let me get you a towel.

Thanks.

When we first got together, I thought maybe he'd change.

Okay, gimme a kiss. Here we go.

Okay. Okay.

- Wait, you ready? Okay. - You ready?

- Wait, you ready? Okay. - You ready?

One, Two, Three.

Ow! That was my--

You hit my ball.

You look like you're doin' the limbo.

Wait, wait, wait. One, two, three.

Wait, you're gonna drop the camera.

I managed to avoid it all these years

while everyone around me was droppin' dead.

I'm more powerful than some faggot-killing virus.

Power runs in the family.

I inherited my power from the senator!

Pow! Daddy. Pow! Big Daddy. Pow! Pow! Power!

Fuck!

Fuck!

That fuck!

A few years ago, my dad had this, um,

little public relations challenge.

He has this notorious reputation as a racist.

So the irony was not lost on anyone

when it came out in the tabloids

he'd made several visits to a whorehouse full of nigger broads.

Press had afield day.

While my mom remained as faithful as a country western song.

Of course, the activists went wild.

Not only was it a confirmation of his racism,

they said he was proving his disrespect for women.

Fuck 'em!

Still in office, baby. Five years later.

I actually think some people admired him for it.

He's 67 fuckin' years old.

And out porking some black pussy.

More power to him.

Ohh...

Come on.

Ohh!

Come on. What am I?

Hey, come on. What am I?

- Faggot. - Come on, what am I?

- F... F...Faggot! - Come on!

. Grunts]

Ipanting. Grunting]

Ahh! Ohh!

Ohh!

Uhh!

Bighs]

[laughfl

After that whole situation...

my dad had a very serious talk with me.

Without spelling it out, he made it clear he knew I was a cocksucker.

Doesn't matter where you stick it, son.

Just don't get caught like your horny old man.

Daddy's right. I gotta be careful.

We cannot lose our power.

Our power lies in lies.

No need to be openly anything.

You want toast?

No, thanks.

We are kickin' their overrated asses.

Who?

The show opposite us. We the People.

Some liberal bullshit from whafs-his-name.

He is so full of himself.

I wouldn't know. I've never seen it.

I watch that stuff.

Well, if you'd take the parental controls off the TV,

I could make my own decision.

Aw, you sweet, innocent fag.

It's for your own good.

Didn't they get nominated for an Emmy?

Mmm.

I'd rather have the ratings.

Are you 910N191?

Hmm?

To the Emmys?

Yeah.

Of course.

Am l going?

I don't think that would be a good idea.

Why don't you just come out?

You could go on one of those shows and just get it over with.

Wouldn't it be great if we could go out together?

You mean like Entertainment Tonight?

Yeah.

Corey.

What?

I don't broadcast the fact that I'm Southern or Republican or Baptist.

Why would I want to come out as openly gay?

[Laughfl

Maybe I will have some toast.

But don't use that supermarket marmalade.

Give me that-- that-- that Harry and David stuff

your hairdresser bought us.

Corey?

You think about some of those faggots who've come out.

When you look at Ian McKellen's face,

you imagine a dick in his mouth.

Barney Frank.

When Barney Frank opens his mouth, you imagine him sayin',

"Fuck me harder, boy. And park the car in Harvard Yard."

[Laughfl

You're a bad boy.

Yeah. But in a good way, right?

Oh, we'll see. Yeah?

Again!

I'll be honest with you.

Sometimes I need to find someone more powerful than I am.

And that's nearly impossible.

Oh, yeah?

I'm fuckin' power personified.

Power house, power car, power job.

Power dick.

Pow pow power.

So, how much did you say that was?

250 for...

Well, there is power in beauty.

But it doesn't come cheap, now, does it?

No.

Don't bother gettin' up. I'll find my way out.

Power asshole.

I have only one friend.

I saw this woman being interviewed on TV.

She's on death row in Texas. Killed her husband.

He made her feel small. He belittled her.

I wrote her a letter after I saw the TV show,

and we became pen pals.

She says, if she had to do it all over againmshe would.

I'm not through with you yet, boy.

- Stop it! I'm not kidding. - Don't tell me to stop.

