All language subtitles for Buddies.1985.720p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

- Dr. Crest,
please call the operator.

Dr. Crest, please call
the operator.

- Who the fuck are you?

I'm sorry, I don't pick
up that channel.

Wanna try it again?

- I said,

my name is David Bennett.

I'm your buddy

from the Gay Center.

- Have a seat.

Say,

they really got you dolled up for
your grand entrance.

- Well, they said I should wear
this to be on the safe side.

Shouldn't I?

- Well, you know what they say.

If they give you lined paper,
write the other way.

- Well I did feel sorta silly
getting into this.

But I've never done this
sorta thing before.

- You volunteered, didn't you?

- Yeah.

- Why?

- I don't know, really.

I mean, I'm gay but
that's not big thing.

I don't have any friends
who have AIDs.

My lover, Steve,

he's had two friends who've--

- Died.

You can say it.

I won't break up.

- I didn't know
what to bring you.

It was just an impulse.

- Oh, wow, I love these.

A great impulse.

Mmmm.

So what did make you
volunteer to by my buddy?

Fate?

- No.

I guess it's because of a book.

- Oh God, you're not a gay writer.

- No.

I'm a typesetter.

Freelance.

- Well,

word processing is where it's at.

- I'm not a word processor.

I'm a typesetter.

It's really quiet different.

See, I'm setting the
type for this book

called "The AIDS Reader" and
it includes articles

on how the HTLV-III virus
was discovered,

the quarantine laws in England,

confidentiality in
the blood tests,

life and death
statistical projections.

Plus, first person accounts,

like guys getting fired
because of AIDS

and getting kicked out of
their apartments.

They have this one piece
on being a buddy.

Well, I have flexible hours,

so I called the gay group
and I volunteered.

- So he fell asleep on you,
just like that?

- Uh huh.

- You must've been telling
him all about typesetting.

- I was.

But he's on a lot of medication.

I think he was just tired.

- What's he like?

- He seems okay.

Intelligent.

We're both a little nervous.

Me especially.

- Sorry you signed up?

- Well, he's not what I expected.

- Which was what?

- Which was someone who was
gonna need real help.

I don't even know what I'm
supposed to do for him.

Guess I imagined an AIDS patient
was gonna be more serious.

- Better he's up than down.

- Yeah, I know.

I guess it's just the first
time kinks, huh?

- I gotta go, I'll
see you tonight?

- Okay.

- I've
decided to keep a record

of my visits with Robert.

A record of my real
feelings about him

and me being his buddy.

Because I've already started to do

what I always do with Steve,

my friends and myself.

Fixing up what I really think so
it sounds acceptable.

I'm gonna try and write the
truth in this journal.

First, I don't think I even
like Robert Willow.

His smug attitude, his smirky,
little,

"If they give you lined paper,

"write the other way," bullshit.

Secondly, I think Steve has
already heard in my voice

that part of me is sorry for
having volunteered.

I feel sappy about trying to help.

I think I'm doing it to
make me feel good.

I don't have the guts to back out,

to explain it to Robert or explain
it to Lynn at the center.

So I'm gonna give it a try.

- Sorry I fell asleep
on you the other day.

- No problem.

How's this taste?

- I hate carrots.

- When did they
put the IVs in?

- This morning, early.

But it's just for today, I guess.

A new antibiotic.

It hurts to move my arms
with the needles.

I feel weird.

You're feeding me and I
don't even know you.

- Well, my name is David Bennett.

I'm 25.

I was born in New York City.

- Not that stuff.

Like, who are you?

- Why don't you ask what
you wanna know?

- When did you know you were gay?

Too personal, huh?

- Yeah.

I mean, I never
thought about that.

What a weird question to ask.

- I think it's basic.

A person's real identity.

Sex is the part that
makes you in or out,

hot or cold.

You know, where you passion is.

It's not everything but it's a big
piece of the puzzle.

- When did you know?

- When I was nine.

I had a crush on this older guy

that used to wash our windows
and water our lawn

in San Diego.

La Jolla, where I was born.

God, he was tall

and he used to walk
around in his shorts

like he owned the world.

That's when I knew.

What about you?

