All language subtitles for Blades.of.Gr4_[eng]

(echoing traffic drones and buzzes)

(horn blaring)

(subdued music) (ship's bell dings)

(passersby chatter)

(subdued music continues)

(distant siren wails)

(bridge cables singing)

(bridge clatters)

(water lapping)

(distant bass thuds)

(subdued music continues)

(striking piano music)

(The Writer sighs)

(urine splashing)

(phone buzzes)

- Hello?

Oh, hey. (water dripping)

I just got in.

I will have it done by
the end of the month.

Yeah, of course I started it.

But you should really see

this fucking place that you put me up in.

Yeah.

Yes.

I understand that.

But if you want something
that's gonna sell,

you gotta be patient.

Look, the more time I spend talking to you

in this dirty-ass motel room,

the less time I'll have to shit gold.

Mm-mm.

Yep. That's right.

Exactly.

Wait, what do you mean?

(door knocks)

What do you think you're cute?

- I think I'm damn cute.

How was the flight?

- Oh, blow me.

- I'm serious.

- Oh, you are?

- That's what I said.

- You wanna know how my flight was?

- Yeah. I... How much money

did I make you on that last book?

- Come on, man.

- How much?

- You mean two years ago?

And... How much?!

- and don't say last book like
Colleen fucking Hoover, okay?

You're talented, but you're
still a one-hit wonder.

So don't go getting a big head.

- I make you millions and
you fly me out here on Frontier.

- Look at how you sound.

You sound like a fucking valley girl

whose dad Just cut her off.

- No, no. I'm not superficial, man.

Jimmy, I'm not stupid either.

I mean, you assholes aren't even trying

to hide your contempt anymore.

- Okay.

- I don't mind flying coach at all.

Matter of fact, I prefer to
be among my fellow man,

the average Joe.

But you dickheads only put me there

to remind me of my place.

- Okay, okay. I'm sorry.

Honestly, I didn't know they
were gonna do that to you.

- Oh. (blows raspberry)

- You're really gonna act like this?

- Yeah. (blows raspberry)

- You're gonna be a child?

- Yeah, you're gonna
keep treat me like one,

then yeah, I am.

- Dude.

- I mean, you make me leave my family

and fly me out here to what?

Put me in timeout

so that you can keep an eye on me.

- You haven't given me anything. Okay?

In two years.

I thought maybe bringing
you back to the city

would light a fire under your ass.

- I like Maine.

- Well, I'll never understand
that. But to each their own.

- Why are you here?

- Can you just stop that

for one second? - Stop what?

- You know I'm on your side, right?

- (laughs) Okay.

- I take shit from the
partners every single week

because you give me nothing to show

that you're works keeping up.
- Well, that's your job,

isn't it? - What?

- Taking shit for your clients.

- Christ almighty.

(The Writer sighs)

- Jimmy, I'm gonna write
something. It's gonna be great.

It's gonna sell for you.

It's gonna reassure the public

I'm still the silver-tongue devil

I've been since I was writing TV sitcoms.

- What time is it?

- 11:00.11:01.

- Okay, well, I need something from you

in 6 days, 22 hours and 59 minutes.

Okay? A chapter, page, a fucking haiku.

Okay? I don't care.

I need something or I
can't defend you anymore.

- The fuck does that mean?

- It means exactly what it means.

- [The Writer] Ultimatum?

- Sure. Let's call it that.

- You're threatening to drop me?

- It won't be my decision.

- You fucking asshole!

- It's in your hands.
- You are something else.

- Yeah, well.

How's the wife?

(The Writer chuckles)

- She's fine.

Thanks.

How's Alice?

- Really good, man. Thanks.

- Sarah?

- Starts kindergarten in a week.

- Damn.

- Yeah.

She misses a godfather.

- Yeah, I, I'll have to bring
everyone down to the city

for a weekend or something.

- Yeah, absolutely.

- I'll come up with something,
Jim, just gimme some time.

I promise I'll come through.

- Yeah, I know, man.

Honestly, I'm not worried.

- All right.

- Come here, man.

Quick beer?

- Uh...

One. (beer hisses)

- Real talk, man.

Do you have any idea
what you're gonna do next?

- I, uh, I do,

but, I don't know.

- So, no.

- Jimmy, I have some
great ideas for stories,

but when I start putting 'em on paper,

I feel like they're not mine to tell.

Does that make any sense?

- Kind of. Keep going.

- I mean, that's really all it is.

My own experiences
and memories I draw from,

they don't feel like
they're my own anymore.

They all just blend
together in this gray mush.

And every story I tell just seems the same.

Jimmy, I can knock out 250
pages by the end of the month,

and it'll be a hit.

I know that.

But it won't be some perfidious sellout

that pushes mediocre
fiction on the public annually.

I need to feel a connection to it.

So that's pretty much where I'm at.

- I can't remember.

Did you ever meet my dad before he passed?

- Uh, yeah, once.

So smart.

Can't believe he raised such a scumbag.

(both chuckle)

- Yeah. Neither can I.

The reason I bring him up

is he'd always tell me
this story when I was a kid.

When I was younger it
really didn't make much sense.

But, you know, the older you get,

the more relevant your
parents' teachings become.

- Such is life. - Right.

Yeah. - Hm.

- You ever hear of Milton Erickson?

- Mm, no.

- Brilliant psychologist/psychiatrist.

The story my dad would always tell me

was about one of Milton's patients,

a man that, well, became severely depressed

for seemingly no reason at all.

He had a wife, a
daughter, nice little home,

humble job that made ends meet.

He was happy for most of his life

until out of nowhere he just lost interest

with everything around him.

- Hm.

- So he hears about Milton

and his almost miraculous
approaches on hypnosis

and decides to give him a call
and schedule an appointment.

Now, it's important to note

that at this time of Milton's life,

he lived in Phoenix, Arizona,

and this man lived all
the way on the East Coast.

This man was by no means wealthy.

This little voyage of his
gonna cost him a pretty penny.

But he figured he tried everything else,

and Milton was his best bet.

So he books a motel,
purchases a plane ticket,

and goes to Phoenix to
meet this esteemed genius.

