Original subtitles

You expecting someone else?

- Sorry to wake you. - I don't come here to sleep alone.

You know what I'm saying?

Do you miss Philly?

There's nothing that city's got that I don't have here.

Don't worry. I'm not just talking about you.

It used to be that I could knock back a few drinks,

fall asleep, sleep the whole night without waking.

Now, I can get to sleep, but I don't...

Then you probably need to drink a little more.

- Why do you do that? - Do what?

- Encourage my drinking. - I don't encourage it.

- I just don't judge it. - Maybe you should.

Why?

As Rita says, "One drink is too many and a thousand isn't enough."

Babe, you're the smartest person I know.

And you know yourself better than anyone,

so if you want to have a drink, you should have a drink.

I'm not going to tell you what to do. Okay?

Humans are fucking fascinating.

There are super interesting, but in an insanity...

What?

in TREATMENT

ELADIO Week Two

You look like you got some sun this weekend, Eladio.

- Did you spend some time outside? - Jeremy had aquatic therapy.

Where's the guy with all the words, my Monday morning poet laureate?

- He's tired. - Still not sleeping?

I had hoped things had changed since I didn't hear from you this week.

You said it was inappropriate to call, so I'm trying to be a good boy.

This might be a good time for us to discuss your ask

at the end of our session last week.

About our relationship; the mother of it all.

Yeah. I don't know if I want to talk about that, you know?

- You embarrassed? - Dude, I know it's not normal.

No, it is normal, Eladio. It's very normal.

Have you ever heard the term "maternal transference"?

Let me guess. Some whacked-out Freudian shit,

like, I want to fuck my mom, and I guess, you while I'm at it?

I wouldn't put it quite like that.

Yo, just 'cause I want, like, a hug sometimes,

or to... whatever, like, lay my head in someone's lap,

doesn't make me a sex-crazed psycho.

And maternal transference can be as simple as that.

A patient, especially one with your history of neglect,

can sometimes idealize their therapist as a mother figure,

and want the comfort and guidance they didn't get.

Okay? So, so can we just, like, do that?

Only if it's in service of you learning

how to have those needs met in other ways.

- I don't wanna waste your time. - What do you mean?

Last time, you talked about process.

You talked about not focusing on results, and I feel you. I do.

And I don't mean no disrespect at the fuck all,

but I might not be the audience for all this.

Therapy doesn't have a target audience, everyone can benefit.

Sure, but all this talking about the past, and psychic wounds, and shit.

I haven't slept better since we talked last. I slept worse!

In what ways?

Last four nights, I've had the same dream. About the snow and the ash?

And even though I haven't thought about this guy in years,

it was Sikander holding my hand.

That was a locked box and you unlocked it,

and I can't afford that. Maybe, if this was long-term.

If we were going to do this for, like, years, then maybe.

Who's to say we can't?

Dr. Taylor, you and I both know the financial realities

that bar that from being the case. This is short-term.

And it's possible that what I need isn't a therapist, it's a pharmacist.

Because the only thing that's ever helped me sleep at all is the lithium.

And if that sounds bad, I'm sorry, but that's my reality here.

Alright.

- What? - Go get your pills.

What?

Go get your pills and bring them here so I can see them.

- Why? - Because I asked you to.

Count them and let me know how many you have left.

One, two, three...

Casi como... sixteen.

That's one a day. We have two weeks. You know what that means?

- What? - We have time.

Now, if you commit to the work, you have my word,

I will make an assessment and refer you to a psychiatrist

before your pills run out.

Fine.

Alright. Let's do this.

Yo.

- First of all, I have to ask... - Jesus. Hold up. Wait.

What kind of fucking Stanford prison experiment shit did I just sign up for?

Whose name is on that bottle?

I saw an "S" and an "O", but I couldn't make out the rest.

- Soyoung Hyesoon. - Who's that?

A homie of mine. I mean, she's kind of like my only L.A. friend, but she...

And that's her prescription?

Yeah. She was...

She got Baker Acted a couple months ago.

She was walking barefoot from Crenshaw to Santa Monica.

They found her by the pier with glass in her feet.

She spent ten days at U.S.C. Medical,

and they had her on everything, but she saved the lithium for me.

I have to point out that's illegal.

Just for future reference, I'd be careful.

Careful? I'm trying to survive. This is me being careful.

What if your friend needed the lithium for herself?

Seems like you have an ability to get people to go out on a limb for you.

I go out on a limb for people too, dawg.

I'm not saying it's a bad quality to have.

- What are you trying to say? - That's a good friend.

Yeah, we haven't talked in a while... and I miss her.

The lithium, Eladio, when you take it, how does it make you feel?

It kind of just takes the edge off. Turns the volume down.

And what specifically needs turning down?

I don't know. Life?

Life shouldn't be something that you have to mute.

I know what you're getting at.

Loook, life is... its life. Alright?

Like, this house is big, right?

Eight bedrooms, a pool, a lawn, the whole thing,

but no house is big enough.

Meaning?

- All families have their shit. - It's a lot living with the DeMarco's?

Why you say it like that?

Like, there's an edge to your voice when you talk about them.

- Is there? - Nah, you know what you're doing.

Eladio, I'm afraid you're accusing me of something I don't quite understand.

Yo, I don't know if you're trying to play me, or if I'm...

You're not from Los Angeles, so how did you come to work for the DeMarco's?

I used to work at a Thai restaurant in North Hollywood.

Before I dropped out of Cal State, I was fucking...

And was that before or after Sikander?

After, way after. I was...

I was in a bad place.

And loneliness, it has its own character in different cities.

Tampa was depressing, but it was familiar.

In New York, there's like a romance to it, but L.A.?

- It's like living on the fucking moon. - You're not wrong.

I had a car. I was living in a fucking nothing apartment in Van Nuys

with a water stain on the ceiling that looked like the Wu Tang logo.

I was barely going to class. But I didn't miss work.

It was the only thing that kept me grounded.

And I wasn't a good waiter but Supames and her mom, they liked me.

- They were nice to me. - Who's that?

Supames is the owner's daughter. She's a little older than me.

Her mom, she would cook, and she didn't speak a ton of English,

so Supames kind of ran the place.

But that's where I met the DeMarco's. They used to come in.

To a Thai restaurant in North Hollywood?

Yeah. All these wealthy foodies used to make the trek out to bum-fuck

because it made some pretentious list of some kind,

and because the shit was good.

Mr. DeMarco, he was kind of quiet. I don't think he liked the food.

He has a sensitive stomach, you know? But Mrs. DeMarco?

She would let her fucking hair down.

Yo, I'm talking, yo, she knew how to order, too.

Like, fucking Thai basil mojitos and shit.

Yo, White people are fucking wild, yo.

And Mrs. DeMarco, when got really drunk,

they had this little nothing stereo system from Radio Shack,

and she'd started requesting songs.

And keep in mind, there are other people there.

Like, this is a hole-in-the-wall, folded-up-paper-plates

-under-the-table-legs place, but Supames, she roll with it.

And it was always Bon Jovi,

and I didn't know shit about Bon Jovi at the time, but she put me on.

You didn't know about Bon Jovi?

I used to stay with my aunts in Queens, every summer,

and for two weeks, they would send me to this camp in Bear Mountain.

- And it was mainly l-ties and Greeks. - l-ties?

Yeah. Like, fucking, guidos and shit.

One day, they started singing this song.

Who?

The campers, but, like, all at the same time, yo.

And I'm sure you can appreciate

that when White people start performing any sort of ritual,

and you're not hip to it.

I thought they were gonna sacrifice me to the fucking Sun Gods, yo.

Me and this one Black kid looking at each other like,

"Yo. What are we gonna do?"

And these motherfuckers out here, like...

We're halfway there...

Living on a prayer.

Yo, shit was crazy.

But it wasn't until Mrs. D. requested the song that night

that I heard it with instruments.

I'd known it only as this acapella, Anglo-Saxon, folk anthem.

I have a soft spot for Bon Jovi, so...

No. Like, low-key, that shit slaps, honestly.

Anyway, sometimes if the DeMarco's stayed late, I'd stay and have a drink.

And me and Jeremy, we got along. We're the same age.

I had the idea he was younger, somehow.

Did I say something wrong?

Nah. I just feel bad about that.

What?

Because I gave you that impression. He's a grown man.

They infantilize him.

His parents?

Yo! Why do you always try to get me to say something bad about them?

I'm just going off the information you give me.

Nah. Nah, you have an agenda.

Everyone's got it hard.

These people, it's not easy being them. They do infantilize him, though.

But then, it's not just them. I used to take Jeremy to camp,

and these motherfuckers would just plop him down in front of the TV,

and put on Peter Pan.

And I'm like, "This dude has a physical disability."

It's not an intellectual anything. He's a guy who's lonely.

And it makes me sad.

All he does all day long, is watch these long-ass compilations on YouTube

of every love scene from every movie ever.

Like, Keira Knightley and Andrew Lincoln in Love Actually.

Mandy Moore and the other guy in A Walk To Remember.

Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic, staring off into the ocean,

and what's-her-face pulling up, like, "Hello, Jack, I changed my mind",

and the bagpipes or whatever start playing.

That's not a guy. Right?

That's not a man who doesn't understand his situation.

That's a man who's lonely.

Do you find a fellow traveler in the loneliness?

Yo, if I'm lonely, it's my fault. I don't think his loneliness is his fault.

So, you meet these people in a restaurant,

and suddenly they take you home?

You make it sound weird. She said I was good with him.

And what does that mean, "good with him"? In a medical capacity?

I make sure he takes his meds, but no, I'm not a qualified anything.

I don't have a license.

Really, you don't need a license to wipe someone's ass,

and put them in the bath. But it's more than that.

How so?

They let me into their home.

They bought me a red cashmere sweater for Christmas last year.

What?

Having a hard time picturing you in a red cashmere sweater.

