All language subtitles for Feud.S02E07.WEB.x264-TORRENTGALAXY_eng_sdh

How are you feeling
this morning, Mrs. P.?

[groans softly]

Would you mind baking some
of that banana bread for me?

It's the only thing I feel like.

Of course.

[sighs]
Thank you, dear.

[man speaking indistinctly
on TV]

[sniffs]

♪ ♪

[whimpers]

You said

this kind of chemo wouldn't
cause my hair to fall out.

[sighs]

[inhales sharply]
You've done well,

keeping me going
for a long time.

But would you...

[sighs] Would you keep fighting
this room-to-room combat

if it were you?

For everyone it's different.

You have fought long and hard.

[shudders]

How long until it's over?

[Bill]
He said six months?

He used that phrase?

"You have six months to live"?

I asked him
if I'd make it to Thanksgiving,

and he just...

...looked down
and shook his head.

Why is it, with these doctors,
they can't just say it straight?

My father-- surgeon--

he gave it with both barrels

and everyone
respected him for it.

Of course, it was...

Boston and stoic.

Look, there's a new drug.
Here's what we do.

I've done some research.

Tamoxifen.

It's just about to get
FDA approval.

- I know who to call--
- Yes, yes,
you know everyone, Bill.

Yes, we know that.

You know everything.

It's enough.

You keep giving me orders,
like I'm the...

vice president of programming.

Which I'm not.

Jesus, please don't smoke.

What can I do
to make you stop smoking?

What can you do to make me stop?

[chuckles]

How about

you don't do a fucking thing?

No more jewelry.

No more...

paintings.

No more Lucian Freud or Picabia.

No more purchasing my
forgiveness or my affection.

You would forgive Truman
before me.

The fucking smoking!

Even after they told you
you had to stop.

Did you want to die?

Was it so bad with me that
you wanted to kill yourself?!

Well, Bill, yes.
[chuckles]

[lights cigarette, inhales]

Could have been worse.
Could have been Librium.

But, no, it was ciggies
and high-end booze.

At least
I was a coherent hostess.

[inhales]
It's how I...

...medicated myself.

Medicated yourself from what?

- You.
- [chuckles]

[chuckles]

The smoking and the Scotch soda
that started

the very first hint of dusk
or sooner.

How else could it work?

You know what I want?

Some quiet.

And solitude.

And I want to speak to my...

my children.

I don't know
why she won't speak to me.

Because you're cold.

You are.

You are a cold person.

And your daughter feels that
she was a minor consideration

in your life

and that she came after
all the myriad ways you had

of showing the world
your beauty and your perfection.

Shut up, Paley! For God's sake,
won't you shut up?!

Were you a model parent,

with your barely
disguised contempt

for your son, whatever he did?

No, she won't speak to me
because...

because I chose you

instead of her.

No, actually, we both
chose each other.

"Paley."

You've been calling me that
for a while now.

At first I thought it was
some sort of tough,

affectionate affectation.

But then I realized there was
ice all around it.

I think people earn how
they're addressed, don't you?

You know,
it takes a certain skill

to provoke anger in someone

you've just broken the news to
that you're dying.

I commend that.

This must be the anger stage.

[sighs]

I'll do my best to get Kate
to return to you.

She listens to me sometimes.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[Lee] Well, I

but the thing is,
he keeps saying

that he wants to do a prenup,

like he doesn't trust me.

Well, I can understand that.

I mean, he's very successful.
Even Bill likes him.

[C.Z.]
Those San Francisco
society folk are

very, very canny.

[Slim]
Yep. Known them all my life,

and they're very square.

- [laughter]
- I like San Francisco.

It's rather like Boston.

The question is, do I keep
the engagement ring?

[laughter]

[Slim]
I think a prenup is irrelevant.

Let's just live for today.

- Ah.
- Yes.

I like that philosophy
a great deal.

Just enjoy your life every day.

Joy. Live in a city of joy.

Mmm.

Speaking of which, C.Z...

...how's Truman?

- Um...
- He's been on my mind.

Well, he's not having
the best year, I would say.

I'm glad to hear you
mention him.

I'm sure he'd love
to hear from you.

I miss that laugh.

I'd hold the friendship
in a different...

Well, it wouldn't be the same
as it was, of course.

Babe, you know, sometimes
I think you don't reach out

because of some rage
you have at yourself.

Rage? Hmm.

I wonder. Maybe.
Maybe you're right.

[C.Z.]
Yes, you think Lee, Slim
and your husband

wouldn't abide it.

