Original subtitles

- What are you reading?

- Charles's ex-wife wrote a book.

It's like a thinly disguised tell-all of their marriage.

- Are you in it? - Shh.

- It's supposed to be fiction,

but really it's like a blow-by-blow account

of their life, like no holds barred.

- Yeah, no holes barred either,

judging from the time she spent in LA.

- You know what?

I'm actually not really supposed to let you be reading this.

- I'm not reading. I'm--I'm stretching.

Wait, wait, no, no, don't turn that page.

It's really good, Kelsey.

- God, it's so well-written.

- Oh, who cares?

I just want to hear about you and Charles

almost having sex on his desk.

- Ugh! I don't know what happened, Maggie.

I just--I, like, went for it.

I wasn't even thinking.

- Well, good. - No, not good.

I would have had to have told him my age,

and that would mean breaking the promise I made with Kelsey.

And then out of nowhere,

Pauline shows up with this book.

It's like the universe is slamming the brakes on us.

- Oh, don't blame the universe.

It's a nutjob ex-wife that caused this.

- Maybe she's not a nutjob.

- She completely lied to you about who she was.

- Yeah, what kind of nutjob would do that?

- Did you hear that?

- Since 6:00 a.m.

- I think it's coming from the roof.

- What the hell?

- Oh, good morning.

I'm Dean, and this is my husband, Joe.

- Hello.

- I think the co-op board clearly stipulates

no cock on the roof.

- Oh, my God, I love you.

Ladies, help yourself to some freshly laid eggs.

- We just opened

our farm-to-table restaurant, Yarrow.

It's down on Havemeyer. Have you seen it?

- Hey, I walked by there the other day.

Yeah, it's a beautiful space.

- Well, now that you've been to the farm,

you have to come to the table.

- Yes, please; it's the least we can do

to make up for all this noise.

- How's tomorrow night? - Perfect.

- You won't believe your mouth.

- Okay, okay, did you read page 58?

- Yes, and I'm trying very hard to forget I ever did.

- Oh! I mean, who knew Charles had it in him?

He's so buttoned up.

I mean, how am I ever gonna look at him the same way again?

- Yeah, but it's not Charles. It's Carl.

- Did you read page 58?

- I am still sweating.

- Stay professional, Kelsey.

There are so many salacious details in this book.

It is gonna be huge.

And the prose is literary grade.

- She really does have a voice.

- No one is more shocked than me.

I mean, I knew Pauline wrote a few articles

for "Allure" and "Elle,"

but I thought after she had the kids,

she just stopped writing to join the ranks

of the undernourished mommy zombies

of the Upper East Side.

- Good morning.

- Charles. - Morning.

- Hi. - Diana, can I speak to you?

- - Of course.

Liza, anal-- coffee, coffee, eh--

- You read it?

- I did.

It's good.

- I know.

I honestly have no idea how to handle this.

- Well, if someone else publishes it,

then you are cannon fodder for the New York media.

But if you publish it, you seem like the bigger person,

and you get to control the narrative.

- Publish it.

And have my private life spilled out

for everybody to see? No, thank you.

I'll have our lawyers shut her down.

I'll serve her a cease-and-desist letter.

- I will find out what our options are.

Liza, get Legal on the phone.

- There's always time for lawyers.

Why not just talk to her first?

Look, the reason Pauline came to PitchFest

and gave me the book

was because she wanted to get your attention.

- Yeah, well, it's true

I haven't been communicating with her directly,

but I've been--

Well, it's been difficult.

- Have dinner with her tonight.

I'd be happy to stay with the kids.

- That's very kind of you.

I'll think about it.

- Whatever you decide to do, do it quickly.

I have sources out there who say

there are other publishers who've heard about the book

and are circling.

- Yeah.

- You can go now.

- Okay.

Who are you? I have pepper spray.

- No, no, no, no, I'm Ethan.

- I don't care what your name is!

Get out!

- Whoa, whoa!

Diana, this is my son.

- Your son?

Your son...Ethan.

- Yes, that was the big surprise.

My little man is in the house.

- Your son. Yeah.

- Hey, can I get the Wi-Fi code?

- Yeah, of course, buddy.

It's "Middlemarch."

- Oh, and did you remember

the ice cream and the Reddi-wip?

- You bet.

- Nice one, Dad.

- Richard.

A moment, please?

- Yeah.

- What is going on?

I was expecting champagne or maybe a double orchid.

- I knew you'd be surprised.

- Please explain.

Isn't Ethan in college?

- He decided to take a pause.

- A pause.

With one semester left.

- That's why his mother is so upset.

She won't take him in.

Do you mind if he stays here for a few nights or--

- Do I mind? Uh...

Of course not.

- Wonderful.

- Is it "Middlemarch" with no spaces?

- Yes. - Obviously.

- I shouldn't be long.

Thank you again for staying with the girls.

- It's no problem at all.

- They don't know anything yet,

and I think that it's important to contain this.

I mean, who knows;

Pauline could get on a plane again tomorrow

and be gone for another year.

- I, uh...

Well, I wish you luck.

- Um, would you mind texting me in an hour

so that I have an excuse to leave?

And now all I need is my phone.

Ah.

Thank you...again.

And, Liza, I want you to know something.

When Pauline walked out,

I never thought that I would stop feeling angry.

And then I met you,

and it was like a cloud lifted.

And even if we couldn't be together,

even if you were just working in the office,

I felt like me again around you.

And I am just so grateful that you are in my life.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- Look, we don't have to do small talk.

I'm sorry.

I'm not the same woman who walked out on you a year ago.

Can we just start there?

- Uh, uh, uh... Ooh, ooh, ooh!

Can you read me?

- Yes.

- Am I a book? both: Yes!

- Hey! Whoo-hoo!

- * Whoo, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Well, I don't want to make you wait *

* While I make up my mind *

* No, I don't want to make you wait *

* While I make up mind *

* I said oh, oh, oh *

* I've got nothing but time *

* Oh, oh, oh *

* I've got nothing but time *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

* Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh *

- What time is it?

- It's late. I'm sorry.

It got--well, there was just so much...

Can we talk about it in the morning?

I'm exhausted, and I'm sure you are too.

- Oh, yeah, of course.

Um, is everything okay?

- I called you a car. It's arriving now.

- Oh, okay.

Um... uh, good night.

- Good night.

- * The sky opens wide *

* You close your eyes *

* Now it won't find you *

- How long will he be... visiting?

- Just until we get this school thing figured out.

His mother is really digging in her heels.

Not everyone has your level of compassion.

You are incredibly special that way.

- I suppose I do have upper-level compassion.

- So? What happened last night?

I'm dying.

- He got home really late.

He didn't say much.

He was--he was pretty exhausted.

- Exhausted from what?

- Talking.

- Are you sure they were just talking?

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

- Uh, Liza, can I see you in my office?

- Of course.

Oh, my God.

- I'm sorry I was rude last night.

When things get very emotional,

I have a tendency to shut down.

- I know.

- I suppose you would.

That's one of the major themes in Pauline's book.

- No, I mean I know you.

And I'm sure last night was very difficult.

- When you are in a long marriage,

it's formative.

You go through profound experiences together,

like having children, and it makes you who you are.

It's like when two vines grow together

and they turn into one plant.

Sometimes they grow apart, you know,

searching for sunlight in different directions,

but there is still that part that's all twisted up together.

- I can...

imagine.

- And that's why I have decided

to publish Pauline's book.

Though I take issue with how I'm portrayed,

there's a fundamental truth to it,

and I suppose she has a right to tell her side of the story.

- That's incredibly magnanimous of you.

- Pauline would still like the book to be published

by Millennial if you are receptive to that.

- Of course.

I know Kelsey loves the chapters she's read.

- Pauline feels like you in particular

get the material.

In fact, she even asked if you personally could edit.

But I told her that's not going to happen.

- Why not?

I could guide her through the rewrites,

help protect your image.

And, honestly, I really did connect with the material.

- That wouldn't be too, uh, uncomfortable?

- I've already read page 58.

How much more uncomfortable could it get?

- This is where Jake Gyllenhaal sat last week.

He practically creamed over our parsnip puree.

- He really loves his root vegetables.

- Oh, thank you. - Thank you.

- So as our guests,

everything's already been arranged for you, okay?

No menus necessary.

- Thank you so much.

- You're welcome. Excuse us.

The chef will look after you.

- Enjoy. - Thank you.

- This place is so much nicer than I expected.

- I know; I can't believe it used to be the bodega,

which I miss, by the way.

I mean, you can't buy a lottery ticket

in this neighborhood anymore.

- Okay, I have some news. - What?

- You know that book that Charles's wife wrote?

We're gonna publish it.

- You're publishing the nutjob's book?

- It could be a best-seller.

I mean, and the good news

is that Pauline wants me to edit it...

- Oh. - Which is kind of a big deal.

But the bad news is--

- She's Charles's nutjob wife. - Yeah.

- Well, you have the gelato and the pube.

- The what?

- My Uncle Frank

used to go to this restaurant in Bayside.

It's a family business, if you know what I mean.

So for dessert, the owner deserves him

this big cup of gelato.

