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They stone her, Fred.

You reading one
of Shirley's stories?

The whole town, even
her own children.

They all stone her.

That's creepy.

It's terrific!

I'm in town.

Can't you hear me, honey?

I'm in town.

Hangin' 'round just
waiting for you.

Can't you see you're the
one and only one for me.

Mm, you'll be a dream came true.

Your caress is a
heartful of happiness.

I confess I just can't
live without your kisses,

but I'm going to say ain't
nobody gonna bring me down.

Oh, happy day.

Honey baby I'm in town oh.

Oh!

Moving target, bonus points.

That looks delicious.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, oh!

Welcome to our hallow
end of the earth, my boy!

Welcome to Bennington.

Oh!

And, oh, who is
this lovely dove?

Rose Nemser.

You must be Professor Hyman.

Oh, Stanley.

Stanley.

I profess nothing.

Come, come,
come, come, come.

Let's get you watered down.

I'll bring him
back in one piece, Rosie.

Okay.

I'm trudging back up the
hill, and I'm cursing my back.

I'm cursing my feet.

I'm cursing all of
goddamn humanity.

And then it hit me.

The whole thing.

So I sat down at my desk,
and two hours later,

the most reviled story "The
New Yorker" has ever printed.

I read it as an
anti-Semitic parable

in the tradition of Isaac Babel.

Calling my wife
an anti-Semite, are we?

Well, to be fair, she
never hated a single Jew

until she married me.

We had a wonderful courtship.

Didn't we, dear?

He asked me
out for cheeseburgers.

Who could refuse such a--

such a romance?

Next thing I know, he's
ripping apart a story of mine.

Then he has the gall to tell
me that he has lost his wallet.

That wallet's been
lost for over 20 years.

Now, mind you, that story
was the most remarkable story

I'd ever read.

I knew I was going to marry
the woman who wrote it.

I was going to hunt her
down and make her marry me.

To our suffering, my dear.

There's not enough scotch
in the world for that one.

So, Shirley, what
are you writing now?

A little novella
I'm calling, "None

of Your Goddamn Business."

Excuse me, I'm Rose.

Rose Nemser.

Betty, Debbie, Kathy--
you're all the same to me.

No, no.

I'm Fred's wife.

Fred Nemser.

He's helping Professor
Hyman with this semester.

We were invited to stay
here for a few days,

until we could find a place.

No one said you were pregnant.

W-we weren't
telling anybody yet.

I-I-I read your story.

There have been several.

"The Lottery."

When I read it,
it made me feel--

thrillingly horrible.

Father, did you bring me silver?

Father, did you
bring me any gold?

That was Lead Belly.

Huddie Ledbetter.

This is Myth and Folklore.

I am Professor Stanley
Hyman, your fearless leader

for the next 12 weeks.

As we ascend to the heights
of the gods and stoop

to the very depths
of human depravity.

Oh.

Hello.

Hi.

Isn't he great?

Oh, terrific.

I wish my Chaucer
class that I'm auditing

wasn't at the same time.

Oh, well, there'll
be other semesters.

Sure.

Might I burden
you with a favour?

Hmm.

What's that?

Shirley has these
bouts and just can't--

can't keep up with the
household, shopping,

and our last
housekeeper just quit.

Oh.

Bad back or lungs,
I don't recall.

Maybe gout?

But it would be
such a titanic help

if you would just tidy up a bit.

Excuse me?

Maybe chip in with the laundry.

Yes?

The cooking?

Oh.

Well, no, no, no.

That's too much.

Don't think I confuse
you for a scullery maid.

It's just, we are
in a bit of a bind.

Well, perhaps I could help
out in between classes?

Well, obviously,
room and board on us.

Oh, no, no, no.

We couldn't.

No, no, no.

Of course.

We couldn't.

Of course.

I insist.

Might you stay, hmm?

Just until we're--
settled in, hmm?

How's your rump roast?

I love hot food in hot weather.

He really seems in a bind.