What do you mean, you're not kiddin'?

What are you doin'?!

Iqfipihg. Sputtering]

♪ No need to worry ♪

♪ I'll always need you ♪

♪ You'll always be in my heart ♪

If Daniel knew I was writing to a woman on death row...

...a black woman...

he'd kill me.

I didn't always look like this.

I was skinny. Really skinny.

Like, made fun of skinny.

I was that kid in school with a note from his mom that said,

"Bernard is not to be exposed to direct sunlight."

That was me.

I was born in 1969,

the year my dad was killed in Vietnam.

Three weeks after I was born.

She was so...

protective of me.

Never letting me out of her sight.

Everything was potentially dangerous.

Cars, buses, the sun,

the moon, neighbors, teachers.

I don't know if it was her fears

that made me into a delicate kid

or if it was me being a delicate kid that made her afraid.

I was convinced

that part of me didn't exist.

And I didn't dare tell this to my mother

'cause she would shut me up and tell me I was talkin' crazy.

But, well, I decided maybe I was missin' my dad.

But I'd never seen my dad, so I couldn't really miss him.

But I knew I was missing something.

Somethin' else.

Somethin' deeper.

So, when I was 14 years old,

my mother took me to see Yentl.

You know, that Barbra Streisand movie

where she dresses like a boy.

And it's showing on a double bill

with Funny Girl, which I had never seen.

And I remember sitting in that movie theater

justmwatching her,

justmjust transfixed, really.

And thinking...

"l must be gay."

There's, um... a photograph...

of my mom.

It was taken on the day of my dad's military funeral.

And she's carrying me in her arms with a, uh, American flag.

And the red, white, and blue fabric almost looks like a baby blanket.

I've never seen my mother look more beautiful.

So it's, um, five years later,

and I move to college, away from my mother,

leaving her totally alone.

And I was having a lot of sex

during these years.

And when you look like I did--

skinny, geeky, believe it or not...

...you didn't insist on safe sex.

I tested positive when I was 30.

And all I could think of was,

what am I gonna tell my mother?

What am I gonna tell my mom?

You know what she said?

She-my mom, uh, told me there'd be

a place for me to be buried next to my sister.

Of course, HIV isn't really a death sentence.

Not anymore.

In fact, it was the beginning of my transformation.

My doctor prescribed steroids to help build up my weight.

And I got a better haircut,

better clothes.

I eventually had so many guys,

I didn't know what to do with 'em.

Menmwanted me.

Some ain't got it. Not a lump.

The guy down there? Sent you this.

What do you think?

What am l. Your pimp?

Uh-huh, you are. You're my pimp. What do you think?

I think he's dream date material.

Uh-huh.

Well, you know what? I'm not workin' tonight.

All right.

.'Tell me, tell me, tell me that you're strung out again.'

♪ On your hands and knees ♪

- MIM wrllmmgolbrlar

♪ You'll do anything that he says ♪

♪ Anywhere he goes ♪

♪ Anything he does ♪

♪ You'll follow ♪

♪ You look like a movie star, honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

You like my body?

Yeah.

You big fuckin' beauty.

♪ This is what you get, now ask for more ♪

♪ Your pawn lucky lucky spits in your eyes ♪

♪ Now you want to doubt your own hand to bite ♪

♪ Two more net boys, she came runnin' ♪

♪ Said that he just asked her ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

Ahh. Ahh.

: Right:

♪ Honey ♪

Ahh. Ohh. Uhh!

Hey. Thanks.

Mmm.

Bourbon.

Fancy.

It's all I got.

So, um... what do you do?

So, what, you're not gonna tell me?

What, are you, uh... CIA? Homeland Security?

No. Well, what do you do?

Oh, no. I asked you first.

Well, l... d0 this.

This. What we just did.

You... You mean you're a...

Yeah. I'm a...

Wow.

Yeah?

Mm-hmm.

No, I'm still up.

No, I'm on the road.

Yeah, what do you need?

Yeah, same as last time.

Okay, I'll bring it to you, Ronnie.

Okay. No, l-- l-- I gotta go.

It sounds like I'm not the only one selling something.

