All language subtitles for Nine Lives (2004).en

So, whafd you think of
that one, Jackie?

I got to stay home from school
the day the president died.

Beautiful Jackie.
Sad, but beautiful, Jackie.

The perfect mommy, Jackie.
The bereaved wife.

Jackie in black,
Jackie in pain.

Strong, strong,
strong Jackie.

No cheap soap opera
theatrics, no ma'am.

My brother had this buddy
named Alan.

He seemed to understand
Jackie's allure.

I'll never forget the look
on my brother's face

when Alan described the crimson
blood stains on Jackie's pink suit.

Crimson.

One day, when my brother
wasn't at home,

Alan came into my room
to look at my Jackie photos

adorning every square inch
of my bedroom walls.

He called it
Jackie wallpaper.

One day, when my tediously
butch brother wasn't at home,

Alan and I kissed.

I imagine it was like
the first time Jack kissed Jackie.

So... deep, somtruthful.

Somromantic.

Jackie seemed
to enjoy watching it.

We enjoyed having her
there.

It was kinda like a three-way.

We had one summer
of love,

and then he went off
to Vietnam.

I was in my senior year of high
school when it happened.

What's the matter?

What happened?

Alan got killed.

Look at Jackie.

She didn't cry.

Can you meet cute
at the Vietnam wall?

"Meeting cute" is
a movie expression

describing that initial encounter
between onscreen people

who are destined
to fall in love.

It was silent at the wall.

Except for the sounds
of sniffling.

All of a sudden, I realized
there's this guy behind me.

So, I turn around, and
he gives me this big smile.

Well, I must've looked at him
like a moonstruck teenager,

because he started to laugh.

He was there looking
for his brother's name.

We decided to get together
the next morning.

Staring at that quilt,
we fell in love.

Died about ten years ago
in my arms.

We always joked
that whoever was the first to go

would have to carry
the other one's ashes around

to every fuckin' cruise and every
Napa Valley wine tasting. Well,

on one
of those wine tastings,

after one wine too many,

I decided to scatter his ashes.

On the road.

Where he always wanted to be.

On the road.

Well, I vowed never
to marry again.

Liz Taylor, I ain't.

So I just embarked on a series
of anonymous sexual encounters.

Figured I'd burn out
in a matter of months.

But, no. Enter the three things
that saved this girl's life:

Protease inhibitors,

Viagra.

And A.O.L.

I met Carlos online under
my "Hot Paws Dad" screen name.

My three favorite words
used to be "l Love You."

Nmnwllmmummfi
m...

Fuck me, Daddy.

♪ These are what it seems ♪

♪ These erotic dreams ♪

♪ These inner feelings
are concealing ♪

♪ I just can't breathe ♪

♪ Wait for another day ♪

This one therapist said

that I'm searching
for my real father.

Maybe it's a sperm
I'm in search of.

You know, the seed
that bred me?

That's what they say.

True, my father is unknown.

I mean, that's what it says
on my birth certificate.

"Father unknown."

I'm a mutt.

He musta been Latin.

Or maybe he was Mexican.

Salvadorian, Rican.

He coulda been a mix.

A splash of black,
a dash of Asian.

A pinch of nigger,
a dab of gook.

Who knows? "Unknown."

I don't know what the fuck
I'm lookin' for.

I sure do like
those daddy types.

If you're a gay dude
who's lived to be 50,

you must have
somethin' goin' on.

Some kinda energy
I want inside me.

♪ I am hungry for more ♪

♪ I want it ♪

.'You.'

♪ I need it ♪

.'You.'

♪ You need it and lam
hungry for more ♪

That was called
"Daddy, Come."

I wonder if my mother
was searching for a father.

She was a slut,
that's for sure.

I used to watch her get
plowed, night after night.

On her knees, on her back,
on the floor.

And all of these guys
were potential husbands.

Oh, if, uh...

If Mr. Right hung around,
you know,

for like a month or more,

I'd have to start
callin' him "Dad."

One of my dads...

he seemed to like me
as much as he liked Mommy.

Well, one night
Mommy caught us.

She flipped, of course.

And, you know,
it was all my fault.

How could I do this to her?

Forget about the asshole
with the unscrupulous cock.

It was at this point, she made
me go visit the parish priest.

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.

How long has it
been since your last confession?

I don't know.

It's been a long time.

