All language subtitles for An.Imperfect.Murder.2017gh

Oh, my God.

Jesus.

Fuck!

I'm sorry.
It was a false alarm.

Her head was now clear,
but to what avail?

What good to awaken
from a nightmare

when the nightmare
turned out to be real,

worse even than the nightmare
that had tormented her sleep.

Especially when
there seemed to be

no solution to the nightmare.

At least no solution
which didn't threaten

the creation
of even greater danger,

havoc and fear
without limit or end.

Hi, Mom.

Fine.

I mean, yes, I'm okay. I'm...

How are you?
How's Grandpa?

Oh, I see.

I thought they were gonna start
him on that new medication.

Yes, but if...

I know, I understand.

Okay.

Okay, listen, I have to
take care of something,

but I should be back by
7:30 or 8:00.

Would that be too late for you
and Grandpa to come for dinner?

Wonderful.

No, I would love that.
Great.

Perfect. Okay, I'll see you...
Let's say 8:30 to be safe.

Love you. Okay, bye.

Hello?

It's Leon.

You know, now's not
a good time, Leon.

I finished my thesis.

Hold on.

Hey.

Hi.

- Hi.
- Hi.

What's goin' on?

Nothing.

Nothing?

No.

Well, maybe that's the problem.

Maybe you just need
to go back to work.

Yeah, you know, when something
worthwhile comes along,

I think I will.

I think that's probably
a good idea.

Okay. Look, I also think
that all the time and energy

I had to put into
doing my thesis,

it broke the rhythm of what we
were just starting to establish

in our relationship,
and I... I take blame.

Uh-huh.

Don't you agree?

What?

Do you agree?

I'm sorry.

With what you just said,
I wasn't concentrating.

Would you like to hear
some of my thesis?

I still have time
to make some tweaks,

and I would love to get
your spontaneous response.

Well, my spontaneous response

would be the same now as it was
when you first brought it up,

which is that if you're,
you know,

if you're gonna write
a thesis on murder

between Dostoyevsky and Dickens,

then why not expand it to
include Shakespeare and Marlowe

and Webster and Turner
and Poe and...

Whoa, what?

Well, that would be
my spontaneous response.

But why would I have already
finished my thesis

on Dickens and Dostoyevsky

and have to hand it in
next week,

would you be suggesting
a complete renovation?

Well, no, I suggested it when
you first brought it up to me.

- No, you didn't.
- Well, maybe you misunderstood

or maybe I didn't articulate
myself clearly enough,

but I did.

What you said...
Actually, what you asked me was,

"Why Dostoyevsky and Dickens?

Why not Dostoyevsky
and Shakespeare,

or Dostoyevsky and Marlowe?"

I really don't wanna
argue about it, Leon,

because I'm sure that
your thesis is great.

Okay, it's just a little weird

that you would be
suggesting this now...

It's really... It's just not
a good time for me.

It's just weird that you would
be bringing this up right now,

at the last possible moment.

I really don't wanna argue
about your thesis, Leon!

I'm sure it's great, okay?

But this is not a good time.

For me and for us
and for this.

It's just not a good time
right now.

Time? Wait.
This doesn't make any sense.

What are you talking about?
What's going on?

It's not you.

It's me.

In some of her dreams,

the sense of reality
was so overwhelming

that she could hear
her voice saying,

"This is not a dream.

You may have been thinking
it's a dream, but it isn't.

It's happening right now,

and you will never
awaken from it

because you are already awake."

Hello?

Hey, Vera.
It's Franklin.

I'm on my way to the airport.
Can I come up?

Hold on.

- Hi.
- Hi, hi.

Hope you don't mind
my having come.

No, I'm glad. I'm glad you came.
You want some breakfast?

So you're leaving now?

I'm leaving now.
I'll be, um,

heading for the airport
in 15, 20 minutes.

I came because, to be honest,
I was concerned about you.

I detected in your voice...

...voices.

You seemed kind of fractured,
and I... You were...

I just felt you didn't sound
yourself, and I...

Is everything okay?

I don't know. Um...

No, I think if I was really
honest, that I was...

You know, I just, like, feel
very, uh, uneasy.

You know what that
half-empty bottle says to me?

There's a void in your soul.

A big gaping hole.

I don't mean this
to be in any way offensive

or even too aggressive,

but I've always assumed
that you and I

have never hidden anything
from each other.