It's beautiful. It's gorgeous.

But on top is this crazy black pube

just right there.

So what does he do?

- I do not know.

- He eats it, 'cause he has to.

Otherwise, he'd have a bottle broken over his head.

- These are not analogous situations.

- You got a nice thing with a pube on top.

That's all I'm saying.

- Zane again.

I'm ghosting him.

But I zombied last night.

- You ate his brains?

- I was drinking,

and I accidentally liked one of his Instagram posts.

- Maybe that means you still like him.

- Are you kidding me?

He's a total asshole.

- All of your ex-boyfriends are assholes.

It's not your fault; you got a broken picker.

- That is not true. - Oh, come on.

Thad? Colin?

Manorexic college boyfriend?

Don't even get me started

about the high school mullet cheer boy.

- All right. What about you?

- What about me?

- You have weird dodgeball girl,

psychopath Amy/Montana.

And I love Liza, but your picker done you wrong there.

- Okay, okay, okay.

- Maybe we should switch phones,

pick each other's Tinder dates.

I bet I could do better than you.

- I know I could do better than you.

- Give me your phone.

- I got a better idea.

Live Tinder.

- What is live Tinder?

- It's a bar. Come on.

- Please tell me that's the last course,

'cause I don't think I could take another.

- Then I'll just leave you with this.

- Oh, actually, we were invited here by the owners.

- Honey, Pete Wells just gave us three stars

in "The New York Times."

It's a privilege just to eat here.

- $500?

- Well, there's our pube.

- Hey, what about him?

- He just fist-bumped his friend, Kels.

- He's hot.

- You know, that's your problem.

You go after

these supercompetitive alpha male types

who are just out for themselves,

and I want to find you someone soulful,

someone real.

- Well, no handlebar mustaches, okay?

I don't want to be hooking up with the guy on the Pringle can.

Hey, what about her?

- No, high maintenance.

- How do you know?

- Rhinestones on her cell phone case?

Bad sign.

- How about her?

- Mm.

I--I think I already slept with her.

- Oh, you think.

- Hey, don't judge, zombie.

- I can't believe you paid that bill.

- Well, I don't want to be on bad terms

with the people who live directly over my head.

- I should have pulled their fire alarm on the way out.

- IDs, ladies?

Look at my neck.

Josh and Kelsey, 12 o'clock.

- Oh, it's okay. Yeah, we're good.

- Hey. - Hi.

- Hey. - You guys here to get stupid?

- We already did that. We're here for a drink.

- Hey. - Hi.

Drinks on me! What do you guys want?

- Vodka tonic. - Me too.

- Whiskey, please. - Okeydokey.

Hi. - Hey.

What can I get you, miss?

- Your accent, for starters.

- That's only available in a small village

30 miles outside of Dublin, I'm afraid.

- Oh, I've always wanted to go to Ireland.

I did a concentration in Irish literature in college.

- James Joyce?

- I love James Joyce. Don't get me wrong.

But I secretly love Bram Stoker more.

- God love ya and your dark and populist soul.

- I'm Clare. - Liza.

- What are you drinking, Liza?

- Oh, two vodka tonics

and a Widow Jane neat, please.

- Oh, I know who that's for.

Muscles over there.

- You know him?

- Only from here.

He's in that band, right?

But I can tell.

Those tattoos, the big smile?

He's a player if there ever was one.

- Well, you're wrong.

Josh is the kindest, most genuine,

loyal human being I've ever met.

- Is he, now?

- All right.

Maggie says, and I quote,

"Where the hell is my drink?"

- Josh, will you tell Clare

what your favorite thing to do on your birthday is?

You know, the thing that you do every single year?

- I--I bake about 100 dog treats in my house,

and I bring them to the pound.

Dogs go crazy for them. They love it.

- Josh, this is Clare. Clare, this is Josh.

Clare?

You don't really bake your own dog biscuits.

- Yeah, I do.

They're made of, like, 90% bacon,

and they're delicious.

I--I notice you make your own bitters.

You pick that up in Ireland or...

- Is it that obvious?

- Plus the Claddagh ring.

- Well, you're very observant.

- I also notice the heart is pointing outward.

- And what do you know about that?

- Well, I think it means that you are waiting

for your heart to be captured.

- Maybe.

- Oh, it's bewildering to Irish people.

I mean, New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire.

- Wow.

- All named after English places.

- Yeah.

- I mean, where's your originality, America?

- Oh!

How about New Tahiti?

- Ah, look. Sun's coming up.

- Oh, shite.

- Let's go get breakfast, hmm?

- I'd love to.

But I've got to get to my day job.

