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They stone her, Fred.

You reading one of Shirley's stories?

The whole town, even her own children.

They all stone her.

That's creepy.

It's terrific!

I'm in town.

Can't you hear me, honey?

I'm in town.

Hangin' 'round just waiting for you.

Can't you see you're the one and only one for me.

Mm, you'll be a dream came true.

Your caress is a heartful of happiness.

I confess I just can't live without your kisses,

but I'm going to say ain't nobody gonna bring me down.

Oh, happy day.

Honey baby I'm in town oh.

Oh!

Moving target, bonus points.

That looks delicious.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, oh!

Welcome to our hallow end of the earth, my boy!

Welcome to Bennington.

Oh!

And, oh, who is this lovely dove?

Rose Nemser.

You must be Professor Hyman.

Oh, Stanley.

Stanley.

I profess nothing.

Come, come, come, come, come.

Let's get you watered down.

I'll bring him back in one piece, Rosie.

Okay.

I'm trudging back up the hill, and I'm cursing my back.

I'm cursing my feet.

I'm cursing all of goddamn humanity.

And then it hit me.

The whole thing.

So I sat down at my desk, and two hours later,

the most reviled story "The New Yorker" has ever printed.

I read it as an anti-Semitic parable

in the tradition of Isaac Babel.

Calling my wife an anti-Semite, are we?

Well, to be fair, she never hated a single Jew

until she married me.

We had a wonderful courtship.

Didn't we, dear?

He asked me out for cheeseburgers.

Who could refuse such a--

such a romance?

Next thing I know, he's ripping apart a story of mine.

Then he has the gall to tell me that he has lost his wallet.

That wallet's been lost for over 20 years.

Now, mind you, that story was the most remarkable story

I'd ever read.

I knew I was going to marry the woman who wrote it.

I was going to hunt her down and make her marry me.

To our suffering, my dear.

There's not enough scotch in the world for that one.

So, Shirley, what are you writing now?

A little novella I'm calling, "None

of Your Goddamn Business."

Excuse me, I'm Rose.

Rose Nemser.

Betty, Debbie, Kathy-- you're all the same to me.

No, no.

I'm Fred's wife.

Fred Nemser.

He's helping Professor Hyman with this semester.

We were invited to stay here for a few days,

until we could find a place.

No one said you were pregnant.

W-we weren't telling anybody yet.

I-I-I read your story.

There have been several.

"The Lottery."

When I read it, it made me feel--

thrillingly horrible.

Father, did you bring me silver?

Father, did you bring me any gold?

That was Lead Belly.

Huddie Ledbetter.

This is Myth and Folklore.

I am Professor Stanley Hyman, your fearless leader

for the next 12 weeks.

As we ascend to the heights of the gods and stoop

to the very depths of human depravity.

Oh.

Hello.

Hi.

Isn't he great?

Oh, terrific.

I wish my Chaucer class that I'm auditing

wasn't at the same time.

Oh, well, there'll be other semesters.

Sure.

Might I burden you with a favour?

Hmm.

What's that?

Shirley has these bouts and just can't--

can't keep up with the household, shopping,

and our last housekeeper just quit.

Oh.

Bad back or lungs, I don't recall.

Maybe gout?

But it would be such a titanic help

if you would just tidy up a bit.

Excuse me?

Maybe chip in with the laundry.

Yes?

The cooking?

Oh.

Well, no, no, no.

That's too much.

Don't think I confuse you for a scullery maid.

It's just, we are in a bit of a bind.

Well, perhaps I could help out in between classes?

Well, obviously, room and board on us.

Oh, no, no, no.

We couldn't.

No, no, no.

Of course.

We couldn't.

Of course.

I insist.

Might you stay, hmm?

Just until we're-- settled in, hmm?

How's your rump roast?

I love hot food in hot weather.

He really seems in a bind.

It could be sort of fun, hmm?

Or we say no.

I like your walk.

Your simple ways.

A million things about you, honey, I could trade.

a 'Cause everything about you

Appeals to me.

I'm counting down from three.

Three.

Two.

One.

Get dressed for dinner, darling.

Please.

Try.

Go away.

I really think the two of them are gonna work out.

Did you see our kitchen?

A clean house is evidence of mental inferiority.

Well, thank god for the simpletons.

How else would we ever have fresh linens?

You hired spies, is that it?

I'm trying to help you, Shirl.

Take some of the pressure off so you can get your work done.

I don't want strangers here.

I don't like them.

We've already discussed it, dear.

Fred's going to lighten my class load so that I

can be around the house more.

Won't you like that?

You can't expect me to indulge this, can you?

Hmm?

Staying in bed all day?

Well, the party was too much.

It set me back.

You have to get back to your desk!

You're putting an undue amount of pressure on me.

Fussing over you when I have work to do.

You don't want my work to suffer, do you?

No.

I'm going to get better.

I promise.

I will.

Starting tomorrow.

No, starting tonight.

You are putting on clean clothes and sitting

at the table for a proper meal.

I can't.

You will.

Besides, it's cocktail hour.

Up, up, up.

It's going to be so dull.

Well, I didn't ask you to behave at the table.

Ooh, hoo, hoo.

Oh, a gorgeous slab of flesh.

Oh, it was nothing.

Oh, go on, my boy.

Shed a layer.

We aren't formal in this house.

I've often thought about participating

in the Native American ritual of the sweat lodge.

Thank you.

Often?

Why, yes, dear.

But then I learned you have to crawl through a dirt tunnel

under the ground and sit naked buttocks to naked buttocks

with a dozen other men while some shaman stokes

a smoky fire, maintaining the 100-degree heat,

and peddles some noxious root tea

that inspires hallucinations.

So when's the baby due?

The baby?

Oops.

Was it supposed to be a surprise?

You should have told me that, dear.

Well, I hope it's yours.

Of course it's his.

February.

Hmm.

Right, darling?

I would really rather discuss something else

if you don't mind.

February.

Huh.

Did you tell him you were knocked up before the wedding?

I fear, my love, stories of copulations

might leave the table without an appetite.

But that one does have a sixth sense about babies.

Calls it.

Girl or a boy, she's never wrong.

Is poor Freddie here going to be disappointed?

OK.

Shall I?

Stay put.

You promised to take care of that.

As you wish, dear.

So, Rose, you were telling us about your shotgun wedding.

Excuse me.

I should see if she's all right.

I feel a bit like we're in a Scottish play.

I, the Thane of Cawdor, with a murderous prophecy

over my head.

And you, Lady M, on the verge of madness.

What will happen?

I have a title.

"Hangsaman."

It's about that girl.

The missing one.

The Welden girl?

What do you think?

Well, you haven't said much.

Well, it's just an idea.

I can try something else.

Disappearing college girls.

Sounds trite and a bit trashy but, you know, give it a go.

I'll read, of course, before you wade too far in.

It's going to take some time.

Well, give it to me in a couple of days.

It's a novel.

Oh, no, dear.

That's-- you're not--

you're just not up to it.

You're wrong.

Darling, you haven't been out of the house in two months.

You're barely able to put on a pair of stockings.

Ease back, that's all I'm saying.

If that phone rings one more time during dinner.

Stanley, so help me, I'm going to take care of it myself.

I'm well within the bounds of our agreement.

Ah.

Mm-hmm.

Our agreement didn't include sluts interrupting my dinner.

I will talk to her and tell you everything, as I always do.

You're really scraping the barrel these days.

Yes I wonder who's boogiein' my woogie now.

I wonder who's boogiein' my woogie now.

I wonder whose boogiein' my woogie now.

Said the little red rooster to the little white hen,

ain't had no lovin' since I don't know when.

I wonder who's boogiein' my woogie now.

No, nothing he said was--

One week.

That's enough time, please.

Maybe she'll even out.

She gets better.

No, she's a fucking monster.

Shh, shh.

Hey.

Hey, look at me.

Look at me.

Don't upset yourself.

It's a big opportunity for us.

Do you like your students?

I like you.

Are they smarter--

Smarter?

--do you think--

No.

--than my class?

No.

Just richer.

Always wore a red coat.

Last seen at the trailhead.

Paula was 17 and already disappointed

the dread of going to college--

no.

She was 17, an age that brought with it the possibility

of a whole life ahead--

fuck.

That brought with it the stabbing nervousness

that at any moment her life would go horribly--

fuck.

article links the tonality of the

to the Appellation Morning ballads in the second volume

of Frances Child's collection.

That's grand, just grand.

Yes, that's what I was cross referencing in chapter

7 of my dissertation.

I'm not sure if you had the opportunity to read that--

Good God, son, might I have a cup of coffee in peace?

Keep an eye on the missus for me, won't you dear?

Of course, professor.

Stop that this instant, Mrs. Nemser.

Stanley.

Mm?

Don't make me tell you again.

OK.

You want to see what a writer does?

Absolutely nothing.

Come here.

Look for anything with fertility,

maternity, or full moon in the title.

All right

I'm a witch, didn't anyone tell you?

Happy, healthy baby.

That's a spell we need.

Unless you want a spell for the other thing.

H-how-- how could you even say that?

Motherhood comes with a price, you know.

Cut them.

Go on.

They won't bite.

Sit.

What did you see?

Paula.

Paula preferred to keep her expectations of people meagre

at best.

Why should she be constantly taking it?

Why should she be constantly disappointed?

Yet she couldn't help but wonder, what was she missing?

This-- this doubt was intensified by the girl

with the sweater set sitting across from her at dinner.

Shirley?

What are you doing in here?

Sorry, I thought I'd bring you coffee, I'm sorry.

Get out!

Get out!

Sorry, I'm sorry.

Don't touch my writing, don't touch anything.

Out!

You were drunk.

I thought you were meant to be advising the Shakespeare

society.

I didn't know they served booze at that.

They don't, don't be stupid.

I just stopped for a few drinks at the men's club, that's all.

Who's that jealous housewife?

Is it because, you know--

No. no, you're beautiful.

I had a crazy dream.

Mud oozing from the fridge, big worms coming out of the--

coming out of the crisper.

These are just the fattest fingers.

Heh.

Freud would've had a field day.

I haven't read any.

Do you regret it?

Not reading Freud?

And dropping out.

I'm keeping up, reading when I can.

After the baby, Fred says I can go back to school.

He's allowing you, wow.

Was he at the Shakespeare society tonight?

Fred's a good man.

So you've said.

His parents cut him off when we eloped.

And he knew they would.

But he married me anyway.

And you have to prove that you're worth it.

Yeah?

Hm.

Sounds exhausting.

I'm lost, Rosie.

I'm just lost.

Do you know what it's like to have a secret?

I can't write worth a damn.

You're a terrific writer, ev-- everyone loves your work.

They talk about me in town.

I see things on people's faces, they--

they're afraid to-- to brush up against me.

My dark thoughts are going to inf--

infect them.

This book it's-- it might kill me.

I can't figure out this girl.

Maybe disappearing was the only way

anyone would notice her.

I need you to run an errand for me.

Christ.

Oh, so the writing's going well then.

Please don't ever ask me that again.

I need you to run up to campus.

OK, I can send Fred.

No.

No, this is between us.

Stanley doesn't really want you being alone right now.

Forget it.

No--

Forget I ever asked.

I just thought you would like a little adventure.

I'm simply saying that I would go with you if you wanted

an outing, like a picnic.

Do you want to make up some egg salad sandwiches?

Fly a kite while we're at it?

Please.

Do this for me.

Paula normally hated socialising at school,

but she forced herself to do it.

Hi, Caroline.

Back again, Mrs. Nemser.

My, you are a voracious reader.

You know, you and Fred should come to the house.

The dean and I would love to have you.

Plus, it must be rather dull for young folks like you,

spend all your time with--

with that woman, I mean.

I hear she never leaves the house.

Or her bed, for that matter.

She's gone sick in the head.

No she's-- she's working quite hard.

Every hour, every day.

I only get my information from Stanley.

She was relieved to spot

someone lurking near the punch bowl,

looking as miserable as she felt.

But his was a face that she'd never seen before on campus,

and men were always easily spotted.

Herman house, huh?

Yes, sir.

I can't get my carriers to deliver up there anymore.

She writes stories with cannibalism in them.

That's what I've heard.

Mr. Fisher.

Do you-- do you often give young girls

rides in your postal truck?

I'm not sure I like your question.

Oh, I just mean is it a habit of yours to shuttle

college girls along your route?

Paula was proud of the way

she contradicted him, how she stayed ahead

of the conversation.

This is what it's like to be a grown woman talking to a man.

I never seen Paula before that day in my life.

Giving her a ride was a Samaritan thing to do.

Girl was half frozen, nothing but thin sneakers on.

Said she was going for a hike.

Now I wasn't going to get any further into her business.

But I didn't like that, seeing it was almost sundown,

she had no knapsack, she had no provisions.

I assume she must have been meeting someone.

When they were at the party,

he had barely looked at her.

His voice had a lightness.

Let's go somewhere quieter, he said, a hand on her back.

But now-- nut now, away from everyone,

his voice was muted, floating above her.

And she couldn't-- she couldn't contradict him.

Are you all right?

You little thief.

Severe menstrual cramps last week of November.

Doesn't go home for the holiday.

Meaning?

Meaning?

A miscarriage.

And a week later, she goes missing.

That's good work, Rosie.

And the post office?

Randy Fisher said that he thought

she was meeting someone.

Hm.

The timing is perfect.

She gets pregnant, she won't go home for Thanksgiving,

and a week later there's a rendezvous in the woods.

Why there?

Because she's ashamed to have someone meet her at campus.

Or he doesn't want to be seen there.

Because other people might recognise him.

Someone recognisable from campus.

Yes.

Someone with authority.

Meet me at the trail, and she does.

A professor?

Why would she go?

If you were her, and an accomplished, confident,

smart man paid attention to you--

you'd never really been in love--

would you go?

Shirley?

You all right?

You OK in there?

Did I startle you, Rosie?

I-- I thought--

I thought you were--

It's just we three for dinner.

Oh wait, two--

Shirley doesn't want to eat.

Fred's up on campus tonight rising the Shakespeare society.

Then I'll make her a plate.

Mm.

Mm-mm.

She wants to eat, she needs to come to the table.

Sure.

No, thank you.

You know she's not a child, Stanley.

Who's saying she is?

We just have to get her back to her desk, back to her work.

She's working constantly, she barely has time for lunch.

Poor thing.

She must really be having a time of it.

I haven't seen anything yet.

Well, there are pages and pages of a manuscript just sitting

right on her desk.

You've read it?

No.

No, of course not.

But you can differentiate a stack of pages

from a manuscript.

Such a bright girl.

Is there any of our pie left?

Rosie said she's got half a manuscript already.

I wonder why she would say that.

Just inquiring, darling.

You're not halfway through a novel you haven't shown me?

No.

No, I don't-- it's mostly grocery lists.

Well, in that case, I'll just pop over

to the dean's before dinner.

You do that.

Say hello to Caroline.

Shirley?

Shirley!

Hey.

Let's go home.

Come on.

The death cap mushroom, fatal to anyone who ingests it.

Don't you find it exhilarating?

Oh, most young women are fascinated by their mortality.

They shouldn't be.

And the truth is nobody really cares if you live

or if you die.

Do you want to taste it?

No.

Split it with me.

It could stop our hearts from beating.

Shirley-- spit it out.

Spit it out right now.

Spit it out!

I'm going to go get help.

What?

Why are you laughing?

It's not poisonous.

But you said it was the--

It's not going to kill me.

--the death cap.

These are the death cap mushrooms.

These are oyster mushrooms.

You had them in your omelet yesterday.

I like you, Rosie.

Why would I want to harm you?

You could run, run fast away from me, but you don't.

Why don't you?

Why do you stay?

Can I trust you, Rosie?

Do you want to betray me?

Paula felt that no one really cared if she lived

or if she died.

Not that she was afraid of death.

She thought about it all the time.

It was the way she might die that frightened her--

ingloriously, face down in the soup.

I stopped by the dean's office today.

Just a formality, welcoming new faculty and all that.

He hinted there might be an opening

in the English department next fall.

Well that'd be nice.

Yes.

I just keep waiting for Stanley to loosen the reins a bit.

I'm not a lackey, after all.

I have lectures prepared on my own.

Don't want to sit on the bench all season.

Mm.

Ow! --the fuck is this?

Oh no, no, no, no, no--

There's a nest under the bed--

No, it's nettle.

I'm getting a broom.

It's nettle, It's a fertility offering.

What?

It's a fertility offering.

No.

You are not getting into that bullshit.

I'm not getting into anything, just leave it be.

I'm sorry.

She did this.

What is this, some sort of hex?

No, I don't believe that.

You don't believe in it?

Hm?

Rosie--

No.

Not what, a bit?

Not at all?

Not one--

Not even a little bit?

Stop it, I'm tired.

Can we stay on a little longer?

I need to keep working on Stanley.

Would you mind?

Don't get any ideas.

Not even a little idea?

I have a little idea.

Wake me early.

Stop it, I'm sleeping.

You want to replace my morning ballads

lecture with your own?

Of course I'm not going to touch

any of the Delta spirituals--

Freddy.

Freddy, let things settle, shall we?

There's one other thing--

Oh, joy, there's more.

I would like you to read my dissertation.

Son, easy-- you're under a lot of pressure with the baby.

No, no, this has nothing to do with the baby.

I would like you to recommend my work to your editor.

Of course I've read your dissertation,

of course I have.

Huh?

Well, how did you think you got this job?

All right, good talk.

Now run out that steam, hm?

Vigors of youth, wasted on the young.

Shirl?

That boy always had everything handed to him--

Ivy education, perfect teeth.

We would never behave like that.

Alka seltzer.

We were always the outsiders.

Everywhere we went, we fought for every last crumb

that was accidentally dropped in our path.

But these entitled pricks just expect

the world to be handed to them like it's their divine right.

Why don't you just give him a lecture, what's the--

Look, I built that class, I built that department.

Year upon year, I did that.

And he dashes off some mediocre dissertation.

Which you didn't read.

I didn't need to!

Just tell him no.

No.

He's played the system.

Over my dead body will that boy be getting tenure.

Give him enough rope and he will hang himself.

Good point.

Mm-hmm.

You're getting on well with the wifey.

She has her moments.

I might say you are smitten with her.

I don't smote.

Well met, well met, said an old true love.

Well met, well met, said he.

I'm just returning from the salt, salt sea,

and it's all for the love of thee.

Come in, come in, my old true love, and have a seat by me.

It's been three-fourths of a long, long year

since together we have been.

Well, I can't come in or I can't sit down, for I haven't but

a moment's time.

They say you're married--

So, my name is Professor Nemser--

Fred, Fred Nemser-- stepping in for Professor Hyman today.

So OK, well, uh--

yes, let's start with this one.

Can anyone tell me--

can anyone identify that musical excerpt?

No.

Do we need to hear it again?

Use the good China.

I'm looking.

And the silver.

Professor Nemser is home, ladies.

Ladies, fetch the good professor a cocktail.

So it went well.

Oh he was a triumph!

A triumph, I tell you.

Had all the gals eating out of the palm of his hand.

Oh.

I did all right.

Shirley, get out here, the boy wonder is home.

Would you like a drink?

I'd love a drink.

Well met, well met,

said my own true love.

Well met--

Whoa--

Well met, well met, said she.

I've just returned from the salt, salt sea,

and it's all for the love of thee.

What is all this hollering about--

Come in--

Come in, my own true love.

Come in and sit with me.

It's been three--

Come on.

We have to-- all right, all right--

It's not my turn, no no no no no--

I haven't a moment's time--

I'm a very delicate woman.

They say you're married to a house carpenter

and your heart will never be mine.

There we go, I'm not drinking alone.

Thank you.

Cheers.

I was reading my way through your dissertation last night.

I've actually read it twice, both times last night.

You were right, I only skimmed it before,

but it was sufficient to hire you.

That's excellent.

I'm trying to think of the word I'd use to sum it up.

Well, you can use several.

I thought it was very engaging for an--

I've got it.

Let's see, it was derivative.

In-- in-- in what ways is it derivative?

Oh-- in the ways that it was all derived from others' work.

I-- I spent years and years and hundreds of hours

of research, read everything.

Yes, I'm sure.

But you didn't do any thinking.

Just the same old chattering on, no new ideas--

No new ideas?

I think you're oversimplifying--

Darling, you're hardly the first person to hear this lecture.

Originality isn't something one can simply will to manifest.

That right, my dear?

If it were only true.

No.

Originality is the brilliant alchemy of critical thought

and creativity.

And your work is so original.

Who am I to say?

But it has been said of me.

Have you ever thought about teaching at the high school

level?

Exceedingly rewarding.

I'm going to my bedroom to refresh my--

Oh, you've done it.

Was it really that bad?

You know how insulted I am by mediocrity.

If it was awful, that would have been exciting.

But terrifically competent-- there's no excuse for that.

I respect your opinion, I really do, but it is not

shared by the dean--

not at all.

Perhaps we can discuss this next Friday, the faculty party?

Splendid.

It's that time of year again--

the dean's party.

No need to bother, darling.

I know how you abhor the hoi polloi.

Oh, I think I can make my annual appearance, darling.

It's the least I can do for you.

I have a lead on an apartment, we'll

be out before semester break.

If you get the job in the English department,

we're going to have to see them all the time, live

in the same town, so just--

I don't-- I don't understand.

First you want to go, now I want to, and you're trying to--

I don't like the way he talks to you any more than you do.

Is this about Shirley?

What?

I could see how she relies on you.

The way she talks to you, your secret looks.

You sound crazy, she's my friend.

Women like Shirley don't have friends.

If we are going to be treated to a scene,

I, for one, would love to be forewarned.

Oh, I'm not one for dramatics.

Yet your appearance-- you don't look up for it, my dear.

I'm going to the party.

Well, that would require you leaving the house, something

that seems difficult for you to manage at this point in time.

I am going to that party.

Shirley, do you need me to get you another size?

Here.

I found something that I think is going to look good on you.

You want to try it on?

Hm?

What do you think?

Hm?

Here.

See?

Stunning.

Do you think she killed herself?

Paula.

Do you think she went to the woods to kill herself?

Let's pray for a boy.

The world is too cruel to girls.

Paula was seized with the desire

to tell her friend every single thought she had ever had.

And after she had done that, Paula herself would

cease to exist, because there would be no more thoughts, no

more words.

And then she would be free to do anything

she pleased, because she wasn't there anymore.

Come here.

Come here.

You are hiding something.

No I'm not.

Hm.

--and you find that every semester--

Darling, making a mess of your meal.

Did you know your wife was such a good cook

before you married her?

She's a better cook than my mother.

Oh, come now, that's not true.

Such a rare thing, to find someone who doesn't merely

feed you but anticipates your needs, day after day,

to sate your hunger.

Who stokes your appetite and leaves you feeling filled.

It's truly rare, don't you think, Stanley?

Rare indeed.

Stanley, would you refill our cook's glass?

She has been on her feet all day.

I suddenly got very tired, I think I'm going to have to,

uh, go up to bed.

Hm.

You might have a fever or something.

Come here.

Yes, you might, you're feeling a little flush.

I really think I'm just tired.

Yeah?

- I - swear I'm just tired.

Fred, you'd better go put your wife to bed

before she faints in the sauerkraut.

What are you up to?

You're unusually cheerful.

Are you going to finish your book?

So, uh, what becomes of your dear heroine?

What happens to all lost girls--

they go mad.

The one, the only, Shirley Jackson.

Dean Sands.

Caroline!

Shirley's here.

Hello!

What a lovely skirt you have.

What a lovely, insouciant tone you have.

Shirley, you're too much.

I never know what you're going to say.

Neither do I.

Rose, I would love you to meet some of the other faculty

wives.

Come, come, darling.

You wood sprite.

You terrify me.

Reading your stories, the world doesn't feel the same.

The other night I was alone in my office,

and I was petrified by the paperweight on my desk.

What if I simply lifted it up and bashed my skull in?

How do you do that?

They're just stories.

No, they are prophecies.

Delightful little entertainments,

but prophecies nonetheless.

Oh, here we go.

Stars were bright, my heart

was psyched, as we went whirling through the night

and you and I learned to dance.

Oh hey, butterscotch.

What are you doing in this shindy?

My husband, I'm looking for him.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, big fancy-- a husband.

Have you seen Fred?

Maybe try out on the porch.

Paula was long past their sophomoric treacle,

a writhing nest of hairpins, stockings, and formal gowns.

The names they called her penetrated, intact,

through her closed door--

creepy, loner, disturbed.

It didn't concern her, because when she first

came to the school, the bad--

the bad thing happened.

She was so frightened, and she didn't have any friends,

and she never supposed she would want--

she never supposed she would need anyone.

But now that she had found a friend,

she felt the old fear leaching back.

What-- what are you doing?

Oh my goodness.

What?

No, no, no.

No!

Don't rub, dab.

You'd bore him to death in a week.

I would comfort him.

Well, he is an expert at finding a willing pair of legs

to open wide.

You'd die without him, he says.

That's the only reason he stays.

Shirley?

Shirley?

What happened?

Are you all right?

Take me home.

What do you see?

I see tired mama.

You're never here!

Rosie.

Rose, stop, please.

Stanley!

You rang, Madam?

Out.

We are drinking scotch because you worked straight

through dinner, dear, as is your habit, apparently,

these many, many weeks.

And I'm here to say I'm sick of it.

I hate sitting at the table alone,

it makes me feel like a widower.

Or worse, a decrepit feudal lord.

All right, now you've left me in a vexing position.

And the children in bed by 9 with their little one,

take pity.

Won't you let me read it, darling?

No.

It's nothing yet.

The thing is, Stanley, I don't know if it ever will be.

I have no idea of an ending.

Well, all the more reason for me to have a peek.

Has the little wifey read it?

Yes, of course.

She's a regular William Shawn.

She comes in here and we sit by the fire,

and she gives me line edits.

And then she scurries back into the kitchen to make me supper.

Stanley, don't be mad at me.

No, it's the genre, darling, that's stymieing you.

It's not your arena, and frankly, it's beneath you.

Keep your theories to yourself.

Well, you didn't know her.

Don't tell me that I do not know this girl.

Look, I might have walked by her a dozen times on campus.

There's nothing fascinating about this girl

except that she's gone.

What has she done?

You don't know your subject, she's a nothing.

Who is she to you?

There are dozens and dozens

of girls like this, littering campuses across the country.

Lonely girls who cannot make the world see them.

Do not tell me I do not know this girl, don't you dare.

So you think it might be that good.

Whoa, whoa, whoa--

Get out.

Out!

Might it be time, then,

to send the little children away?

I didn't know you came home last night.

Well, I didn't want to wake you.

I slept on the sofa in Stanley's study, we had a nightcap.

Is there coffee?

You smell like a gin bath.

Oh, um, I ran out of eggs, so--

By the way, Stanley found us a place.

What?

We get to move out in a week.

Stanley is kicking us out.

Don't we have anything sweet around here to eat?

OK.

Shh, shh, shh.

Shirley?

Shirley?

Shh, shh.

Can you get me that book?

The blue one on top?

This one?

Yes.

Thank you.

This is Stanley's syllabus.

And, uh, the last name on the list before mine is Paula's.

Which means that she was taking his class, maybe,

at the time that she disappeared.

I know who my husband is screwing.

Do you know who yours has?

Fred hasn't.

See, there's no such thing

as the Shakespeare society.

It's just how the girls pick which professors

that they're going to fuck.

Shirley--

Shirley!

Open the door.

Shirley, please.

You knew this whole time?

Why didn't you tell me six months ago?

Shirley?

Shirley, open the door, please.

I trusted you!

One.

Baby, count one.

While you're having fun with someone else,

don't come around.

Two.

Baby, count two.

Excuse me.

--through with your romance, leave me alone.

Four and five, six and tricks and you try--

Fred!

--to catch my eye never work out, I'm on to your games.

Seven, eight, nine, you'll find out you'll never be mine.

What are you doing?

Is everything all right?

How many times?

How many times?

Let's talk about this at home.

I didn't wash Stanley's underwear for a year

so you could go off and f--

Rose, stop, please

Stay away from me!

Baby, count two.

But when you're all through with your romance--

I'm not going back.

Get in the car, get the baby inside.

I don't want to go home.

Well, where do you want to go, dear?

I'll take you wherever you want.

I want to go to the trailhead.

All right.

You've seen it, let's go.

Will you hold her for just a second?

Rose?

OK, come here, baby.

Rose, come back!

Rose?

Rose!

Step away, Rose.

Step away.

You were right, it doesn't take any energy at all.

It's just a hop.

You slide the right foot forward,

and it could all be over.

You'll feel better again in no time.

I feel fine now.

You know what I mean.

A little rest, a little time away--

everything will be back to normal.

No, no, no.

I'm not going back to that.

Little wifey, little Rosie--

that was madness.

Your book is brilliant, darling.

Fucking gorgeous.

I don't know how you did it.

I have a few notes, of course,

Of course.

This is going to be the one.

Don't lose sight of that.

It hurts.

This one, it hurts more than the others.

But you've done it, my bride.

My horrifically talented bride.

Oh won't you tell me, pretty papa

what may be your name.

If you just say the word, daddy, I'll be your lover gal.

Oh, I could love you, yes, I could love you

until it was a crying shame.

How you fascinate me, daddy, I can't find words to explain.

Oh, won't you give me your --

I'll make everything all right.

I know the people all, all wonder

why I look at you like I do.

I don't care if the whole world knows about it.

Yes, I'm deep in love with you.