But now I'm wondering.

Have you been leading
a secret life?

Sexually, I mean.

Because I was thinking
maybe you have

a whole separate lurid existence
on the side

about which nobody,
myself included,

has had a clue.

And I mean that as a compliment.

I've never known anyone who can
make everything believable

and about whom anything that
was said

would be believable.

I think that may be why
you're so effective

in each role you play.

You seem to be capable
of anything.

What about work?
Do you have anything in mind?

No. I mean,
I'm trying to write

and struggling a little bit
with what that is,

And workwise, you know,

I'm supposed to be reading
scripts, and I just...

but I can't really feel inspired
for some reason.

I'm, like, hitting walls,
and maybe that's part of it,

that I haven't worked
for a long time.

You know what? I should
write something for you,

which we could do together.

I guess, if there was something
that was really exciting,

then I would probably
feel inspired, but...

I haven't found that in...

I think it's more just like
a lack of focus or something.

For some reason,
everything is just, like...

like I can't sort of sit still
or be with something or...

You mentioned writing.
What are you writing?

Right now, it's just a...

It's like a little jumbled,
you know, collection of...

Yeah, like a stream of
consciousness, I guess.

And sometimes it feels great,
and sometimes it makes sense,

and then other times,
it's just like a mess,

and, you know, it's...

I feel like if there was a sense
of, like, peace and balance,

then I would be able to have
a perspective on it

that I can't seem to find.

I'm just restless, you know?

Are you writing in
the first person or the third?

Third right now.

Fiction or nonfiction?

I'm not sure.

Sometimes it's hard to know
where one ends

and the other begins.

You know about madness.
You got your demons, too.

I'm curious
because when I write,

I always feel I'm a medium

and that I am, um...

The voices are
invading my brain,

and I'm trying to shut
a couple of them out

and let one voice speak...

Solid gold.

...because otherwise,
I have

three or four voices
in my head all the time,

which is why I'm this step away
from snapping.

We shared some beautiful moments
right here,

together in this room.

You ever hear voices
in your head?

How many fucking hours
of pleasure

did I give you?

No.

Um...

What are you saying?

You're talking about, like,
schizophrenia or something.

It is. Well, you know,
I've had bouts,

and one of the reasons that I've
always loved talking to you

was that you seem to be a
tremendously empathetic person,

so I feel I'm being understood
when I talk to you.

I'm not trying
to impose my own...

psychological intricacies
on you, but...

This all sounds really abstract,
and I...

You know, and I appreciate you
coming here and being concerned.

I don't know that I
need concern. I just...

Like something just kind of
blew up, and I have to...

you know, figure out how to get
out of whatever I'm feeling.

Like a collision of ideas
and frustration

and like a turning point,
kind of, in my life

and dealing with family and
relationships,

and, you know,
you've been there.

What about the guy, Sal?

Do you still have anything
to do with...

No. That's done.
A long time ago.

He's just a crazy person.

And how about the new guy,

the graduate student-
slash-lecturer.

Leon. Yeah. He...

He's like killing time, I guess.

I don't know.
I don't know.

It's not that headline.

Do you feel or hope
that there will be one person

that comes into your life,
and that's it?

And you have a family,
and that changes your life?

Yeah, I...

Yes, I guess so.

Do you think much about death?

Yes.

Are you afraid of it?
Are you ready to die?

I don't think that I would be
feeling this kind of unrest

if I was ready to die, so...

Have you thought at all...

Has it crossed your mind
about committing suicide?

Do you feel rage
at the core of your being?

Uh, I don't know.

I don't know.

Do you feel rage?

I feel that my rage

is always so close
to the surface that it takes...

Why are you doing this to me?

...almost nothing to set it off.

And then when I express it,

I feel as if it's
taking possession of me

in a way that
I had no control over,

- so I try to avoid letting it
- SAL: I sold to a narc.

break through the surface
'cause then it's too late.

100,000 bail.

You've never felt that?

No.

It's purgative
in some ways for me.

I actually sometimes am
very glad that it happened.

I'm saying it because
I sense it a bit in you.

I sense it at this point
in you, and, uh...

Just give me the money.

I've made something
of a mess of my life,

and I've used my work
to cover it up,

and I've hoped that I haven't
damaged too many people

that I care about.