Milton was very old
at this point of his life,

soft spoken, slow speaking,

often very difficult to understand

just because of how quiet he was.

- Hm.

- The man finally gets to speak to Milton,

and everything sort of pours out of him.

He tells Milton that
he, he's so sick of life.

Every day he just feels mechanical.

Every person he met was the same.

All of these experiences
are just passionless

and, and it lacks substance.

After pretty much going
on and on for 15 minutes,

uninterrupted, he finally caught his breath

and just waited for Mel to say something.

- And? (both chuckle)

- Well, Milton stays quiet
for a while, but he was no fool.

He had plenty of patients
throughout his whole career

that suffered from similar
forms of depression.

But he knew everyone was different

and hypnotherapy wasn't always the answer.

So after thinking long and hard,

he finally says to the man,
"Here's what I want you to do."

I want you to go home.

I want you to go home and
go outside to your backyard.

I want you to sit.

I want you to sit and look at the grass

"and tell me what you've learned."

- Look at the grass?

- Look at the grass.

(The Writer laughs)

So you can imagine this
man leaves Milton's home.

He's completely indignant.

He spends a fortune

to meet this ostensibly
brilliant psychologist,

only to get sent home all
the way back to the East coast

to go look at his fucking lawn.

(The Writer laughs)

- So wait, he just went home then?

- I mean, shit. What else is there to do?

Gets a partial refund from his motel

and books on the next fight outta Phoenix.

The man finally gets home.

He doesn't do anything
Milton told him to do.

Instead he just unpacks,
goes straight to bed.

Actually, he doesn't do
anything Milton told him to do

for about a week and a half or so.

He was so caught up in
his anger towards Milton.

He completely disregarded
all of his instructions.

This went on for about
a week and a half or so,

and the anger finally faded.

But the depression was still there.

So the man decides to
finally swallow his pride

and do what Milton told him to do.

It's sunny, and he goes outside,

right in the middle of his
backyard, and he just sits.

He can see the green lawn,
hear the occasional car pass,

hear children singing and,
and playing across the street.

He can smell, see, feel all of this.

But he's completely unmoved.

But then he remembered
precisely what Milton told him.

Look at the grass, not
the lawn, but the grass.

The man looked straight
down at the grass, straight down.

You know what happened next?

He started to cry.

(The Writer laughs)

He smiled and wept because he was so happy.

He was so happy because he realized

that every blade of grass in
his backyard was different.

Remember that.

Need another? - Hm?

Oh, nah, um, it's getting late.

Think I'll get to bed.

- Okay. Don't lemme keep you.

Lunch tomorrow?

- On you. (both laugh)

- Dickhead.

(laptop clicks)

(fingers crack)

(aimless music)

(beer cap clatters)

- Ooh-hoo-hoo. Yeah.

Hey, Denise.

You guys wouldn't happen
to have room service, do you?

Nope. Didn't think so.

Thank you.

(The Writer sighs)

(aimless music continues)

- It, it it smells funny
in here, doesn't it?

(water splashing)

Here, come, here. Come smell these.

(Idina sniffs)

You see what I mean?
Don't they smell funny?

(Idina sniffs)

- I don't know.

- Like, like, like mold, moldy.

They don't smell funny to you?

- I don't know. I really
don't smell anything.

Maybe it's just your allergies.

- Yeah.

Think if I called the front
desk, they'd switch 'em out?

- I mean, you could
always try. It can't hurt.

- All right.

Okay. You're right.

- Hey, you think they have HBO?

- I don't know. Either way,
I can't do that right now.

- Okay?

We could see what's
playing. Wanna see a movie?

- I just said, I can't watch TV right now,

- Sweetie. You're gonna
find out in an hour, tops.

- Ah, shh. - Whether it's a yes or a no,

they're going to call you and tell you.

- No, no, no. You see,
they say that, right?

But if it's a no, they like
to make you call them.

It's not enough for them

to just, to just, to
just rip your heart out.

They, they gotta see you
crawl and beg for it back.

They're perverts.

- Babe.

It's just a job.

- No, but you see, it's not though, Idina.

I mean, think about it.

If I get this offer, do you
know what that means for us?

For your work?

And it's sure to sell.

And, and plus we get to live here.

- My book will sell with or without you,

and you will become lead editor

with or without "The Tribune."

Okay?

- I, I don't like waiting
for results I can't change.

I, I don't, I...

- I know that.

Hey, should we start
looking for apartments?

- I can't until I know for sure.

I know I moan.

But if it's a no, then that's two letdowns.

- Okay. Okay.

So what would you like to do, my dear?

- Me? I don't know.

This is helping though,
just, just talking to you

about anything really.

- Okay, good.

Cheers.

Not great.

- So speaking of my book,

how much do you have left?

- Uh, hang on.

- Looks like we got
about 30, 35 pages left.

- And? What do you think so far?

- No critiques till the end.
- But you like it?

- I'm not saying anything. - It's not too,

mm, pretentious?

Ass.

Just gimme something.

- Okay.

There are some parts
that are a little wordy

and some passages that I
feel go on for a little too long

or have a little too much description.

The prose kind of deviates
from the subject at times,

but at the same time, it
creates this really cool effect

where I'm passively living in her mind

and, and experiencing
her thoughts in real time.

- So?

- So unless you somehow completely fuck up

in the last 30 pages,

I think you got a real winner here.

(Idina squeaks and laughs)

- Yay. - But you gotta

let me finish first though.

You get the full review after.

- Okay. Of course.

I'm just, (squeaks) I'm
so happy someone likes it.

It's exciting.

- Well, you're very talented.

- Thank you.

Question, though, um,

I definitely agree with you.

I mean, some of the
prose was a little bit wordy

and ran on a little bit, uh,

but do you happen to
have a specific example?

- Uh, yeah. Hang on.

Okay. Okay.

And this is just my opinion,

but I think sometimes it's best

to leave as much to the
imagination as possible,

but it completely depends, so.

- I hear ya.

- Okay. Da-da-da-da-da.

"Losing consciousness."

The stranglehold of lies
she had to smile through

how she was happy to
be the mother of three,

that she would support him

through another failed business venture.

