Original subtitles

Just this.

Four.

Furthermore, this indemnification clause...

clearly states that there will be no adjunctive relief.

And our client's chances of being rewarded...

financially are minimal at best.

I'll finish it tomorrow.

Can I be blamed for feeling that things

were a little strange that night?

You don't expect a power outage in the spring.

Not without a storm first.

When you're tired and it's a long day

and you're trying to get home,

you tend to feel all these little disconnects

as the slow trajectory of a collapsing civilization.

At least that's where I go.

In the suburbs, we live in nature.

It's a quote from my realtor, the selling phrase she used

when Diana and I first looked at this place.

Crap.

And you do see deer, rabbits, crows...

but we don't live in nature.

That's the point of the suburbs. You live apart from humans,

and you're protected from what's wild.

Jesus.

Go on, get outta here! Go on.

Oh, Christ.

Goddammit.

Go on!

I had quarreled with my wife.

We did this thing

where we would play at sexual jealousy.

But, anyway...

Or, I played at it.

And she was my accomplice.

After 15 years of marriage,

jealousy was the reliable stimulant.

Let's be honest,

when your spouse gets jealous, it's flattering.

The blood stirs, the heart pounds.

We'd quarrel...

and we'd have sex.

Or, as Diana would say provocatively,

we'd fuck.

And it works.

The guy you were coming onto all afternoon?

Until it doesn't.

Obviously I wasn't coming on to him...

Oh yeah, obviously you weren't.

Diana, anyone within ten feet could see what was going on.

Well, who was watching? It was a conversation.

I witnessed the whole thing, Diana!

You were practically issuing him an invitation.

Only in your peculiar imagination.

Meanwhile, you'll chat up any woman whoever looks at you.

And I'm the one who's flirting.

No, no, you made a very suggestive remark.

- I made an amusing remark. - Oh, amusing!

- Ah! - Everyone laughed, but you.

Well, I failed to be entertained by watching my wife

come on to a guy in a polo shirt.

I was replying to something he said,

something... stupid, if you must know.

God!

I'm so sick of this, this constant surveillance.

- You... - Whoa, whoa, whoa.

No, you have muzzled me to the point where I can't

carry on a conversation with other parents.

I barely relate to people anymore.

You were relating to him, weren't you?

What do you not see?

I mean, do you think I'd be even remotely inclined

to start something up with anyone,

given the relationship we have?

All I want...

is to get through the day.

That's what I think about. Just... get through the day.

Unbelievable.

Why go in there now,

Just to endure another predicable scene with my wife.

Soon enough they'd all be asleep.

Oh, shit!

Shit!

You know, frankly, I was totally bewildered

by the situation I had created for myself.

Diana would probably think I'd been with someone else.

Not that I'd ever give her a reason to doubt me

in 15 years of marriage.

My God.

It would be the weakest of tactics

for me to walk into my house

and try to explain to her the perfectly rational sequence

that led me to spend the night in the garage.

You know, another woman might have

saved my supper plate in the refrigerator.

But I lived in Diana's judgement.

It shone on me as in a prisoner cell,

where the light is never turned off.

The immediate solution? Postpone my entrance

till my wife had gone off to work.

Rush, rush, rush.

They forgot their lunches.

Girls, girls. Lunch!

They're gonna be late again.

Goodbye girls. Have a good day.

Okay, love you!

Oh, yes.

The first call would be to my office.

No, he hasn't come in.

No.

Yesterday evening.

Well... No, he didn't say anything.

Mm-hmm. We left around the usual time.

Oh yes, of course I will!

Bye-bye.

Ah, what are you doing now?

Surprise. Car's still there.

The plot thickens.

After a few calls to our friends,

wouldn't it seem reasonable to expect

that the assistant curator of the County Museum

would depart for work?

I realize this is a common enough complaint.

But there are times when I feel I've spent my life just waiting

for my wife to get ready to leave the house.

Oh!

You got to be fucking kidding me!

What the hell?

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Ah!

Ah, ha!

Yes, officer.

No checks were missing.

Oh my, my. Where could he be?

Ah. Oh!

This the hubs?

No wonder you want him back, he's a stud.

Our town police are well payed and polite.

And not so different from the rest of us

in their distant relationship to actual crime.

We sat down there drinking Pina Coladas

just to keep us...

They're French-speaking there, right?

What? What am I, a travel agent?

Guarantee he's at the strip club right now,

making it rain.

Dickhead.

Oh, oh.

Here come the waterworks.

Shit!