What's troubling
you, my son?

I can't tell you.

God will hate me.

Whatever it is, God already
knows, my son.

It's never too much
for him to forgive.

So I told him.

The truth.

Well, he didn't prescribe
three Hail Marys and six Our Fathers.

My son, my son.

For not havin'
a father,

I had a lot of motherfuckers
callin' me "son."

It was only a few weeks
before Dad was back in my bed,

pumping me with a load.

She caught us for the second time,
in the middle of the night.

And like some wacko
in a Telemundo soap opera,

she threw me
out of the house.

I started livin' at a friend's
house, and I never saw Mommy.

But, you know, small towns.

They started talkin'
about her health.

I ran into her at the 7-Eleven.
I almost didn't recognize her.

I mean, this was a town
where AIDS didn't exist,

because queers and whores
and drug users didn't exist.

Letting me back in her life
was not easy.

I took care of her for...
about a year or so.

Sometimes I'd read
the newspaper to her.

You know, just the good stuff.

But there was one story, all about
a group of guys who lived in our town.

Men in their late twenties,
early thirties.

They all tested
positive for HIV.

Two of them were almost dead.

There was only one thing
these guys had in common.

They were all Catholic.

And they all had attended
Father Maloney's church.

Open the door!

Open the fucking door,
you coward!

When I got home that day,
she was dead.

There were,
uh, no last rites,

no priest.
None of that God crap.

Just me.

There are these guys
I do work for.

They both give me the eye,
but for different reasons.

See, when you're a mutt, you're
regarded in a certain way.

Either I'm exotic,
or I'm inferior, depending.

Corey thinks I'm exotic.
Daniel thinks I'm inferior.

But it amounts
to the same thing.

They both want me.

♪ Young and pretty
in Los Angeles ♪

♪ Young and pretty
in Los Angeles ♪

When do you guys think
you're gonna need me again?

I mean, I can come--
Let's see, Monday...

I can come Thursday.

Daniel doesn't kiss.

I felt like I was in
The Young and the Restless or some shit.

We never used condoms
because we both tested negative.

I've been faithful.

I don't know why.

Fear, maybe.

You know, I think
he's had me followed.

You mean now?

No. Not now.

Some part of me probably
wants him to know.

You're not gonna tell
him about this, are you?

I want him to know
you kissed me.

I want him to know
you fucked me.

Daniel doesn't do that.

[Laughfl

What do you guys do?

Look.

You're not gonna tell
him about this, right?

You're clean,
aren't you?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm clean.

I took a shower
this mornin'.

Carlos gave me crabs.

And I gave them to Daniel.

I gave Corey crabs.
Courtesy of that little spic Carlita.

I practically convinced myself
that I got them at the gym.

I gotta take a dump.

You can get them from sitting
on a bench where someone sat.

Or from a towel.

Well, we better make sure that
Carlos doesn't touch our towel.

He knew that I let Carlos use the pool
and asked if he used our towels.

Our pristine, oversize, white
Martha Stewart bath sheets.

That's probably
how you got it.

Not from the gym.

That little sp-- Mexican.

Corey, you're dripping.

- What?
- You're dripping.

You're getting water
all over the floor.

Jesus.

Is this his way of letting
me know he suspected?

We speak in riddles.

I don't regret what happened
with Carlos. I needed to be kissed.

It was more than the fucking.

It was the taste of his mouth.

Daniel kisses me the way
he'd kiss your aunt.

And now,
with all the plastic surgery,

Daniel's face is off limits.
Too intimate.

Although he couldn't get enough
of my cock up his ass.

I deserve a good fuck
when I need it.

For what I pay him
to trim a few trees?

Probably a daddy thing.

Wanted to fuck his powerful
papa's white butt.

Actually, he seduced me.

Don't you dare
come inside me. Puto.

After five years, Corey's lily-white,
circumcised dick bores me.

He treats me like he treats
everyone else.

He belittles people.
It's his hobby.

Even though he works
on a TV show

that is completely
dependent on a gay audience,

he's in the closet.
It's so fucked!

I haven't been
entirely faithful.

There's this straight black kid
who works in the mailroom.

I let him plow me with his oversized, uncut
piece of darky meat.

Ohh! Ohh!

Don't shoot inside me,
Mandingo.

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!

Gotta get out of this.

I have to end it.

What'd you say?

What did you say?