And worst of all,

that she hadn't seriously considered

"leaving all those leeches behind."

- Mm.

Yeah. What's, what's wrong with that?

- I mean, I, I think you
could reword it a bit.

There are some better examples.

Here. Hold on.

- Well, well, wait, hang on.

Let's focus on that one real quick.

What do you suggest I do differently?

- I mean, there's nothing really wrong

with the way it's written.

It just seems a little dark,

don't you think?

- Well, yeah, but that's how she feels.

- Right. But it kind of
just comes outta nowhere.

- You think so? - Well, yeah.

In the context of the novel, it does.

- Well, yeah. But I mean,
that's kind of the point.

I mean, this is a woman

past the alleged
physical prime of her life,

reflecting on aspirations
she had to repress

just to start a family.

All of these feelings

that have been buried have
been pushed down far too long

and they're now coming up

in these extremely callous thoughts

behind her, her,

rehearsed smiles.

- Okay. Fair.

But do you really think your
readers are gonna identify

with a protagonist who wants
to leave her family behind,

just to chase some pipe dream
she had when she was 20?

- Do you know how many
books and movies are about that?

- I mean, there are some good ones, but...

- But not mine.

- Hang on. I didn't say that.

- Mm-hmm.

You don't identify with that at all?

- Of course not.

Do you?

- Do I?

- Yeah.

Yeah.

- Is that why you wrote this?

- Yes, Leo.

I spent the last six years
of my life writing a novel

so I could let you know I want out.

- Well, I don't know.

- Look, I, I really do
appreciate your feedback

and I'll go take a look at that section

once you're finished, okay?

- Okay. Cool.

And again, it's just my opinion.

Take it with a grain of salt.

- You are heard, my love.

- [Leo] Hey, that'd be a pretty good idea

for a movie though.

What would?

- Unstable woman starts
leaving cryptic messages

in her writing. (chuckles)

- Unstable?

- Yeah. Yeah.

Like Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct."

Lots of ways you could run with that.

- Yeah. Okay.

So why don't you go
ahead and write it then.

- Huh?

- If you can spell, make it happen.

Tell me what's so crazy

with putting your thoughts into characters?

All writers do that!

Wait, so you are trying to
tell me something with this?

- Goddamn, Leo!

I didn't write this for
you. I wrote this for me.

- But do you think leaving me and Sierra?

- Of course!

- Okay. Start talking.

- I don't want to - No, no, no.

No, we're gonna talk about this.

- I don't want to. - No, no, no. No, no!

We're gonna talk about this.

- No, Leo, I really don't want to.

- You can't just tell me that
you wanna leave your husband

and three-month-old daughter behind

and then just move past it.

- I never said I did.

I said I think about it sometimes.

- Why?

- Why? - I'm listening.

- I pray that in another life
you will somehow understand

the toll having a baby takes on a woman.

- Okay. Okay.

You're right. I'm sure it's not easy.

- No.

I'm not talking about the physical toll.

I don't care about a few stretch marks

or some extra jelly rolls.

I am talking about the mental toll.

My voice is different. - Your voice?

What do you mean your voice?

- I think differently now.

I'm not who I was when I started this book.

And it drives me fucking nuts

because I can read the exact page I wrote

before I completely changed as a person.

- Change is a part of life, Idina.

- Yeah. No shit.

But who's to say this was good change?

- What the hell do you
mean? Of course it was.

- For who?! For you?

Of course it was fucking good for you.

You finally have someone who's
completely dependent on you.

- What the fuck does that mean?

- Nothing. That was out of line.

- Christ, stop backpedaling
and tell me what you mean.

- To me, it just feels sometimes

as if you wish I needed you more.

Well, don't you? - Don't I what?

- Wish I was more dependent on you?

- Don't flatter yourself.

- You asked me to tell you what I think

and it just seems that way to me.

- Well, why do you always
insist on reminding me

of how much better off you'd be

if I wasn't holding you back?

- I don't do that.

- Every day you do that.

You make some snarky, little
passive-aggressive comment

that insinuates I do
nothing but get in your way.

- Like when? - Like when?

Not even 10 minutes ago,

you said you could get your
book published without my help.

- I could! - All right.

So what's the point of being with me?

Why'd you marry me in the first place?

- Fuck.

I mean, look, maybe you're right.

On paper I don't need you,

but I want you.

Isn't that enough?

- No.

'Cause I need you.

(Idina scoffs)

- Are you really so vain
that you can't love a woman

unless they're completely dependent on you?

- Don't put words in
my mouth. Don't do that.

No. I don't need a woman who's
completely dependent on me.

- Jesus.

- I'm just saying.

It would be nice if you felt your life

would be a little worse
off without my help.

- You are unbelievable.

- Unbelievable.

That's another good one. Call me that.

Call me self important,
vain, conceded, misogynistic.

I don't care!

- Fine. I get it.

- Oh, you get it? - Mm-hmm.

- Okay. What do you get?

- Who you want me to be.

- Hang on, hang on.

- No, no, I get it.

You want me to be smart enough

so that I don't embarrass
you in front of your colleagues,

but helpless enough

so that you don't feel
threatened I'll leave you.

- That's a pretty
unbecoming way to phrase it.

But yeah, I guess so.

- Mm-hmm.

Well, don't you think if I had
any intention of leaving you,

it would've been after you
blew $15,000 of my father's-

- Don't you fucking dare.
- My father's own money

on an indie film you
couldn't even fucking finish.

- Goddamn it!

I can't believe you're fucking going there.

- Well, I just don't see how you can think

so highly of yourself and
never finish anything you start.

(Leo laughs disbelievingly)

What?

How do you find this funny right now?

- I don't. I don't.

I find it ironic and irony is mirthful.

So yeah. Yeah, I guess I do find it funny.

Yet again, you're right.

- Explain then. I'm listening.

- You don't see it?

- Don't patronize me, Leo.

- All right, I will be the first to admit

Sierra being born changed my priorities.

I should have followed
through with the film

because I wasn't the
only man with a stake in it.

You know I feel awful.

And you know I've apologized 767 times.

But for the 768th time,

I'm sorry.

But you,

you use Sierra.

- I use her?

- You use her to absolve yourself

of your dogshit writing.

- What?

- Your writing as it changed a bit.

You're just starting to
realize it's derivative.

The rantings of a wannabe Sylvia Plath.

And you use our daughter as an excuse?

That's fucked up.

- Fuck you!

Where's my phone?

- I-I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, I, I,

I, I didn't mean that.

- Have a good life.

Asshole. - "Have a good life"?

"Have a good life"?

What do you mean, "Have a good life"?

Listen, I'm just angry.

I'm, I'm full of shit. I...

(Idina chuckles)

- This is your phone.

- Yeah.

- It's on Do Not Disturb.

One missed call and a voicemail.

(Leo exhales)

(voice mail chatters indistinctly)

(lights humming gently)

(water splashing)

(faucet thudding)

(water dripping)

- Uh Carter! - Yeah.

- Carter! - Yes, what? Jesus.

- This gay-ass faucet's
giving a fucking migraine, dude.

- Okay, well go in the
other fucking room, dude.

I'll be five fucking minutes.

- All right.

- And there's, uh, beer
and seltzers in the fridge.

- Thank you.

Yes. Thank you so much.

We really appreciate it.

- Well, why the hell are you
taking a shower now, anyway?

I mean, we still have the reception.

- [Carter] Because I smell like shit, dude.

I gotta change. - I'll be sure

to let her know, yep.

- That's valid.

- Excuse me for a sec.

Shut the fuck up. I'm on the phone.

- Take it outside then
you little fucking shit.

- We really appreciate it.

All right. Yep.

Bye.

- Who was that?

- Why are you always screaming? Jesus.

- Shut up. Who was it?

- Dr. Moros.

- Dr. Moros. Wow.

Where was that guy today?

- Europe, um, Zurich, I think he said, so.

- You know, if you can't
take the time to show up,

don't fucking call.

That's what I say.

- Dude, he's in Switzerland.

Plus he barely... He
barely knew him. I know.

So like, what the fuck?

You know, I just don't like

to hear these bullshit
contrived condolences.

- Yeah. Well that's
probably why he called me.

- Watch it.

- Yeah. Whatever, dude.

Hey, crusty. Hurry up.

Mom's waiting.

- Yo, what kind of watch is that?

- This? - Yeah. Lemme see that.

Fucking shit motherfucker.

Yeah, where, where the fuck

did you get this vagina magnet, dude?

- It was a gift. (Colin laughs)

- Fucking bullshit it was a gift.

Nobody likes you that much.

- Fucking blow me.

- You making that big money now? Huh?

You making that big fucking money?

Nah, that's all right. That's all right.

Well, that's fucking awesome.
Well, you know what?

I'm doing pretty good myself, okay?

- Nice, dude.

- Bet you believe.

You know, because you
know my friend Stavros?

- Sta-Stavros. - Yeah.

The Greek motherfucker. - Good, good.

- Dude's a genius, bro.

I mean, he's got this sports algorithm

that he coded or some shit.

You bet on any pro sports team that exists,

shit's like 88% accurate.

I've been doing that lately.

Fucking golden, dude.

- Nice, dude. That's that's, that's good.

- It is good. Real fucking good.

- Yeah. - Big things happenin'

for the Kolad boys, my friend.

- Yeah.

So, um,

now what?

- Why don't you ask him?

- Because I'm asking you.

- How the fuck am I supposed to know?

Oh dude, you, you catch
the Knicks last night.

- What? - I put the money line

on the Knicks, I'm up
$150 and they fucking-

- Colin.

Someone needs to look after Mom.

- She's a grown woman
so I think she's fine.

- Colin. I have to leave next month.

And... And. and what?

And what?

Little pussy. Say it.

- I'm trying to.

I think you should move back in with her.

(Colin laughs softly)

- You're my baby brother

so why don't you move back in with her?

Why don't you tell your boss

that you need to start
working remote again?

- I-I-I, I can't.

I can't work on London time in New York.

It, it doesn't make any sense.

And we can't ask Carter and Jeannie

to move back in with her.

But you're single and you can
deliver Postmates anywhere.

(bottle clatters) Fucking Christ!

- Dad left her six fucking years ago! Okay?

She's used to being alone now.

She's fine. - Hey!

What the fuck is going on out here?

- Nothing. Are you ready yet?

- Colin? - You heard him.

- Yo, are you ready? - Yeah.

Fucking get dressed.

- You're right.

- We won't talk about the future right now.

That's not what today's about.

- It just reminded me. - Mm.

- That priest.

- Hm, today?

- Yeah. That beaner priest.

- Fuck. Colin, chill with that.

- Do you remember what he said about today?

- No. - You remember?

He goes, uh, "Ladies and gentleman"-

- Oh my God. Colin.

- Whatever the fuck.

Okay, so, "Ladies and gentlemen",

today we are gathered
here to celebrate one person.

"God."

- Yeah. I didn't like that either.

- No, it's fucking bullshit is what it is.

I almost got up there and
beat the troll's fucking ass.

- Did he really say that, Carter?

- Mm-hmm.

- Yo Carter, hurry up and
get dressed. Come on, guy.

(door slams)

- He's getting worse.

- Who?

Yeah. I know.

- Think he'll end up like Dad?

- Well, I'm not gonna let him.

(Colin sniffing)

Aw, fucking shit.

- What do we do?

- Don't worry about it, Cade.

Where are we picking up mom?

- She's still at St. Mary's.

- Okay, that's fine. She's with Aunt Jill.

- Carter, I'm worried about Mom too.

- I know. I'm gonna take care of it.

- Yeah, but how?

- We'll figure it out.

Maybe Jeannie and I will rent

a place out here for a couple of months.

- Move all the way from Seattle?

- I don't know, man.

I haven't talked to her and
it probably won't happen.

But it's an idea.

- What do you mean "idea"?
It makes the most sense.

- We will figure it out.

- Okay. But, but when?

We need to do it soon.

- I know that.

- Dude, I don't see any
other rational option.

I mean... I just don't trust him.

- You don't trust what?