But then,

God help us.

The widow, Babs.

Right on cue.

Christ.

Good God.

Do you ever shut up?

No, no, no, no, don't cry. Don't cry.

No, he's not worth it.

There you go.

I have big, broad shoulders, darling.

And if you need to cry,

you just lay your head right here.

Broad shoulders.

Like a fucking line-backer.

I'll be here for you.

But darling, now is the time

that you need to protect yourself.

You do.

Financially, I mean.

He can wipe you out.

No, no, no, no. Mommy.

The bank accounts are secured.

Look...

Look, look, look. You see?

If Howard was going to leave me...

wouldn't he have cleared out all the accounts?

But he didn't.

Man, just give him time.

He will.

You bitch.

Oh, God, I wish I had a high-powered rifle right now.

One shot.

That woman could be up here for two days.

At this juncture, it seems fair to point out

if your spouse had seemingly vanished,

would you go off to work as usual?

Are daily matters

so very goddamn urgent at the local County Museum?

Or was that desperate call to the police a tactic,

calculated to embarrass me?

Leave it to Mrs. Wakefield

to turn a rather amusing side-step

into prima facie evidence

of Howard's thoughtless behavior.

I was snide and condescending to her mother.

I lacked interest in her work or I wasted perfectly beautiful,

fall weekends watching football games.

And if she was such a feminist,

why did my opening a door for her

or helping her out with a coat matter so goddamn much?

Standing there in the clear light of day...

I could see.

Diana felt that she had married the wrong man.

I ask you,

what is so sacrosanct about a marriage and a family

that you should have to live in it, day after day,

however unrealized that life may be?

Who hasn't had the impulse

to just put their life on hold for a moment?

I ask you.

Mmm.

Oh my God, that looks good.

What are you two doing? Laughing.

Assholes.

Ah, ah, ah, there's a conspiracy.

Well, it's all a little too convenient, don't you think?

Oh, yes. I agree.

I think she's totally guilty.

She murdered him.

Oh, no.

Ben Jacobs, attorney at law.

Just stopping by for a little deli, huh Ben?

You're not fooling anybody.

I say without shame,

I'd given not a single thought to anyone at work.

And the documents I'd carried away with me?

Documents,

vital to a very lucrative case we've been preparing.

All of that was pretty remote now.

I've got my own little deli going here.

Oh, my God.

There I am.

Ta-da!

Oh, right.

Make her the victim.

Please.

Oh please. They've hardly been abandoned, people,

I'm right here.

Oh, I see.

Here it is.

Making your play, huh Ben?

Go on, go on, go on. She's hurting.

Give her your hankie, be a gentleman.

Oh my God!

He took out his phone. What an ass!

A husband doesn't just vanish, Mrs. Wakefield.

Howard Wakefield is on this earth.

Or under it.

And only you, madam, know which it is.

Are you accusing me of making a game of this?

I assure you,

my frame of mind was quite rational.

May I remind you,

I was eating actual garbage to survive.

Come on back.

Come on, honey. Come back, come back, come back, come back.

There you are.

About my wife's deliberate nudity...

Apparently, it's a side effect of her

having once been a modern dancer.

Briefly, I feel compelled to add.

Who exactly are you trying to attract out there?

No one can see me. And if they can, I don't care.

Hmm. Clearly.

Strutting around this house on full display.

Would it kill you

to put some clothes on in front of our girls?

No, I'm not gonna teach our daughters

to have shame about having a body.

What if I start parading naked around them, huh?

What you think about that?

Hey, look at me! Ooh, Daddy's naked.

Mr. Prudo in the nude-o.

Hey, look at me! I'm going to work naked!

Right, right, right.

Get away from there.

There's no one there, Howard!

Seeing my wife in the nude,

oddly enough,

usually got me thinking about money.

I've only a slender amount of cash with me.

And if it's my intention to vanish completely,

using your credit card is out of the question.

I could pre-date a bank check and cash it somewhere, yes.

But that might signal to Diana

that my disappearance was pre-meditated.

Which, I don't know, seems unnecessarily cruel.

It's not difficult to run away.

People ditch their families all the time.

But, if this were a simple

abandonment of wife and children,

I'd have written Diana a note, taken my car out of the garage,

driven to Manhattan, checked into a hotel,

and walked to work in the morning.

Easy, anyone can do that.

But you'd still be the same person.

This is different.

You see,

I no longer seem to require

those things that only days ago were so indispensable.

The armor of a clean shirt,

the smooth shave,

credit cards, cell phones, clients.