I feel I've done
the right thing for some,

and I hope
that they feel that way.

I feel I've hurt people I loved,
which is the greatest sin.

I know that hasn't happened yet,

or I hope it hasn't
happened in your life,

but it's the thing that bothers
me the most as time goes by.

That's...

I'm sorry. I don't mean
to be confessional here.

I came actually to see if I
could be of any service to you,

and I feel as if I'm asking you
to help me in some way

'cause you're the only person,
I feel, who understands me

the way I understand myself.

I really wish we could spend
more time together because...

I'm getting choked up here.

I came here to...

This is embarrassing.
Came here to...

You don't need
to be embarrassed.

Well, I'm sorry.

I feel maybe it was a mistake
for me to have come over, and...

No. It's not that...
It was not a mistake.

It's just, like...

You know, the point is...
is that there...

There's no, like, solution
right now.

Like, whatever it is
that I'm supposed to be doing,

I'm, like, doing it, you know?
Like, I'm trying.

And it's just like being,
you know, a grownup, I guess.

Or trying to be
a grownup or something.

But, like,
it'll be all right, you know?

I think you should
worry about yourself

maybe more than you are of me.

Okay.

Hey, what's up?

You need some help with that?

Oh, I'm all right.
Thank you.

Nah, nah.

Honestly, it's... I got it.

Trust me, it's our pleasure

to help out a beautiful lady.

No problem.

Thank you so much.

Damn!

Thanks.

This shit is heavy.

What you got in here?

Bars of gold or something?

I wish.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

Your face looks pretty familiar.

I think I have
one of those faces.

Appreciate it. Thank you.

- Likewise.
- Don't take the turns too fast.

- Yeah,
- You might tip over.

Right.

50 bucks.

She didn't question
her impulse

to withdraw her call
to the police.

She would have been
an immediate suspect,

even if she had told the truth
in precise detail.

Of course she could have
claimed innocence.

She was simply trying
to prevent herself

from being murdered by someone
in the grip of desperation.

She had been a fraction
of an inch from death,

so naturally she had to entice
and defend,

to struggle and disarm.

There was a moment when she had
clearly wrested the gun

from his loosened grip,

a split-second when her brain
had said, "I have it now,"

and then the gun had gone off.

But it hadn't just gone off.

It hadn't fired by itself.

Somehow she had
squeezed the trigger

without ever actually
willing to do so.

It was as if she hadn't
killed him. The gun had.

And she had just happened
to be holding it

when it performed its deed.

However absurdly
self-exonerating

those words may have sounded,

she believed them to be true

Besides, what else
could she have done?

Leap back and point the gun
at his heart?

Threaten to shoot him?
Order him to leave?

Was there any likelihood
he would have obeyed?

Or would he almost certainly
have sprung at her,

grabbed back the gun
and shot her instead?

In any case, the chance
to change her mind was gone.

She had driven past
any red line of free will,

both literally
and figuratively.

The die was cast.

As she drove away,
her body began to feel

weightless
with quiet exhilaration.

Any trace of remorse,
let alone guilt,

which she had expected
to seize her,

vanished as quickly
and as finally

as the trunk she had rolled
into the river.

She felt she had taken the only
path she could have followed

and would take it again now

if forced back
into the same circumstance.

It confirmed her deepest sense
of morality,

that general rules and laws

which ignored nuance
and exception

were never to be trusted,
let alone blindly followed.

Each case presented its own
open spaces for discovery.

She had pronounced herself
not guilty

in the court of her own
judge and jury.

How relieved she was
not to have subjected herself

to the verdict of 12 strangers.

Are you depressed?

Yeah.

And what do you do
to shake it,

or you just let it
carry itself with you?

I don't know.
I mean, it depends on my moods.

Sometimes I'm depressed,
sometimes I'm not depressed.

I'm not, like,
boxable at the moment.

I know you're trying.

I can't, like, say that.
I'm not definable.

I'm depressed. I'm this.
This is what I do.

This is the unease
around the answers

to whatever you're asking.

I don't know if I'm depressed.
Sometimes I'm depressed.

I'm human, you know?
It's not exclusive to me to...

And sometimes I'm fine,
and sometimes I wanna talk,

and sometimes
I don't wanna talk.

I just don't want to be
fucking scrutinized

and analyzed and asked.