Yeah. Yeah, it was ridiculous. I looked like the Kool-Aid man.

And I sold that shit for, like, 60 bucks at Buffalo Exchange, but it was sweet.

You spend Christmas with them?

Yeah. I make hot chocolate like the way my aunts used to do.

- You ever had Colombian hot chocolate? - No.

I don't know if you'd like it. It's thick. It's like pudding almost.

It takes forever to make, and you get carpal tunnel doing it.

But after you're done,

you put the mozzarella cheese in there and it soaks up all the chocolate.

It sounds kind of nasty, but the cheese doesn't have a flavor,

so it just becomes this...

Why am I talking about hot chocolate? Like...

My mom, she was cold, okay?

It was like she was scared of me,

or she resented me for not being the daughter that she always wanted,

and my dad, well, I never met him.

Mrs. DeMarco, she can be hot-headed, of... Yeah, but...

Yo, you know what? You don't know what you're doing.

- You really fucking don't. - What am I doing, Eladio?

You're right about them. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?

But you don't understand the consequences of you being right.

I have no agenda other than curiosity.

Come on, man. Ever since I met you,

you've been trying to get me to unpack my feelings about the DeMarco's,

about Mrs. DeMarco, about Jeremy, about my fucking job, and...

- And is that wrong? - Yo, I'm not stupid! Alright?

I know what the fuck you've been hinting at, and you're right.

Of course, you're right! You're the one with the fucking PhD.

I'm not questioning your intelligence. Never!

I defer to it, but you wield it recklessly.

Like, my life in this house is predicated on a fiction. I know that.

I know I'm not their friend. I'm the help.

I'm both indispensable and as replaceable as a fucking Hefty bag.

I'm a tool. They didn't volunteer to pay for my therapy

because they care about my mental health. Fuck out of here.

They care whether I sleep or don't sleep, live or fucking die,

insofar as it affects my ability to take care of their son.

My investment in him, my insistence that he continue to try to feed himself

so that his muscles don't atrophy, and his skills don't lapse,

my attention to detail in regards to not letting him walk around like an asshole

with un-wiped mustard on his face? That's extra. That's just me.

Right, because... Yo, real shit.

If Jeremy didn't have this disease he'd be my fucking enemy.

The guy's a fucking transphobic, Reagan Republican,

who just so happens to be in a wheelchair.

I have a cousin who was born just like him.

Maybe not the exact same shit, but close. And guess what?

She lived till about, maybe, five years old,

'cause her parents were working in the fucking emerald mines in Boyaca

and didn't have enough money to pay some fucking guy to live with them

and do their parenting for them.

So yeah, when I think about that, it makes me shake!

Like, I'm shaking right now just talking to you about it!

But if I shake, I can't do my job! And if I can't do my job, I don't eat,

'cause I'm not good at anything else!

So, just, if you want to talk about whatever, right?

From now on, you want to talk about whatever,

you want to talk about my mom, my fucking ex, my... I'm down,

but do me a favor, and let's just put an embargo on this particular topic, okay?

With all due respect.

That's a lot of anger, Eladio. A lot of justifiable anger.

You have a right to your feelings, all of them.

And I hear you.

Do you know that I hear you?

We're not gonna solve White people today,

we're not going solve capitalism today,

but we can talk about the situation that stirs these feelings up in you.

I'm fucking good at my job, man. I'm so fucking good at it.

I can see that.

But these motherfuckers, yo. I work for him. I don't work for them.

I'm not the fucking pool boy. I don't work for Comcast.

I'm not the fucking... Twelve bucks an hour, no benefits, no nothing.

When they offered to pay for my therapy and I found out how much you charge,

I thought maybe I should just...

Ask for the money. So, why didn't you?

'Cause I'm in pain. What else was I gonna do?

The funny shit is, man,

I could make more money working at Baskin-fucking-Robbins than I do here.

Why don't you?

Why do you stay?

Dude, what? Because of Jeremy.

But you said if Jeremy weren't in a wheelchair, he'd be your enemy.

I know what I said, but that's not really fair.

He matters to me.

So, it fucking matters to me how he's being perceived.

But it's just you and me in here, Eladio. There's no jury.

Which is even worse, because he's not even here to defend himself,

and you riling me up, always trying to get me to say some shit about dude.

I'm not trying to get you to do anything.

You are! Yes, you are! Like, and he's already got enough on his fucking plate.

He doesn't need me going behind his back and fucking...

What happened?

I am so sorry. We went over, and my next patient is here, and I...

- Okay. My bad. - No. No. It's... No.

No worries at all.

I pride myself on my sixth sense when it comes to session length,

so this is very...

Do you have extra time later today to talk?

Dawg, Mrs. DeMarco is already out of pocket.

- She's ain't gonna pay for more time. - No. It's not about the money.

I'll just check in later to make sure you're in a less emotional place.

Emotional? I'm not emotional. I'm good.

Just go. You good.

Okay.

- What? - Same time next week?

- Why are you being like that? - I'm not being like anything, Eladio.

If you change your mind, text me.

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