- Well,

I was 16 when I
realized that girls

really weren't gonna do it for me.

I knew inside that I like guys

and then in my senior year I
met Craig Cartwright

and he was my own age and
from Staten Island

and I knew then for sure

but it was no big thing.

I mean, I told my parents

and they had an inkling about me
all along and that was it.

Craig, he went by the
boards pretty quickly

but I started dating guys
until I met Steve.

- Your parents sound cool.

Mine disowned me when I told
them back in 1971.

It was like one of
those silent films

where the father throws the kid
out into the storm.

Except for with me, it was
California sunshine.

I don't want anymore.

- No, now the nurse said you're
supposed to finish this,

I mean all of it.

- Did you bring anymore Reese's?

- No.

Now, come on and try some of
this very tasty...

Well, you try it and let me
know what it is.

- Shredded hospital rat.

Steve and you tight?

- We've been together
for five years.

Since I was 20.

- And you love him?

I mean, you're still in
love with him?

Still too personal?

- Steve doesn't even ask me
questions like that.

- So?

That's because he
knows the answer.

I retract the question.

- No, no, I mean, it's just
that I'm not used

to being asked about my
private life.

I love Steve.

He's been there so long

that I don't think about him
very consciously.

We're very different.

I am security oriented and
he's more outgoing.

But we're still in love.

- How can you tell?

Is it still sexy after five years?

- You've got a one-track mind.

In the beginning, Steve liked to
have sex more than I did.

But then I sorta caught up.

I know what you're thinking.

- What?

- Except for when we
first became lovers,

I've had two affairs.

One with Steve's best friend,

but since that, that's
four years ago,

I've been faithful to Steve.

As far as I know, he's been
exclusively mine.

What?

- That's what I was gonna ask.

- What do you mean,
disowned him?

- Mom, when they found out he
was gay that was it.

They cut him off.

- But he's sick.

Maybe dying.

What sort of people could--

- Mom, it's not like everybody
has the same values.

- A child is your child,
no matter what.

Maybe you should get their
address and drive them?

- Mom, Robert's a grown man.

- Well, you're his buddy.

Maybe you should just do it.

Write them a letter,
set up a reunion.

- Fly them to New York,
orchestra seats

and then off to the hospital for a
big reconciliation?

- Don't get sarcastic.

You know what I mean.

- Mom, if there were gonna come

they would've done it by now.

All parents are not
like you and Dad.

- Does he need anything?

Does he have a lover?

- I don't know.

So far, I've talked
more about myself

than he has told me about him.

- How bad is it, the AIDS?

- He's had pneumonia two times in
the last nine months.

He's pretty weak.

- Well your father and I are
very proud of you, David,

volunteering and all.

If there's anything we can do,
let me know.

Give my best to Steve.

- Okay.

I love you.

- I love you too, dear.

- Bye, bye.

- Bye.

- Seeing
Robert helpless,

in pain and trying not to show it,
made me feel foolish.

I'm glad I decided to stay
with this buddy thing.

Suddenly my parents and Steve
seem very special.

And Robert, with his
service optimism,

has piqued my curiosity.

What's he like when I'm not there?

What was he like before acquired
immunodeficiency syndrome?

I hate writing the words

and I wanna know how
sick he really is.

At the center they said he
is going to die,

that there are no miracles,

that I should encourage him

but not get too
emotionally close to him.

That I must keep an
objective distance

or else I may not be
able to help him.

It's clear that if I'm going to
be Robert's buddy,

I'm gonna have to do more
than just show up.

I'm gonna have to listen.

- And my mom,

she couldn't understand your
parents kicking you out.

- Looking back,

it was terrible.

But at the time I fell
right into the world

of dawning gay liberation,

in Edward's arms.

Edward's the great
love of my life.

His two favorite things are
getting it on outdoors

and politics.

Gay rights, gay community,

marching, demonstrating.

Edward was so intellectual.

And I was a gardener.

Very laid back.

We were a hot match.

The brainy politico and his
humpy sidekick.

We bought a van.

Drove around Yosemite,

Tahoe,

down Highway One.

He was my own
professional homosexual.

He used to lecture at schools,
to the cops

and before church groups.