I just wanna go through it
without being fucking watched.

The way that you're just staring
is frustrating to me.

Hello?

- Vera Lockman?
- Yes?

Detective McCutcheon,
Narcotics.

Yes?

I'm here with my partner,
Detective Sinclair.

We'd like to ask you
some questions

about Salvatore Conforti.

Yes?

Do you mind if we come up?

Just a second.

Hi.

Hi.

- Vera Lockman.
- Hi.

Detective McCutcheon, NYPD.

Do you mind if I come in?

No, by all means.
Have a seat.

Can I get you a coffee
or water or...

Oh, coffee would be great.
Thank you.

- Where's your partner?
- Uh...

Detective Sinclair had
a urgent personal emergency

that he had to attend to.

I hope it's nothing serious.

Who knows? Bad things happen
every five minutes, right?

If bad things didn't happen,
we wouldn't have a job.

Right.

This is a nice place you got.
You live here alone?

- Yes, I do.
- Huh.

Thank you.

Do you mind
signing something for me?

Signing what?

Oh!

No. No, no.
I have a 15-year-old daughter,

and you can guess
what she wants to be.

An actress.

And when I told her I was coming
to see Vera Lockman,

she, like, spit her drink
all over the kitchen.

Of course. Happy to.
What's her name?

Cristal, with an I.
Cristal.

This is to Cristal
and Christina.

- Okay.
- Her friend.

Cristal and Christina, yeah.

Very kind of you.

Pleasure.

She's gonna freak out.
Thank you.

That's great.

This boyfriend you have,
Sal Conforti.

- Had.
- Had?

Had. We split up
a while ago now.

Oh. When was the last time
that you saw him?

Yesterday.

Hmm. What were
the circumstances?

He'd been arrested
and was released on bail.

He came asking for money.
I said no, and he left.

Just like that?

No, he carried on for a little.

Who the fuck are you, huh?

- Please.
- ...you know, but yes.

- Did he threaten you?
- No.

Did he become physical with you?

No.

No slapping? No choking?

No.

- Nothing sexual?
- No.

I said nothing physical, no.

This is strange.

Why is it strange?

Well, because on the tapes,

he sounds like he's becoming
physically aggressive with you.

- What tapes?
- The tapes of his phone calls.

- You've been recording him?
- Of course.

For how long?

That's confidential.

- And I'm on them?
- Of course you are.

You have nothing
to worry about.

- They're not targeting you.
- Why should they be?

I'm not saying that they
should be or they shouldn't be,

but they're not.

Do I need a lawyer?

That depends.

Now, when was the last time
you saw him?

Yesterday.

Oh, you said that.
Yeah, yesterday.

Detective Sinclair, he trailed
Conforti to this building,

presumably to meet with you.

Unfortunately, after he parked
his car across the street,

he was attacked by
an urgent case of the runs,

and after he'd solved
that personal problem,

and he came back
to his surveillance post,

Conforti was gone.

Um, how long was he up here?

Not long. Um...

N-Not long.

But he did leave.

Of course he left.

There's no chance that
he's still up here right now?

No, not at all.

But feel free to look around,
if you want to.

I appreciate that

because if he is
still hiding up here,

he's doing
a hell of a job, right?

Right.

Well, if we find him,
we'll let you know.

And if you hear anything,
you'll get in touch with us.

- Absolutely.
- Can I count on you for that?

- Yes.
- Okay. Thank you.

- Okay.
- Um...

Anything else?

Well, you forgot the autograph.

Ah.

You don't have a daughter,
do you?

And the detective with the runs,
I take it that was you as well?

No, I don't have a daughter.

And there is no detective,
period.

There was nobody outside
your apartment watching you.

- You're very good.
- Ha.

If ever you decide
to give up acting,

you could be a police officer.

Well, if you ever think about
getting into acting,

I would recommended it.

Very convincing.

Well, thank you
for your cooperation.

Anytime.

Uh, one more thing.

- I'm so sorry.
- Oh.

I'm sorry.

It's just that
when you called 911,

and you asked for the police
to come and then you hung up,

and then when they called you
back to find out what happened,

you said it was an accident.

Why did you do that?

- The money.
- Come here.

Sweetie, you...

Wow, you guys are everywhere.

Well, if I were you,
I would assume yes, we are...

...everywhere.

So what's the answer?

Why did you say
it was an accident?

This is gonna sound so absurd.

I have been, like,
super high-strung

and really...

really dealing
with some serious anxiety.

So within the context of that,

picking up the phone
and calling the police,

it's not...

Uh, what's the word
I'm looking for? It's not...

- Remarkable. Exactly.
- Noteworthy.

Either or both.

It's an either-or.
Yeah.

Well, thank you
for your cooperation.

Do you feel lucky?

Yes, incredibly.

I do too. I feel...

I feel, um, you know,

that somehow I've gotten away
with something my whole life.

Do you feel you're getting away
with something?

I don't feel like I'm running
from anything to get away from.

I'm just, like, existing on a
very...

like, a surface level,
but I can feel in my psyche

that there's
all sorts of unrest,

and maybe this is... those are
the questions I need to ask,

that I... but I... but I...
you know,

I can't find any sort of
answers,

and so it's just,
like, frustrating.

I'm constantly frustrated,

and I guess talking about it
is helpful, you know,

to sort of try to unravel
whatever it is that's happening,

but at the same time, it also,
like, brings up anxiety

because these are exactly the
things that I can't, like,

put a finger on
or figure out or...

So it's just like, right now,
just talking about,

it just, like,
kicks it all up, you know?

Maybe like I wanna run away
or something.

How is everything
with your family?

How are your mother
and grandfather doing?

She's all right, you know.
He's not great.

But mostly happy.

I think she's worried
about him, and...

Yeah, I guess when
that starts to happen,

you're just sort of in a place
where, you know,

it's so unknown, and...

Almost the fact
that he's aware of it

is worse than, you know,
where it'll end up,

but, um...

Right now, you know,
he's frustrated,

and I guess
that's hard, harder.

Who owns this restaurant?

It's not a restaurant, Pops.
This is my apartment.

Who are you, darling?

I'm your granddaughter, Vera.

You see?

See what, Pop?

I still don't understand
why the two of you

could sit here getting drunk,

and I can only drink
bubble water.

Have I been a bad boy?

No.

No, you've been just great.

But you can't have alcohol

while you're on three
of your medications, Pop.

Well, throw out the medications.

I'd rather get plastered.

Maybe tomorrow.

Who says I'll be around
tomorrow?

You wanna put that in writing
that I'll be around tomorrow?

Well, let's see how you feel.

I know how I feel.
Confused.

Are you confused, too,
darling?

Constantly.

Don't worry.
The wine will take care of it.

That's why I want alcohol,
to clear up my confusion.

I left word for Carl Icahn
to stop by this evening.

Who are you, by the way?

I'm Vera, your granddaughter.

I just wish someone would
tell me where my mother is.

You see?

See what, Pop?

Her.

You're a very beautiful
young woman.

And you are
a very handsome man.

You know it.

You should have seen me
when I was 24.

I'll bet.

How old am I now?

85.

Liar.

What's your opinion?

85.

Two liars.

What's so funny?

Who owns this restaurant?

This is my apartment.
This is not a restaurant.

- I live here.
- Prove it.

I have documents.
You wanna see?

Worthless. They could still come
and take it away from you

whenever they want.

Who can?

The police!

I'm gonna remember that.

That's what they all say.

Do you have a husband?

- No.
- Keep it that way.

Most men, you can't trust 'em,
believe me.

I should know.

My daughter Elaine...
You're my daughter?

Granddaughter.

You're my daughter.
Is that correct?

Yes.

What's your opinion?

She's your daughter.
This is Elaine, your daughter.

My daughter Elaine,

she got married to a no-good
son of a bitch bastard

whose name I wouldn't mention
even if I could remember,

which I can't.

The selfish, rotten deadbeat.

- Do you have a husband?
- Nope.

You should have seen me
when I was 24.

How old am I now?

85.

85.

Who are you, darling?

I am your granddaughter, Vera.

I'm not surprised.
You look like her.

Same hair, same smile.

I just wish someone
would tell me where Mother is.

Well, my mother is right here.

She's not my mother.
She's my wife.

No, no, no.
This is your daughter, Elaine.

- I'm your daughter.
- I'm your granddaughter, Vera.

How would you know?
You weren't even born.

Tired of being lied to!
I wanna know where my mother is!

She's dead, Grandpa.

Who's dead?

Your mother, Sylvia,
my great-grandmother.

You're sure?

Mm-hmm.

She was 88, though.

She had a really happy life.

Why wasn't I told?

- You were told, Pop.
- That was 30 years ago, Pops.

You arranged the funeral.
You gave the eulogy.

You spoke beautifully.

She's at peace now.

- Can we reach her on the phone?
- No.

No, but we can
talk about her,

and we can think about her,
and we can remember her,

and it makes her happy to know
that we're thinking about her,

and it makes us feel good
to remember her, okay?

Sylvia.

I'm sorry, Grandpa.

I don't like
what's happening to me.

I don't like
what's happening to me!

- I know.
- Don't like what's happening to me!

I don't like
what's happening to me!

I don't like
what's happening to me!

What's happening to me?

Where you going, Grandpa?

Somewhere... Somewhere where I
could just kill myself in peace.

- Just let me go.
- No.

- Let me...
- Hey, hey.

Can I ask you something first?

What?

Can I dance with you?

That's a little forward,
don't you think?

I'm a modern woman.
Come on.

- Modern woman?
- Come on.

- Oh, boy.
- Careful.

- Oh, boy, a modern woman.
- Get ready.

Get those dancing shoes on,
Grandpa.

- Oh, boy.
- Ready?

You ready?

- Oh.
- Yeah.

You know what I think about
when I get upset?

What?

I remember that time
where you and me and Mom

first went to Europe,

and Dad had just left,

and we stayed at
the Excelsior Hotel

on the Lido in Venice.

And when we first arrived,
we went straight onto the beach,

and we were all holding hands.

You were on my left,
and Mom was on my right,

and we went straight
into the sea,

and we just walked
and walked for hours.

It felt like hours and days,

and the sea was
just up to our knees.

And we walked and walked,

and then finally
we were fully immersed,

and it was so salty
that we were just floating.

And we looked back
at the hotel,

and it was just a blur, and...

and we laughed and laughed
and laughed.

Mama?

Yes?

If I ask you a question,

will you answer it
with complete honesty?

Of course.

When I was little,

did you think that
there was something, um...

I don't know,
like, odd about me or...

What?

Of course not.
The opposite.

It was easy to figure out

that you were a very,
very special child.

But was I, like...

I don't know.
Did I ever, like...

Was I ever violent
or aggressive or...

Violent?

Well, you certainly
weren't ordinary.

You were never ordinary,

so I guess, in that sense
of the word,

uh, we could stretch it out
to saying you were odd.

Is that what you mean?
Certainly not violent.

You were not violent.

You never had a violent bone
in your body.

You've always been
a loving, caring,

and compassionate person.

I love you so much.

I love you, Mama.

I love you.

In fact,

even when you would get
really angry sometimes...

Which is surprising

'cause I know
I can get physical.

You were never physical.

Never.

- Why are we talking about this?
- I don't know.

Honey, this is...

Why would you think about
something like this?

- Hi.
- Hi.

- I'm Carl Icahn.
- I know.

You do? Well, your grandfather
asked me to come up.

- Is he around?
- No.

They just left
five minutes ago.

Your grandfather's
Arthur Lockman.

- Yes. I'm Vera.
- Oh, he just left?

- He left with my mother.
- He asked me to come up.

He mentioned,
but I didn't believe that...

Anyway, would you...
Why don't you come in?

- You want a drink or something?
- Why didn't you believe it?

Sometimes, you know,
he gets a little forgetful.

Can I get you a drink
or something?

Okay with me.

You want wine or water or...
I'm having wine.

I'll have a little wine.
Fine, fine.

Thank you.

I'm sorry you missed him.

Take a seat on the couch.

This whole day
has just been... Ugh.

I mean, it's nice to meet you.

I'm just sorry that
you missed my grandfather.

- I didn't even know...
- Thank you.

- You guys were friends.
- I'm sorry to hear about that.

Well, I wouldn't call us
exactly friends.

I haven't talked to him or seen
him since I'm 15 years old,

and he did me a great favor.

I came up from
a pretty tough school.

And the high school we went to,
Far Rockaway High School,

a bunch of these kids
from reform school were there

and made my first week...

There were these tough kids
from Auburn.

This place called Auburn.
Really tough kids.

I happened to be in the gym.

I was playing
a little basketball,

and this guy comes over...
I'll never forget...

this Marvin Bligh,
his name was.

He walks over, and he says,

"Hey, Jew boy.
Look over here at me."

And he spit in my face.

I didn't know
what the hell to do.

He and his friends were there,

or at least
the people that he knew,

maybe five, six,
seven of these guys.

They just kept chanting,
"Stairwell, stairwell."

Which meant to go
to the stairwell,

and that's where
you have the fight.

And I went to the stairwell,

and I figured the only thing
I could do to save it...

because sooner or later,
they were all gonna get me...

I grabbed the guy by the head,

and I kept banging it
against the stairwell,

and he started to bleed.

And I thought the other guys
would jump on me,

but they really didn't.

They just pulled me off of him.

They were gonna expel me and
bring me up on juvenile charges.

Now, where does your father...
grandfather come in?

Well, he was there
in the stairwell,

and four of the kids...

Which sort of restored my faith
in human nature.

I never had much faith.
I still don't.

To say "restored"
isn't the right word, I guess.

But makes me think there is
a good side to people.

And I think that,
with some people, anyway.

All four of 'em told the dean
that I was completely innocent.

This guy had spit in my face,
and what could I do?

And then they even
made up some stuff

about how when I went in
the stairwell,

he started smacking me,
which really didn't happen

'cause I jumped him, but...

And the dean had no choice but
to let me go and say, "Okay."

And it sort of changed my life
in a strange way.

First of all, I had more faith
in certain people.

But it also...
I was a smart kid in school.

You know, Princeton, Yale,
and Harvard

were looking for a guy like me,

a Jewish kid at the worst high
school in America or New York.

And I got into these colleges.

I never would have got in
if I had been charged, so...

But when I saw
these guys leave...

they weren't even talking to me,
they just left...

I went over to 'em,
and I said to 'em,

"I owe you a favor."

And one day,

one day, whenever you want,
you can call on that favor."

I said, "All of you are gonna
call on this one day."

And I never saw
your grandfather again,

but three of them
called the favor in.

And I've lived up to it.

And I helped them,
and they all did well.

And I never heard
from your grandfather.

Until now?

Till now, tonight.

What did he want?

He didn't say.

He said to come up and see him.

He said he needed help.

Do you know what he wanted?
He said, "I need help."

- No.
- "And I'm calling you."

Interestingly, he remembered it
'cause he did say...

He said, "You owe me a favor."

It's going back...

Jesus, I feel older than
I always felt, you know?

Think about it. 65 years.

My God.

Makes me feel emotional
about it.

- Yeah.
- Feel bad that he never called.

Well, tell me about yourself
a little, Vera.

Well, uh...

I don't really know
where to begin.

I've had such a strange night,
you know.

You had a strange night?

You know,
I'm an old poker player.

It sounds like you got
some problems, but...

I don't even know
where to start.

Maybe I'm being forward,

but it sounds like you got
a few problems.

I could share some things
with you.

Her sense
of existing outside herself

by connecting to other people
had always been tenuous,

and it extended only rarely
and briefly

beyond the two people
who had always been there.

Now even that fragile aspect
of her being

was receding without remorse,

but she was determined
to hold on.

Suddenly, inexplicably,

the violent churning
in her stomach,

which had seized her
immediately after the killing,

disappeared,

replaced by a thoroughly
irrational calm,

a near-beatific felicity.

It hardly disturbed her

that she accepted so quickly
what she had done.

Manslaughter,
accidental homicide, murder.

It was a killing
no matter the word.

The path ahead was clear.

She would follow her most
urgent reaction

to each moment in her life

and confront the consequences
as they emerged.

Maybe she could even,
through her words,

help to stir some understanding
in people she would never meet.

If she could somehow manage
shape her own turmoil

into ideas and stories,

which would reach them
as she has been reached

and even transformed
by creators she had never met,

people who had given her
a sense of meaning and purpose,

however tenuous and fragmented.

Any other path would lead
to chaos and madness,

to the annihilation
of the self,

without which no life
worth living was possible.

Perhaps then,
her mercilessly demanding brain

would be appeased,

and she might have a chance
to savor

and exult in the marvelous,
irresistible uncertainty

of the future.

This is not a dream.

It's happening right now,

and you will never
awaken from it

because you are already awake.