It could be sort of fun, hmm?

Or we say no.

I like your walk.

Your simple ways.

A million things about
you, honey, I could trade.

a 'Cause everything about you

Appeals to me.

I'm counting
down from three.

Three.

Two.

One.

Get dressed
for dinner, darling.

Please.

Try.

Go away.

I really think the
two of them are gonna work out.

Did you see our kitchen?

A clean house is
evidence of mental inferiority.

Well, thank
god for the simpletons.

How else would we ever
have fresh linens?

You hired spies, is that it?

I'm trying to help you, Shirl.

Take some of the pressure off
so you can get your work done.

I don't want strangers here.

I don't like them.

We've already
discussed it, dear.

Fred's going to lighten
my class load so that I

can be around the house more.

Won't you like that?

You can't expect
me to indulge this, can you?

Hmm?

Staying in bed all day?

Well, the party was too much.

It set me back.

You have to get
back to your desk!

You're putting an undue
amount of pressure on me.

Fussing over you when
I have work to do.

You don't want my work
to suffer, do you?

No.

I'm going to get better.

I promise.

I will.

Starting tomorrow.

No, starting tonight.

You are putting on clean
clothes and sitting

at the table for a proper meal.

I can't.

You will.

Besides, it's cocktail hour.

Up, up, up.

It's going to be so dull.

Well, I didn't ask you
to behave at the table.

Ooh, hoo, hoo.

Oh, a gorgeous slab of flesh.

Oh, it was nothing.

Oh, go on, my boy.

Shed a layer.

We aren't formal in this house.

I've often thought
about participating

in the Native American
ritual of the sweat lodge.

Thank you.

Often?

Why, yes, dear.

But then I learned you have
to crawl through a dirt tunnel

under the ground and sit naked
buttocks to naked buttocks

with a dozen other men
while some shaman stokes

a smoky fire, maintaining
the 100-degree heat,

and peddles some
noxious root tea

that inspires hallucinations.

So when's the baby due?

The baby?

Oops.

Was it supposed
to be a surprise?

You should have
told me that, dear.

Well, I hope it's yours.

Of course it's his.

February.

Hmm.

Right, darling?

I would really rather
discuss something else

if you don't mind.

February.

Huh.

Did you tell him you were
knocked up before the wedding?

I fear, my love,
stories of copulations

might leave the table
without an appetite.

But that one does have a
sixth sense about babies.

Calls it.

Girl or a boy,
she's never wrong.

Is poor Freddie here
going to be disappointed?

OK.

Shall I?

Stay put.

You promised to
take care of that.

As you wish, dear.

So, Rose, you were telling us
about your shotgun wedding.

Excuse me.

I should see if she's all right.

I feel a bit like
we're in a Scottish play.

I, the Thane of Cawdor,
with a murderous prophecy

over my head.

And you, Lady M, on
the verge of madness.

What will happen?

I have a title.

"Hangsaman."

It's about that girl.

The missing one.

The Welden girl?

What do you think?

Well, you haven't said much.

Well, it's just an idea.

I can try something else.

Disappearing college girls.

Sounds trite and a bit trashy
but, you know, give it a go.

I'll read, of course,
before you wade too far in.

It's going to take some time.

Well, give it to me
in a couple of days.

It's a novel.

Oh, no, dear.

That's-- you're not--

you're just not up to it.

You're wrong.

Darling, you haven't been out
of the house in two months.

You're barely able to put
on a pair of stockings.

Ease back, that's
all I'm saying.

If that phone rings one
more time during dinner.

Stanley, so help me, I'm going
to take care of it myself.

I'm well within the
bounds of our agreement.

Ah.

Mm-hmm.

Our agreement didn't include
sluts interrupting my dinner.

I will talk to her and tell
you everything, as I always do.

You're really scraping
the barrel these days.

Yes I wonder who's
boogiein' my woogie now.

I wonder who's
boogiein' my woogie now.

I wonder whose
boogiein' my woogie now.

