Original subtitles

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.