All language subtitles for Route66 - S02E01 (A Month of Sundays)

- [Tod Voiceover] Looking
back, it's hard to remember

exactly how things were
before she got here.

Buz and I had come to
Butte three weeks before,

Buz to work in the copper
reduction plant at Anaconda,

me to drive an ore
truck in Berkeley Pit.

It's astonishing how
much a part of your life

someone can become
in so brief a time.

It's hardly a month
ago she came to Butte.

There's a small
animal, the lemming,

which every year by
the thousands runs off

the shores of Portugal
and swims out into

the Atlantic and drowns
miles from shore.

Nobody's ever explained why,

or why the salmon fights
his way upstream to die.

Maybe Arline
understood this already

that morning she arrived.

But we hadn't met her
then and even if we had,

she'd never have told
us what she was feeling

or what all of us
were about to face.

- [Male Speaker]
Passengers may claim their

luggage at the baggage counter.

The limousine for downtown Butte

will be leaving in 10 minutes.

- Are you free?

- Yeah.

No luggage?

- No luggage.

235 West Copper.

(horn honks)

- [Reporter] And now five
minutes of the latest news.

In New York this
afternoon, the big mystery

is where is Broadway's
newest star?

Arline Simms who has
taken Manhattan by storm

with her role in
Broadway's biggest new hit,

Thunder of Sparrows,
failed to appear this

afternoon for her
matinee performance.

Said to be the most
unpredictable personality

on Shubert row in many a season,

Ms. Simms probably
flew to New Orleans

for the Oysters Rockefeller,
according to John Burton,

Pulitzer Prize
winning playwright

and author of
Thunder of Sparrows.

- Turn it off, please.

- OK if I tell the
dispatcher, Ms. Simms?

I mean, how much excitement
does he ever get sitting

there in the garage on
top of that squawk box?

Besides, everybody
in Butte'll know

in a couple of minutes anyway.

- Let him live.

- 6-5 to home.

(dramatic music)

(somber music)

- [Tod Voiceover]
Don't let anyone kid

you about premonitions.

They don't grow on trees.

Maybe now and then
we all get one,

but most of the big things
that happen to us just pop up

unannounced and happen,
like Arline Simms.

I didn't know until later
what Buz was feeling

at that moment of seeing
Arline for the first time

because I wasn't looking at Buz.

I was looking at Arline.

Call it one of those
chemical things,

but whatever it was, I
found myself in action.

- Say, the lady that runs
the boarding house'll

probably ask 40 a
month, but offer her 30.

She's got a heart of gold.

Well, look, can I get your bags
out of the cab or something?

Anything?

- That's the wrong approach.

- No kidding.

- Arline, Arline.

(laughs)

10 calls I've had
these last few minutes,

all telling me my famous
niece just flew into town

and without so
much as a telegram.

I shouldn't even
be talking to you.

Six years, girl, and not a word.

- Always at Christmas.

- Money.

'Twas yourself you
should've mailed home.

But why now, Arline?

Why come back now?

- Why not?

- All right, honey, I'll
not push you for the reason.

In good time.

In good time.

Where's your baggage?

Look at us, the last of the
Sullivans and the Simms.

Two women with not
a child between them

and here we stand
like strangers.

Come in, child.

Come on in.

- Hey, Tommy, isn't that, um?

- Arline Simms in person.

Two things Butte's proudest of:

our copper, Charlie Simms'
daughter, Lord rest his soul.

- She sure has got
a way about her,

you gotta admit that.

- What are we doing out here?

She's inside.

- Yeah, I know, but
there's only one of her.

- I'll send you
regular bulletins.

- Look, before I was
born when I was still

swinging with the
spirits, I knew that girl.

I've always known her.

I'll send you the bulletins.

- We'll flip.

- Oh, no deal.

- No deal?

- Look, why don't you just
straighten your shoulder, Tod,

and turn on the charm because
it's every man for himself.

See, and I'm coming on strong.

Dig?
- Yeah.

- [Lydia] How does it look?

- It's smaller than I remember.

But it's solid and
reassuring, like papa's table.

It's the heart of
forever, isn't it?

And mama's needlepoint chair.

Papa's throne.

The afternoon he died,
he sat in this chair.

Do you remember, Lydia?

And the doctor said,
"Come on, Charlie,

"we're gonna take
you to the hospital."

He just sat here and held onto
these arms, shook his head.

He said, "Bring me my Arline."

Mama brought me to
him, you remember?

I sat on his lap and
I tried not to cry.

Clutched his hand.

Felt just like sea foam.

Just like sea foam,
Lydia, from a wave

that had been broken and spent.

He looked at me so gravely.

He looked up at mama
and he said this

one's gonna be
all right, Isabel.

Don't you worry, she's
gonna be all right.

She's gonna do you proud.

(somber music)

Is Father Prior still
at Saint Lawrence?

- The devil himself could
never route him out.

You can make your peace on that.

- Good.

- You must be tired, all
the way from New York.

And hungry.

- And Mrs. Clark?

- Good heavens, Arline.

She was 92 when she
passed on last September.

No complaint, I'd say.

- [Arline] Till
next Tuesday, child.

Get some strength
in that right hand.

(phone rings)

- Hello?

Yeah, she's here.

It's long distance.

New York, a Mr. John Burton.

- I won't talk.

- She's indisposed.

What's that?

Oh, just a minute.

He says he's going
to keep calling you

every half hour until
you finally talk to him.

- Close the doors,
will you, Aunt Lydia?

It's private.

Hello, John.

John, listen to me, I
am never coming back.

Look, I'm saying this now
softly and without emotion

and we're never gonna
speak to each other again.

I'm never coming back.

All right, John, you wait.

You just sit there
and mix yourself

another martini and you wait.

Look, give yourself at
least a week to suffer,

huh, and feel it deeply.

There's always the new play
and the new leading lady.

Goodbye, John.

- Hey!

What are you doing?

Hey, wait a minute.

I paid the rent.

- Get out.

- [Buz] Get out?

What's going on?

- [Arline] Just get out.

- Hey, come on now.
- Out!

- Wait a minute.

- [Tod] My, you certainly
made a hit with her.

- Yeah, well, she went
into my room, not yours.

Mine.

- Yeah, well, somehow
from where I stand

that doesn't even seem
like a minor victory.

- Oh.

Well, when Arline gets
in a mood, Mr. Murdock,

you just gotta
look the other way.

- I must have done something
to bug her or something.

- Well, you see,
that's her old room.

It has a lot of
memories for her.

But, well, somehow
she forgot the hard

years that she was away.

And she forgot that I had
to keep this home going,

so I took in gentlemen
from the mines.

Nice gentlemen, such as you.

But that's Arline.

When she gets a
notion, that's that.

Something made her
come back here.

What it is I don't know yet.

But the Lord works
in mysterious ways.

He must've had some reason
for making her return.

Oh, I've got another nice
room for you down there.

You know, you're
awful nice about this.

- Well, it's a good
world. (laughs)

- Times are I don't think I
really understand your friend.

- Mrs. Sullivan, stop trying.

(lighthearted music)

- [Arline] Aunt Lydia, please.

Yes, I am all right and no
I don't want any dinner.

I'll see you in the morning.

- It'll be too late.

Look, I may not look it,
but I'm the pajama type.

I don't know why.

Maybe it's just a habit,
but I dig pajamas,

like the bottoms.

When you threw my
stuff out of here,

you overlooked a few items,
like the pajama bottoms

and the toothbrush, toothpaste.

- All right.

- I made out a list.

- [Arline] Just get
them and leave me alone.

- Well, the list
is a little long.

It may take a little while.

I couldn't have left
them anywhere, you know.

Not there either.

- Maybe you're wearing them.

- Oh no, I checked.

Your aunt has cooked
you a special dinner.

Why don't I go down and get
you a plate and bring it up?

It's a stew.

It's got everything in it.

- Maybe that's where
your pajamas are.

(lighthearted music)

- Look, I want you to
know that no matter

what this looks like,
it's not a pickup.

The good people either dig each

other right now or forget it.

Two half truths never
made an integrated single,

but two truths together, man,
that's a crazy square root.