Said the little red rooster
to the little white hen,

ain't had no lovin'
since I don't know when.

I wonder who's
boogiein' my woogie now.

No, nothing he said was--

One week.

That's enough time, please.

Maybe she'll even out.

She gets better.

No, she's a fucking monster.

Shh, shh.

Hey.

Hey, look at me.

Look at me.

Don't upset yourself.

It's a big opportunity for us.

Do you like your students?

I like you.

Are they smarter--

Smarter?

--do you think--

No.

--than my class?

No.

Just richer.

Always wore a red coat.

Last seen at the trailhead.

Paula was 17 and
already disappointed

the dread of going to college--

no.

She was 17, an age that
brought with it the possibility

of a whole life ahead--

fuck.

That brought with it
the stabbing nervousness

that at any moment her
life would go horribly--

fuck.

article links the
tonality of the

to the Appellation Morning
ballads in the second volume

of Frances Child's collection.

That's
grand, just grand.

Yes, that's what I was
cross referencing in chapter

7 of my dissertation.

I'm not sure if you had the
opportunity to read that--

Good God, son, might I have
a cup of coffee in peace?

Keep an eye on the missus
for me, won't you dear?

Of course, professor.

Stop that this
instant, Mrs. Nemser.

Stanley.

Mm?

Don't make me tell you again.

OK.

You want to
see what a writer does?

Absolutely nothing.

Come here.

Look for anything
with fertility,

maternity, or full
moon in the title.

All right

I'm a witch, didn't
anyone tell you?

Happy, healthy baby.

That's a spell we need.

Unless you want a spell
for the other thing.

H-how-- how could
you even say that?

Motherhood comes with
a price, you know.

Cut them.

Go on.

They won't bite.

Sit.

What did you see?

Paula.

Paula preferred to keep her
expectations of people meagre

at best.

Why should she be
constantly taking it?

Why should she be
constantly disappointed?

Yet she couldn't help but
wonder, what was she missing?

This-- this doubt was
intensified by the girl

with the sweater set sitting
across from her at dinner.

Shirley?

What are you doing in here?

Sorry, I thought I'd bring
you coffee, I'm sorry.

Get out!

Get out!

Sorry, I'm sorry.

Don't touch my
writing, don't touch anything.

Out!

You were drunk.

I thought you were meant to
be advising the Shakespeare

society.

I didn't know they
served booze at that.

They don't,
don't be stupid.

I just stopped for a few drinks
at the men's club, that's all.

Who's that jealous housewife?

Is it because, you know--

No. no, you're beautiful.

I had a crazy dream.

Mud oozing from the fridge,
big worms coming out of the--

coming out of the crisper.

These are just the
fattest fingers.

Heh.

Freud would've had a field day.

I haven't read any.

Do you regret it?

Not reading Freud?

And dropping out.

I'm keeping up,
reading when I can.

After the baby, Fred says
I can go back to school.

He's allowing you, wow.

Was he at the Shakespeare
society tonight?

Fred's a good man.

So you've said.

His parents cut
him off when we eloped.

And he knew they would.

But he married me anyway.

And you have to
prove that you're worth it.

Yeah?

Hm.

Sounds exhausting.

I'm lost, Rosie.

I'm just lost.

Do you know what it's
like to have a secret?

I can't write worth a damn.

You're a terrific writer,
ev-- everyone loves your work.

They talk about me in town.

I see things on
people's faces, they--

they're afraid to-- to
brush up against me.

My dark thoughts
are going to inf--

infect them.

This book it's--
it might kill me.

I can't figure out this girl.

Maybe disappearing
was the only way

anyone would notice her.

I need you to
run an errand for me.

Christ.

Oh, so the writing's
going well then.

Please don't ever
ask me that again.

I need you to run up to campus.

OK, I can send Fred.

No.

No, this is between us.

Stanley doesn't really want
you being alone right now.

Forget it.

No--

Forget I ever asked.

I just thought you would
like a little adventure.