Um...

Thanks.

I had the perfect parents.

Perfect careers, perfect cars.

And we all lived in the perfect house.

And me, little Mikey... I was the perfect son.

By the time my brother arrived,

he would have a lot to live up to.

Maxwell. Maxie, they called him.

He was born when I was 16.

Right away, they started comparing him to me.

You could tell right from the beginning

that there was something different about him.

He was not perfect.

And, uh, a year later, when I revealed myself--

my gay self-- to my parents,

neither was I. Perfect, that is.

They could barely hide their relief when I moved out of the house.

It was a preschool teacher who suggested Max undergo a battery of tests.

My parents, they were terrified.

If there was one thing worse than being gay,

it was being diagnosed developmentally disabled.

They'd rather be dead than have a fag and a retard

fall off the family tree.

I don't really remember who said what to who, but it was clear.

Max belonged with me.

And my parents, they let go of him willingly.

The perfects and the imperfects.

Max goes to a special school now.

Most of the time, I stay home with him.

School is fuckin' expensive, and now we have a mortgage.

Hey, dude.

You're so bad.

- Want some? - No, thanks.

You sure?

It's a full moon tonight. Shouldn't we be wild?

I said I got stuff to do, James.

I think a full moon makes people horny.

What do you think?

Hey, what are you doin'?

What?

Come on. Don't you mix business with pleasure?

Bighs]

Bighs]

So, how's Jim?

Busy. Gone. Traveling.

Is that why your hair is suddenly red?

- Wmbmn$, - @l_

- It's gonna stick just a bit. - Ahhh... it looks nice.

Thank you.

Does the, uh, cuffs match the muff?

Aww. Excuse me.

Yeah, maybe you should stop right there.

Sorry, Jeanette.

So, where's your little friend Max today?

Oh, he's still in school. I pick him up at 3:15.

Ohh...

The other night, we were driving home from the movies,

and the moon was full, and it was so huge.

Mmm.

He said, "Mike, let's just keep driving.

Let's just drive right into it."

Uh! Don't do that.

It's low... and yellow.

That's right, Max. It's very low.

Hey, can we go there?

To the moon, together?

No, it's not really that close.

But if we couldmsure.

I'd go to the moon with you.

What's the moon made out of, Max?

Cheese.

Yeah, we could bring some crackers and that fruit punch you like so much.

Eat cheese all day.

And fart all night.

I'm gonna sleep with you tonight.

No. You'll only sleep in my room on special occasions, Max.

Tonight big moon special occasion.

Max, we talked about this.

You're gettin' too old to sleep with me.

You know that.

Special occasion.

Bighs]

Okay. Special occasion.

[Laughfl

Ahh!

[Laughfl

playful grunting]

Ah! Hey! Hey!

Okay. Doctor will see you in a minute, okay?

- See you next time, Jeanette. - Take care, hon.

I will get sick.

I will, at some point, get sick and die.

What's Max gonna do without me? Who's gonna take care of Max?

When you're a parent and, uh, you're HIV...

it's a fear that's always present.

I see these stories about mothers

who kill their children and then kill themselves.

And there's always the interview with the neighbor.

"Oh, she so loved her children."

"How could she kill her own flesh and blood?"

Well...

I just want to say that I understand.

I mean...

I do. L-- l-- I understand.

I understand about being so fucking terrified of the future,

of your child's future without you.

I'm not saying I'm gonna do it.

Because I'm not.

But I get it.

♪ Licky licky licky licky licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh ♪

♪ Licky licky licky licky licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh ♪

♪ Licky licky licky licky licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh ♪

My name's James. I'm an addict.

Hi, James.

The first time that I...

...did crystal, was about a month

after Gerald, my lover, died.

Um, and we were together...

ten years.

Uh, and we-- our relationship, it wasn't about sex.

It wasn't typical in that way, and there was no drugs.

So, he died in 1996, and so, after he died, I--

I started having lots of sex

with, uh, with lots of people.

And... crystal and sex, and...

I don't know. Maybe I felt

like I had been depriving myself all those years.

Maybe I was angry. That does-- that's what my grief counselor said,

that my-- my gluttonous sexual appetite was anger-based.