[Babe]
Yes, perhaps I'm angry
at myself

that I can't get past worrying
about the propriety of it.

How it would be seen
in this crowd,

ending this epic falling out.

Because there are so many people
invested in it.

I mean, people write about it.

It's become an absurd play.

What would we do without it?

Babe, that's fucking harsh.

Is it? Really?

I mean, Lee, you think.
Just admit it,

to be seen with him again,

to even speak with him again

would turn you into
a laughingstock

because you've entrenched
yourself

in this position.

[Slim]
No, this isn't

about whose appearances,
it's about the morality of--

Of what?

[scoffs] We've all done
some awful things,

and some not so awful,
and sometimes to each other.

And we've been capable
of moving beyond them,

but when it comes
to Truman, no, and why?

Sometimes I just wish I'd
laughed it off when it came out,

and he'd be sitting here
right now with us.

And wouldn't that be nice?

Instead of rotting away
like the prisoner

- of U.N. Plaza.
- What are you saying, Babe?

That we are not truly affronted
and hurt?

I mean, doesn't that matter?

Well, does it?

What if we accepted how little
it matters in the end?

Which we will have to,
by the way.

But no, to accept his apology
would be to surrender.

Maybe we should change
the topic.

Yes, I think that's
a great idea, C.Z.

Now, I think we need

a great party.

It's been a long while since
we've had a great party.

[chuckles]

And I know just how
to do it perfectly.

A bright, sunny day at Kiluna.

Black irises in one room,
ranunculus in the next.

There'll be those wonderful
black cherries

from Michigan we get,

but in Limoges bowls
on every table.

And the buffet will have
great big platters

of poulet a l'estragon
and salmon en croûte.

And the napkins will be
perfectly folded

like perfect, perfect flowers,
with the flatware

just nestled secretly
inside them.

And in addition to you ladies,
I will make

a very, very special
guest list.

Walter Cronkite,
Katharine Graham,

George Plimpton,
Gloria Vanderbilt,

Nancy Kissinger, Jo...

No, maybe not Joanne Carson.

She's been a little nutty
since the divorce.

This is sounding
very delicious.

When would this party
take place?

Summer, when I die.

You see, this is what I want
for the memorial service

after the funeral.

Babe, after the funeral? No.

I have a few months left,
and so this...

this is what's been
on my mind.

What to do when
you're at the end.

Well, Babe, I thought
we had more time.

No, C.Z., no tears.

No regrets.

I've done it.

I've had a life, a little

too public in retrospect,

but a life.

Now, let's have some of that
lemon sorbet.

Yes, some lemon sorbet
and shortbread.

Thank you.

And some Dom Perignon.
[chuckles]

[Bill]
Kate, please.

Kate, she really wants
to see you, I mean...

I know, I know,
but now is the time to put away

all of that anger
and resentment.

Kate, listen to me, honey.

[Kate]
All the times I needed her,

and the total, utter lack
of interest

for me and my life.

You can't expect me
to come running

when she finally beckons me

as if I were one of the dogs.

No, I won't do it.

I'm not sentimental about it.

[Bill]
But now's not the time
to hold onto that.

It's the time to let it go.
You have to understand

how she was raised.

She wasn't built to be a mother.

[Kate]
No! I'm sorry.

The Sphinx doesn't need
anything from me.

Maybe when you can hear
her death rattle.

Only then.

- [Bill] Kate, ple--
- [hangs up]

[dial tone]

Thank you, dear.

[sighs]

[Jerome]
Mrs. Paley, welcome home.

Hello, Jerome.

Will Mr. Paley be joining us
this weekend?

It's only me this weekend.

We've made it very cozy.

Let's get you inside.

Oh, not just yet.

I-I want to see everything.

I saw a moth yesterday.

It was trapped inside
of a lampshade.

It was throwing itself
at the light,

desperate to get free...

...unaware that the way out
was right there,

and all it had to do
was look down.

These pages are a chronicle
of everything I've done wrong.

Perfection was, for me,
a kind of eternity

I thought I could own.

If every detail was
in its place,

I thought the world might just
come to a stop

and stay that way forever.

But you cannot have eternity,

nor can you own perfection.

You merely borrow it
with interest.

I'm packing now for a trip.

Laid out on the bed are
all these items

that make up my life.

I can see how useless
many of them are.

Status, gloves, scarves,
cashmere.

Perfection all piled up.

But what I do have more
than anything else

is beauty.

Not beauty for the sake
of prestige or for stature,

but beauty for the sake
of beauty.

My world is suffused
with beauty.

I only wish I'd been
able to see

how much of it there was.

Late lessons, part 50:

we cannot possess the light,

but we can touch it.

Steal it in fragments,

small pieces.

A few moments that are
almost perfect.

Hardly enough to fill
a thimble with.

[tapping]

♪ ♪

[laughter echoing]

No!

"But isn't a thimbleful
of almost-perfect moments

just a nickel shy of
the price of eternity?"

[fireworks exploding nearby]

You found my diary.

I did. And I added that
last bit about the thimble,

but I won't tell.

[Babe sighs]

[fireworks continue]

What's happening?

Fireworks?

Yes, dear.
On the East River.

They're for you.

We'll go down there ourselves
and see them up close,

but first, dinner.

Can't be late now.

I got us the best table at 21.
Chop-chop.

[gasps, laughs]

I'm so glad you're here, Truman.

I'm so relieved that you had
the courage to come

after everything
that's happened.

Oh, I've given up
on holding grudges.

All is forgiven.

But now...

you've got to get dressed.

[chuckles]

[Truman]
The diaphanous pink.

You loved this dress.

[Babe]
Where did I wear it again?

[Truman]
Nowhere. It never
left the house, remember?

Bill got us tickets
to the Oscars in 1968.

It was such an awful snooze,
and we promised ourselves,

next year we would get
just as dressed up

but watch from home.

[Babe]
Oh, yes. That was the year

of-of the tie.

[Truman]
That's right.
Barbra Streisand

and Katharine Hepburn,
they tied for Best Actress.

[gasps]
What a moment to be alive.

And these...

[Babe]
The pearls you bought me
for Christmas.

[Truman]
It was that year
I was flat broke.

They're as fake as a Cartier
watch from Canal Street.

[Babe]
Yes, but they looked so real.

I've switched them out
with my good ones

just to see.

None of the girls
ever caught on.

[both laugh]

[fireworks continue]

Beautiful.
[chuckles]

- Can I tell you a secret?
- Mm-hmm.

But you'll have to swear
not to tell the others.

[fireworks continue]

I'm serious.

I'm famous for my discretion.

[laughs]
What?!

Okay, I'll tell you.

[whispering]
You're one of my top three.

Your top three?

Well, I don't know
what that means,

but I'm honored to have
been selected.

Oh, you don't select
your top three.

They're the ones...

They're the ones
you collide with.

You smash each other
into bits,

get all mixed up
and never come apart.

And these three,
are they best friends?

- Great loves?
- Not necessarily.

Sure, you can love them,

but they're also easy to hate
because they're the ones

that most reveal who you are,

which can be horribly painful,
but for that reason

you can never really
drop them.

You must always forgive them
in the end

because they are the most
precious resource in life.

And does everyone
only get three?

Some people only get one.

Some people get none.

That's just my theory, anyway.

And I like things in threes.

- How poetic.
- [chuckles]

Morning, noon, night.

Sun, moon, stars.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

The three faces of Eve.

[both laugh]

Come.

I'll run you a nice, hot bath.

But I've already gotten dressed.

Oh, that's right.

Well, then, we better
shut off that faucet.

Three Brontë sisters.
The Three Stooges.

- Three sheets to the wind.
- [both laugh]

Neapolitan ice cream.

Beginning, middle, end.

Am I dead?

[Truman]
Almost.

In your final hour, yes.

But don't worry, dear,
we can stay right here

for as long as you like.

I'll wait with you...
till you're ready.

Ready to see the fireworks.

[fireworks exploding]

What if I'm not?
What if I'm never ready?

If that's the case,
then we'll just stay

right here forever.

Let's stay.

[lengthy exhale]

[Truman chuckles]

[both sigh]

Oh, but there's so much
left to do.

I was too late.

I was too late, Truman,
to fix it all.

We all are, that's what it is.

And yet sometimes
the really important ones

do get fixed.

[Kate]
Mother.

You're not too late, Mother.

[Truman]
Enjoy the fireworks.

[raspy breathing]

And they looked

and they saw...

...what they had not seen
before.

[raspy breathing]

That she was beautiful.

♪ ♪

[C.Z.]
Truman.

Truman!

Babe is dead.

I tried calling and calling.
You didn't answer.

The doorman let me up.

[sniffles]

I'm sorry, Tru.

I have to get to work.

- [runs water]
- What are you doing, Truman?

What do you have to work on?

Babe's eulogy.

We all knew this moment
was coming,

and I've been writing it.

I have the ending in my head.

I just have to get it down.

Why are you doing this, Truman?

Because I knew her
better than anyone,

and I'm gonna read it
at her funeral, of course.

No, why are you doing this
to yourself? To me?

Please don't make me bear any
more awful news this morning.

What awful news?

It's not going to happen.

I talked to Bill.

I really made a case for you.

He's not going to allow you
to come to the funeral.

Well, I don't care what
Bill Paley will allow.

I will crash it if I have to.

He doesn't own Babe's memory.

You will do no such thing.

Play the tape to the end.
There will be guards there.

They will stop you
and they will hurt you.

But I have to be there.

It's Babe Paley, for God's sake.

She would have wanted it,
I know she would have.

I know she would have.

I have to read it, C.Z.
I have to get it out.

Read it to me.

Go on.

Hello, everyone.

I refuse to say
we have lost Babe

because I see Babe
almost everywhere.

The reflection in the window,
behind me on the street,

or in the smell of her perfume
on the corner

of Madison Avenue Bookstore.

Or the light on the windshield
of a car.

Because she and I
loved car rides,

we loved long drives
with no destination.

I can place her in every room
in my mind.

Babe, more than anything,
she loved the journey

of all of this.

And that is what I wanted to say

to those people who loved her.

The journey never ends.

We know all her words,
her mannerisms, her jokes,

so do what I do,
keep talking with her,

and she will, I promise,

talk right back.

We are still on the journey.

We cannot do this, any of this,

without the people we love.

Babe knew that.

And she never stopped proving
that, even though

there might be bumpy nights
and dramas,

you cannot get through this life

without simply forgiving
and being forgiven

by your friends
since they are...

once they are of you,

once they are

in your heart.

I am going to learn
how not to mourn

but rather to still see her.

Sometimes when I catch

my own reflection,

I see her instead.

I was at a party.

I was telling a story
about a certain person

I'd seen enter
an airplane bathroom

a dead ringer for Mae West

and exit looking
like Victor Mature.

[laughter]

When I finished,

everybody laughed
and applauded.

And then I saw that they were
all still looking at me,

eagerly expecting an encore.

I was alone and surrounded
by people,

the worst sort of loneliness
there is.

And in that desperate moment,
my eyes scanned the room,

and there in the back again,
I saw my reflection.

But it was Babe.

She was me.

She was smiling at me,
and in a look she said,

"Let's get out of here,"
and so we did.

We rode off into the night
under a full moon,

my reflection and I.

I don't remember where we went,

but I do remember
that on the way

we never ran out
of stories to tell.

And this is my point:
my reflection showed me

only the best parts of myself.

And in exchange
for her friendship,

I gave those parts to her.

I gave her everything

because she deserved it...
all...

...and so much more,

et cetera, et cetera.

Well, I can't end the eulogy
with "et cetera, et cetera,"

so you have to leave now because

I need to finish the ending.

[paper rustling]

♪ ♪

[writing]

[door closes]

[bell clanging]

♪ ♪

[cork pops]

[Lee]
This is so her. Every detail.
It's uncanny.

[Slim]
I know. I keep expecting her

to come around the corner
hurrying, fussing over

some errant stray flower petal
out of sync with the others.

[C.Z.]
It's ghoulish is what it is.

Well, now what the fuck
do we do?

I don't know, but let's face it,
it's not going to be easy.

She was the one who made
this whole thing work.

Wasn't she?
She, she made us show up.

We keep marching, like soldiers
in the winter in Russia

during the war.

Well, it's not that bad.
We're not,

we're not marching
on Stalingrad.

Oh, God, I dreaded this.

And it's much worse
than I thought.

I loved her.

[indistinct chatter]

[C.Z.]
The world turns,
and Bill Paley is

still alive and rich
and single once again.

Good luck to whomever
he ends up picking

because that is not a job
for the faint of heart.

Truman would have a deliciously
wicked quip in this moment.

He'd throw it like a lawn dart
and hit a bull's-eye.

[all chuckle]

Well, he should have come.

Why not?
It's the curtain call, isn't it?

Let him take his bow.

Truman will have the last word.

He will immortalize us all,
for better or for worse.

He's finishing Answered Prayers?

He said Babe's death is
the final chapter,

and then he can die.

And then
he can die.

Christ.
How about not dying?

How about thriving?

It's not that hard, you know,
to thrive.

[sighs]

I always wanted to ask him...