What did you say?!

Did you say somethin'?

No. Let me get you a towel.

Thanks.

When we first got together,
I thought maybe he'd change.

Okay, gimme a kiss.
Here we go.

Okay. Okay.

- Wait, you ready? Okay.
- You ready?

- Wait, you ready? Okay.
- You ready?

One, Two, Three.

Ow! That was my--

You hit my ball.

You look like you're
doin' the limbo.

Wait, wait, wait.
One, two, three.

Wait, you're gonna
drop the camera.

I managed to avoid it
all these years

while everyone around me
was droppin' dead.

I'm more powerful than
some faggot-killing virus.

Power runs in the family.

I inherited my power
from the senator!

Pow! Daddy. Pow! Big Daddy.
Pow! Pow! Power!

Fuck!

Fuck!

That fuck!

A few years ago,
my dad had this, um,

little public relations
challenge.

He has this notorious
reputation as a racist.

So the irony was not
lost on anyone

when it came out in the tabloids

he'd made several visits
to a whorehouse full of nigger broads.

Press had afield day.

While my mom remained as faithful
as a country western song.

Of course, the activists
went wild.

Not only was it a confirmation
of his racism,

they said he was proving
his disrespect for women.

Fuck 'em!

Still in office, baby.
Five years later.

I actually think some people
admired him for it.

He's 67 fuckin' years old.

And out porking
some black pussy.

More power to him.

Ohh...

Come on.

Ohh!

Come on.
What am I?

Hey, come on.
What am I?

- Faggot.
- Come on, what am I?

- F... F...Faggot!
- Come on!

. Grunts]

Ipanting. Grunting]

Ahh! Ohh!

Ohh!

Uhh!

Bighs]

[laughfl

After that whole situation...

my dad had a very serious
talk with me.

Without spelling it out, he made it
clear he knew I was a cocksucker.

Doesn't matter where
you stick it, son.

Just don't get caught
like your horny old man.

Daddy's right.
I gotta be careful.

We cannot lose our power.

Our power lies in lies.

No need to be openly anything.

You want toast?

No, thanks.

We are kickin'
their overrated asses.

Who?

The show opposite us.
We the People.

Some liberal bullshit
from whafs-his-name.

He is so full of himself.

I wouldn't know.
I've never seen it.

I watch that stuff.

Well, if you'd take
the parental controls off the TV,

I could make
my own decision.

Aw, you sweet, innocent fag.

It's for your own good.

Didn't they get
nominated for an Emmy?

Mmm.

I'd rather
have the ratings.

Are you 910N191?

Hmm?

To the Emmys?

Yeah.

Of course.

Am l going?

I don't think that
would be a good idea.

Why don't you
just come out?

You could go on one of those shows
and just get it over with.

Wouldn't it be great if we
could go out together?

You mean like
Entertainment Tonight?

Yeah.

Corey.

What?

I don't broadcast the fact that I'm
Southern or Republican or Baptist.

Why would I want
to come out as openly gay?

[Laughfl

Maybe I will have
some toast.

But don't use that
supermarket marmalade.

Give me that-- that--
that Harry and David stuff

your hairdresser bought us.

Corey?

You think about some of those
faggots who've come out.

When you look at
Ian McKellen's face,

you imagine
a dick in his mouth.

Barney Frank.

When Barney Frank opens his
mouth, you imagine him sayin',

"Fuck me harder, boy.
And park the car in Harvard Yard."

[Laughfl

You're a bad boy.

Yeah. But in
a good way, right?

Oh, we'll see.
Yeah?

Again!

I'll be honest with you.

Sometimes I need to find
someone more powerful than I am.

And that's
nearly impossible.

Oh, yeah?

I'm fuckin'
power personified.

Power house, power car,
power job.

Power dick.

Pow pow power.

So, how much did
you say that was?

250 for...

Well, there is power
in beauty.

But it doesn't come
cheap, now, does it?

No.

Don't bother gettin' up.
I'll find my way out.

Power asshole.

I have only one friend.

I saw this woman being
interviewed on TV.

She's on death row in Texas.
Killed her husband.

He made her feel small.
He belittled her.

I wrote her a letter
after I saw the TV show,

and we became pen pals.

She says, if she had to do it
all over againmshe would.

I'm not through
with you yet, boy.

- Stop it! I'm not kidding.
- Don't tell me to stop.

What do you mean,
you're not kiddin'?

What are you doin'?!

Iqfipihg. Sputtering]

♪ No need to worry ♪

♪ I'll always need you ♪

♪ You'll always be
in my heart ♪

If Daniel knew I was writing
to a woman on death row...

...a black woman...

he'd kill me.

I didn't always look like this.

I was skinny. Really skinny.

Like, made fun of skinny.

I was that kid in school with
a note from his mom that said,

"Bernard is not to be exposed
to direct sunlight."

That was me.

I was born in 1969,

the year my dad
was killed in Vietnam.

Three weeks after I was born.

She was so...

protective of me.

Never letting me
out of her sight.

Everything was
potentially dangerous.

Cars, buses, the sun,

the moon,
neighbors, teachers.

I don't know
if it was her fears

that made me
into a delicate kid

or if it was me being a delicate kid
that made her afraid.

I was convinced

that part of me
didn't exist.

And I didn't dare
tell this to my mother

'cause she would shut me up
and tell me I was talkin' crazy.

But, well, I decided
maybe I was missin' my dad.

But I'd never seen my dad,
so I couldn't really miss him.

But I knew I was missing
something.

Somethin' else.

Somethin' deeper.

So, when I was
14 years old,

my mother took me
to see Yentl.

You know,
that Barbra Streisand movie

where she dresses like a boy.

And it's showing on a double bill

with Funny Girl,
which I had never seen.

And I remember sitting
in that movie theater

justmwatching her,

justmjust transfixed,
really.

And thinking...

"l must be gay."

There's, um...
a photograph...

of my mom.

It was taken on the day
of my dad's military funeral.

And she's carrying me in her
arms with a, uh, American flag.

And the red, white, and blue fabric
almost looks like a baby blanket.

I've never seen my mother
look more beautiful.

So it's, um, five years later,

and I move to college,
away from my mother,

leaving her totally alone.

And I was having
a lot of sex

during these years.

And when you look
like I did--

skinny, geeky,
believe it or not...

...you didn't insist
on safe sex.

I tested positive
when I was 30.

And all I could think of was,

what am I gonna tell my mother?

What am I gonna tell my mom?

You know
what she said?

She-my mom, uh,
told me there'd be

a place for me to be buried
next to my sister.

Of course, HIV isn't
really a death sentence.

Not anymore.

In fact, it was the beginning
of my transformation.

My doctor prescribed steroids
to help build up my weight.

And I got a better haircut,

better clothes.

I eventually had
so many guys,

I didn't know
what to do with 'em.

Menmwanted me.

Some ain't got it.
Not a lump.

The guy down there?
Sent you this.

What do you think?

What am l. Your pimp?

Uh-huh, you are. You're my pimp.
What do you think?

I think he's dream
date material.

Uh-huh.

Well, you know what?
I'm not workin' tonight.

All right.

.'Tell me, tell me, tell me
that you're strung out again.'

♪ On your hands and knees ♪

- MIM
wrllmmgolbrlar

♪ You'll do anything
that he says ♪

♪ Anywhere he goes ♪

♪ Anything he does ♪

♪ You'll follow ♪

♪ You look like
a movie star, honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

You like my body?

Yeah.

You big fuckin' beauty.

♪ This is what you get,
now ask for more ♪

♪ Your pawn lucky lucky
spits in your eyes ♪

♪ Now you want to doubt
your own hand to bite ♪

♪ Two more net boys,
she came runnin' ♪

♪ Said that he just asked her ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

.'You look like a movie star.'

♪ Honey ♪

Ahh. Ahh.

: Right:

♪ Honey ♪

Ahh. Ohh. Uhh!

Hey. Thanks.

Mmm.

Bourbon.

Fancy.

It's all I got.

So, um...
what do you do?

So, what, you're
not gonna tell me?

What, are you, uh...
CIA? Homeland Security?

No.
Well, what do you do?

Oh, no.
I asked you first.

Well, l... d0 this.

This. What we just did.

You...
You mean you're a...

Yeah.
I'm a...

Wow.

Yeah?

Mm-hmm.

No, I'm still up.

No, I'm on the road.

Yeah, what do you need?

Yeah, same as last time.

Okay, I'll bring it
to you, Ronnie.

Okay. No,
l-- l-- I gotta go.

It sounds like I'm not the only one
selling something.

Um...

Thanks.

I had the perfect parents.

Perfect careers, perfect cars.

And we all lived
in the perfect house.

And me, little Mikey...
I was the perfect son.

By the time
my brother arrived,

he would have
a lot to live up to.

Maxwell. Maxie,
they called him.

He was born when I was 16.

Right away, they started
comparing him to me.

You could tell
right from the beginning

that there was something
different about him.

He was not perfect.

And, uh, a year later,
when I revealed myself--

my gay self-- to my parents,

neither was I.
Perfect, that is.

They could barely hide their relief
when I moved out of the house.

It was a preschool teacher who suggested
Max undergo a battery of tests.

My parents, they were terrified.

If there was one thing
worse than being gay,

it was being diagnosed
developmentally disabled.

They'd rather be dead
than have a fag and a retard

fall off the family tree.

I don't really remember
who said what to who, but it was clear.

Max belonged with me.

And my parents, they
let go of him willingly.

The perfects and the imperfects.

Max goes to a special
school now.

Most of the time,
I stay home with him.

School is fuckin' expensive,
and now we have a mortgage.

Hey, dude.

You're so bad.

- Want some?
- No, thanks.

You sure?

It's a full moon tonight.
Shouldn't we be wild?

I said I got
stuff to do, James.

I think a full moon
makes people horny.

What do you think?

Hey, what
are you doin'?

What?

Come on. Don't you mix
business with pleasure?

Bighs]

Bighs]

So, how's Jim?

Busy. Gone. Traveling.

Is that why your hair
is suddenly red?

- Wmbmn$,
- @l_

- It's gonna stick just a bit.
- Ahhh... it looks nice.

Thank you.

Does the, uh,
cuffs match the muff?

Aww. Excuse me.

Yeah, maybe you should
stop right there.

Sorry, Jeanette.

So, where's your
little friend Max today?

Oh, he's still in school.
I pick him up at 3:15.

Ohh...

The other night, we were
driving home from the movies,

and the moon was full,
and it was so huge.

Mmm.

He said, "Mike,
let's just keep driving.

Let's just drive
right into it."

Uh! Don't do that.

It's low... and yellow.

That's right, Max.
It's very low.

Hey, can we go there?

To the moon, together?

No, it's not
really that close.

But if we couldmsure.

I'd go to the moon with you.

What's the moon
made out of, Max?

Cheese.

Yeah, we could bring some crackers
and that fruit punch you like so much.

Eat cheese all day.

And fart all night.

I'm gonna sleep
with you tonight.

No. You'll only sleep in my room
on special occasions, Max.

Tonight big moon
special occasion.

Max, we talked
about this.

You're gettin' too old
to sleep with me.

You know that.

Special occasion.

Bighs]

Okay. Special occasion.

[Laughfl

Ahh!

[Laughfl

playful grunting]

Ah! Hey! Hey!

Okay. Doctor will
see you in a minute, okay?

- See you next time, Jeanette.
- Take care, hon.

I will get sick.

I will, at some point,
get sick and die.

What's Max gonna do without me?
Who's gonna take care of Max?

When you're a parent
and, uh, you're HIV...

it's a fear
that's always present.

I see these stories
about mothers

who kill their children
and then kill themselves.

And there's always
the interview with the neighbor.

"Oh, she so loved her children."

"How could she kill
her own flesh and blood?"

Well...

I just want to say
that I understand.

I mean...

I do. L-- l-- I understand.

I understand about being so
fucking terrified of the future,

of your child's future
without you.

I'm not saying I'm gonna do it.

Because I'm not.

But I get it.

♪ Licky licky licky licky
licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh ♪

♪ Licky licky licky licky
licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh ♪

♪ Licky licky licky licky
licky licky licky licky ♪

♪ Uh uh uh uh
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh ♪

My name's James.
I'm an addict.

Hi, James.

The first time that I...

...did crystal,
was about a month

after Gerald,
my lover, died.

Um, and we were together...

ten years.

Uh, and we-- our relationship,
it wasn't about sex.

It wasn't typical in that way,
and there was no drugs.

So, he died in 1996,
and so, after he died, I--

I started having lots of sex

with, uh, with lots of people.

And... crystal and sex, and...

I don't know.
Maybe I felt

like I had been depriving
myself all those years.