I'm simply saying that I
would go with you if you wanted

an outing, like a picnic.

Do you want to make up
some egg salad sandwiches?

Fly a kite while we're at it?

Please.

Do this for me.

Paula normally
hated socialising at school,

but she forced herself to do it.

Hi, Caroline.

Back again, Mrs. Nemser.

My, you are a voracious reader.

You know, you and Fred
should come to the house.

The dean and I would
love to have you.

Plus, it must be rather dull
for young folks like you,

spend all your time with--

with that woman, I mean.

I hear she never
leaves the house.

Or her bed, for that matter.

She's gone sick in the head.

No she's-- she's
working quite hard.

Every hour, every day.

I only get my
information from Stanley.

She was
relieved to spot

someone lurking
near the punch bowl,

looking as miserable
as she felt.

But his was a face that she'd
never seen before on campus,

and men were always
easily spotted.

Herman house, huh?

Yes, sir.

I can't get my carriers to
deliver up there anymore.

She writes stories with
cannibalism in them.

That's what I've heard.

Mr. Fisher.

Do you-- do you often
give young girls

rides in your postal truck?

I'm not sure I
like your question.

Oh, I just mean is it a
habit of yours to shuttle

college girls along your route?

Paula
was proud of the way

she contradicted him,
how she stayed ahead

of the conversation.

This is what it's like to be a
grown woman talking to a man.

I never seen Paula before
that day in my life.

Giving her a ride was a
Samaritan thing to do.

Girl was half frozen,
nothing but thin sneakers on.

Said she was going for a hike.

Now I wasn't going to get any
further into her business.

But I didn't like that,
seeing it was almost sundown,

she had no knapsack,
she had no provisions.

I assume she must have
been meeting someone.

When they
were at the party,

he had barely looked at her.

His voice had a lightness.

Let's go somewhere quieter,
he said, a hand on her back.

But now-- nut now,
away from everyone,

his voice was muted,
floating above her.

And she couldn't-- she
couldn't contradict him.

Are you all right?

You little thief.

Severe menstrual cramps
last week of November.

Doesn't go home for the holiday.

Meaning?

Meaning?

A miscarriage.

And a week
later, she goes missing.

That's good work, Rosie.

And the post office?

Randy Fisher said
that he thought

she was meeting someone.

Hm.

The timing is perfect.

She gets pregnant, she won't
go home for Thanksgiving,

and a week later there's
a rendezvous in the woods.

Why there?

Because she's ashamed to have
someone meet her at campus.

Or he doesn't want
to be seen there.

Because other people
might recognise him.

Someone recognisable
from campus.

Yes.

Someone with authority.

Meet me at the
trail, and she does.

A professor?

Why would she go?

If you were her, and an
accomplished, confident,

smart man paid
attention to you--

you'd never really
been in love--

would you go?

Shirley?

You all right?

You OK in there?

Did I startle you, Rosie?

I-- I thought--

I thought you were--

It's just we three for dinner.

Oh wait, two--

Shirley doesn't want to eat.

Fred's up on campus tonight
rising the Shakespeare society.

Then I'll make her a plate.

Mm.

Mm-mm.

She wants to eat, she
needs to come to the table.

Sure.

No, thank you.

You know she's not
a child, Stanley.

Who's saying she is?

We just have to get her back
to her desk, back to her work.

She's working constantly, she
barely has time for lunch.

Poor thing.

She must really be
having a time of it.

I haven't seen anything yet.

Well, there are pages and pages
of a manuscript just sitting

right on her desk.

You've read it?

No.

No, of course not.

But you can differentiate
a stack of pages

from a manuscript.

Such a bright girl.

Is there any of our pie left?

Rosie said she's got half
a manuscript already.

I wonder why she would say that.

Just inquiring, darling.

You're not halfway through a
novel you haven't shown me?

No.

No, I don't-- it's
mostly grocery lists.

Well, in that case,
I'll just pop over

to the dean's before dinner.

You do that.

Say hello to Caroline.

Shirley?

Shirley!

Hey.

Let's go home.

Come on.

The death cap mushroom, fatal
to anyone who ingests it.

Don't you find it exhilarating?

Oh, most young women are
fascinated by their mortality.

They shouldn't be.

And the truth is nobody
really cares if you live

or if you die.

Do you want to taste it?

No.

Split it with me.

It could stop our
hearts from beating.

Shirley-- spit it out.

Spit it out right now.

Spit it out!

I'm going to go get help.

What?

Why are you laughing?

It's not poisonous.

But you said it was the--

It's not going to kill me.

--the death cap.

These are the death
cap mushrooms.

These are oyster mushrooms.

You had them in your
omelet yesterday.

I like you, Rosie.

Why would I want to harm you?

You could run, run fast
away from me, but you don't.

Why don't you?

Why do you stay?

Can I trust you, Rosie?

Do you want to betray me?

Paula felt that no
one really cared if she lived

or if she died.

Not that she was
afraid of death.

She thought about
it all the time.

It was the way she might
die that frightened her--

ingloriously, face
down in the soup.

I stopped by the
dean's office today.

Just a formality, welcoming
new faculty and all that.

He hinted there
might be an opening

in the English
department next fall.

Well that'd be nice.

Yes.

I just keep waiting for Stanley
to loosen the reins a bit.

I'm not a lackey, after all.

I have lectures
prepared on my own.

Don't want to sit on
the bench all season.

Mm.

Ow! --the fuck is this?

Oh no, no, no, no, no--

There's a
nest under the bed--

No, it's nettle.

I'm getting a broom.

It's nettle, It's
a fertility offering.

What?

It's a fertility offering.

No.

You are not getting
into that bullshit.

I'm not getting into
anything, just leave it be.

I'm sorry.

She did this.

What is this, some sort of hex?

No, I don't believe that.

You don't believe in it?

Hm?

Rosie--

No.

Not what, a bit?

Not at all?

Not one--

Not even a little bit?

Stop it, I'm tired.

Can we stay on a little longer?

I need to keep
working on Stanley.

Would you mind?

Don't get any ideas.

Not even a little idea?

I have a little idea.

Wake me early.

Stop it, I'm sleeping.

You want to
replace my morning ballads

lecture with your own?

Of course I'm
not going to touch

any of the Delta spirituals--

Freddy.

Freddy, let things
settle, shall we?

There's one other thing--

Oh, joy, there's more.

I would like you
to read my dissertation.

Son, easy-- you're under a
lot of pressure with the baby.

No, no, this has
nothing to do with the baby.

I would like you to recommend
my work to your editor.

Of course I've
read your dissertation,

of course I have.

Huh?

Well, how did you
think you got this job?

All right, good talk.

Now run out that steam, hm?

Vigors of youth,
wasted on the young.

Shirl?

That boy always had
everything handed to him--

Ivy education, perfect teeth.

We would never behave like that.

Alka seltzer.

We were always the outsiders.

Everywhere we went, we
fought for every last crumb

that was accidentally
dropped in our path.

But these entitled
pricks just expect

the world to be handed to them
like it's their divine right.

Why don't you just give
him a lecture, what's the--

Look, I built that
class, I built that department.

Year upon year, I did that.

And he dashes off some
mediocre dissertation.

Which you didn't read.

I didn't need to!

Just tell him no.

No.

He's played the system.

Over my dead body will
that boy be getting tenure.

Give him enough rope and
he will hang himself.

Good point.

Mm-hmm.

You're getting
on well with the wifey.

She has her moments.

I might say you
are smitten with her.

I don't smote.

Well met, well
met, said an old true love.

Well met, well met, said he.

I'm just returning from
the salt, salt sea,

and it's all for
the love of thee.

Come in, come in, my old true
love, and have a seat by me.

It's been three-fourths
of a long, long year

since together we have been.

Well, I can't come in or I can't
sit down, for I haven't but

a moment's time.

They say you're married--

So, my name is
Professor Nemser--

Fred, Fred Nemser-- stepping
in for Professor Hyman today.

So OK, well, uh--

yes, let's start with this one.

Can anyone tell me--

can anyone identify
that musical excerpt?

No.

Do we need to hear it again?

Use the good China.

I'm looking.

And the silver.

Professor Nemser
is home, ladies.

Ladies, fetch the good
professor a cocktail.

So it went well.

Oh he was a triumph!

A triumph, I tell you.

Had all the gals eating out
of the palm of his hand.

Oh.

I did all right.

Shirley, get out here,
the boy wonder is home.

Would you like a drink?

I'd love a drink.

Well met, well met,

said my own true love.

Well met--

Whoa--

Well met, well met, said she.

I've just returned from
the salt, salt sea,

and it's all for
the love of thee.

What is all
this hollering about--

Come in--

Come in, my own true love.

Come in and sit with me.

It's been three--

Come on.

We have to-- all
right, all right--

It's not my turn,
no no no no no--

I haven't
a moment's time--

I'm a very delicate woman.

They say you're
married to a house carpenter

and your heart
will never be mine.

There we go, I'm
not drinking alone.

Thank you.

Cheers.

I was reading my way through
your dissertation last night.

I've actually read it twice,
both times last night.

You were right, I only
skimmed it before,

but it was sufficient
to hire you.

That's excellent.

I'm trying to think of the
word I'd use to sum it up.

Well, you can use several.

I thought it was very
engaging for an--

I've got it.

Let's see, it was derivative.

In-- in-- in what
ways is it derivative?

Oh-- in the ways that it was
all derived from others' work.

I-- I spent years and
years and hundreds of hours

of research, read everything.

Yes, I'm sure.

But you didn't do any thinking.

Just the same old chattering
on, no new ideas--

No new ideas?

I think you're oversimplifying--

Darling, you're hardly the first
person to hear this lecture.

Originality isn't something one
can simply will to manifest.

That right, my dear?

If it were only true.

No.

Originality is the brilliant
alchemy of critical thought

and creativity.

And your work is so original.

Who am I to say?

But it has been said of me.

Have you ever thought about
teaching at the high school

level?

Exceedingly rewarding.

I'm going to my
bedroom to refresh my--

Oh, you've done it.

Was it really that bad?

You know how insulted
I am by mediocrity.

If it was awful, that
would have been exciting.

But terrifically competent--
there's no excuse for that.

I respect your opinion,
I really do, but it is not

shared by the dean--

not at all.

Perhaps we can discuss this
next Friday, the faculty party?

Splendid.

It's that time of year again--

the dean's party.

No need to bother, darling.

I know how you abhor
the hoi polloi.

Oh, I think I can make my
annual appearance, darling.

It's the least I can do for you.

I have a lead on
an apartment, we'll

be out before semester break.

If you get the job in
the English department,

we're going to have to see
them all the time, live

in the same town, so just--

I don't-- I don't understand.

First you want to go, now I
want to, and you're trying to--

I don't like the way he talks
to you any more than you do.

Is this about Shirley?

What?

I could see how
she relies on you.

The way she talks to
you, your secret looks.

You sound crazy,
she's my friend.

Women like Shirley
don't have friends.

If we are going to be
treated to a scene,

I, for one, would
love to be forewarned.

Oh, I'm not one for dramatics.

Yet your appearance-- you
don't look up for it, my dear.

I'm going to the party.

Well, that would require you
leaving the house, something

that seems difficult for you to
manage at this point in time.

I am going to that party.

Shirley, do you need
me to get you another size?

Here.

I found something that I think
is going to look good on you.

You want to try it on?

Hm?

What do you think?

Hm?

Here.

See?

Stunning.

Do you think
she killed herself?

Paula.

Do you think she went to
the woods to kill herself?

Let's
pray for a boy.

The world is too cruel to girls.

Paula was
seized with the desire

to tell her friend every single
thought she had ever had.

And after she had
done that, Paula herself would

cease to exist, because there
would be no more thoughts, no

more words.

And then she would be
free to do anything

she pleased, because she
wasn't there anymore.

Come here.

Come here.

You are hiding something.

No I'm not.

Hm.

--and you find that
every semester--

Darling,
making a mess of your meal.

Did you know your
wife was such a good cook

before you married her?

She's a better
cook than my mother.

Oh, come now,
that's not true.

Such a rare thing, to find
someone who doesn't merely

feed you but anticipates
your needs, day after day,

to sate your hunger.

Who stokes your appetite and
leaves you feeling filled.

It's truly rare, don't
you think, Stanley?

Rare indeed.

Stanley, would you
refill our cook's glass?

She has been on
her feet all day.

I suddenly got very tired, I
think I'm going to have to,

uh, go up to bed.

Hm.

You might have a
fever or something.

Come here.

Yes, you might, you're
feeling a little flush.

I really
think I'm just tired.

Yeah?

- I
- swear I'm just tired.

Fred, you'd better go
put your wife to bed

before she faints
in the sauerkraut.

What are you up to?

You're unusually cheerful.

Are you going to
finish your book?

So, uh, what becomes
of your dear heroine?

What happens to all lost girls--

they go mad.

The one, the only,
Shirley Jackson.

Dean Sands.

Caroline!

Shirley's here.

Hello!

What a lovely skirt you have.

What a lovely,
insouciant tone you have.

Shirley, you're too much.

I never know what
you're going to say.

Neither do I.

Rose, I would love you to
meet some of the other faculty

wives.

Come, come, darling.

You wood sprite.

You terrify me.

Reading your stories, the
world doesn't feel the same.

The other night I was
alone in my office,

and I was petrified by the
paperweight on my desk.

What if I simply lifted it
up and bashed my skull in?

How do you do that?

They're just stories.

No, they are prophecies.

Delightful little
entertainments,

but prophecies nonetheless.

Oh, here we go.

Stars were
bright, my heart

was psyched, as we went
whirling through the night

and you and I learned to dance.

Oh hey, butterscotch.

What are you doing
in this shindy?

My husband,
I'm looking for him.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, big fancy-- a husband.

Have you seen Fred?

Maybe try
out on the porch.

Paula was long
past their sophomoric treacle,

a writhing nest of hairpins,
stockings, and formal gowns.

The names they called
her penetrated, intact,

through her closed door--

creepy, loner, disturbed.

It didn't concern her,
because when she first

came to the school, the bad--

the bad thing happened.

She was so frightened, and
she didn't have any friends,

and she never supposed
she would want--

she never supposed
she would need anyone.

But now that she
had found a friend,

she felt the old
fear leaching back.

What-- what are you doing?

Oh my goodness.

What?

No, no, no.

No!

Don't rub, dab.

You'd bore him to
death in a week.

I would comfort him.

Well, he is an expert at
finding a willing pair of legs

to open wide.

You'd die without him, he says.

That's the only reason he stays.

Shirley?

Shirley?

What happened?

Are you all right?

Take me home.

What do you see?

I see tired mama.

You're never here!

Rosie.

Rose, stop, please.

Stanley!

You rang, Madam?

Out.

We are drinking scotch
because you worked straight

through dinner, dear, as
is your habit, apparently,

these many, many weeks.

And I'm here to
say I'm sick of it.

I hate sitting at
the table alone,

it makes me feel like a widower.

Or worse, a decrepit
feudal lord.

All right, now you've left
me in a vexing position.

And the children in bed by
9 with their little one,

take pity.

Won't you let me
read it, darling?

No.

It's nothing yet.

The thing is, Stanley, I
don't know if it ever will be.

I have no idea of an ending.

Well, all the more reason
for me to have a peek.

Has the little wifey read it?

Yes, of course.

She's a regular William Shawn.

She comes in here and
we sit by the fire,

and she gives me line edits.

And then she scurries back into
the kitchen to make me supper.

Stanley, don't be mad at me.

No, it's the genre, darling,
that's stymieing you.

It's not your arena, and
frankly, it's beneath you.

Keep your theories to yourself.

Well, you didn't know her.

Don't tell me that I
do not know this girl.

Look, I might have walked by
her a dozen times on campus.

There's nothing
fascinating about this girl

except that she's gone.

What has she done?

You don't know your
subject, she's a nothing.

Who is she to you?

There are
dozens and dozens

of girls like this, littering
campuses across the country.

Lonely girls who cannot
make the world see them.

Do not tell me I do not know
this girl, don't you dare.

So you think it
might be that good.

Whoa, whoa, whoa--

Get out.

Out!

Might it be time, then,

to send the little
children away?

I didn't know you
came home last night.

Well, I didn't want to wake you.

I slept on the sofa in Stanley's
study, we had a nightcap.

Is there coffee?

You smell like a gin bath.

Oh, um, I ran out of eggs, so--

By the way,
Stanley found us a place.

What?

We get to
move out in a week.

Stanley is kicking us out.

Don't we have anything
sweet around here to eat?

OK.

Shh, shh, shh.

Shirley?

Shirley?

Shh, shh.

Can you get me that book?

The blue one on top?

This one?

Yes.

Thank you.

This is Stanley's syllabus.

And, uh, the last name on the
list before mine is Paula's.

Which means that she was
taking his class, maybe,

at the time that
she disappeared.

I know who my
husband is screwing.

Do you know who yours has?

Fred hasn't.

See,
there's no such thing

as the Shakespeare society.

It's just how the girls
pick which professors

that they're going to fuck.

Shirley--

Shirley!

Open the door.

Shirley, please.

You knew this whole time?

Why didn't you tell
me six months ago?

Shirley?

Shirley, open the door, please.

I trusted you!

One.

Baby, count one.

While you're having
fun with someone else,

don't come around.

Two.

Baby, count two.

Excuse me.

--through with your
romance, leave me alone.

Four and five, six and
tricks and you try--

Fred!

--to catch my eye never work
out, I'm on to your games.

Seven, eight, nine, you'll
find out you'll never be mine.

What are you doing?

Is everything all right?

How many times?

How many times?

Let's talk about this at home.

I didn't wash Stanley's
underwear for a year

so you could go off and f--

Rose, stop, please

Stay away from me!

Baby, count two.

But when you're all
through with your romance--

I'm not going back.

Get in the car,
get the baby inside.

I don't want to go home.

Well, where do
you want to go, dear?

I'll take you wherever you want.

I want to go to the trailhead.

All right.

You've seen it, let's go.

Will you hold her
for just a second?

Rose?

OK, come here, baby.

Rose, come back!

Rose?

Rose!

Step away, Rose.

Step away.

You were right, it
doesn't take any energy at all.

It's just a hop.

You slide the
right foot forward,

and it could all be over.

You'll feel better
again in no time.

I feel fine now.

You know what I mean.

A little rest, a
little time away--

everything will
be back to normal.

No, no, no.

I'm not going back to that.

Little wifey, little Rosie--

that was madness.

Your book is
brilliant, darling.

Fucking gorgeous.

I don't know how you did it.

I have a few notes, of course,

Of course.

This is going to be the one.

Don't lose sight of that.

It hurts.

This one, it hurts
more than the others.

But you've done it, my bride.

My horrifically talented bride.

Oh won't you
tell me, pretty papa

what may be your name.

If you just say the word,
daddy, I'll be your lover gal.

Oh, I could love you,
yes, I could love you

until it was a crying shame.

How you fascinate me, daddy,
I can't find words to explain.

Oh, won't you give me your --

I'll make everything all right.

I know the people
all, all wonder

why I look at you like I do.

I don't care if the whole
world knows about it.

Yes, I'm deep in love with you.