- Nothing. I'm ready to go.

- You don't trust me? Is that
what you were gonna say?

- All right, tough guy. Relax.

- No, you two are such

little fucking bitches. - Easy, easy.

- Gossiping, sucking each other off.

You fucking losers.

- Colin, calm the fuck down.
- No. You know what?

Who needs you?

- Right. You know what?

Today was supposed to be about Dad,

but clearly we've got some
shit we need to figure out.

- No, no, no. We?

You do, okay? You do.

I know exactly what the
fuck I'm gonna do. Okay?

I was perfectly fine before Dad died.

And I'm fine now. Okay?

You both are acting like shit got worse,

but Dad was a fucking burden.

And you both fucking know it. Okay?

Mom, for one, is so much better off

without that piece of human
fucking garbage breathing.

And you know what? So am I.

- Is that really what you fucking think?

- I don't think that, I know that!

He was a fucking burden!

- I don't fucking believe you.

- Have you forgotten...

(Cade whispering indistinctly)

What are you saying over there, man?

Whispers?

- Oranges, peaches, carrot.

- What?

- I sat closest to Mom today.

The entire service I
didn't see a single muscle

on her face move.

No tears. Nothing.

She was like a wax sculpture.

Not a single muscle in her
face moved except her mouth.

Oranges, peaches, carrots, cereal.

- Okay, but what the fuck is that?

- A grocery list. - Oh shit.

- She was repeating her grocery list

the entire service over and over.

- I just thought she was talking to you.

- Guys. Guys.

Who cares? She's fine.

- You're a selfish prick. You know that?

- [Carter] Cade.

- You see this guy?
(laughs) I'm a selfish prick.

Wow. Oh, that's funny.

Let me ask you something.

When's the last time you called Mom?

When's the last time you
called Mom? Before this week.

I'm just curious.

Oh yeah. You, you really love her.

You really miss her, right?

Do you know what Mom
said on the way over here?

Do you know what she said?

- She said, "I finally feel alive.

I finally feel like now I can breathe."

Because that piece of shit

is no longer breathing on this planet.

You would know that if
you didn't leave the country-

- That's not fucking
fair. You know I had to.

- Oh, you had to! This motherfucker had to!

Because you're so fucking entitled.

You'll feel the need to leave me

with that crazy bipolar
fucking slut of a mother-

- Colin! - Fuck you!

(Cade and Colin grunting) (blows thudding)

Fucking!

I'll fucking kill you.

- [Colin] Get off, you shit!

Get the fuck out!

Fuck you! - Fuck you!

- Fuck both of you. Fuck both of you!

I don't fucking need any of you.

- Colin. - No, no, no!

I get to fucking talk now!

You two are so fucking worried about Mom.

But what about me, man? What about me?

You don't give a fuck about me.

You haven't come to see
me in like six fucking months.

Now all of a sudden, that
piece of shit finally drops dead

'cause he drinks himself to death.

And what?

Now you fucking think, you know what,

you can tell me what the fuck to do.

And you think he can tell Mom what to do?

You think you know what's best for us?

Go fuck yourselves. Suck my fucking dick.

And you wanna hit me?

Tough shot, tough guy, motherfucker.

Hit me, huh? Fucking punk.

Hit me! Hit me!

Hit me! You fuck! (spits)

And, you know, lemme
tell you something else.

You two always fucking
thought you were better me.

But you know what? I, I,
I'm, I'm doing better now.

I'm doing better. I'm clean.

You would know that if
you even tried talking to me.

If you even gave a fucking damn.

But you don't.

And you know what? Mom saw it.

Mom saw that I was getting clean.

She's fucking proud of
me. She's proud of me.

Dad would've been proud of me

if he found out that I'm doing better now.

But, you know, (sniffs)

but you know, I guess it's just,

I guess you just, I guess
you just won't know.

But that's all right.

Because I don't need, it's fine,

'cause I don't need it.

I don't fucking need it.

I don't fucking need it! (fists thudding)

Motherfucker! (sobs)

It's not fucking fair.

It's not fucking fair.

Why the fuck'd he have to die?

- Colin? - No! Don't fucking touch me.

I'm fucking better off
without you fucking assholes.

Go fuck yourself.

- Cade. - What are you doing?

You gotta get him, Carter. - Cade.

- Get off of me!

- Cade! - Just leave it, Carter.

We can't let him leave. - Cade.

- What are you doing?

We can't let him get le...

- Get him and do what?

- And do what? That's
your fucking job, man.

You are supposed to know this.

Why don't you... Cade.

Why... Cade, please.

(Cade sobs softly)

- Is he gonna be okay?

- Come on, let's go get Mom.

- Carter, I, um...

- I love you too, kid.

(door thuds)

(Nobody sighs)

(traffic honking)

(door knocking)

(water splatters)

(door knocks)

- Hi. - You the one that messaged?

- Yeah. That's me.

Yeah. Who are you? - Just checking, man.

- Like what, what are
you doing? What is this?

- What are you doing.

I'll be fine, Mike.

- No fucking games.

Hey. Holla if you need me.

- Smells like mold.

- Wow. You're, uh, you're great.

- Do you know my rates?

- Uh, could you sit down
for a minute, please?

- Hey, mister. Do you need
me to go over my rates again?

- Okay.

- $300 for the first hour.

$150 for each hour after that.

With that, you get
vaginal, blowjob, handjobs.

No kissing. Anal is an
extra $60 added to your total.

For a one-pump chump I
could give you a flat $30,

but it's for $200.

Anything with the feet is fair game.

If you want something else off the menu,

we'll need to renegotiate the term, yeah?

Understand?

- Yes. Yeah.

- Condoms. You'll use mine.

- Okay.

- Great. What will it be?

- Can I just look at you for a minute?

Oh, no, no, no. Stop.

No. You're just perfect

- Talker, huh?

- Hmm? - Mm-hmm.

What's your name, sweetie?

- Oh, I, uh, Nobody.

- Hmm. All right.

- What the fuck?

- Oh geez. The ceiling's been leaking.

Oh geez.

Would, would you get a
towel from the bathroom?

(Renata sniffs)

- There were no towels.