Maybe I was angry. That does--
that's what my grief counselor said,

that my-- my gluttonous sexual
appetite was anger-based.

Angry that Gerald died.

No shit.

Yeah, no, I know.

No cross talk.

I replaced sex and crystal
with... with this.

I'm not getting very many
party invitations.

I actually believed that
the best part of my life was over

and I was just marking time
until I died.

I was in New York
when I met Simon...

standing in line at the
Sullivan Street Playhouse

to buy tickets
to seeThe Fantasticks.

So, how long
have you lived in New York?

I don't live here, actually.
I'm just visiting.

Los Angeles?

Yeah. How'd you know that?

Your accent.

My accent? Really?

I'm just kidding.

Maybe because you're wearing all those
layers and it's 53 degrees.

Well, it's cold.
Isn't it? Aren't you cold?

Oh, yeah. Wimp.

So, had you seen
this cast?

No, that was
my first time.

Your first time
seeing this play?

Yeah.

Ever?

Yeah. Why?

Well, it's, you know,
just that I've seen it

once a year
for the last 20 years,

so it's kind of strange to be flirting
with an absolute virgin.

Oh, so you call
this flirting, huh?

Maybe it was because
I was out of town.

Maybe that's
why I let him in.

Maybe it wasThe Fantasticks.

Have you seen it?

When something especially dramatic
happens during the show,

they throw these little
rainbow-colored tissues into the air.

It's so...

It's so...

Cloying. But it's--
it's sweet.

Our bodies fit
inside each other.

All this pent-up emotion was
flowing out of me and into him.

It was... it was... fantastic.

Oh, God.

[Laughfl

I can't believe
I just said that.

[Laughfl

"Fantastic."

And then I was on a plane...

coming back to the west coast,
and what did I even know about him?

Monday at work
was just a blur.

I--I came home early, wondering
who would make that first phone call.

Oh.

Message one.

Hey. It's Simon.

Um...

I think I'm in love.

I called his number...

hundreds of times...

in the next few days.

I knew none of his friends
or relatives.

On Friday, I received an envelope
in the mail postmarked September 11th.

There was no letter inside.

Only seven of those...
square-shaped tissues from the play.

Even though I knew,
I kept dialing his number...

listened to his message...
just hoping.

At the end of September,
a woman answered the phone.

I didn't know what to say.

I hung up. It must have
been a relative.

The following day,
the phone was disconnected.

Disconnected.

Do you know that I thought about
going back to New York?

To see The Fantasticks.

You know.
But I was watchin' TV,

and they said- they said
that the play closed.

Fuck.

The fuckin' play died.

I just want to get high.

And forget.

Forget about him.

Yeah.

What?

What's wrong?

Well, we don't
have to talk.

Bighs]

Come on, this is silly.
Let me in.

No! I mean it.

Damn, Lisa.

You are so superstitious.

I can't believe you
of all people

would even be trippin'
over somethin' like this.

What?

So, it's...

You sure?

I can-- I can take it again.

And then l'll--
I'll make an appointment--

This is the happiest
day of my life.

You mean it?

Oh.
Mmm...

Ohh...

Please tell me
you want this.

I spent my entire life rejecting
the idea of even having a family...

being a wife, a mother.
Career always, always came first.

What's your name?

James.

That's my name.

Um...

I'm a... yeah.
I'm a--

My name is Ralph.

Ralph Watson.

Junior.

That "Junior" was
a constant threat.

A challenge to live up
to my father's accomplishments.

What he did is
a triumph of mendacity.

My daddy learned
this white-washing trick from his daddy,

who was able to convince
the military that he was white.

He did not want
to be put in non-combat duty

because of segregation rules.

He loved America.

Even though America
didn't love him back.

I didn't grow up
in a household

that taught me
what I could be.

I grew up in a household
that taught me what not to be.

My mother...
man.

You know, even though my father
was a blatant womanizer,

she chose
to look the other way

while she painted
the bathroom umpteen times.

My best friend's mother

finally divorced
her no-good husband

so that she can
venture out in the world

and find herself a career

for the first time,
after raising a family.

Now. My mother...

Nothing makes my mother
happier

than to cook and to clean
and to stay at home,

all while
standing by her man.

Hmm.

My father's motives
were not so honorable.

He chose real estate.

Selling houses
behind white picket fences

in white neighborhoods
to white people,

letting them think he was white.

He considered my beautiful
black mother a liability.

My mother would always say
that the only true happiness

in life is to find
somebody who loves you.

Now, I don't necessarily
disagree with that.

But, uh, apparently,
my mother also believed

that men were supposed
to cheat on their wives.

'Cause as long as my father
showed up for birthdays

and holidays
and family reunions,

smilin', grinnin', puttin' his arms around
folks and posin' for photos,

all was forgiven.

That always confused me, too.

Then I'd watch my mother
sit at the kitchen table late at night

just compulsively pasting
those same photos into photo albums...

documenting our so-called
happy family.

By the time I was a teenager,
I hated him.

Not only would I be proud
of my blackness,

not only
would I own my heritage,

I would be vocal about it.
Yet, I knew there was one thing

that would prevent me from
being a positive role model,

a black man who would be
admired and respected.

I was a black man
who liked men.

This was
simply unacceptable.

I felt such a disdain
and lack of respect for both of them.

Borderline hatred.

And l-- I couldn't wait to graduate
high school and get out of that house...

and justmpursue a life that
in no way resembled theirs.

And you know what? I did.
I did. I succeeded.

I put myself through college.

I zoomed to the top
of my field in advertising.

I bought myself a townhouse
on Central Park West.

I had an interior decorator.

I had a housekeeper, full-time.

And I had a personal stylist.

And I dated up a storm.

Mostly white men, and, uh,
some of them famous.

And all of them rich.

Why don't you just leave
those for a minute? Just leave 'em.

- I have to put 'em in water.
- I know. Lt-- It can wait. I--

- Just sit down for a second, would you?
- What's goin' on?

Nothin'. Nothin'.
I just wanna look at you sittin' down.

You want to look
at me sittin' down.

Why do you want
to look at me sitting down?

You look so tall now,
and I just wanted to...

I love you.

And I'm just wondering if...
you've given any thought

to whether you would
marry me or not...

and be my wife.

Oh, my God.

I got married.

We're gonna have a kid.

A wife and a family
is the solution.

By the time I hit
my thirties,

I realized
that something was missing.

And there was such
a hole inside me.

And I didn't understand,
with everything that I had,

how could I let myself
get so empty?

And on top of that,
time was just racing.

It was just racing, and I
couldn't even catch up to it.

So I just... l don't know,

I just had to stop and slow
down and look at my life.

And, um, I looked at what
I came home to every night,

and I realized,
I came home to no one.

And that's when
I knew in my heart

that I really wanted
to be a mother.

Uhh! Ahh!

Ahh!

Ahh!

Ohhh...
Uhh!

Ahh!

Ahhhh...

Ahh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Mmm...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

Ohhh...

You know, I know
this sounds like a cliché,

but, um, time really

does move so fast.

And life really is short.

And every time
I feel this baby kick,

I think about how amazing
it is, how far I've come.

And I realize I still
have far to go

because, um...

I struggle with my feelings.

Like right now.

Ralph was supposed to be home from the
furniture store about a half hour ago.

And so I worry.

And when I worry, I inevitably
think about my father

and... all my feelings
about him,

because he was always
late for everything,

and there were certain nights
he didn't even show up at all.

But then I feel the baby
kick inside me again, and--

Oh, my God, do you see that?

[HaPPih/l
Oh.

Oh, my God.

Oh...

Oh, my God.

[Laughfl

Oh, my God.

Oh, yes.

Come on, you.

Come on.

Ohhh...

You know, Ralph...
Ralph can't even believe

I insisted on painting
this entire room myself.

He's not even crazy
about the color.

You know what? I like it.

It's a bright, sunny yellow.

And my mother's favorite
color is yellow.

So there.

Come on, Boo.

Mmhh...

4mm
'u%u%u%u%l

Hello.

Hello.

Hi. Ls Ralph there?

No, I'm sorry, he's not in right
now. May I take a message?

Oh, well, he'll probably
be home any minute.

He said he was comin'
straight home.

He left his wallet.
Are you--

Yeah, I'm his wife, Lisa.
Who is this?

Well, honey, if you're
his wife, I'm Jackie O.

Excuse me?

Who is this?

It's Ronnie.
Are you... really his wife?

Yes, I am. Where did he leave his wallet
that you would have it?

Uh...

Hello?

Hello?

Closed-Captioned By
J.R. Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA