Original subtitles

How long can you hold your breath?

I think I can hold mine for about... 3 minutes,

and that's without any tricks,

no fancy breathing, no practice.

I can hold my breath while moving,

which is very difficult.

Most people have to remain perfectly still,

but I can do it anytime,

under any circumstances.

Maybe there's something wrong with me.

Maybe I have big lungs.

No one has ever asked,

and you're the first person I've ever told.

It's my only trick.

It's never served any purpose

in the outside world,

but for me it's always useful.

And the best thing is it feels so good

when you're done.

What time is it?

It's my husband and kid.

Okay, you got to go!

Get out!

Augh!

Don't get dressed, you idiot!

Get out!

Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh, no.

And there it is,

another satisfying, fulfilling day.

Mom, I'm home!

Fuck me.

How quickly things can change.

One instant you think you've got your bearings,

you know where everything is,

and not just just talking about your emotional bearings,

I'm talking about where you're at on the map.

Take for instance our recent family trip to Spain.

I looked at the map a single time,

and then just followed my gut.

But these things are deceptive.

Your instincts might change and leave you wondering

if you ever knew anything at all.

And it's really hard to stay sharp

at anything when you're stuck at home.

Mom!

Come on, Mom, hurry up.

Back the other way. Get the ball, guys,

keep it going, keep it going.

All right, come on, go get it.

Of all the horrors a young mother must endure,

kids soccer practice must surely be the worst.

But like everything,

there's nothing really to complain about

because there's nothing really going on.

Over this way.

Over this way, guys.

Guys, bring it back this way.

Over here.

There you go.

And the only thing worse than sports for kids

is sports for adults,

like when your husband is the coach.

That's right, fuck head,

you know I'm up to something, don't you?

You're just not quite sure what it is yet.

Move the ball, move the ball.

I'm about to make a big life change here.

I know it's early in my life

and the story for such a brash move,

but what the hell.

Come on, Blake!

You're fuckin' doing it!

See that bitch over there?

Knock it down, knock it down!

That is Janice Jeworski.

This way! You're going the wrong way!

She leaves her keys in her van every week

because she's a dolt.

Who is that? Is that on your team?

I'm about to take advantage of that.

Get the ball, sweetie.

Come on!

Let's go, pick it up!

Woo!

This way.

I'm not the best mother,

I'm willing to admit that much,

but life is short,

and I've got a lot of shit to do.

I just need to get away from all this right now.

I'll bring Janice's van back,

some day... maybe.

Come on, George, let's go buddy.

I gotta admit

It's not the first time

I've done something like this,

but I'm going to make this one the best.

Now if only I had someone to share my joy with.

Although he hasn't called,

there's a good chance that by now,

after only an hour,

Aaron has already cancelled my credit card.

I knew this moment was coming,

and I'm prepared for at least a couple of days.

But will a couple of days do the trick?

Never swim alone.

It's too freakin' dangerous

and God knows what will happen to you,

there's lots of ass rape-y fish out there.

See, the problem is

you might not know how deep the water is

or where the big drop off is.

And who knows what will happen

when you reach the big drop off.

You might have to think for yourself for a second.

So part of you,

just a tiny part in the back of your mind,

starts looking for the big drop off,

but there's no sign of it,

and swimming is so damn refreshing

you begin to forget all those warnings

about the drop off.

And then, you start to wonder

if there is a drop off.

Like, how far am I gonna have to walk

before I can't touch the bottom anymore?

And what if you're right?

Maybe there just never is any point

where you reach the big drop off.

What then?

What's so special about you?

Why does there have to be anything special?

Got anymore of those cigarettes?

Half a pack.

That's special.

If you say so.

Get in.

Why should I?

You tell me, you're the hitchhiker.

What's so special about you?

Just get in.

No.

No?

No. Are you serious?

I'm serious, I'm not getting in.

Oh, come on.

All right, all right, I will tell you,

just get in!

Nope.

Asshole, get in the car!

No way.

Damn it.

The van is stolen.

I've abandoned my family

and I plan on drinking myself

into a coma tonight.

You see... you are special.

On the very top of the long list

of things a parent is now forbidden to do

with her child are two things.

The first is called screen time,

which used to be called television,

but now encompasses everything,

including phones and tablets,

The second thing is smoking, of course.

You can yell at your kids,

pressure them into feelings

of constant inadequacy.

Hell, even the odd spank

seems to be acceptable now.

But since we all know it's impossible to parent

without the babysitting assistance of an iPad,

you better, not, ever, smoke.

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. ♪

And we're not talking about an illegal substance,

just good old-fashioned tobacco,

the stuff that's built economies,

enslaved races

and spawned great conversations forever,

but whatever.

Fuck!

Hello.

Claire, listen.

I'm okay, Aaron.

I am sorry.

I just, I needed to get away for a bit.

Claire, Claire just, look, I don't care.

Okay.

I said it a thousand times before...

it doesn't matter.

I'm sorry, Aaron, I'm stuck a motel out of town.

I need you to come pick me up.

I'll stop you right there.

There's somebody here that wants to say something to you.

Are you sure?

Mom.

Hi sweetheart.

Don't come back here.

Baby, no.

No, I don't want this anymore... no more.

Don't you wish we could just see each other right now?

No.

Please, stay away.

You don't mean that.

Yes, I do.

Listen, George, I am your mother

and you don't get to choose your mother.

So you tell your father to come and pick me up.

He doesn't want to talk to you anymore.

And anyway, this is my idea.

No, it is not your idea.

Is to.

Goddamn it, George,

this is not open for debate.

It's not nice to yell.

Well then listen,

tell your father to come and pick me up!

I thought about this a lot.

When, in the last few hours?

In my life.

You are just a kid.

I'm your kid.

And that is why you need to listen to me!

Mommy needs time out.

That is enough, George, that is ENOUGH!

I'm sorry, Mom,

I'm really, really sorry.

Then let's just forget about this, okay?

Bye Mom.

No!

Fuck!

What are you looking at?

Worst. Mommy. Ever.

Where are you going?

This way.

You don't know where you're going?

Why do I have to know?

Fair enough.

I'm only going a couple of miles

down the road to my work, can't take you any farther.

Sounds good.

All right, get in.

You can continue walking from my work,

but there's not a lot of highway left.

This is the end of the road?

Almost.

I live a little beyond this, but,

this is pretty much it.

What's your work?

I'm a dancer in the bar up here.

They open early and I have the first shift.

Never been so far down this highway.

Well you don't know what you're missing.

Here? You're kidding.

I wish I was.

What kind of dancer are you?

The kind that dances in bars.

So not the fancy kind.

Not so much.

Well, uh, nice knowing ya.

Yeah.

Good luck with the trip.

♪ I've stayed up to watch the sun come through ♪

♪ And I thought I'd write this song for you ♪

♪ And I smile down on the bed where you lay ♪

♪ And watch the sunlight kiss your face ♪

♪ I stayed up to hear the choir sing ♪

Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.

Okay.

♪ Of love and dreams that aren't so far away ♪

♪ Love and dreams are things that can come true ♪

♪ Unending love is the dream I hold for you ♪

What?

♪ My love changed. ♪

♪ Dadunda unda dadunda unda dadunda unda ♪

What the hell is this place?

♪ Dadunda unda dadunda unda dadunda ♪

Why'd you stay?

I don't know.

Don't know much, do ya?

Not lately, no.

Well, you've had a chance to look around,

so why don't you be on your way?

I want to see more.

Look, I don't know what your deal is,

but there is nothing here for you, trust me.

So, why don't you head down the highway

back in the direction you came?

I can't.

But you can't stay here.

Brandy and I are all alone out there.

I got to get on the floor.

Hey, stranger, Lila wants to talk to you.

Who me?

Who's Lila?

Should have left when you had a chance.

Come on.

I'll show you.

Welcome, have a seat.

Jenny, who's your friend?

She's not my friend.

Who's your stranger?

I have no idea.

Picked her up hitchhiking on the highway,

and she followed me in here.

You often pick up hitchhikers?

Unfortunately yes.

What's your name?

Claire.

What are you doing in my bar?

I'm not sure yet.

You want a job?

Here we go.

Shut up!

Janelle quit last night.

Of course she did.

You from around here? What's your story?

No story, just passing through.

Can you pour drinks and take off your clothes?

As a matter of fact,

those are the two exact things

I've dedicated my life to most.

Good.

Don't drink my booze,

at least not as much as this one does.

Please.

Got a place to stay?

I stayed a motel down the highway last night,

but I don't want to go back there.

Stay with Jenny.

What the fuck?

Would that be okay?

No, it wouldn't.

It'll be fine.

I actually own her house and she rents it from me,

she has to do what I say.

I do not.

Check your lease, you do.

Wow.

Thanks.

You can start tomorrow.

The two of you can carpool.

Works for me.

Fuck you both very much.

FUCK this!

Why does shit always happen to me?!

I really don't think it'll be that bad.

What the hell?

I do one good deed, by picking you up,

and now I can't get rid of you.

How is that karma?

I just might grow on you.

It's a small house in the middle of nowhere

and there's not enough room for you.

I won't take up much space.

And who are you, anyways, hmm?

Walking down the highway with your fancy purse

like some misplaced fuckin' soccer mom,

is that it?

Do you need directions back to your soccer practice?

I'm sorry, okay.

But come on,

that's some crazy shit that goes on in there.

You can't blame me for being curious.

Be curious, that's fine, but don't ruin my life.

Give me a break, okay.

I had a really shitty morning

and this is the first good thing

that's happened to me.

Actually, you turned my day around.

Well then, you're welcome.

Those pictures over there, your family?

Former family.

Know all about that, do you soccer mom?

Not sure yet.

Yeah, you are, you got the boot.

I saw your walk of shame a mile down the highway

before I came and picked you up.

Is that why you stopped?

See where that got me?

Smart.

I'm not all bad.

I suspect if I were to ask your husband

he may say something a little bit different.

He is not the problem.

Who then?

My 7-year-old son.

Got abandoned by your own child?

He's a sweet kid.

He probably didn't sleep last night.

He'll get over it.

Sure about that?

No.

And you take orders from a 7-year-old?

This time I do. Why?

Because I agree with him.

Got a photo?

What about on your phone?

I've never used the camera before.

Where are you going?

This day and age, you don't have a picture on your phone?

Please tell me this is not the only photo

you have of your son.

Wow.

Look, he's got a little mustache, cute.

I see and that's artistic license

and that your son doesn't actually have a mustache.

What's his name?

George.

Surprisingly heavy.

You got that right.

So there we were,

at least maybe now she was warming up to me.

I wanted to ask her more about all the people

in the pictures with her.

There were so many of them,

and I'll bet there's a good story behind them.

Maybe even more depressing than mine.

Maybe I was just tired, or hadn't eaten,

or maybe not enough to drink,

but my mind kept flashing back

to the origins of George,

not George the boy, this George.

The rock has a story.

It was about a year ago,

George, the boy, was around 6 1/2,

we'd taken a family vacation trip

to somewhere I'd always wanted to go, Menorca,

which is an island,

but technically it's part of Spain.

On this one particular beach,

George had found this rock,

and insisted on keeping it and bringing it home.

He drew all the features

and he named it George after himself.

But when we got home,

little George was struck with the realization

he'd stolen something

and he immediately asked us to bring it back.

It really bothered him.

One of those baffling things

that kids just latch onto for whatever reason.

Actually, we probably should have just hid it.

I don't know what it was.

His first experience of guilt?

His first realization that he upset

some sort of balance in the universe?

I guess that's a hard thing for anybody.

Why didn't you just mail the rock back?

It wasn't enough.

He needed to go to the exact spot he found it.

So lie.

Tell him that you promise to mail it back

to some Piala farmer in Menorca

and that he promised to bring it back

exactly where you found it.

That wouldn't be right.

And stealing a car, banging a hitchhiker

and then getting a job as a stripper

is morally acceptable to you?

Yes.

And so began my career in the uh...,

"service industry".

And let me tell you,

it was better than I could have ever imagined.

I started with just the waitressing part,

but I was anxious

to get to the exotic dancering part.