- Don't scream. Stay very, very calm.

Uh-uh!

Now I want you to go sit on
that bed or I will shoot you.

- Wait, wha-what do you want?

You wanna fuck without a
condom? We can do that.

- Sit down!

Young lady, I don't want
to have to repeat myself

because if I repeat myself, I will yell.

And if I yell, that man out
there is going to come in here.

And if that happens, then I'm
going to shoot you in the head

and bash your skull in with this pistol

until he does the same to me.

Now sit.

Now I'm going to say a few words

about how I would like to spend

the rest of our time together this evening.

Is that okay with you?

- Okay.

- Good.

First, I am not going to bore you

with my past for two reasons:

one, it does not concern you,

and two, well, you look like
you've been in this business

for quite some time.

So you have undoubtedly
heard my story countless times

from clients of yours who are my age.

I will say you look exactly
like your picture online.

And you remind me of someone
who used to be very dear to me.

I never had the time to hear them out.

And so now I'm giving
you a chance on their behalf

to tell me your story.

- What? - Your story.

How'd you get here?

Where, where would you like
to be when you are my age?

Now, if I'm satisfied, I will
pay you and I will let you go.

If I am not, I will kill you.

- Look man, I don't know
what you're looking for. Okay?

- Truth!

- Truth about what
though? I don't understand.

- No, no, no. Don't, don't
try to figure out what I want.

It's no use.

If I told you, you'd only
lie and I'll know if you lie.

Let's start with who you
are. What's your name?

- My, my name is Renata... Your real name!

- That is my real name.

- Where are you from, Renata?

- I'm, I'm, I'm from from Russia.

- What part?

- It's a small village you wouldn't know.

- What's it called,

- Myla.

I moved here when I was, when I was 22.

- How old are you now? - 27.

- You speak English very well.

Where is your father and your mother?

- They're still in my
village with my brothers.

- Your brothers? And how old are they?

- 14 and 30.

- Hmm. Hmm.

Good, good.

Ah.

- (grunts) I'm sorry, sir.

I, I don't know what else
its you want from me.

- [Nobody] So you give up?

- No, no. I, I don't give up, I just...

I'm sorry, I'm just very confused.

And maybe we could sort something out?

- All right. (sighs) All
right, all right, all right.

Look, if someone were
writing your obituary,

everything you've just
told me would be on it.

A summary, a, a brief
overview of Renata from Myla.

You've told me where you
come from, who you're related to.

Tell me who you are.

Why are you here? What do you want?

- I don't know. - Yes, you do.

- No, I, I don't - Think real hard, Renata.

- Okay. I, I, I, I came
here one summer when I.

Fuck. Oh fuck, fuck.

How, how do you say in English?

S- study abroad.

I, I, I visited New York and I loved it,

so I decided to move to the United States.

- What did you love about New York?

- The art, the, the food.

In my village everyone lives very far apart

and I, I like how close
together everyone lives.

- [Nobody] What did you like about it?

- I, I was in a new country

and, uh, my English was not very good.

So I, I, I liked living,
feeling close to people.

- What did you like about
feeling close to people?

- I, I, I don't know.

- Oh, yes you do. - No, I don't.

- You wouldn't have said it if you didn't.

Retrace your emotions.

- I...

- Did you grow up in a
small house with your family?

- Yes.

- There's more to this.

You're a young woman and
young women don't know...

What? What's wrong?

- What? No, nothing.

- Oh, oh, no, no, no.

You, you flinched

at what I said. - Nothing.

No. - No, no.

You don't like that?

You don't like it when I
call you a young woman?

- You just call me a, a young girl please.

- A young girl.

Okay. A young girl.

- Thank you.

- So you grew up in a
village of how many people?

- It's very small it's... How many people?

- Well, a hundred. Few hundred maybe.

- Well, you came all the
way to America by yourself.

That's impressive.

Your parents must be very proud of you.

I mean, a young girl.

She comes here all alone
speaking no English, uh,

comes to New York to start a new life

in the largest city in America.

But there's something
you're not telling me.

- It's okay.

There are some things...
There's things you don't

want to talk about? - There are some things

I don't want to tell you about, yes.

Can I go now please?

I don't understand this.

- Hmm?

- I don't understand why you're doing this.

- Oh, well, there's really
no point in the long run,

but I sense that you are hurting.

- I know.

I'm just scared that if you could just-

- Scared?

If you knew what I was to
you, you'd be kissing my feet.

What's your earliest memory?

- When, um, w-when I
was, when I was little,

my, my, my friends
and I went to the school-

- Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

I don't want you to say the first thing

that pops into your head
from when you were a kid.

Your oldest conscious memory.

An image, a taste, a sound, fuck a feeling.

Your oldest conscious memory!
- I don't know.

- Focus. Think.

We have plenty of time.

- Um, I,

I think, I think wood,

like wooden bars and, um,

and something soft against my cheek,

and, and wooden bars.

- Close them.

Okay.

Retrace your memory.

Tell me when you are there. Okay?

- Okay. - Okay. You're there?

Now, I don't want you to think too hard.

Just say the first thing
that pops into your head.

What do you smell?

- I, I think, like,

old, old milk.

- And what do you hear?

- Voices. - Male? Female?

- Both. - What are they saying?

Focus.

You know what they're saying.

- I, I dunno. - Focus.

- I don't know.

Please don't do this. - Yes.

You do know what they're saying.

Were those your parents?

- I don't know.

Why are you doing... Were you in

a newborn's crib?

- Why are you doing... Answer my question.

- Yes.

- Are they still alive?

- Yes.

I, I think so.

- You don't know?

- No. - Why?

- Because they're in Russia.

- Don't you talk to them anymore?

- No. - Are you ashamed of them?

Are you ashamed of where you come from?

Is is that why you try to hide your accent?

- What does it fucking matter to you?

What does it matter to you?

(Nobody sighs)

- It doesn't.

I'm old, I'm realistic.

I have no family. I have no future.

But you have both those things.

- I have nothing.

I have men like you who leer

and they abuse and they degrade.

They take joy in my misery.

I have nothing!

- That's a foolish thing to say.

You have your brothers,
you have your parents.

- Parents are drunks. They're losers.

They mean nothing to me.

- You're lying. - They ruined my life!

Everyone in my village laughed at me.

Is that what you want to hear?

They just saw my
parents drunk in the streets.

My father sleeping in his own urine.

My mother cheating on him
with her neighbor's husbands.

Nobody wanted to play with me.

Go ahead.

I hate my parents. I wish they're dead.

I wish I was dead.

- And yet, you still go by
the name they gave you.

- How could you possibly know that?

- I just do.

- I was lying. Renata's not my real name.

- Oh, yes it is.

- [Renata] You don't know anything.

- I want you to promise me something now.

Call them.

- What?

- Call your parents.

- No. (shrieks)

Okay, okay, okay.

- Call them and tell them everything.

Tell them that the first
thing you remember is them

and the soft blankets they warmed you with

and the milk they fed you with

and the voices they used to soothe you.

Tell them you forgive them.

(Renata sniffling)

You're telling the truth.

- What about you?

- Excuse me?

- Hey, since you're doing
this, what do you have to gain?

(Nobody laughs)

You tell me who you are!
- I can't believe it. (laughs)

I told you, I'm Nobody. (Renata shrieks)

That's my entire point.

You can't say the same.

(siren wails)

(gunshot booms)

(Nobody thuds)

(phone clicking)

(door knocks) (phone chimes)

- [Raya] Oh my god.

- Daddy's home.

- [Raya] Come in.

- Ow! - Don't ghost me

like that again.

I was worried.

- Relax.

You don't trust me?

- Hell no.

- How about our ride?

- It'll be here in five minutes.

I thought you weren't gonna make it.

- Lila Benson never misses.

Kombucha?

- It kills bacteria. It's
a really good probiotic.

Try it. You might like it.

- Yeah. I think I'm all set.

(Lila sighing)

Hey, nobody followed you right?

- No.

Anyone follow you?

- Hell no.

- Then we're almost home free.

- What'd you tell him? - Hmm?

- Colin.

- Oh, I told him I was babysitting tonight.

Bringing in a little extra cash.

- So he's expecting you home then?

- [Raya] Yeah, but not till at least three.

These people live out on Long Island

and usually aren't back till after two.

- Mm. Okay, good.

I'll be passed out on
the floor by then anyway.

- How about you? - Me?

- Yeah. How'd you secure the goods?

- Oh. (chuckles)

I, um,

I told my dad that I was done with girls,

that I was ready to settle
down and have a family.

And he took me out to dinner to celebrate.

We drank, waited till he mixed

his scotch with his painkillers.

Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom.

- Badass.

- (chuckles) Yeah. Well.

Should've kneed him in the balls too

but what are you gonna do?

- [Raya] Can I see it?

- Now? - Mm-hmm.

- How close is our guy?

- He said five minutes,

but that was over five minutes ago.

- Hey, hey, hey.

Relax. Okay?

Come on. We're chilling.

We have time.

Come here.

You wanna see?

- Wow.

- Yeah.

- It's real?

- Oh yeah.

- How are we gonna get rid of all of it?

- Oh, let me worry about that.

I have connects all over the city

that would give their
firstborn for a fire sale like this.

- That's sad.

- (chuckles) How is that
sad? We're gonna be rich.

We can live how we wanna live

without coke-dealing homophobic dads

and drunk deadbeat asshole boyfriends.

Baby, we're so close.

- No, no. Not that.

I mean, you know, people
would give up their kids for...

- Oh, okay. Come on.

It was just an expression.

You know, like, "Hey
bro, I'd give my left nut

for a porterhouse right now."

- No, I know what you meant.

I just mean that there are people out there

that would, right?

- I mean, yeah, sure. Probably.

- That's so sad.

- That's a travesty.

Thank God that's not us.

(Lila groans)

Is there like a mini bar or
something when you checked in?

- Mm-hmm.

- You didn't save any for me?

- No, no. I just put
everything in the bathroom.

- Why?

- There wasn't enough
room for all the kombucha.

(horn honks)

- (laughs) Okay.

Hey, what's the ETA?

- He still isn't texting me.

- Here. Have one.

- [Raya] Okay.

- Come on. That's not the Raya I know.

Let's celebrate.

- Fine, Lila. I just wanna
figure out this ride situation.

- What is up your ass tonight?

- Excuse me?

- Why are you so anxious?

- Why aren't you more anxious?

Look at all the drugs we have in this room.

Stolen drugs from your dad.

Does he track you on Find My Friends?

- (laughs) No, ho. I'm not stupid.

He's out cold. He won't
be up until we're long gone.

- [Raya] What's your plan?

- My plan?

- Yes.

- All right, well, we make a few stops

to get this cash

and then once we flip it... No, no, no.

- we head to the train station.

- What's your plan, Lila?

Long term plan, not your 24-hour plan.

- I mean, okay.

We're gonna go to Mexico

and we are gonna have great sex.

- Where are we gonna live?

- Hmm?

- We don't even know
where we're gonna live yet.

- Baby, who cares? We'll
figure it out when we get there.

We're gonna have
plenty of money for hotels.

- American money.

- What? - American dollars.

- Okay. We just exchange it for pesos.

- And just live in a hotel

till you figure out what you wanna do?

- What is with you tonight?

- Lila, I just cannot believe
how calm you're right now.

I mean, you realize you're
leaving everything, right?

- What the hell do you mean, "everything"?

I, I have nothing here, Raya.

I have no friends. My
family won't speak to me.

Even my cat ran away.

- Oh God. Your cat.

- All right.

- No, no! - All right, Raya.

Come on. Don't start.

- No, I'm such a bitch. I
forgot all about your cat.

- Raya, stop. - No.

Here I am shitting on you

and you just lost your best friend.

- Hey. Hey, you're my best friend, okay?

That's why I'm not
afraid to leave with you.

I'm leaving nothing here.
I'm taking everything with me.

Any word from our guy?

- He texted me.

- What'd he say?

- "10 minutes. Traffic bad."

- Okay, that's fine.