There will be no more getting on that train.

I'll take nothing more from her.

Nothing from that house.

Ever.

I'll sustain myself like a castaway.

A survivor.

Undetected.

Unshackled.

I'll become the Howard Wakefield I was meant to be.

Oh please,

you've imagined doing this yourself,

I know you have.

"But what about the twins," you ask,

"no regrets there?"

In their current phase our girls generally think of me

as some kind of unfortunate oddity,

who embarrasses them in front of their friends.

Believe me,

I'm seeing more of these two now

than I have in months, if not years.

And I'm sure it's not lost on you,

though I might've left my wife,

I'll still be able to keep an eye on her.

Ah, ha!

There we go.

Did I ever miss the conveniences of home?

Oh!

Yeah.

No TV?

No problem.

Our neighbor, Dr. Sondervan,

is a known authority on Down Syndrome

and other developmental disorders.

When he began to board some patients,

a few months at a time,

I stood up for Sondervan

when our neighbors petitioned against him.

Oh shit!

God!

My spirited defense of Dr. Sondervan

and his young charges,

for once gave me the moral high ground with Diana,

who naturally took the opposing view.

"Howard, really?

Do we have any idea what goes on behind those gates?"

And the apparent answer to your wife is,

"Not too goddamn much."

Mornings, a little social interaction.

Evenings conclude with a hot shower.

And who can argue with that?

There you are.

Oh!

Not so easy, is it?

In every marriage, there's a division of labor.

Mine and yours.

By Diana's artful calibration,

her tasks occur only inside the house.

Children, cleaning, provisioning,

ooh, which means shopping. Lots of shopping.

But anything external, the roof, the gutters,

the chimney, trash, snow, servicing the cars.

that's all left to me.

Her duties end at the door,

and, of course, any labor accomplished outside the house

is invisible to my wife.

Paying the bills. Invisible.

Property taxes.

Life insurance.

Home insurance.

And of course, our mortgage.

All faithfully and invisibly

taken care of by one Howard Wakefield.

Now, quite possibly deceased.

Celebration.

One, two, three, four, five.

Party?

P-A-R-T-Y.

Yeah.

Monday.

Who the hell is this?

Oh my God. Ben Jacobs.

Oh yes, yes, yes. Uh-huh.

You dog.

Coffee, cookies. Come on in.

Oh, he's gonna need some whitener for his coffee, Diana.

Uh, excuse me,

you... you don't have any soy milk, do you?

Of course, she's got soya milk.

She's got everything!

Please, Ben, please.

Tell her about your tragic lactose intolerance.

All the bloating and flatulence.

Ah, ha!

A little pro bono work on behalf of the firm, how nice of you.

I'm impressed

With my attorney Bernie

I'm impressed

With his influential friends

He's got very big connections

And I follow his directions

You know, I never used to sing.

I think that's worth noting.

If I sign this...

it's declaring my husband absentee.

What if I don't sign?

Would it make him any less absent?

You've got to be kidding me.

Right away with the...

Come on, honey.

Show him the door. Show him.

Yes, yes!

Oh, Ben, you are such a douche!

She is totally out of your league.

Atta girl.

That's for you, dickhead.

Absentee or no, it's a victory, I guess,

to know I've still got possession of my wife.

Which reminds me.

I believe you're aware that Diana was something of a dancer?

By the time we met, of course,

Diana's brief flirtation with the stage

had been replaced by the occasional evening bar class,

while she pursued a graduate degree in Art History

and complicated her life in the usual ways.

Did I tell you she was involved with someone else

when she started seeing me?

Dirk... Dirk Morrison.

Without touching the dime or the bottle,

and using only one finger,

get the dime into the bottle.

We met in the city

through an alumni mixer and hit it off.

A few years later,

my firm did some work for his capital investment firm...

I thought you were smart.

...I guess he'd say we were friends.

- Where's the $5? - Well done!

I didn't bet you five dollars, though.

There was nothing

Dirk couldn't turn into a competition.

Fuck, yeah!

- What else you got? - Can't hear you?

Thank you very much.

And I'm not defending my own actions, but,

Dirk's competitiveness

brought out a certain quality in me...

Before your very eyes,

I'm gonna make this widget

leave this bottle without touching the bottle

or the widget in any way.

Should we stand back?

- Whoa! - Oh!

- Ow! - Oh!

Shit.

I'd never had a thing for dancers myself, but,

somehow Dirk's intense interest in Diana

gave me ideas of my own.

- Hey! - Oh, hi! Diana.

Oh, yes, of course...

- Hi! How are you? - Hi!

At first, she wouldn't go out with me.

I'm seeing a good friend of yours. Dirk?

Morrison. I'm, I'm dating Dirk.

The thing to remember is,

I'm a litigator by profession. I have a talent for persuasion.

Not that she ran to Dirk with the news.

I had just been made a senior partner at the firm,

Dirk was grinding away on Wall Street.

So, busy people, right?

It took a while for Dirk to find out.

Howard, you are joking right now?

No, no, she...

She wanted to get out and I said great,

so, we went for a bike ride in Central Park.

It was nice. A little lunch at the, at the boat house.

- That is horrible bullshit. - Here, here's your light beer.

Cheers.

I mean, let's be serious,

it's not as if anything is happening with you.

That's bullocks! Howard, we have a thing.

We... We have an understanding.

- An understanding? - Yeah.

Dirk, I mean...

you're not even fucking her.

Last week you told me not to rush it. I mean, Jesus!

Yes, but a woman like Diana cannot be pushed.

You need to gain her trust.

Wait. Did you, did you tell Diana

that I gave you permission to ask her out?

- What? - Just tell me.

No!

Look, Dirk, she's just not happy.

She didn't wanna tell you what really happened.

She's protecting you.

Honest.

I lied, of course.

Diana was torn between us.

The drama went on for, God, weeks at least.

It's okay.

Why she'd never gone to bed with Dirk was...

I had made my move early on, in time to head it off.

But in those early weeks,

she wasn't sleeping with me either.

It's okay.

Till I made a genius,

and I mean genius, strategic move.

I mean, whatever she's telling you,

she is certainly not asking me to back off.

Not at all.

What she says...

is that she really cares about me.

Diana, the queen of mixed signals, huh?

Hey, maybe she's playing us both.

You know, in bed last night,

she started talking about moving in with me

and I went, "seriously?"

I'm thinking, I really like you,

but aren't we moving a little too fast with this?

Wait, wait, wait.

She, she's not...

She's, she's not sleeping with you?

Yeah, of course.

What? She didn't say anything to you?

Oh, my God.

Diana.

Genius, right?

I knew Dirk would do something stupid.

Wait, no, wait. Stop!

Stop it!

Within hours, it had all played out.

...snake.

Hey, how are you?

Oh.

How is it? Bad?

Oh!

Oh, I know.

I'm... so sorry.

- No, no, no, no. - Sorry.

It feels better.

Just leave it there a second.

I have never seen this side of him before.

- But this is violence.... - Hmmm.

Well, I'm not so surprised. I've known this guy a long time.

- Has the swelling gone down? - No.

You poor baby.

That's better.

That's even more better.

And thank you, Dirk Morrison.

Would I have wanted her

if she weren't my best friend's girl?

Was I just jacked up by the competition?

Well,

it did occur to me about a year into the marriage.

But by then your wife is pregnant.

She's carrying your child.

And God, I don't know.

She was just so beautiful.

All over again.

It makes you go a little crazy... that stuff.

That gorgeous round belly.

It awakens this whole other level of...

Well,

fear, I guess.

You wanna capture her somehow.

You see, this is how they get you.

They maneuver things to that point where you feel like

everything in your life is suddenly precious...

and simultaneously totally precarious.

It just slams you.

The realization that everything with any meaning,

anything you love,

could just be taken away in some random event.

Anything could happen.

Right?

Anything.

If I had left her in the conventional sense,

if I had divorced her,

no one would blame my wife

if she began entertaining hordes of men.

But by simply vanishing,

I placed Diana in a... let's say, a distant category.

Till it's known what's become of her husband,

Mrs. Wakefield remains not quite available.

A power move?

Am I intentionally frustrating her?

Not at all, my love.

I'm sure you have vivid memories of what you're missing.

I know I do.

I just want you to want me

as much as I want you.

When people are leaving for summer vacation,

they put out more trash.

Clean out the fridge, never fails.

Ah, the tell-tale signs.

There's always ice cream.

Every two weeks,

residents here put out the good stuff.

Whatever isn't strictly garbage.

By 2:00 a.m., anything usable is gone.

Gleaners.

Russians from the south end of town.

Bottom feeders.

...early lead, six-zero.

They scored...

I'm not being a baby, I'm just not going up there.

- Yes, you are. - No!

- I'm saying you have to. - Well, you know what?

- I don't have to listen to you. - Yes, you do!

No, come on!

- Mommy said you have... - Ow!

...spiders up there....

- But I don't have on shoes! - Neither do I!

- I'm gonna get splinters! - And I won't?

- Okay, we'll both go! - Okay.

I blame myself

for getting lulled into the domestic routine.

Day after day. So much is the same.

Diana,

neighbors,

tradesman.

Week after week.

And one day... routine goes to hell.

Exhibit A.

Diana couldn't be taking the girls

on our usual summer trip to the Cape?

How could she possibly afford it this year?

Diana had very little coming in these days.

Would she really damage our savings

just to lull around on the beach

in a very small bikini?

God, the three of them.

I'm trying to track the exact moment

those three became the opposing team.

Howdy do?

How was, uh...

how was school?

...should get a photographer.

Okay. Right.

But then who's going to clean up...

The many times I've listened

under the windows of this house.

Have I heard my name spoken even once?

So why am I

so concerned about their financial situation?

I'm the one who's impoverished, goddammit!

Scrounging every meal!

It's hot as blazes in this attic!

It's glaringly obvious that my wife herself

will come up here tonight

to carry away those essential vacation items

that Howard Wakefield, devoted husband,

had so obediently opened his wallet to provide.

A prisoner...

that's what I've made of myself.

The fuckwit prisoner of all time.

Here we go.

Son of a bitch!

What the hell?

That's a shame.

Ask her...

She's in back. She's getting stuff in the car.

Hold up, I've got the chairs.

Sweetheart!

I'm coming. I'm coming.

I brought us a Go Cup of coffee.

That place has been good since I was a kid, right?

Is it just me,

or is it oddly relaxing when the wife goes out of town?

You know, maybe it's summer, but...

I find I'm becoming lax about keeping up with events.

Look at you!

Oh, look. He's got Wall Street.

Damn right he is.

Divorced.

Loser.

What's amazing

is that old Dirk and I ended up in the same line of work.

Dirk Morrison, junk man.

Scavenging the remnants of, what?

Pizza chains and supermarkets.

Buying, rating, flipping.

Exhausting.

Good job, sweetheart.

Do I ever worry that someone might recognize me

on one of these expeditions to town?

Diana?

Coming home early from the Cape.

She could show up any moment.

Oh believe me,

I can knock out countless variations.

It's endlessly entertaining.

You do realize,

I hope that none of this is a rejection of my wife?

or, or suburban life or any of that?

You see...

I never left my family.

I left myself.

I stepped into the wild.

Into that primal arena a beach vacation in Cape Cod

only pretends to supply.

But in the primal world,

there's one law...

We are food to one another.

Or we are not.

That's it, end of story.

You know how in late summer

there's always that first night of autumn?

That familiar chill.

Normally, I welcome the change of season.

But this time, well,

I no longer have a pair of shoes.

No, no, no. I...

Hey, hey, hey! No, no, no!

Mine!

Come. Come on.

Herbert.

Herbert.

Emily.

Emily, and...

Herbert.

- Howard. - Howard.

Howard.

Shoes.

Listen.

Emily, Herbert....

It's very important...

that you don't tell anyone that you saw me.

You understand?

Shh. Shh. Yes. Yes.

It's a secret.

Bye.

Suppose they do tell someone, those two next door?

I should leave.

Diana will be coming back soon.

My daughters coming up the stairs

to put their vacation gear away.

I should go sleep in the woods.

Those are toe shoes for ballet.

Do you, ballet?

[Emily giggles

Yeah, that's you looking.

- Do you know who that is? - Who?

Who is that?

- Yes. That's Emily. - Emily?

Emily. Ahh.

Oh. You know what that is?

That is a bicycle pump.

You use that to put air in your, in your bicycle tires.

Here, let me, let me show you. Yeah, there we go.

See, you take this part...

Have I mentioned the loneliness?

Just like... feel the air?

Feel it?

Woo!

I give up! Let's get Emily. Come on.

No, no.

Oh, now this is a very important piece of equipment.

When you're alone for so long,

you forget the simple human exchange.

Snap it into place. Voila!

Listen. Herbert, Emily...

Don't come here back again.

Or I'll have to leave.

Okay, do you understand?

It's our secret, remember? Yes!

Yes! Good, Herbert! Our secret. Remember, Emily?

Don't tell anyone.

Now I mean it. Don't come back.

They'll never be able to keep their end of it.

The sensible thing would be to abandon this place.

No question.

I'd have completely stranded myself.

She's taking dance class again.

That's good.

She seems a little tired tonight.

Yeah.

The kids are running ragged.

They're looking more like Diana these days, don't you think?

Hey, check this out.

I like her wearing her hair long like that.

Uh, Taylor, Gelly?

I think, um, these ninja's may belong to you.

Boys.

When did that happen?

What do you say when you knock at the door on Halloween?

- Good morning. - Good morning?

You don't say good morning!

There's no point denying it.

They're much happier without me.

She's buying the cheaper cuts of meat.

Saving her pennies.

Suppose she has to sell the house?

How far am I willing to let this go?

Then again. It can end at any moment.

I could be exposed.

Christ.

If I did go back, I mean... how would I begin?

How does a man in my situation explain himself to his wife?

She'll think I vacated my senses.

If anything, I've come into my senses.

Fully.

My God,

I can see it so clearly.

I've constructed the whole thing.

The jealousy... the resentment.

The selfish urgency.

Howard is victim.

Howard is prosecutor.

There's no one there, Howard.

Howard, as master of the world.

That was my prison. That's what I've escaped.

Leaving me where now?

The outcast of cosmos.

I'll tell you this,

you can think whatever you like...

I love my wife now as I've never loved her before.

So, I'm guessing Thanksgiving dinner

will be at Babs' house this year.

And you know what that means.

Zilcho for me in the leftover's department.

Who am I kidding?

A family of ten could eat for weeks

off what my neighbors throw out.

Stuff will keep forever.

The whole attic's like a goddamn refrigerator.

Unfortunately, Howard Wakefield had ignored some basic repairs.

What about when it starts snowing?

Diana will think she has a prowler.

Stupid. They're not home. Go inside where it's warm.

Need some water?

Just sip.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

"It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

upon the place beneath."

Your whole life you hear that quoted.

I never got it till now.

Mercy is not something you ever get to request.

Not strained means not forced.

It's given... freely.

Thank you, Herbert. Thank you, Emily.

No reason.

Just... a gift drops from the sky.

Twice blessed.

"Blessing Him that gives and Him that takes."

If I remember correctly.

Thank you.

The giving and the taking all in one.

Okay...

Thank you so much, Dave.

We'll see you in June, July?

June? Okay.

Suppose she had recognized us?

You could've lost her right there, pal.

Unthinkable.

I mean the shock of it. To look into Diana's eyes,

her eyes that I've seen into countless,

countless times, to look and to see nothing.

I had no idea how one sided this relationship had become.

Where should I put Daddy's phone?

Put everything in the car.

Good God!

They're emptying my closet!

It's freezing!

I'll be right back.

Turn the oven on, would you, please? 350.

Close the door.

Am I a coward?

Afraid of facing her rejection?

Or am I just resolved to see this thing through?

And by this thing,

what the hell do I even mean?

Gone is the provider.

The family man. the litigator.

The husband.

All that remains is the lover.

Enduring, passionate.

I love her because she belongs to me.

And I love her because she doesn't.

And I know if I come in from exile,

there's every chance I'll lose her.

On the other hand,

I know this look she has.

From deep memory.

My wife,

infatuated, eager to please.

Trusting that every word is true.

Why wouldn't she seek a little tenderness?

I'm not saying I welcome this.

I'm saying, I understand.

Mom, should we get scissors?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hang on.

Just leave the tree by the steps, okay.

Okay.

Company for dinner.

Who can it be?

Ah-ha. A city fella, hey?

He's tall.

Not much to conclude from that.

My, my.

Coffee and dessert in the living room.

This is a special evening.

Oh my God.

Dirk Morrison!

Son of a bitch.

I get it. Who else would it be?

The unfinished business.

If compared stories,

revive the past. Jesus.

He's told her everything by now.

At last, the great fraud has been exposed.

You do understand that this was the music of our courtship.

If he's the one you think you want, my love...

It seems only fair to give you the choice this time.

Forgive me if I don't stand and watch...

as another man lays claim to your affections.

That one's a Burberry coat...

...sorry.

- There you go. - Thank you.

It seems remarkable that I still know how to drive.

Strange to be subject to rules again.

Don't forget the God awfulness.

Buildings, stacked up like that...

people and endless replication.

Impossible to imagine I worked here once.

That I could ever work here again.

One thing at a time, Howard.

Constructed.

First the thrift store, then the haircut.

And now I can pass through this door.

First that,

and now this.

- ...da, da, da, dun. - Karaoke!

- Daddy! - Daddy!

I'm home.