Angry that Gerald died.

No shit.

Yeah, no, I know.

No cross talk.

I replaced sex and crystal with... with this.

I'm not getting very many party invitations.

I actually believed that the best part of my life was over

and I was just marking time until I died.

I was in New York when I met Simon...

standing in line at the Sullivan Street Playhouse

to buy tickets to seeThe Fantasticks.

So, how long have you lived in New York?

I don't live here, actually. I'm just visiting.

Los Angeles?

Yeah. How'd you know that?

Your accent.

My accent? Really?

I'm just kidding.

Maybe because you're wearing all those layers and it's 53 degrees.

Well, it's cold. Isn't it? Aren't you cold?

Oh, yeah. Wimp.

So, had you seen this cast?

No, that was my first time.

Your first time seeing this play?

Yeah.

Ever?

Yeah. Why?

Well, it's, you know, just that I've seen it

once a year for the last 20 years,

so it's kind of strange to be flirting with an absolute virgin.

Oh, so you call this flirting, huh?

Maybe it was because I was out of town.

Maybe that's why I let him in.

Maybe it wasThe Fantasticks.

Have you seen it?

When something especially dramatic happens during the show,

they throw these little rainbow-colored tissues into the air.

It's so...

It's so...

Cloying. But it's-- it's sweet.

Our bodies fit inside each other.

All this pent-up emotion was flowing out of me and into him.

It was... it was... fantastic.

Oh, God.

[Laughfl

I can't believe I just said that.

[Laughfl

"Fantastic."

And then I was on a plane...

coming back to the west coast, and what did I even know about him?

Monday at work was just a blur.

I--I came home early, wondering who would make that first phone call.

Oh.

Message one.

Hey. It's Simon.

Um...

I think I'm in love.

I called his number...

hundreds of times...

in the next few days.

I knew none of his friends or relatives.

On Friday, I received an envelope in the mail postmarked September 11th.

There was no letter inside.

Only seven of those... square-shaped tissues from the play.

Even though I knew, I kept dialing his number...

listened to his message... just hoping.

At the end of September, a woman answered the phone.

I didn't know what to say.

I hung up. It must have been a relative.

The following day, the phone was disconnected.

Disconnected.

Do you know that I thought about going back to New York?

To see The Fantasticks.

You know. But I was watchin' TV,

and they said- they said that the play closed.

Fuck.

The fuckin' play died.

I just want to get high.

And forget.

Forget about him.

Yeah.

What?

What's wrong?

Well, we don't have to talk.

Bighs]

Come on, this is silly. Let me in.

No! I mean it.

Damn, Lisa.

You are so superstitious.

I can't believe you of all people

would even be trippin' over somethin' like this.

What?

So, it's...

You sure?

I can-- I can take it again.

And then l'll-- I'll make an appointment--

This is the happiest day of my life.

You mean it?

Oh. Mmm...

Ohh...

Please tell me you want this.

I spent my entire life rejecting the idea of even having a family...

being a wife, a mother. Career always, always came first.

What's your name?

James.

That's my name.

Um...

I'm a... yeah. I'm a--

My name is Ralph.

Ralph Watson.

Junior.

That "Junior" was a constant threat.

A challenge to live up to my father's accomplishments.

What he did is a triumph of mendacity.

My daddy learned this white-washing trick from his daddy,

who was able to convince the military that he was white.

He did not want to be put in non-combat duty

because of segregation rules.

He loved America.

Even though America didn't love him back.

I didn't grow up in a household

that taught me what I could be.

I grew up in a household that taught me what not to be.

My mother... man.

You know, even though my father was a blatant womanizer,

she chose to look the other way

while she painted the bathroom umpteen times.

My best friend's mother

finally divorced her no-good husband

so that she can venture out in the world

and find herself a career

for the first time, after raising a family.

Now. My mother...

Nothing makes my mother happier

than to cook and to clean and to stay at home,

all while standing by her man.

Hmm.

My father's motives were not so honorable.

He chose real estate.

Selling houses behind white picket fences

in white neighborhoods to white people,

letting them think he was white.