- Well, if traffic's bad,
will we have enough time

to get rid of the, you know,

and, and, and still make it to the train?

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Don't worry about it. We'll be fine.

- How do you know that?

- I just do.

- Yeah, but I don't think you do, Lila.

- Why?

- Because.

- Ay-yi-yi.

- No.

- Okay.

Still, tell me. Tell me why?

- Because you don't know how to live

for anyone else besides yourself.

- What? - You might be fine,

but you have no clue if I'll be fine.

You have this attitude,
this fucking attitude,

this entitled rich American bitch attitude

that you try and hide.

But I know you better than
anyone and I can see it.

- Oh. Okay. - I'm not trying to be mean.

I just want you to hear me out for a second

and speak my language, okay?

Can you just do that for a second?

Because this is a lot for me right now

and I'm freaking out, okay?
- Okay. Hey, hey, hey.

All right. Hey, I'm listening.

- Okay.

- Okay, so last summer

when Colin and I were in Korea-

(Lila laughs softly)

Oh fuck it. Nevermind.

- What? - No, no.

You're just gonna make
a joke out of it as usual.

- No, I won't. Okay?

I'm sorry.

I just don't like hearing

about you and your
boyfriend's romantic getaways.

- I'd like to remind you

that I'm supposed to
be leaving him for you.

- Supposed to be?

- That's why we're here, right?

- Yeah. So why didn't you
say you're leaving him for me?

Why did you say you're
supposed to be leaving him for me?

- Oh, you idiot.

I'm not spending another
second with that piece of shit.

Of course I'm leaving him.

- Yeah, but for me?

Can I tell you my story first?

- No! Answer my question.

- My story will answer your question.

- Raya, if you're having
second thoughts about this,

then you need to tell
me now because I just-

- Oh my fucking god.

You aren't listening at all.

Of course I'm having second thoughts.

Let me tell my fucking story.

- Okay.

- Yes. Okay.

So last summer when we were in Korea,

I got lost my first day
and my phone was dead.

So I went up to this old
man working at a fruit stand.

I asked him in English if
he could potentially help me

find a place that would charge my phone.

And first thing I noticed

was he wouldn't look me in the eye.

He just sort of waved me off

and started whispering under his breath.

I was about to leave,

but his son caught me before I could go.

He spoke English and
he, he told me I was only

a few blocks away from my hotel.

And get this,

he even wrote down the
directions for me and everything.

So of course I thanked him

and I gave him some
money for being so kind.

But before I left,

I told him about the
interaction I had with his dad.

You know what he said?

Nothing actually.

He wouldn't say why his
dad was so standoffish at first.

- But you kept pressing.
- But I kept pressing.

And you know what he told me?

He told me his dad refused to learn English

to keep his language from going extinct.

And when he said that,

I realized I hadn't even made an effort

to speak that man's language

when I first approached him for help.

I just expected him to not only
know my own native language,

but to go out of his way to help me.

- Well, I mean, you don't speak Korean.

What else were you supposed to do?

- No. No.

See, you're missing the point.

The audacity I had to
enter someone's native land,

someone's home, and
expect them to serve me,

that was a sensibility I
never knew I possessed.

I've thought a lot about
that incident since,

and I see it in so many people here.

Especially you.

I love you, Lila.

You know I do.

But you're like a freight train.

You just go, go, go. And
you don't stop and listen.

- Okay, so,

so what does this have
to do with us leaving?

- Try and think

about what I've been
saying to you all night.

Please.

Try and speak my language

because I'm afraid to translate.

I don't wanna lose you.

- Let me get a kombucha.

Oh no.

- I didn't mean to.

- Raya, oh my God.

- I swear I didn't mean to.

Lila. I don't... And you, you wanna keep...

- I need you to be
okay with that or else I,

we can't come with you.

- Fucking Colin! - Lila!

- Are you positive?

- Fuck.

- Baby. I'm so sorry.

- No, no. Hey, no.

No, no, no. Come here.

(phone buzzes)

- Fuck me.

- What?

- He said there's an accident on FDR.

He hasn't moved since he texted me.

- That's great.

- Is there anyone you know that can...

Lila?

- Hmm?

- I need you to be okay with this.

- You're not giving me that
much time to think about it.

- I didn't think this would be

that hard of a decision for you.

- Okay. Don't be an asshole.

- How am I being an asshole?

- You're trying to make me feel guilty

for not wanting to raise you
and Colin's little demon spawn.

- I am not! And how the
fuck could you even say that?

- Oh, this is too much.

- You want me to leave? Huh?

There are plenty of pretty girls in Mexico.

I'm sure you'd be all right.

- I'm not leaving without you.

I just need time to think.

- Well, think fast.

(door thuds)

(Lila sobs)

(phone buzzes)

(Lila chuckles)

(phone buzzes)

- Raya.

Raya. Baby?

Raya, come on. We gotta go, okay?

Raya. Raya, we have to go now.

Raya? Raya!

Raya, come on baby. Come on, please.

I'm sorry, okay?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I said.

I'm, I'm a fucking idiot. Okay?

I want you.

I, I wanna be with you.

I, I wanna start a family with you.

I don't care who the father is

because I know that
we're gonna be great moms.

Okay?

Come on. I was scared.

I am scared.

But, but I know we're gonna be fine, okay?

Raya?

Raya, sweetie, are you okay? (phone buzzes)

Raya.

Raya, come on. We gotta go.

(phone buzzes) Raya!

Raya, Raya!

(footsteps patter)

- Are you positive?

Come on.

- And why does Colin still track you?

(phone buzzes)

All right. Time to move, baby.

(distant siren wails)

We got kids to feed.

(door thuds)

(water dripping)

(The Writer chuckles)

- Hey, sweetie.

Good. Really good.

I think I'm onto something.

(laughs) Yeah. Yeah.

Listen, I think I'll be
here longer than a week

till it's finished, so.

I love you. So much. (laughs)

What? She's still awake?

Get that kid to bed.

Give Emily a kiss
goodnight for me, all right?

Tell her Daddy loves her too.

(phone clicking)

(phone chimes)

(The Writer sighs)

(keyboard clacking)

(lights clicking and buzzing)

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