...did it pay off
to publish that?

And it didn't pay off, did it?

It was a waste.

Okay, look, I'm going
to slip out without fuss.

Yes, me, too.
Lunch next week?

Yes, we have to.
La Cote? How's Monday?

Oh, it doesn't work for me.

I have contractors
at Templeton all day.

- Tuesday?
- Oh, a thing in Bedford.
Wednesday.

Wait, no, Wednesday
doesn't work. Thursday.

I can't.

Oh, well, we'll just
keep in touch.

And maybe we should try
a new place. Lutèce?

Or dare we venture across
to the West Side?

- Café des Artistes?
- Ooh.

- Well, we'll figure
something out.
- Okay.

Mm.

[quietly]
Bye, darling.

some serious questions?

[slurring]
Oh, sure.

Have you been drinking?

You mean very lately?

Here's what I'm saying.

You have a problem

with alcoholism.

Millions of people have
the same prob--

Oh, my God.

I mean, alcohol is
the least of it.

[chuckles]
I mean, that's

the joker

in the-the cards.

[chuckles]

What is the problem?

It began because I...

[clears throat]
My mother...

it was all very simple.

It was one of the most simple,

I mean, kind of cases

of anxiety.

Well, you know, it was...

My mother was a very
beautiful girl,

and she was only

17 years old...

Here's a question I'd like
to ask you.

It's a serious question,
and that is this.

What is going to happen
unless you lick this problem

of drugs and alcohol?

What is going to happen
to Truman?

I'm sure you've thought
about it.

Oh, you know, I do,

for months and months
and months and months,

you know, I write.

But the obvious answer
is that eventually,

- I mean, I'll kill myself.
- Yes.

Without meaning to.

[phone ringing]

[Jack]
You know where you are?

Don't patronize me.

Hazelden. Minneapolis.
You're in detox.

You blacked out on
Stanley Siegel's

wretched television show.

Your self-loathing and guilt
over Babe,

over losing her without ever
having been forgiven,

is that why you did this
to yourself

on national television?

[sighs]

I better get myself
put together for her service.

That was two weeks ago.

The rest of Answered Prayers is
a love letter to her.

People will see what
I meant to celebrate.

There is no Answered Prayers,
is there?

There's scraps, there's lines,
there's abandoned pages.

Are you judging me?

Careful.

I'm asking for the practical
purpose of, when you die,

it's going to fall to me
to try and produce

a manuscript, and I would
appreciate being spared

that particular Easter egg hunt.

I don't want to die.

[chuckles]

That's a lie, too.

So much contempt.

Did I hurt you that much?

Contempt is not what this is.

This is goodbye.

I got you here, goodbye.

The book is real.

All those scraps, I, I just
have to put them together.

I met someone.

I'm in love.

Or as much as I can be

after all this.

You have him to thank, actually,
for my being here.

For your being here.

I was going to leave you
in your own vomit,

sleeping
on the living room floor,

but he convinced me that
that would be wrong.

Who?

A kid from that bookstore
in the Village.

He's way too young
for me, but...

I don't care anymore.

He's kind,

and kindness counts, Truman.

Gloating always was
a good look for you, Jack.

Fits you like a Cartier watch
on a courtesan's wrist.

You fancied yourself a writer,
but whatever you wrote,

it was always a chorus boy

trying to impress.

The only real dancing
I ever did was with you.

Justifying your self-regard,
as if genius excuses

what a miserable person you are.

To lie in print deliberately,

simply to hurt people
who care about you, it's...

And where has your high-wire act
gotten you?

A dead-end bed
in a dead-end hospital.

Goodbye, Truman.

Don't.

Please, Jack, don't go.

I'm scared.

[Jack sighs]

I only have you,
outside Joanne.

And she's...

Well, you know, she's Joanne.

She buys papered lamps

from Pier 1.

Tibetan eclectic,
for Christ's sake.

She's not Babe.

She's not you.

Please. I-I'm sorry.

Don't leave.

Jack, I'm so cold.

[exhales]

[Joanne] [echoing]
You were burning up,

now you're freezing.

Truman, can you hear me?

Can you talk?
What's wrong with you?

Are you in pain?
Did you have a heart attack?

Where am I?

You're in California...

...in your room,

in my house.

It's, it's me, honey.

It's Joanne.

It's Joanne.

Don't you remember?

You wanted to come out here
and-and dry out

and-and sit by the pool

- and-and write.
- [water splashes]

I got you all of your
yellow notebooks

and, and your pencils

and those good gum erasers.

You remember how you were gonna
finish Answered Prayers?

Truman?

- [Rick] Howdy.
- Howdy yourself.

Water's fine.
You coming in?

[chuckles]

[Truman]
No, no, I was

on the last page.

I was almost done.

I got you. I got you.

[Truman coughing]

[grunting]

Oh, God, Truman,
what have you done?

Thank God I've been doing
those Richard Simmons classes.

I have the upper body strength
to pull you out of there.

You just keeled over.

Okay, listen, I'm gonna
call a doctor, okay?

You just sit tight.

No, no, I'm going.

I've decided I'm going
to go to China,

where there are no phones
and no mail service.

In a Mandarin pagoda pavilion,

watching bamboo shoots sway...

Truman, stop.
You're scaring me.

You're not making any sense.

I am.
No more hospitals.

I'm very tired.

Truman.

If you care about me,

please just let me go.

You're burning up.

Bring me a drink.

No! No more alcohol.

I've been a very bad friend,
enabling you.

No more.
I'm-I'm gonna get you

a, a Diet Rite Cola, okay?

- Oh, dear.
- [ice rattles in glass]

[line ringing]

[man]
911. What's your emergency?

Hello? This is 911.

What's your emergency?

Hello? Hello?

[Babe]
On one hand, this place
desperately needs more light.

On the other, I hate to call
any more attention

to this decor.

Ah, poor Joanne,
she means well, I suppose.

[sighs]

Well, how is one to get better
when surrounded by

such an unfortunate color?

What is this color?

- Putty? Ugh.
- [chuckles]

You don't like it?
It's very Spanish mission

meets rancho.

Yes, yes, we get it, Joanne.

California abuts Mexico.

- How very on the nose.
- [chuckles]

Now sit up.

You need something
for your stomach.

A blotter.

A blotter?
[chuckles]

I love when you say that.

A blotter of Ritz Crackers.

Oh, Babe, how I love that.

Yes. After a night of imbibing,

absorbing all that alcohol,
all that acid?

Yes, a blotter.

First things first, though.

Hair of the dog.

Heavens.

Joanne went to fetch me
a diet root beer,

if you can fathom it.

Root beer. Please.

Are we throwing a pizza party?

[both laugh]

[coughing]

Okay, bad idea.

Come on, let's put that out.

Did you get a slight sunburn?

No, it's a flush.

Your liver and kidneys.
That's it.

They're all shutting down now.

And your heart,
how swollen it is.

I can hear it, the pumping.

It's not natural.
It's becoming an effort.

Yes, I fear
that may be the case.

- I feel so odd.
- Mm-hmm.

Oh.

Babe, your hand feels

so soft and cool.

It's just ecstasy, that feeling.

The cool hand of a mother.

Or an au pair from Gstaad.

Remember that time in Jamaica

when I was so awfully ill,
and you stayed up with me

- till my fever broke?
- Mm-hmm.

And in return
I read aloud to you.

[Babe]
Your first draft of
Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Of course I remember.

Yes, and-and when I'd finished,
you said,

"It's Carol, isn't it?"

[chuckling]
Mm-hmm.

It is about

Carol Matthau.

[Babe laughs]

Nobody else connected the dots.

[both laughing]

[Babe]
And you made me a promise then.

[Truman]
I said I'd never write
about you.

And I believed you.

People say things.
So be it.

Things get said
and then forgotten.

That's life.

Most of the time
there's no malice, just life.

Babe...

why did you come, really?

I've been calling
and calling for years.

Well, I had to, didn't I?

All those awful talk show
appearances,

not a word put to paper.

Somebody had to be there
for you.

[whispering]
I had to be there.

Like I was in Jamaica.

You've always been a child

who needs his mother.

- But my mother left me.
- I know.

And so did I.

I wasn't there enough
for my own children either.

But... I'm here now.

Sweet Truman.

♪ ♪

I'm not alive, am I?

I'm dead.

You have been for a very
long time, Truman.

Just... just close your eyes.

It'll all be over soon.

And believe me,

it's so much better
when you let go.

It's so cold.

I'm so cold.

How could this be California?

[phone line ringing]

[Jack] [on phone]
Hello?

It's over, Jack.

[sniffles]

- What was it like?
- Hard.

You know, it was,
it was just us.

It was you and me
for a long time,

and then it was just me.

Did he say anything?

He said he was cold.

"Mother." "Mama."

And then he said...

"Beautiful Babe."

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
access.wgbh.org