Now, you take me for instance.

I never batted 300.

Probably never will.

Never climbed Mount Everest
and I don't have perfect pitch.

But I can tell you
about Arline Simms.

Somebody or something has
dropped a glass wall around her

and now she looks at people
from the bottom of a fish bowl.

So she's come running
back to lean on the past.

To reach out for
things that are gone.

Look, if you want to bust
out of that fish bowl,

if you want to be free, all
you've gotta do is think free.

All you gotta do
is say, I'm free.

I'm me.

- Move over.

- Be my guest.

- When I play games,
I play my rules.

- You've got the wrong boy.

In the man-woman battle,
it's the man's rules.

- Win the battle, lose the war.

- Hey.

Nobody ever really wins a war.

(somber music)

You planning to hit every
joint in Butte tonight?

(lively jazz music)

- [Arline] Whatever comes
straight, make it a double.

- Why fight it?

Your change, ma'am.

- Quitting so soon?

- Do you know where
Columbia Gardens is?

- If I didn't, I'd say I did.

- I'll show you.

(somber music)

Over there in the
shell of the balcony

the firehouse band used
to play every Sunday.

Sundays were always
the best days.

Sometimes wonder why
we can't live all

the rest of the week
like we do on Sunday.

I've got to remember all of it.

Why can't I remember?

Why've I forgotten so
many thousands of things?

All the good things,
like what mama

used to cook for breakfast,

the colors of papa's ties,

and the words,

all the words he said.

What did he say?

I can't remember.

All I can remember is those last

few words just before he died.

You're right.

I'm leaning on the
past just as you said.

But I can't help myself.

I'm afraid.

I want to run to my father.

And not like we write
in books and plays.

Not sick, but I want them back.

I want my mother and
my father back, Buz.

I need them.

I need them so.

- Well, what can I do?

Just tell me, what can I do?

- Hold me.

Please, hold me.

(somber music)

- What are you sitting for?

You want to be late for work?

- [Tod] The keys.

- Oh.

- Tonight is my turn.

- She won't be free.

- Wow, what do you know.

A smiler with an ax.

- Relax, she's not seeing me.

She's got a date with a priest.

Father Prior of the
neighborhood church.

- Well, maybe she'd like
to do the town later.

I'll ask her when I finish
the afternoon shift.

- She's not exactly
in a dating mood, Tod.

That's not why she
came back to Butte.

- Is that one of the
bulletins you promised me?

- It's like the
insulation's broke.

Like she shorted out somewhere.

She's driving without
lights in a panic.

(somber music)

- [Father Prior]
Arline, my dear.

- Oh, Father, I'm so
glad to see you again.

- I've been waiting.

That's all I've heard in
the parish since yesterday.

Arline's home.

Welcome home, Arline.

- Father, please help me.

I haven't the strength
to fight anymore

and nowhere else to turn.

I thought maybe the
house where I was born,

maybe there I'd find
something to hold onto.

It's just as empty as New York.

I'm falling.

I keep reaching out for
something to stop me.

I've come home, Father.

I've come home to die.

(dramatic music)

(somber music)

- Go to the rectory.

Mrs. Harriet will
make you some tea.

Come home to die indeed.

Now what kind of a
grim joke is that?

Anyway, come along now.

- Father, I can't talk about
it calmly and logically yet.

I'd prefer not to
go to the rectory

and discuss it over
tea if you don't mind.

I feel better here.

- All right, my dear,
we'll stay here.

Now tell me what it is.

- It's called lupus
erythematosus disseminatus.

Sounds like a
Latin name they use

for some pretty
flower, doesn't it?

I look at myself in the mirror
and I'm not Arline anymore.

I'm a host for lupus.

An expert suddenly
able to enunciate all

the tongue twisting
impersonal medical terms

that isolate me from
my stranger's body.

Lupus, Father, is a degenerative

process involving
the blood vessels.

Acute lupus inevitably
terminates in death,

usually from toxemia,
usually within a few weeks.

- I see.

How long have you known?

- Through all kinds of
pain, special treatments,

antibiotics, steroids,
transfusions, cortisone.