All the other girls worked the barn dance,

but no one was as good as Jenny.

Something about the way she did it

was just a little better,

even the old fucker seemed to see it.

So, I started studying Jenny.

What the hell, she hadn't train or anything

and was doing fine.

I wanted to do that, too.

And it was never the same,

she gave them a new show every time

and gave everybody special attention.

Hell, it wasn't hard to keep track of them.

They all sat in basically the same place every time,

they even ordered the same drinks.

In fact, they didn't even really order.

Brandy told me early on what everyone liked

and I just remembered it.

They seemed happy with that.

And then there was the money,

not a lot... but some.

I don't know where the geezers got their cash,

but they were there all the time spending it,

Lila was happy to take it.

Every day, twice a day

she'd take the cash out of the till

and move it into the safe in her back office.

There was really no record of any of it.

I guess she was keeping books somewhere,

I just never saw it.

Through it all, Jenny was dancing.

Technically she called it stripping,

but for me it was something more akin to séance.

Whatever the case, it pleased the old men,

who kept standing up every time she went out there,

like they were all getting up to piss

but never went to the bathroom,

and just sat down after she was done.

Yeah, from all appearances it was a strange place.

But for me, it all sorta made sense.

Buenos dias.

You see, you are special.

What do you do?

It's not important.

You're fucking up, you're fucking up!

People are busy with real things.

I have everything,

everything that a person could want.

I mean, I get it.

Who cares what other things I might want?

How much cash do you think Lila pulls in, in a week?

Why, you want to rob her?

I'm in.

No, I'm just thinking out loud.

Not much. You'll see when she pays you.

But it's something, right?

Something.

Something's all I need.

I don't get you.

I saved you from your shame,

you got a job and a free place to stay, now what?

I need to get back to that beach.

Please.

This is important.

To return the rock to the beach?

It's not like it'd even be that much.

Granted, it is tourist season.

This level of self-indulgence

is what got you in trouble in the first place.

It's not for me, it's for him.

Liar.

He's 7.

He has no clue how far away it is,

even appreciates how much a plane ticket costs.

That is exactly why I need to do it.

No.

I want a cookie.

You can't have a cookie.

I made the cookies.

This will fail.

You will fail.

This won't make him love you,

or miss you, or want you back.

I'm find with the odds.

Well, there's only one way

to make the money you need to get there.

You need tips from the old fuckers.

Oh, their tips are terrible.

Their bar tips are terrible,

their dancing tips are reasonable,

actually more than reasonable.

I don't know where those limp dick fuckers

get all their money, but you got to do it right.

Yeah, but they only like you.

What's your secret?

Maybe I'm just gifted.

Where do all these old fuckers come from?

The real magical question

is how are their livers still functioning?

They have been coming here for years.

Huh.

I heard a rumor

that they used to be Lila's boyfriends

back when she used to dance.

Lila used to do this?

God only knows.

I'm not about to start asking questions.

Fair enough.

All right, watch Brandy.

She's okay.

Yeah, but they don't stand up for her

like they do for you.

What does that mean?

Beats me.

Maybe it's better if they sit.

I don't think so.

I think it's their way of honoring you.

Fuck that, honor me with tips.

All right, you should go on next.

What, right now?

Yeah, go get changed.

Okay.

Is that okay?

Look, the secret is to do it for only one person.

Now that person doesn't need to be here,

but you just need to do it for somebody somewhere,

get it?

That doesn't help me at all.

Where do you even go?

You leave here

and then I don't hear from you at all.

Oh, but I pay your bills, don't I?

So, WHAT THE FUCK, Rollie?!

Where are you?

I am sitting here, I'm slaving away.

You think I signed up for this?

God!

Look who dropped in.

Who is he?

That's Lila's husband Rollie, we think.

She never talks about him.

He never seems to be around.

Where's he been?

Beats me.

Oh, don't look at me like that

you little hang dog pussy!

Can't say I blame him.

You spend all your time making those stupid ol' pictures!

Sorry, no ice.

Sorry, menthol.

What's with the rock?

I'm gonna bring him back home

to where he came from.

And?

It's far.

Isn't that enough?

You tell me.

Why is she so mad at you?

I do as I please probably more often than I should.

How long you been doing that?

Decades.

So what happens?

Does it get different?

Always escaping her annoyances

can become as much a prison

as the annoyances themselves.

And your annoyance?

So, what do you then?

How do you deal with this cycle?

Who says anything had to be dealt with?

What should I do?

You don't have to do anything.

That's the problem,

everyone thinks something needs to be done.

What makes you think there's anything to be done

that would really change anything?

And if it did, would it even matter?

Maybe for you it's already too late.

Why are you here?

Why'd you even come back?

This is where I live.

Got to check the mail once in a while.

Maybe you need something here.

I'm my own man.

What's your excuse?

I'm my own man, too.

That's odd.

From the moment I came here,

the strangest thing about this place

was how docile the old fuckers were.

In fact, it kind of weirded me out

how little physical contact there was in the place.

I wouldn't have minded their occasional feel being copped,

but I guess that's not the situation for everyone.

It depends who you are and what your sick of.

It's okay.

What was that all about?!

Who do you think you are?!

You stupid bitch!

What do you think was going on in there?

What were you doing?

What makes you think you can hit him?!

Don't you know how precious that old man is?!

You're fired.

That works.

Is that why they call you Brandy?

No, I switched to Brandy

'cause that's what they've always called me.

Makes sense.

Hey, do you want a ride somewhere,

like, maybe, say, the airport?

Nice of Jenny to lend us her car.

Nah, it's Lila's, too.

I just need to make one stop along the way.

Who is this kid?

Is he yours?

I don't like kids.

I just need you to give this note to him.

Can kids even read?

They can't, kids can't read.

Kids can't even read.

I don't have to, like, talk to him, do I?

I really don't want to talk to any kids.

Okay.

Can you read?!

That's - for - you.

Read it!

Do - you - understand?

What's going on?

Just some kids.

You okay?

Yeah.

It's almost time for your bath, okay?

Okay.

Dear George, this is your mom.

I'm sorry to write when I know

you don't want to hear from me,

but listen, anyway, I know you can read this.

If you still don't want to see me I understand,

but there's something that I want you to know.

I see you my little man.

I see you everywhere.

I see you in the faces around me

and the little kids I pass,

but also in the grownups, I can't help it.

Your friend the rock is on its way back to the beach

where you found him.

I agree, it's where he belongs.

So, I'll be away for a few days,

I'm not pressuring you into taking me back,

that's not what I'm saying.

I just want you to know I'll always be here.

You can't make that go away.

A year ago when I came here,

I had my bearings completely straight.

That's not a metaphor.

I mean I actually knew where everything was,

never got lost.

I did know, I thought I did.

What's the progression of things?

Things are supposed to get better, aren't they?

Aren't the things we learned supposed to teach us,

make us better?

When you have your compass

and you've got the streets mapped out,

how do you ever manage to unlearn that?

I, I don't speak Spanish.

I don't understand anything you're saying.

No habla Español.

Dear George, here comes another letter.

Sorry if it's just a tiny bit at odds

with what I said the first time.

I've have had a change of plans.

That little rock of yours

I have carried it everywhere.

For a long time

It was a lot heavier than it looked too,

always sitting there in the bottom of my purse

but you know what?

As much as I hate to admit it

I like the extra weight.

I might even... need it.

It's something you should experience too.

And so, if I can just find the damn thing again.

I'm going to carry it a little bit further

and bring it back to you.

Back to the same room in the same motel

where I started this.

You're fuckin' grounded.

Get the fuck down.

Mmm.

Hello.

Hey!

Hey, you stupid bitch!

This is not a rental company!

She's totally leaving it.

Maybe fill it up this time!

♪ I've stayed up to watch the sun come through ♪

♪ Then I thought I'd write this song for you ♪

♪ And I smile down on the bed where you lay ♪

♪ And watch the sunlight kiss your face ♪

♪ I stayed up to hear the choir sing ♪

♪ Songs that could have meant a thousand things ♪

♪ Of love and dreams that aren't so far away ♪

♪ Mother Nature giving of the same ♪

That's game.