- Ah.

- Well, it's an internship

at a video game design company.

- Shut up. You design video games.

- Right now, I'm just coding a teeny part of one game.

- Ah!

- Which is absolutely thrilling,

but it's in Chelsea, so I have to go.

- Chelsea's English too, isn't it?

Text me.

- Yeah, I will.

Soon. Like today soon.

I'm gonna text you right now.

- * You spin me off the ground *

- Thank you so much for meeting me

and, well, for everything.

- I haven't really done anything yet.

- But you are gonna edit my book, right?

- I thought a lot about it,

and I definitely want to do it,

but let's just start with the first chapter

and see how we work together.

If either one of us is unhappy, we can just part ways--

no harm, no foul.

Sound good?

- Yes.

Just don't tiptoe around my feelings.

I need you to be ruthless.

- Oh, I will be.

- Good, because I am sick of polite conversation.

I have been drowning in it for years.

If you're gonna be my editor,

I want to hear your most brutal criticism.

- Okay, you want me to be brutal?

- Yup.

- Your book is wonderful.

But women are not going to understand

how you could leave your kids for a year to write it.

- Fair.

- Many women, most women

give up a lot to be mothers.

What makes you the exception?

- I'm not the exception.

I'm the norm.

Women do the emotional labor of the family,

and it's just expected.

And no one would bat an eye

if a man checked out for a while to write a book.

They do it all the time.

I was so tired of being a nonperson,

the wife on my successful husband's arm.

And I didn't want my girls growing up

thinking that's the norm.

When I started writing again,

I just found this part of myself I thought was gone forever.

And the stories I wrote were funny and true,

and they--they gave me insight

into this crazy New York literary world

that had just swallowed me up.

I did this for my family, for my girls.

I just hope Charles realizes that.

- Maybe you shouldn't be so focused

on what Charles thinks.

- Are you kidding? I love him.

I am out of my mind for him. I always have been.

Can you understand that?

- Yeah.

Yeah, I can.

- Look, I know he's gonna ask you how it's going,

working with me.

And when he does,

please be kind.

- Of course.

Oh. Oh.

Richard?

Get in here.

What is this...thing?

- Oh, it's a Fleshlight.

- Excuse me?

- It's like a flashlight with a vagina on it.

You know, it's a pocket pussy. - A what?

- Basically, a man uses it to...

pleasure himself.

- Oh! Oh!

Oh, g--oh, no, no, no, no.

Ugh.

And I assume that this-- this belongs to your son?

- Oh, I'm sure it does. Where did you find it?

- Right between my linen cushions.

What are you-- what are you doing?

- Well, I'm putting it back where you found it.

I am not going to shame my son.

- You are buying me a new couch.

- So how was lunch with the pube?

- She's a complicated woman.

Evidently, the real reason she wrote the book

was to win Charles back.

And as her editor, she wants me to help her do that.

- She is not a pube; she is a goddamn bush.

- Josh.

- What?

- He just thanked me

for setting him up with that Irish bartender.

- You're helping both of the men in your life

get with other women?

- Yup, I'm gonna end up like Jane Austen.

She helped create all these romantic relationships

and died a spinster.

Oh.

Oh. Hi.

- Don't "oh, hi" me.

What did you do with our chickens?

- Hey.

Want a bite?

- You're despicable.

- So is the $500 tab from last night.

- I'm calling the police. - Go right ahead.

And FYI, it's illegal to have chickens in this building.

I mean, I wasn't gonna say anything,

but as long as you're on the phone with the police...

- Whaa! Seriously?

- Nah, I called the health department.

They came this morning.

This is chicken from the market.

Would you like white meat or dark meat?

- Oh, my God, I love you.

- Hey, you're in early.

- Richard's son, Richard's college-age son, it...

is living with us now.

- That's sweet.

- He masturbates into a rubber vagina

on my linen sofa; it's adorable.

- Would you like some coffee?

- Immediately.

Black. No cream!

- Got it.

Do you have a moment?

- Yeah. Please, come in.

- I, uh--I had lunch with Pauline yesterday.

She's a lovely, intelligent woman.

- And we are separated.

- Yes.

But she wrote this book as a way to reconcile with you.

- Her book is not going to get us back together.

- You read the book.

It's basically Eat, Pray, Win My Husband Back.

- Pauline has written a work of fiction.

My feelings for you are real.

- But she-- - Wrote a book.

I know.

Pauline may have made a mess of my life,

but she is not going to make a mess of us.

- * I can't stand a lie *

* Yeah, pounding in my head *

* I heard you smugly testify *

* Smugly testify *

* Here comes a liar *