Through all kinds
of delaying actions.

- How can you be
sure there's no--

- The top doctors in New
York say the end of July.

I got sick of New York in July.

Dying on the installment plan.

So here I am.

- You've told no one.

- Father, in my world
death is for bit players

or something that
happens off stage.

But it doesn't happen to the
star, except in tragedies.

They're not producing tragedies
this season on Broadway.

Will I get more and more afraid?

Can I find something
to hold onto?

- Death may deprive us of
the wonder of this existence,

my child, but it can never erase

the triumph of
our having existed

whether for one year
or for one hour.

God will not fail you, child.

I promise you in his His name.

(somber music)

- What cripples we are, Father.

How easily crushed.

How nothing.

Look at them up there.

Their cold light.

It's all around us, Father.

Everywhere we
look, indifference.

A whole universe
of indifference.

- You say the universe
is indifferent.

Yes, yes, it is.

But there's a higher
order, my dear.

The love in each of us
which makes us care.

I'm not indifferent, Arline.

If I could die for
you, I would gladly

as I would for any
who need relief.

Remember, my child,
I'm here waiting.

Whatever time you come,

whenever you call.

(somber music)

- Arline!

More than anything
I'd like to kiss you.

But I can't.

When you went into the
church, I followed you

to tell you I'd
be waiting outside

in case you felt
like doing the town.

I heard it all.

If I could've pushed a button

and disintegrated myself,
I would've pushed.

But I was trapped.

There was no way I could leave

without you knowing I was there.

- So you know.

- When you were running
away from the church

I could feel your panic
like it was my own,

so I called out to you.

You threw yourself into my arms.

Do you know why?

To feel flesh and blood.

Another human being.

Not me.

Life.

If I hadn't known that,
I'd have grabbed back.

But I knew it, so I couldn't.

You don't even know
my name, do you?

It's Tod.

Tod Stiles.

- They say any old straw
when you're drowning.

You're not just any
old straw, Tod Stiles.

I'd like you to know that
for whatever it's worth.

Thank you for being so logical.

Good night.

- Arline.

Now that the words
are out of the way,

how about trying again
without being so logical?

- Wouldn't work this time.

We're no longer strangers.

- I'll drive you home.

- No, I'm not going home.

Not yet.

Night, Tod.

(somber music)

(somber music)

- You can't win them all.

- Never knew you
to quit so soon.

- Well, I tried
and it's just never

gonna work for Arline and me.

She's a great kid, Buz.

(Buz laughs)

Of course, everybody knows
that I'm a great kid, too,

but it just happens
to be a case where two

great kids weren't
destined for each other.

So I pass, OK?

I turn the keys over to you
and I give you my blessing.

- [Buz] All right.

- Buz.

- Yeah?

- Some advice, huh?

Keep it light, just for laughs.

- Keep you posted, dad.

(somber music)

- Arline.

Well, Tod reported a strike out,

so I figured it was time
for the second inning.

- Thanks, Buz, but no.

- Look, whatever's bugging
you, we're gonna exercise it.

- Exorcise.

- That's it, you take
care of the grammar

and I'll take care of
the happy talk, OK?

Come on.

Don't think about it.

Make the commitment.

Do it.

Yeah, (mumbles), right?

We go.

Now every day in the
marketplace sits a kebab vendor

who turns spits of meat over
black (mumbles) charcoal.

And every day this poor man
come by with a piece of bread.

He would take this piece
of bread and hold it over

the roasting meat to
get some meat flavor.

Then he'd walk away
without saying a word.

Well, after a year of
this, the vendor said,

"Look here, you beggar,
I expect payment."

The beggar refused,
so the vendor

dragged him off by
the ear to court.

Said to the judge, "For
one year, this beggar

"has been passing my stand
and soaking his bread

"in my kebab smoke and I want
you to make him pay for it."

"Oh," said the judge.

"What do you think he owes you?"

One anna per day.

365 annas for a year.

The beggar shrugged
because he had no money.

"Well," said the
judge, "I'll pay you

"out of my own
pocket personally,"

and he took the exact
amount out of the pocket

and held it in
front of the vendor.