He considered my beautiful black mother a liability.

My mother would always say that the only true happiness

in life is to find somebody who loves you.

Now, I don't necessarily disagree with that.

But, uh, apparently, my mother also believed

that men were supposed to cheat on their wives.

'Cause as long as my father showed up for birthdays

and holidays and family reunions,

smilin', grinnin', puttin' his arms around folks and posin' for photos,

all was forgiven.

That always confused me, too.

Then I'd watch my mother sit at the kitchen table late at night

just compulsively pasting those same photos into photo albums...

documenting our so-called happy family.

By the time I was a teenager, I hated him.

Not only would I be proud of my blackness,

not only would I own my heritage,

I would be vocal about it. Yet, I knew there was one thing

that would prevent me from being a positive role model,

a black man who would be admired and respected.

I was a black man who liked men.

This was simply unacceptable.

I felt such a disdain and lack of respect for both of them.

Borderline hatred.

And l-- I couldn't wait to graduate high school and get out of that house...

and justmpursue a life that in no way resembled theirs.

And you know what? I did. I did. I succeeded.

I put myself through college.

I zoomed to the top of my field in advertising.

I bought myself a townhouse on Central Park West.

I had an interior decorator.

I had a housekeeper, full-time.

And I had a personal stylist.

And I dated up a storm.

Mostly white men, and, uh, some of them famous.

And all of them rich.

Why don't you just leave those for a minute? Just leave 'em.

- I have to put 'em in water. - I know. Lt-- It can wait. I--

- Just sit down for a second, would you? - What's goin' on?

Nothin'. Nothin'. I just wanna look at you sittin' down.

You want to look at me sittin' down.

Why do you want to look at me sitting down?

You look so tall now, and I just wanted to...

I love you.

And I'm just wondering if... you've given any thought

to whether you would marry me or not...

and be my wife.

Oh, my God.

I got married.

We're gonna have a kid.

A wife and a family is the solution.

By the time I hit my thirties,

I realized that something was missing.

And there was such a hole inside me.

And I didn't understand, with everything that I had,

how could I let myself get so empty?

And on top of that, time was just racing.

It was just racing, and I couldn't even catch up to it.

So I just... l don't know,

I just had to stop and slow down and look at my life.

And, um, I looked at what I came home to every night,

and I realized, I came home to no one.

And that's when I knew in my heart

that I really wanted to be a mother.

Uhh! Ahh!

Ahh!

Ahh!

Ohhh... Uhh!

Ahh!

Ahhhh...

Ahh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Mmm...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

You know, I know this sounds like a cliché,

but, um, time really

does move so fast.

And life really is short.

And every time I feel this baby kick,

I think about how amazing it is, how far I've come.

And I realize I still have far to go

because, um...

I struggle with my feelings.

Like right now.

Ralph was supposed to be home from the furniture store about a half hour ago.

And so I worry.

And when I worry, I inevitably think about my father

and... all my feelings about him,

because he was always late for everything,

and there were certain nights he didn't even show up at all.

But then I feel the baby kick inside me again, and--

Oh, my God, do you see that?

[HaPPih/l Oh.

Oh, my God.

Oh...

Oh, my God.

[Laughfl

Oh, my God.

Oh, yes.

Come on, you.

Come on.

Ohhh...

You know, Ralph... Ralph can't even believe

I insisted on painting this entire room myself.

He's not even crazy about the color.

You know what? I like it.

It's a bright, sunny yellow.

And my mother's favorite color is yellow.

So there.

Come on, Boo.

Mmhh...

4mm 'u%u%u%u%l

Hello.

Hello.

Hi. Ls Ralph there?

No, I'm sorry, he's not in right now. May I take a message?

Oh, well, he'll probably be home any minute.

He said he was comin' straight home.

He left his wallet. Are you--

Yeah, I'm his wife, Lisa. Who is this?

Well, honey, if you're his wife, I'm Jackie O.

Excuse me?

Who is this?

It's Ronnie. Are you... really his wife?

Yes, I am. Where did he leave his wallet that you would have it?

Uh...

Hello?

Hello?

Closed-Captioned By J.R. Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA