Original subtitles

Delia Shunt was 34.

She had fine, dirty-blond hair and a strong, heavy ass,

which looked excellent in blue jeans.

And Delia was tough.

She beat up a guy in a bar once, just for grabbing her ass.

He hit her back, and she broke a chair over his head.

Supper. Now.

-Hi. -Hey.

-He's doing good. -Good.

Johnny, give me that glove.

Sit down over here, Miss May.

Did you guys wash your hands?

-Yeah, outside on the hose. -Right.

Excuse me.

I want you guys to have carrots, too, all right?

Decoration.

Breast? Want a breast?

Yes, please. Thanks.

Yes, please.

Looks good, chef.

May I have some ketchup?

-We don't have any ketchup. -I saw some.

All right, I'll get your ketchup.

-Need some help with your chicken, May? -I had practice today.

-How was it? -It went really well.

Did you fix the bike today?

Not yet.

Hey, Dad, they switched my game to Thursday.

Would you be able to come?

What?

They changed my game to Thursday. Can you come?

What time?

-It's at 3:00. -I'll be late, all right?

I'll come, but I'll be late.

-I'll save a seat for you. -Okay.

Wait, let me explain.

Delia's father, Pete Shunt,

was the first hippie in Catskill, New York.

He kept goats and smoked grass he grew himself.

He even let the Seventh-Day Adventists onto his property, just to rap with them.

Who the hell are you guys?

Have you heard the good news, the Gospel of our Lord?

No.

I wonder if we could take a few minutes and tell you the good news?

Sure, I got all the time in the world.

Do you go to church regularly, sir?

Not in a long time.

We're with the Seventh-Day Adventist Church.

Cheers.

We believe in the Second Coming of Christ.

A lot of other Christian churches will celebrate the Sabbath on Sunday.

We take Sunday as the first day of the week,

so that the Sabbath is actually on Saturday.

If you were to come down to our church, it would be on a Saturday, not on a Sunday.

That's probably why I missed it.

He got so friendly with a couple of them

that one day they brought their wives and kids.

The Bible tells us...

They had targeted Pete Shunt as a sinner worth the hard sell.

So, that's why we're urged to keep our bodies pure...

Delia was embarrassed to be seen, because she had recently grown breasts.

No one else in class had them, and they were huge.

She felt separated from her breasts, and kind of awed by them.

They were magical objects,

and definitely not Seventh-Day Adventist material.

...individual nations, man.

-You know, it's all full of crap. -Okay.

It's all run by corporations.

I agree with you, Pete. But see, the bottom line is Christ.

If you don't stop smoking these marijuana cigarettes,

and living an unclean life, you are going to hell. It's that simple.

Who do you think you are, telling me? Get off me!

Get the hell out of my house, now!

-We're going. -Sons of bitches.

Telling me I'm going to hell.

Pete was sad for days after that, because he had promised himself

he wasn't going to get so angry anymore.

He used to hit his wife occasionally,

but he hadn't done that in a long time.

Delia's mother left soon after the Adventists.

She was sick of being broke and wearing head scarves.

She went out, bought herself some beige separates,

and found a job in an insurance company.

Delia decided to stay with her dad, because she felt he needed her more.

"Shunt" rhymes with "cunt."

That's not the reason Delia became the school slut, but it didn't hurt.

Plus, she loved kissing.

By the time she was 12, she had lost her virginity.

And she learned to act tough, like she didn't care what people thought.

It was a great feeling, once you got past the shame of it.

She learned to love her power.

It was her vocation.

When she came home after school, she would go over her conquests of the day

and it would perk her up.

Delia married Kurt at 17, because he asked her.

He asked her because he couldn't stand the idea

of any other guy with his hands on Delia.

Her ass, especially.

That beautiful, ripe ass.

Delia could stop traffic with that ass.

So, he married it.

Marriage gave new meaning to sex for Delia.

It was no longer only about power.

They really made love in the beginning.

Once Kurt felt her love for him, a violence crept into their lovemaking.

A force of rage Delia found exciting at first, until she felt the bite of his coldness

and she realized that he despised her.

But, by then it was too late. She loved him.

Oh, God, I'm sorry.

Get in there!

Get away from me! Both of you in the bathroom!

Claire, May, get in there! And shut up!

Shut up!

Mommy!

Honey.

Open the door.

Open the door, please.

Honey, I love you.

Please, don't.

It's okay. I know you didn't mean it.

It was her kids' pain that finally broke through her inertia.

Listening to her babies screaming and pleading

and being unable to comfort them, was like being murdered slowly.

After two hours, it didn't matter that she loved her husband.

It didn't matter that she had no place to go.

She was taking her kids away.

She imagined herself going back to him, as she had so many times before.

But this time her body wouldn't follow.

I want you to wake up. Pumpkin, come here.

Come.

Are you coming or not?

-Hello. -Come on in.

Someone will look at you in the morning.

Okay. Thanks.

Delia didn't talk about her problems.

She intimidated the other women with her silence.

She was just being careful.

She didn't want to get soppy. She didn't want to make any mistakes.

She was leaving.

She felt the women's pain and uncertainty like a vortex,

pulling her into her own muddled thinking.

-What happened? -She fell off the shelf.

She looks pretty good now. Okay.

Did you get something to eat?

Go on.

Go on and play. You want to go play some more?

Let's talk about practical things.

It must be nice doing good 24 hours a day.

I don't know.

Some days, I don't think it makes any difference.

Does that get you down, Pam?

We all have problems, Delia.

You ever been in love with a man who hits you?

No.

Do you have any kids?

I don't.

Then leave me alone.

I'm sick of seeing your face every fucking day,

smiling like you just took the greatest shit of your life.

Have you thought about another place to live when you leave?

I've thought about it.

Your husband came around again, asking to see the kids.

He'll take them if he sees them.

You can...

Stay here as long as you need to. You know that, right?

Great. I fucking love it here.

Delia lay awake that night and racked her brain

for people she knew that had left Catskill.

Finally, deep in the recesses of her memory,

she remembered that fat Fay McDougherty had moved upstate.

Fay had been an outcast like Delia, but in a different category.

Delia had always felt protective of Fay

even though she did not particularly like her.

She was going to have to find Fay.

Hello?

-Fay? -Yes?

It's Delia Shunt.

I know it must be weird hearing from me.

I got your number from my mom.

She sold your mom some car insurance.

She mentioned that.

I thought maybe...

I'm kind of in a little bit of trouble.

I'm not wanted by the police or anything, but I need to leave Catskill.

I've got three kids,

and I thought maybe we could

crash out in your basement or something for a couple weeks,

just until I get a job and work some stuff out.

Never mind. Sorry I bothered you.

No. You know, maybe you can stay in the garage.

-Really? -I'd have to ask my husband, of course,

but it wouldn't be anything fancy.

If it's got a roof, that's fine.

There's a shower off the garage, too. Greg put it in last year.

Great.

It's nice to hear your voice.

Let's put that in the back.

Thanks.

Okay.

Is Dad coming?

No, honey.

Hey!

Hi!

-Hey. -How are you?

-It's great to see you. -You, too.

Thanks.

Sure. Hi. Gosh, they're beautiful.

They're really beautiful. They look just like you.

I have cookies inside, if you'd like.

So, let me help you with your bags and we can go in.

Hi, sweetie.

Come on in the house, and I'll show you around, okay?

-This is Greg, my husband. -Hi.

-Come on in. -You guys like to watch football?

-I don't know, sir. -Come on over here.

You'll learn.

-This is my husband, Greg. -Hi.

This is Delia

and her adorable children.

You know what I got?

Is this the cutest thing? Here, you gotta check this out.

A cat!

That's Tandy. You want to go see her?

Come here, you fucking cat.

Why don't you come on in?

Greg's father owns the bank in Wise.

Greg is one of the officers there.

Greg, poo, do you want iced tea?

No, I'm good. Thank you.

Kids, I've got cookies.

I'll put them right here, okay? This way, no crumbs on the couch.

-Iced tea? -Sure.

I just want to tell you, I'm really sorry that you're having a difficult time.

Thanks.

How's your father?

He's all right. The same.

Does he still keep

goats, was it?

He's retired.

Where do you think I could look for a job?

What sort of work do you care to do?

Any kind.

I have a cousin...

Down in Jersey.

New Jersey. He's about to have...

-Excuse me. -I'll be with you in a minute.

Hey, Ma.

Just remember, I'll be working at the hospital until 8:00.

So I should pick you up at, like, 10:00, 10:30, right?

So, that's a Saab, right? Out there, your car, that's a Saab?

Yeah.

Does it have heated seats? Maybe a reversible hood, right?

'Cause I've worked on...

Listen, is there someone I can talk to about a job?

Delia was a good waitress.

She worked fast, remembered everything,

and frightened the customers just enough to keep them in line

while inciting their lust, if they were men.

-Surprise me. -All right.

And wariness, if they were women.

If anyone was rude to her, she spat in their food.

It seemed fair. She never did it when she had a cold.

Nine times thirty?

That's right.

The greasy son of the short-order cook came in every day for a free lunch.

Great shirt you're wearing.

The kids all went to school down the road.

Like I was saying, I live in the basement because I have a water bed.

She wants me.

Hi.

What are you doing?

What does it look like I'm doing?

I always do the cleaning at night.

I know you do. I just thought I would lend you a hand.

You know, the place really looked like it needed a scrub. So, I just...

Don't bother trying to show you're better than me.

I mean, shit, look at me.

Delia, I'm sorry. I really didn't...

I didn't mean anything by it.

A freak accident in Manhattan has left two men dead.

A man police identified as Desmond Canetto

was shot in the head by an unidentified gunman

while driving down Varick Street at 4:00 this morning.

Police say Canetto was probably dead at the wheel

when his car veered into the sidewalk, hitting a man

and grazing an unidentified woman who left the scene of the accident.

Hey, Delia.

I don't guess you'd want to take a ride with me sometime?

Where are you going to drive me, Mylert? Crazy?

Right. I don't know, around.

We could go to the movies, but that would be a date.

Pick me up after work.

I get off at 6:00.

So, I'll come by at, like, 8:00, 8:30, right?

Better get me back to my car. I gotta feed my kids.

My mother's working nights at the hospital this week.

-Hey, you're not my boyfriend, okay? -I know.

So, I don't need to know your mom's schedule.

-I just thought... -Stop thinking.

Greta Herskovitz had been married to Lee Schneeweiss for four years.

Anything funny in the paper?

"Before we acquired Mr. Bloomberg,

"New Yorkers enjoyed destroying the careers..."

Lee worked as a fact checker for The New Yorker

and was whittling away at an 1,100 page dissertation

about cannibalism in Victorian Arctic expeditions.

Lee was a kind, quiet man.

If he ever fell out of love with Greta,

she knew he would go into therapy and fix it.

-All right? -Yeah.

But she hadn't bargained on her own success.

A year earlier, Greta was carrying seven file folders

each containing a recipe for rice pudding.

She was currently editing a book by Tammy Lee Felber,

entitled 365 Ways to Cook Rice.

Hey, who made that suit?

It's Liz Claiborne.

Ms. Herskovitz, would you come in here, please?

Aaron Gelb was the legendary senior editor of Warren and Howe.

Hi.

So, fire me. Do it.

Just get it over with.

I don't want this idiotic job, anyway.

You can take your rice pudding and shove it up your ass.

Thavi Matola wants to have lunch with you.

Thavi Matola was the hottest novelist of his generation.

...called me up and said we had an excellent editor here. And it was you.

Greta had never edited anything but cookbooks.

Do you have any idea why he might have said that?

Maybe he likes to cook.

On the day of the meeting, Thavi Matola was 40 minutes late.

Greta Herskovitz?

-I'm Thavi Matola. -Hi. Yes, I know. It's nice to meet you.

Have you been here long?

Not that long.

-You mind if I smoke? -Go ahead.

It's a good place here.

Does W.H. have an...

...expense account here?

I really loved your first book.

It's a piece of shit.

-I think that's pretty common. -What? Second thoughts after publication?

No, false modesty.

-Do you wish to hear our specials? -The pasta's good.

-I'll have steak frites. -Do you wish to hear our specials?

I'll just have the mozzarella and tomatoes, and...

Do you want wine?

-If you... -A bottle of house red, please.

Very well.

So, what's the new book about? If you don't mind talking about it.

Laos, the trip over.

That must have been frightening. How old were you?

I was 13, I had left my family.

-Have you written much? -About 100 pages.

Aren't I the one supposed to be asking questions?

I don't know.

What's your story?

I was born in Manhattan.

I went to the Fleming School uptown, a small private, you know.

Then to boarding school, then to college, then to law school.

My father's a lawyer. We're not talking. My mother is...

Dead.

They're divorced. I mean, they were.

I'm 28.

My father has a 3-year-old.

God Almighty, please let me shut up.

My friend Felicia Wong said you were great at trimming fat.

Felicia Wong had written short stories at Harvard.

Greta was the editor of The Advocate. She had an eye for the inessential.

The writers called her "The Grim Reaper,"

but they all wanted her to comb through their work.

She's a castrating bitch.

You're a lying bastard. You deserve each other.

I have a tendency to overwrite.

I need someone to kick my ass.

I can kick your ass.

We'll renegotiate your contract next week.

She went straight to the most expensive shoe store she had ever heard of

and put a pair of pointy alligator heels on her credit card.

She couldn't begin to afford them, but she needed to feel worthy.

She needed to feel like a pro.

He wants me to do it!

-That's amazing. -Why do I feel guilty all of a sudden?

Because you're crazy. Come here.

I am very, very proud of you.

A toxic blend of anxiety and elation was building up in Greta's mind.

It seemed to be actually pressing against her skull.

She craved air. She wanted to go out.

She wanted to tell people her news. She wanted to celebrate.

She remembered a party in Brooklyn being given by Mimi,

an old friend from Exeter, who had recently returned from India.

-God, you scared me. -You scared me, too.

Oscar had been a suitor of Greta's at Harvard,

but she would not sleep with him.

Now, there was a gentle neutrality in Oscar's tone.

He was speaking to her as if she was mentally ill, or had cancer.

She knew why, too.

It was because she had turned out to be a loser.

-I'm sorry to hear about your mother. -Thanks.

I was talking to your husband. He seems like a really nice guy.

-He'll never leave me. -That seems like a weird reason to...

That's not the main reason. I love him.

He's this wonderful person. I think he's so funny and interesting...

-Great? -He's the greatest.

-Great. -He's a great guy.

-You don't have to convince me. -What about you? Are you married?

God, no, I'm only 28.

-I'm only 28, Oscar. -I mean, I...

Are you seeing anyone?

Yeah. We don't see each other a lot.

She's with the Boston Symphony. I'm with the Brooklyn.

Are you still with that publishing...

Yeah, Warren and Howe, right.

Actually, I just got this great job editing Thavi Matola's new book.

The guy who wrote Blue Mountain?

That's amazing.

God, I'm disgusting.

-That's great. -I've got to get back to Lee.

Is that still going on today, with all that stuff...

I should get some sleep. I have to call a guy at 6:00 about a fly-fishing article.

-I'm too excited to sleep. -Stay.

-Yeah? -Sure, yuck it up.

-Hi. -How you doing?

Good. How are you?

It's amazing, right?

She stayed longer than she intended, and drank more than she should have.

Want to share a cab?

I'm on 20th and 2nd. You can drop me off.

Share a cab.

I don't think so.

-Come home with me. -No.

-Come on. -Please.

-One conversation. -No.

Shit.

Greta was reminded of a day 10 years earlier.

The day that changed her life.

She drove to her parents' country house from law school

with some tremendous news for her dad.

A paper she had written on capital punishment

was going to be published in the Harvard Law Review.

Greta's father, Avram Herskovitz,

was one of the most powerful lawyers in the country.

He defended the indefensible. He was on the news a lot, saying...

This decision is a victory for justice in this country.

Some people thought he was a moral giant.

Others didn't think he cared about guilt or innocence, only about winning.

Greta knew he was both of these things.

She wanted to be just like him.

Dad?

Greta recognized her.

She was the new junior partner in her father's firm.

Greta'd always suspected her of something

but, until now, she didn't know what.

-Where's Mom? -I think she's upstairs.

Greta's mother, Maroushka, was 25 when she married Greta's father.

She was a Polish girl, born in Auschwitz a week before the arrival of the Russians.

After the liberation, Maroushka was brought up in a series of orphanages.

Her story stirred some deep yearning in Avram.

He had to save this woman. He had to give her a beautiful life.

He brushed his first family off like leaves from a sweater.

When Greta was born, he cherished her. She was his new beginning.

Life sprung from the ash heap. They were inseparable, alike.

As unconsciously as a leaf unfurling,

Greta chose to embody her father's charming voraciousness,

shrinking instinctively from the wistful sweetness of her mother,

smelling, as it did, ever so faintly of death.

After the divorce, Greta stopped speaking to her father,

returned his monthly checks unopened.

Then, one day, she just dropped out of law school.

She couldn't lend meaning to the words anymore.

That November, Maroushka was diagnosed with cancer.

Greta moved back to New York to be with her mother.

Maroushka died.

Avram's new wife had a baby girl.

It's up in the mountain lakes, is what you're saying.

And what baits are used for those? Is it the same kind of bait

that you're using in New England, or for the introduced fish?

Which is like a worm, or that's a fly? What is that?

And the females in May? Late May.

Okay.

Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Conway. I think that's it.

I think that's all I need, Mr. Conway. Good luck with the fish.

You want me to make you some pancakes?

I love you so much.

Thavi Matola encouraged Greta to make radical suggestions for rewrites.

They met a couple of times a week.

What did you think about this paragraph, here?

This part is new, and I return to it later.

It is kind of redundant, though.

I'll leave a mark by it. If you want to cut it, we could just cut it.

Basically, you said that before.

You hungry?

Are you hungry?

What?

What is happening to your hearing?

How does your husband feel about us working together like this?

He's fine, I guess.

He isn't jealous?

I told him you were gay.

Is that what you think?

I vacillate.

So do I.

-You want some tomato juice? -Sure.

The truth is, Greta had a little problem with fidelity.

She was reminded of an episode that happened during her engagement,

and which stung her conscience to this day.

Excuse me. Do you have a cigarette?

-No, I don't smoke. -Too bad.

-I think I should be congratulated. -Did you quit?

I was never addicted. I used to smoke occasionally,

then it struck me that it was idiotic.

It wouldn't have been idiotic if I was addicted,

then it just would have been pathetic.

I'm sorry, I just got out of the shrink.

No need to apologize. It's a stupid habit.

-I'm quitting when I turn 25. -When's your birthday?

-The 23rd. -I'm getting married on the 23rd.

Terrific. We should celebrate.

An abstinence party.

-Good luck. -Thanks.

Bye.

-I can still do it. -Nice.

What are you studying?

I'm actually studying to be a rabbi.

Really?

-You don't look like a rabbi. -I'm not orthodox.

The next week was a tangle of wedding preparations and subterfuge,

what with traveling uptown to see Max, and downtown to see Lee.

The fittings,

the fucking,

the bachelorette party.

Only her trusted friend, Lola Sanduli, who knew Greta better than anyone,

knew about Max. And she felt the whole thing was harmless.

It's just Greta being Greta.

It didn't occur to Greta to call the marriage off

because she was having a torrid affair.

She kept the two narratives distinct in her mind.

They coexisted, as if in twin universes, separated by vast fields of space.

At the end of that crazy week, Greta felt very much in love with Lee.

The week with Max had left her feeling absolutely gorgeous.

Now, she wished he would disappear.

-Is he even Jewish? -What difference does it make?

Makes a difference.

They were married in Lee's hometown in Ohio.

Greta's father took her new life as a personal affront.

He didn't think Lee had size.

Everyone in the Herskovitz clan had to have size.

But Lee made Greta feel safe, and she adored his family.

Thank you, O Lord, for the meal we are about to receive.

And God bless everyone in this home. Amen.

His pure, humble quest for knowledge made her want to live a simple, decent life.

She had stopped desiring other men. She wanted to have a baby.

She felt the ambition drain out of her, like pus from a lanced boil.

So, how long is Matola going to take to finish this book?

I have no idea.

-It could be years, right? -Not everyone writes as slowly as you do.

I'm sorry.

A tacit agreement had grown between them

that she wouldn't see Lee's dissertation until it was finished.

Now, she felt perversely drawn to the text.

As she read it, it was all she could do to stop herself

from deleting whole paragraphs.

The thing was swollen to bursting with redundancies.

Why can't he write like he talks?

But do you need that? Do you think you really need this part?

As the weeks wore on, the groping continued.

But she would never sleep with him.

-I'm just feeling like it's... -Sorry I'm late.

-Hi, Darius. How are you? -Good. How are you doing?

You sure that's what you want to do?

You know, she's trying. She'll work on it.

You know, it's not all her. It's me.

Thavi Matola's book was hailed as a masterpiece, and sold big.

Thavi thanked Greta warmly in the acknowledgments.

A week after the book was reviewed,

Greta had an offer from another publishing house.

They wanted her to work as one of their senior editors

for an enormous pay hike.

Greta gave Gelb a chance to match it.

When he balked, she took the new job, and Thavi left with her.

When Greta's father heard the news of her success,

he insisted on throwing a party.

-Come on in, guys. -The place looks great.

How you doing?

-My God! How are you, man? -Good.

This is Chris. Greta, my wife.

-We went to college together. -How do you know the Herskovitzes?

-It's her dad. -So, what's new? Where have you been?

All is very well. Still working hard on the dissertation.

Hope I'm getting near what I hope is the end...

-Hi, Dad. -There she is.

-How are you? -How you been?

She hadn't let him get this close to her in years.

-Congratulations. -Thank you.

We thought we'd lost you.

-You didn't. Hi. -Hi, Greta.

I remember the funniest stories about you guys.

You've turned into this huge success.

Very unusual person, I imagine.

I'm really pleased. I had such a really interesting,

and thrilling, challenging time with Thavi.

And I really got on top of it, you know?

I really loved it. I loved editing.

-He sounds so interesting. -He's so interesting.

Darling, they're here. Come on.

She's played dead all these years, and now look at her.

Everyone has their own personal velocity.

It was sweet of my dad to throw that party.

-Even though they were all his friends. -It was fun.

Now that you're done, maybe we can take a long weekend somewhere.

Sounds great.

How could he still love me?

If he does, it's because he doesn't know me.

I'm rotten with ambition, a lusty little troll

the kind of demon you'd find on hell's bottom floor,

pulling fingernails off the loan sharks.

She tried hard to stay with it,

but her mind was swarming with images from the party.

She couldn't help wondering if, one day,

she might raise enough money from her dad's friends

to start her own publishing house.

The next day was the first day of her new job.

A man police identified as Desmond Canetto

was shot in the head by an unidentified gunman

while driving down Varick Street at 4:00 this morning.

Police say Canetto was probably dead at the wheel

when his car veered into the sidewalk, hitting one man

and grazing an unidentified woman, who left the scene of the accident.

Morning.

Anything funny in the paper?

Suddenly a terrible thought came into Greta's mind, clear and cruel.

-All right? -Yeah.

She was going to dump her beautiful husband,

like a redundant paragraph.

"Everyday, somewhere in the United States,

"an extremely rich person wakes up in his or her extremely large bedroom,

"and decides that it is time to give something back

"by running for public office of great prestige and power..."

A freak accident in Manhattan has left two men dead.

A man police identified as Desmond Canetto

was shot in the head by an unidentified gunman

while driving down Varick Street at 4:00 this morning.

Police say Canetto was probably dead at the wheel

when his car veered into the sidewalk, hitting one man

and grazing an unidentified woman, who left the scene of the accident.

The victim, identified as Erland Stonstrom, a Norwegian national,

was taken to St. Vincent's emergency room where we just had word he died,

after struggling for his life for several hours.

There are no suspects in the shooting. This is Maria Ramirez...

You're my first hitchhiker.

You never picked up anyone before?

-No. -Why'd you pick me?

She had known he was a sign.

I'm gonna go get some more donuts, okay?

I'll be right back.

-Can I help you? -Yeah.

Can I get a box of honey-glazed and two large coffees, please.

-Weren't you just here? -I'm pregnant.

-That it? -Yeah.

$5, please.

Where do you want to be dropped off?

-Where are you headed? -Upstate.

Upstate's fine.

Okeydokey.

She didn't know where she was going.

Do you want to come in?

I guess not.

Be back in a second.

Paula hadn't been home in two years.

Since her mother got the new boyfriend, and her father moved to Arizona.

Oh, my God, it is you!

I thought I was hallucinating up there.

-Hey, sweetheart. -Hi, Mama.

-Are you all right? -I'm fine.

-You want some coffee? Do you want juice? -Juice.

Peter's going to be down in a minute.

Isn't he usually at work by now?

-Why didn't you call first? -I was just stopping by. Is it okay?

It's fine. Are you okay, are you sure?

I'm fine.

-Hello, Paula. -Hello.

You changed your hair.

Thank you.

-What brings you up our way? -I came to see my mother.

How much do you need?

-What happened to you? -I was in an accident.

With the car?

I was with this guy, and he got run over.

-Oh, my God. -We'd just switched places.

Sixty seconds earlier, and it would have been me.

Start from the beginning, honey.

Vincent and I had had a fight.

She had just found out she was pregnant,

and he came home from the laundromat with wet clothes in the hamper.

The damp underwear hanging over the radiators filled her with panic.

She hadn't told him about the baby.

She knew it would get real if she said it. She didn't want it to get real.

I'd gone to a club with Fiona and Jackie.

Don't disapprove, okay?

Because otherwise I'm not going to tell you.

I didn't say anything.

This guy offered me a drink.

He had an accent.

So, I asked him where he was from, and he said Norway.

Said that he directed some music videos out in LA for MTV.

There was a recognition between them, tension.

They were hungry for each other's conversation.

They talked for hours.

She kept wondering if he was the reason why she'd come here.

I used to write. I used to paint.

Now I'm a waitress.

I think I'll be one of those people with a lot of potential

-who never really takes off. -Those are always the best people.

And we were walking and talking,

and this car drove by, and muddy water splashed all over me.

I'm sorry. My fault.

He apologized, and he said that the man should walk on the outside,

so the woman doesn't get dirty. So we switched.

And then I heard a noise, like a shot. I said, "Is that a shot?"

He said, "No, it's a car." Then we kept walking.

And then there was a smack on my arm. And he vaporized, next to me.

And then I was on my face on the street.

And...

I sat up and I looked around, and he was...

Nowhere. And...

There was a car at the end of the block. It was crashed.

And then I saw him draped over a parking meter.

There's cops everywhere, and I was having trouble breathing.

And I just took off.

I just ran away.

And I got in the car. I started driving, and driving.

I don't even know what I'm doing here.

But I know that I'm not supposed to go home.

What do you mean, you're not supposed to go home?

I want to get an underwater camera.

I'm gonna get one.

Her mind was racing through images, ideas.

She wanted to write, to paint. She had so many scattered ambitions.

This was her chance.

She was going to make it all happen.

She's here. Hold on. It's Vincent.

-Hi. -Paula...

I called the police. I have been going out of my mind.

I was going to call.

Great. Thanks.

What happened?

They had met two years earlier, a week after she had run away from home.

You look like you were waiting for something.

She had been, she always was.

That afternoon, she moved into his apartment.

She had no place else to go.

She felt that he had been drawn across the sky

all the way from Haiti, to save her.

A year passed.

When are you coming home?

I don't know.

I don't believe this.

-Okay. -Okay, what?

Me, too. See you later.

I'll see you soon.

Who's the kid in the car?

He needed a ride.

-You picked up some strange kid? -Yes.

-Maybe he's cold. -I left the engine running.

She left the keys in the car with some runaway.

That's not safe...

-I'm going to work. -Okay.

You probably won't be here when I get back.

I'll say good-bye now.

He's just like Dad, only he's uglier.

You make him defensive.

I'm pregnant.

I'm not going to keep it, though.

What are you doing?

How pregnant?

She could feel the thing inside her, an ache without pain.

She imagined it sucking the seconds out of her life, as it built itself,

cell by cell, devouring.

Hello. No, Vincent, you know.

No, I don't know.

Hold on.

Don't do this!

Okay, it's time for you to go.

I'm going to give you some money.

Here's $30. Good luck.

Do you got anywhere to go?

My uncle.

You've been a great traveling companion.

Oh, my God.

She saw the edge of a wound, bruises.

We're going to the hospital. That's it.

Wait!

Get back here.

Wait!

Please stop!

I'm sorry.

We don't have to go to the hospital, okay? I promise.

We'll go to a pharmacy.

We'll just get some disinfectant and some gauze, okay?

And then I'll let you go on your way.

Stay calm. It's okay. I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?

Come on. Let's go back to the car.

I'm sorry.

Wait.

Can I help you?

-Paula Friedrich. -Hi, Mrs. Toron.

It's been ages. You're in Manhattan now, aren't you?

I assumed you were off at college, but your mother said you were in the city.

-Yes, ma'am. -Wesley's a senior at Syracuse.

That's great.

Listen, I'm sorry. I'm really in a bit of a hurry.

I'm looking for some

disinfecting gel, antibacterial.

I think I can rummage that up.

Thank you.

-Do you need anything else? -No, thanks.

How much do I owe you?

-Just go. -Thank you.

Sit down.

Where are you hurt?

All over.

Listen, I'm sorry I have to do this,

but if I don't disinfect those cuts, they're going to get infected.

Here.

I'm sorry.

Deep breath, okay?

I'm sorry.

Okay.

Almost there.

-Yes? -It's me.

Where are you?

-I'm in a hotel. -What's the problem?

I don't know.

I was driving down the road, and there was this boy on the road.

He looked so cold.

I picked him up.

And I found out he was really badly beaten.

What do you mean, beaten?

It looks like somebody tied him to something, and tortured him.

It's so awful.

So you're in a motel with this kid?

Yeah. I had to help him.

He doesn't have anywhere to go.

He's just a baby, Vincent.

Can't we take him home?

Just back to Brooklyn, just for a little while?

Are you crazy? We've got no space.

-You don't know this kid. -Please.

Please, honey.

Don't make me leave him here. I can't do it.

I'm sorry.

Baby, listen.

Something happened.

I was with this guy, and he got hit by a car.

-We'd just traded places. -Your mother just told me.

I don't know what all of this means,

but it's got to mean something, don't you see that?

If he hadn't been with me, he wouldn't be dead.

It makes sense.

It's gotta be a sign.

-I don't know. -Bring the kid.

He can stay with us. We'll take care of him.

Just come home.

Please, come home.

And take a train. I don't want you to drive like this.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

I talked to my boyfriend.

He said that it's fine if you want to come and stay with us in Brooklyn for a while,

till you get better.

You know, till we figure out something to do.

I'm way too tired to drive. So, we'll take a train, okay?

I'm going to live with you?

Just for a little while, I mean, with me and my boyfriend,

until we sort stuff out.

What do you want for lunch? I'm going to get an egg sandwich.

I don't think I'm going to have lunch just now.

Okay.

Think about it.

I'll pick you up an egg sandwich for later.

What?

You little shit!

-You want me to call the police? -No, I know him.

Shit!

Can you tell me how to get to the train station from here?

Sure. Make a right here, and then go down to the end of the road

and it's right there.

Okay. Thank you.