Just as the vendor was
about to take the money,

the judge pulled it
back, said, "Oh no.

"The man didn't steal your
meat, only the flavor,

"and I'll pay you the same way.

"Here, smell the money."

(laughs)

I was just trying
to steal the flavor.

- Night.

- What's the matter,
Paul, the British coming?

- Do you realize we sleep
away one third of our lives?

- I did until I met you.

Let me guess.

You found Arline.

- Yeah, she's
really a great girl.

- Yeah.

Well, give me the whole report.

- No report.

Didn't even kiss her.

- You mean you
woke me up to tell

me you didn't even kiss her?

- But I've got a whole
program in orbit.

Irresistible.

So go back to sleep
and save your strength

while the rest of us
are spending ours.

I'll turn the light out.

(lighthearted music)

- [Tod Voiceover] All
through the days and nights

that followed for
more than three weeks,

Buz knocked himself
out to be with Arline.

Even insisted she pick him
up at the end of each shift.

It was though some
special force was

driving him to make
Arline love him.

"She's crazy about
Sundays," he'd tell me,

"because Sundays were the
good days when she was a kid.

"So I'll give her
a month of Sundays,

"a lifetime of Sundays
if it'll make her happy."

(lighthearted music)

(engine roaring)

- I thought we settled all that.

Nothing serious,
just for (laughs).

- It's time we reopened
the discussion.

- Not now, Buz.

Maybe sometime soon.

(engine roaring)

- Pick a hand.

What do you think?

- Once more from the top, huh?

- Comes out the same way.

I'm gonna marry that girl.

- She said yes?

- Don't worry, she will.

I'm taking her to the dance at

the Columbia Gardens tonight and

it's where I make the scene.

(light knocking)

- Yes?

- [Tod] It's Tod, may I come in?

- Yes, come in,
the door is open.

- You're going to
Columbia Gardens

tonight with Buz, aren't you?

- Yes, why?

- He bought a ring.

He's gonna ask you to marry him.

- No.

- [Tod] And you're
going to accept.

- I can't, you
know I can't, Tod.

- But he doesn't know you can't

and that's why you're going to.

- How could I love if I can't
offer a lasting relationship?

I don't even know if I'm
gonna see the rain again.

I don't know if I'm
gonna see tomorrow's sun.

How can I hurt Buz by
loving him and letting

him love me when it
can't go anywhere?

- But it can go somewhere.

- What, a day, two
days, maybe a week?

- A minute if
that's all there is.

But a minute that counts.

- I can't.

I know Buz loves me.

I can't make it worse.

- Arline, you're doing
what everybody else does.

Wasting precious days,
just passing the time,

going through the
motions, waiting.

That's not really living.

Before my father died,
he taught me something.

He knew he was dying and
he lived his last days

more fully than he lived
all the rest of his life.

He said don't left
yourself be hobbled

by fatalism and
don't run from death.

Recognize it, accept
it for what it is.

Just as much a
miracle as being born.

Maybe more so.

Only when we lose our fear
of death can we defeat it.

Then we can make every hour
of our existence really count.

Arline, Buz is a guy
who's with things.

He feels every minute of every
experience in every pore.

And if he did know, this is
the way he'd want it to be.

So take this from him and
share it with him and use it.

(dramatic music)

(peaceful jazz music)

(lighthearted jazz music)

- [Tod Voiceover] Buz didn't
tell me and I'll never

ask what it must've been
like with Arline in those

first few minutes until
the ambulance arrived.

But as soon as he'd called for
an ambulance, he called me.

I borrowed a car, only
making one stop on the way,

and got to him as
fast as I could.

I stopped for Father Prior.

- Are you sorry for
your sins, my dear?

(speaking in foreign language).

Amen.

- Father.

I'm not afraid.

- (speaking in
foreign language).

Amen.

- I was alive.

I really was alive.

(somber music)

(Buz crying)

(screams)

(moves into dramatic music)

(lively jazz music)

- [Male Voiceover] This
has been a Screen Gems film

presentation from
Columbia Pictures.

Herbert B. Leonard,
Executive Producer.