He got a job with a gay
newspaper in San Francisco

and I used to help him with the
midnight deliveries

and the mailing lists.

It was an open relationship.

We both slept around.

Edward more than me.

I always wanted something
that would last.

It's funny how no two lovers

ever love each other the same.

Well, it was good for seven years.

Then the newspaper failed and
politics went mainstream

and Edward's street methods

just didn't fit in.

Edward moved to Hawaii

and then to Portland, Oregon.

He was burned out.

As for me, I kept the van

and I drove around like a nomad

until 1980, when I met Tom,

who was vacationing from New York.

We fell very
conventionally in love

and I came East to give it a try.

Tom is a successful
executive consultant

and he was a lot of fun
until I got AIDS.

I think that our relationship
might have gotten

through the usual problems,

but the AIDS hysteria,

the fear that he'd get it from me,

the guilt that maybe I'd
gotten it from him,

just killed his love.

So he gave me three thousand
dollars in cash.

I rented a room from my friend,
Philip,

and I sought treatment.

New York is a hard place
for sick people

and if you've got AIDS,

it's the pits.

- He dropped you?

Just like that?

- Tom's not a strong person.

But there's Ellen.

She's a good friend.

Neighbor.

She brings me my mail

and the flowers.

I never really took to New York.

And by the time I realized

I shoulda gone back to California,

I was too sick to pull
off the change.

- Edward?

Does he know?

- We wrote a few letters.

He came to visit me
six months ago,

when I had the first
bout of pneumonia.

But I was really out of it

and I wasn't able to...

To really talk to him.

He came by everyday.

I wished I had had the strength
to talk to him then.

He was really broke.

And that trip took all he had
on a lot of levels.

I wish

I coulda have bridged that time

that we had back then.

But we didn't.

That was my fault.

- Mr. Bennett,

I'm sorry to interrupt

but it's time for Robert's
medication now.

- You don't wanna watch this.

It's pretty grisly.

"The treatment."

- No, I can take it.

- I know.

I was just kidding.

But it's the rules.

- I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett,

but those really are the rules.

- Come on, David, come on,
David, yeah.

All right, smooth move, David,
that's it.

All right, lose your breath,
David.

Go with your breath, come on.

Follow through, all the way
through, David.

Yeah, that's it.

Now bring it in.

Don't close your eyes.

Keep them open, come on.

Yeah, just a little longer, good.

All right.

Yeah, keep those elbows in, David.

- How can Robert
just sit in that bed

and tell me the intimate
details of his life?

Like it was some nostalgic
trip down memory lane?

No anger, no regret.

All the time and energy wasted

on his gay lib political dreams,

the gay community,

and what did it get him?

Abandoned.

And yet he's so cool
and easy with it

like he was telling me a story.

Edward, the great
love of his life.

It sounds so silly, and yet, when
he said it I thought,

"Am I the great love of
Steve's life?

"Is he mine?"

- Jim?

Am I a wimp?

- David, you're coming along

but the problem is not
in your body.

Half the battle's in your mind.

It's in your head.

I'm angry at Tom

for not sticking by Robert

and Edward for drifting
out of his life.

But more, I'm deeply angry
with Robert himself

for taking it all without a fight.

For accepting the way that these
men have treated him.

Although, honestly, I don't know
how I would've handled it.

If Steve stopped caring,

what would I do?

- These are the galley proofs
for the AIDS Reader.

See, these are almost finished.

They're close to perfect

and I've figured out a way to
lay out this material

so it'll be very simple to read.

- Looks like a book set to go.

- See, that's the difference

between typesetting and
word processing.

It's camera ready.

- You're really into this,
aren't you?

- Yeah, I like my job.

- "AIDS is perhaps the harsh
but real retribution

"of a God too long neglected.

"Nature's revenge on an
unnatural minority's

"arrogant disregard of her
elemental law."

What's in this book you're doing?

- Well, it has all different
points of view in it.

- And this is whose point of view?

- Lots of religious people view
ages as a punishment

sent from God to gays.

- Do people...

really think God wants me here?

- Robert, stop.

- Isolates gays from
everybody else!

Like we're expendable!

- Robert, take a breath
for Christ sakes!

- It's like...

saying God...

created the Nazis to keep
the Jews in line.

- Robert, take a breath.

- Or all the black people...

- Robert, you're hurting yourself.

- All the black people
starving in Africa

like it's their fault!

- It's just a book, Robert,
come on now.

- So God created the virus

to stop gay people
from having sex?!

- Robert, just
forget about the book.

- To kill them!

- Stop!

- A cruel God is no God at all!

- Robert, lay back.

Relax, relax.

- So stupid!

- Tale a breath.

Come on, come on, come on.

Relax.

That's good, yeah.

- Once at
a swimming pool,

I saw a little girl almost drown

and last year, at a restaurant,
I watched helplessly

as a man nearly chocked to death

till someone struck him on the
chest and saves his life.

Both that girl and man wanted to
catch their breaths

but something about
Robert scares me.

He was more interested
in shouting down

that "God is revenge" quotation

than regaining his own composure.

What sort of a man could feel so
personally attacked

by the words on those
galley sheets?

I have never seen a response
so inappropriate

and, yet, so real.

He seemed willing to literally die
rather than shut up.

I've never met a person
like Robert Willow.

He unnerves me.

- Hello?

- David, it's Robert.

I called to thank you for
getting the nurse in time.

- I'm sorry I brought the
galley sheets in.

If I thought they were going to
upset you, I wouldn't have.

- No,

I wanna read them.

It's just my way.

I'm still trying to change things
that are beyond me.

I just get so angry thinking
that some people

thing God is like them.

Anyway, thanks for not listening
but for getting me help.

- I'm glad I was there.

- But look, I
need a favor.

- What?

- Well, my roommate Philip,

he's been paying my share of the
rent now for six months

and he needs to rent my room.

You know how expensive
everything is in New York.

- Yeah?

So what do you want me to do?

- Well, I was wondering

if you could come to the
hospital and get my keys

and then go to my apartment and
pick up my personal things.

There's not a lot.

But Philip needs the room empty.

- Robert, where do you live?

Can't he bring your things over?

- On the Upper West side.

West 76th Street.

Look, David,

Philip would do it

but he's afraid to come
to the hospital.

He's probably gonna burn the keys
when you leave them

but he's done his best
for six months.

- Sure, Robert, I'll come
over tomorrow.

- Thanks.

Philip works during the day,

so you won't run into him.

No scenes.

- Sure, Robert, it's
really no hustle at all.

- Thanks.

Goodnight.

- Goodnight.

- "Dear Edward,

"I don't know if I'll even mail
this letter to you

"but it seems like I've got AIDS.

"All the tests point to it.

"My funds are evaporating

"and the first signs of this
phenolemia have hit.

"Travel seems impossible.

"Tom has gone to pieces
with the news

"and I feel cut off an utterly
alone accept for Ellen,

"who visits and calls."

"Dear Bobby,

"I got the horrible news from
Ellen who wrote me a note.

"I've seen a lot of old friends
taken ill and now you,

"the sweetest man.

"And I thought I'd run
out of tears.

"I haven't.

"I'll try to get to you.

"As always, money is a problem.

"There are people here in Portland

"who are trying
megavitamin therapy

"on the holistic approach.

"But Ellen indicated things in New
York are scattered.

"I suppose everyone is
scurrying around,

"looking for something to
make it go away.

"I won't bore you but until the
Federal Government

"really allocates to dollars,

"you and the rest will be left
to erratically funded

"local scenes and the kindness of
friends and strangers.

"A collective effort is needed but
I doubt it will happen.

"Love, Edward.

"PS,

"I think my dad will give me some
of the cash to visit.

"The AIDS issue finally got
through to him."

- Hi,
this is Philip.

If you're calling about
the room for rent,

and, yes, it's still open,

please leave your name and number
so I can get back to you.

I'll be in after 6 PM

and we can arrange a time
for you to see it.

If you're calling for me,

I'll be at my job
number till five.

206

0309.

Bye, for now.

Wait for the beep before speaking

and talk as long as you like.

- Where was this?

- This was in San
Francisco at Land's End.

Edward and I were clowning around.

Oh God, what a time.

Edward borrowed one of
those Kodak cameras.

You could run it on automatic.

- Was that a nude
beach or what?

- Not really.

Some people went nude.

And there was a lot of
action in those bushes.

You could sun or fun or both.

- Robert?

Can I ask you something?

If you could be healthy,

I mean completely healthy,

for one day,

what would you do?

- No strings?

Just 24 hours, like magic?

- A day, yeah.

What would you do?

- Well, I'd be with Edward.

Not in the past, like
in the movie.

But here, in New York City,

but we'd be lovers

and we'd get it one because
there's no one I've ever had

who was as hot as Edward.

This, of course, is a purely
personal preference.

But we'd be together.

Breakfast, shower,

then go out for a walk.

Central Park.

Okay but this is a little weird

but at an offbeat time,
like at two o'clock,

I'd take the People's Express and
I'd fly to Washington D.C.

And I'd have a two by four
and a magic marker

and a piece of cardboard

and I'd be a one man picket
outside the White House.

Just a jester, you know?

Very Don Quixote.

And I'd write something on
the cardboard like,

"America, AIDS is not
a gay disease.

"It hurts everybody.

"Release all the money for
research and care."

Then I'd go back to New York

and I'd be with Edward.

We'd have a great dinner,

hit a couple of piano bars
for a few songs

and then go home and fuck
our brains out.

"My Healthy Day" by Robert Willow.

Crazy, huh?

- I just wondered.

- What would you do?

- What do you mean?

- Well, you are healthy

and you've got Steve.

What would you do with the day?

- We live together.

I'm not--

- Another below the belt question?

- Yeah.

Your questions always seem to come
out of left field...

To me.

Steve and I go to the movies
and we visit friends.

We entertain at home.

Once and awhile we go out dancing.

We sleep together.

- Is he hot?

- Yes.

To me.

I mean, this of course is a purely
personal preference.

- How hot?

What are the juicy details?

- Hot is...

Hot.

- Oh.

I know.

I just wanted to hear you
say the words.

- Good night, David.

- Goodnight.

- I left those chapter
headings right on top of

the consult.

- Right.

- Okay?

- Okay.

Government projections,

and these are the most
conservative figures,

estimate that by 1988
there could be

30 thousand cases of AIDS in the
United Sates alone

and if unchecked by a
preventative vaccine

and/or antiviral cure,
the number by 1990

might reach 100 thousand cases.

Although in America,

AIDS has struck mainly
homosexual males.

The thousands of heterosexual
couples in Africa

who have the illness may
cruelly shortsighted

the initial perception that
AIDS is a gay disease.

The growing number of cases
among needle drug users,

women, children and the newly born

present the medical and
governmental establishment

with the test of their
ability to solve

a truly national problem with
international ramifications.

The immediate threat to
America's blood supply,

the plasma industry and the
thousands of hemophiliacs

who depend most immediately on the
purity and availability

of transfusions is
forebodingly clear.

- Goodnight, David.

- Goodnight, babe.

- Okay, today we're bringing you
a special program.

- I hate television.

- There's a lot of good stuff on.

Don't you like TV's bloopers,
bleeps and blunders?

Anyway, this isn't
regular television.

It's a special installation.

- Where'd you get the VCR?

- From home.

It's mine and Steve's, we
bought it last year.

It's great.

You can watch whatever you
want when you want to.

- I've read the ads.

- Okay.

Here you go.

You're in to politics?

Well go for it.

- Gay Day?

- Uh huh.

- This year?

- Uh huh.

- Where'd you get it?

- There's this gay cable
show here in Manhattan

and they do like
national coverage.

I'd figure you'd like it.

Lesbians and gays coast to coast.

- Did you march?

- No, I'm not into it.

- Haven't you ever been to one?

- A few years ago I
went with Steve.

It was tacky.

A freak show.

- But Gay Day is great.

Just look at all those people.

Most of the year passing for
straight, then wham,

they're out!

The world has to see them, has
to deal with them.

- Why should I want the
world to see me?

- Well it beats hiding.

- I don't hide

but I don't have to tell
everyone in all the world

everyday that I like guys.

It's my private business.

- I wasn't trying to tell
you what to do.

David, I just thought
that coming out

was something everyone longed for.

You know, a chance to be yourself

without worrying who's watching or
what they're thinking.

- Look, Robert, I don't feel
it the way you do.

I'm not against the parade,
I'm glad it happens.

It just doesn't have this deep
of meaning for me.

- Well, to me it stands for
not letting the world

say that I'm not here.

That there's only supposed to
be straight people,

straight love, straight pain.

- Yeah, but why cut yourself off
with the gay label?

Why separate yourself from
everybody else?

- I only feel separated
when I have to lie

and say that I'm straight
when I'm really gay.

Do you think that if
straight senators

and their straight sons had AIDS

that all that money that's being
held up in Washington,

and I read this in your...

Those galley sheets
you brought in,

that all that money would be
taking so long to come down

to research and hospices
here in New York City

with the most dead and the
most cases and me,

I'm just a number in a pile
here in the Big Apple.

There's not even an AIDS clinic.

- Robert, take it easy.

- Here in New York City
it's an epidemic

and I was lost

until that gay crisis
group took me in.

No money from the
state or the city.

No bucks from Washington.

But just some gay people

and their straight
friends who volunteer,

like you.

- As a homosexual,

as relating to women,

sex in terms of the clothes
they wear in stuff,

there's also a political
feminine behind it.

I mean, I feel a victim of sexism

and I think to understand what
I victimized about,

I had to understand what
sex is all about.

This helps me feel androgynous
or hermaphrodite.

I mean, it makes me feel
like a whole person

instead of just half a person.

- So,

this parade,

this tacky, once a
year freak show,

is my one chance to feel connected

because they're not all
just gay people

marching in that crowd.

There's a lot of straight people,

parents and grandparents,

and in that sense,

in that moment,

then we are all just people and
the gay label vanishes

because we're together

without having to deny
the differences.

That's why the whole damn thing is
so important to me.

Besides,

everybody oughta have a chance to
make a little noise,

raise a little hell
once and awhile.

God, how I hate it in here
when it's quiet.

Sometimes I think this is

the quietest place in
the whole world.

Some nights,

I lie here in this bed,

all I can hear

is the sound of my own blood

running around inside me.

The other night,

I masterbated.

- Well, that's good.

- It was terrible.

I jerked off.

Well, everything worked out,

I hadn't fallen apart yet.

My cock came

but I didn't.

I didn't feel it.

There's more to sex than an orgasm
grabbed in the dark.

I started alone and I
finished alone.

- Robert, you're
under such stress.

- David,

I don't wanna die.

I wanna live.

But I don't think I'm
gonna make it.

I'm never gonna get out of here.

I don't wanna die.

- I started
out in the buddy thing

with reservations.

I didn't even like Robert.

I almost quit.

And now I'm hopelessly
lost in his world.

That room and all his dreams and
hopes and memories.

I've gotten too close to him.

And my big try to be objective
and to tell the truth

in this journal is a farce.

I don't know where I stand

on half the things he's
been raving about.

I felt superior to him
at the start.

All his old, tired ideas.

But some of what he
says sounds right.

Where is the help going
to come from?

The government?

Charities?

The people?

All I know is that I want
Robert to live.

I wanna call some doctor up in
France or Japan or Atlanta

and say, "Send some of those
drugs you're trying out!

"Save Robert!

"Give him back his life!

"Let him go marching in every Gay
Day parade there is.

"Let him be a gardener again.

"Just let him out of that room."

And in a flash I'm swept up in
his fear of dying.

I've never thought about dying

and now I'm getting attached to a
guy who is going to die.

I hate writing it.

I despise even thinking it.

Like saying it makes it so.

Like spilling out the words
that Robert will die

is me writing his
death certificate.

- Did he like
the cable show?

Parade footage?

- We sorta had a fight over it.

- You should bring him
some of those porno tapes.

Less controversy.

- Actually, that's all I do
most of the time

is argue with him.

- Well, that's okay, at
least it's not dull.

- It's all wrong.

- David, it's pretty
clear you've gotten

very close to Robert.

You know, David, the only
difference between

the guys you fantasize about
sometimes when we have sex

and the guy I fantasize about
sometimes when we have sex

is that I know the guy that
you're thinking about.

- Who?

- Oh, come on.

Robert, of course.

- And what do you fantasize about?

- Well, if you're very good and
step into the shower

I may tell you.

- I remember when this came out.

It was years ago.

You seen it?

- A few times, at home,
with Steve.

- Why'd you pick it?

- Because it's about
San Francisco.

I thought you'd enjoy it.

If you want, I could
always take it home

and bring back "The Boys
of Baltimore."

- This is fine.

Although, it's weird
having you here.

- I'll leave if you want.

- No, stay.

You can explain the parts that
I don't understand.

- So, you admit there are some
things about gay life

that you don't understand.

- Yeah, come on Davy,
come on.

Yeah.

65.

Good.

66.

- How am I doing?

- Great, 67.

Right, champ.

68.

- Look, wide open.

- Shut up.

69.

Breathe with it, come on.

70, yeah.

- Did anyone ever tell you

that you have beautiful...

eyes.

- Yeah, 71.

Ever since I got muscles
when I was 15.

72.

Good.

73.

I also have a lovely personality,
you know?

74.

Last one, come on, yeah.

75.

So how is he doing?

You seem in great spirits.

- He's on new pills.

It's crazy.

But I think Robert's
over the worst.

He seems a lot better.

I mean, who knows,

but he looks like he
could hold his own

and slide through the summer.

Hello?

- Is this David Bennett?

- Yes.

- I'm Silvia Douglas with
the Long Island Chronical.

- What can I do for you?

- Well, I wanna do an
article about your work.

You know, your experience
being a buddy.

- You what?

- Ideally, an interview
is what I had in mind

with you about that AIDS problem.

You know, what you do as a buddy,

I wanna know about your clients,
stuff like that.

- Listen, how did you get my
name and number?

I don't wanna give you
an interview.

What I'm doing is private,
it's a personal thing,

and I don't wanna help
you sell papers

with the pain of a guy who I--

- Listen, we've been
trying to publish

the most accurate information
we can about AIDS.

- Look, Miss Douglas,

I don't wanna be abrupt,

but I'm gonna hang up with some
civility right now

and I wish you wouldn't
call me up again.

Goodbye.

An article in a newspaper.

An interview.

It's ghoulish.

- Why?

- Because you're sick and your
pain belongs to you.

It's not something to sell
newspapers with.

It's like those TEAD reporters at
fires asking mothers

what they feel with a burnt
kid in their arms.

- I think you should do it.

You can use my name.

- Robert, I don't wanna do it.

- You don't have to use
your own name.

Nobody would know.

- Is that it?

You think I'm hiding,

that I'm ashamed to say in public,
in print.

- No, David.

I just thought it might
help someone.

You never know who
reads those things.

It's like your aids book.

It'll help.

It has to.

- You never stop, do you?

- Look, David,

I know I'm losing it.

I can barely remember half the
things I wanna say

but I'm thinking clearly now

and I think you oughta do it.

- For gay lib?

- No.

Do it for me.

- Always below the belt.

There's never been
anyone like you.

- You can use one of my
old pictures.

The one at the beach.

- So how's it gonna help?

Tell me.

- I don't know exactly.

Maybe somebody reads it and
becomes more careful sexually.

That knocks down their
chances of getting it.

Or somebody reads it

and sends money to one of
those gay centers.

Or they get angry and they write a
letter to the mayor

and asks why more
isn't being done.

- You're hopeless.

You haven't learned a thing.

You're still back there
preaching on your soup box,

thinking that you can
change the world.

- I can't change anything, David.

I can barely make it
to the toilet.

- Do you wanna write down
what I should say?

I mean, if I'm gonna
do this thing,

I want it to be absolutely
politically correct.

- No.

Just be honest.

Just tell the truth.

- So you want some more cassettes?

Steve bought some more
cassettes yesterday.

- Well, an orderly came
in yesterday.

Caught me watching "The
Bigger The Better"

and it looks like my VCR

and my growing stash of
X-rated classics

has to go.

- Can they do that?

- It's already done.

- Well I'll talk to them.

- No.

Don't.

At this point,

it's best I appear to be the most
cooperative patient.

I don't wanna wear out my welcome.

- What?

- Thanks for agreeing to
do the interview.

- What's a buddy for anyway?

- I never
used to use these

but frankly it gets everything

so I don't have to take notes.

Okay, Dave, just begin
at the beginning

and try to tell me about
being a buddy.

You know, how you got into it.

Why you got into it, what it's
like, what he's like.

And I guess we could
start with his name.

- His name...

is Robert Willow.

He's 32.

He was born in San Diego.

I was assigned to him by chance.

I mean,

I volunteered

and we got put in with each
other by the center.

Robert's had AIDS for a year

and we've been buddies
for three months.

Hello?

- David, I went to the news
stand this morning.

I was the first one there, I
bought five copies.

David, it's beautiful.

I read it to your dad
this morning.

- Mom, it's seven o'clock.

- I never knew you
could say things

like you did in that article.

Robert seems like a wonderful man.

- He is, mom.

Did they use the picture?

- You haven't seen it?

- Mom, I just woke up.

- It's a full page

with a picture of
Robert at the beach.

He is so handsome.

But it's what you said
about people.

Wait, I have it right here.

"People have to feel the
pain and anguish

"like it was happening to them

"so when a person comes
down with AIDS

"we are all taken a little sick.

"Straight or gay, it
doesn't matter."

And the middle part,
that's my favorite.

Where you said, here it is, here.

"In the beginning, I
thought being a buddy

"was a way for me to help Robert

"and now I know that he helps
me to feel and grow

"faith, even death."

David, I am so proud of you.

- Ma, do they print the
name of the center?

- Yes and a box at the
end with the address

for people to send money.

There's one part I didn't
completely understand.

- I don't remember what I said.

- You said, "God has
not sent AIDS down

"to punish people gay and
straight who are sick

"because if God did that, then
God wouldn't be God."

What did you mean?

- It's early, mom,

I didn't think the interview
would print that.

It something that Robert says.

That a lot of people imagine that
God is just like they are.

You know, a big copy
of themselves.

Well, Robert says that a cruel God
ain’t no God at all.

- Well, philosophy aside,

it's still a wonderful article

and you should go out and
get copies for Steve

and take one over to Robert.

It'll make his day.

- Okay, mom.

Thanks for the call.

- You and Steve are coming
for dinner next Sunday.

You sister's gonna be here.

- Right, Sunday at five,
we'll be there.

Bye, bye.

- Goodbye, dear.

- Dr.
Weinstein to ER.

Dr. Weinstein to ER.

EKG to ER.

EKG to ER.

Dr. Dilman, please call
extension 451.

Dr. Dilman, extension 451.

Dr. Dilman, please call
extension 451.

Dr. Dilman, 451.

- Mr. Bennett,

I'm sorry you had to
find out this way.

Robert died early this
morning in his sleep.

About 4:30.

It didn't get on the computer yet

and there's a new girl on
the front desk

and she didn't recognize you.

I'll be out at the front
desk if you need me.

Stay as long as you like.

- David?

- Yeah, Steve.

- I know.

The center just called.

- The center?

- Well the
hospital called them.

They called here.

Everyone's been just missing you.

Where are you?

You okay?

- I'm near the park.

I'm okay.

No, I'm not okay.

- Come on home.

- I'll be in later tonight.

- David, you did
all you could.

- I know, Steve.

It just hurts.

I love him.

I didn't get a chance
to say goodbye.

I miss him.

- I know.

Come on home.

- I'll be in by seven
o'clock tonight, okay?

- Okay, I'll see you then.

And call the center.

They sounded pretty set on
you calling in.

- Right.

- Bye.

- Lynn Alison speaking.

- Hi, Lynn, it's David.

- David, they told me.

The hospital called.

What a terrible way to find out.

Come on over, we should talk.

- I'll be in by 10 o'clock
tomorrow morning, okay?

- Are you thinking of
dropping out of the program?

- Lynn, don't ask me any
questions right now

about being a buddy
or the program.

I'm just gonna have
to handle this.

There's something that
I have to do.