"come in." "hi, mama. how you doing?" "yeah." "okay." "go ahead and lay back." "and scoot down." "all right." "let's see how we're healing up." "where's the little one?" "home with daddy?" "yes." "enjoying motherhood so far?" "yes." "any bleeding, hemorrhoids, or itching?" "um, no." "good." "good." "well, incision's healing up great." "everything looks dandy down there." "all clear for whoopee, not that most women are raring to go at six weeks." "uh, birth control?" "somehow i don't think we'll be needing that right away." "yeah." "i've heard that one before." "just had one in here with a 2-month-old and pregnant again." "sound like your idea of a good time?" "so, you know, have fun but play it safe." "any other questions?" "um... okay, good to see you." "bye now." "i don't ...i don't know why he's fussing." "you want me to change him?" "i already did that." "i don't know what his problem is." "here." "bring him to me." "i'll take him. come here." "i got my six-week checkup today." "yeah, that's right." "how'd that go?" "good." "the doctor said we could get back to business, if you know what i mean." "really?" "you up for that?" "i am if you are." "you know, i just figured you're so tired with the baby and everything." "josh, we haven't had sex in six months." "right. right." "no need to rush." "hey, what are you... do i disgust you?" "what?" "no, of course not." "is it because i have stretch marks now?" "am i just gross to you?" "you are perfect exactly the way you are." "okay?" "i'm serious." "then why don't you stop jerking off and fuck your wife?" "oh, for christ's sake." "oh, you're so sexy." "oh, god." "honey!" "honey!" "fuck." "oh." "what time are you gonna be home tonight?" "uh, it's hard to say." "they are really killing us this week." "but, um, i'll do my best." "bye." "fuck." "you supposed to be smoking, mommy?" "none of your fucking business." "do you mind if i have one?" "one of your... thank you." "do you have a light?" "what?" "do you want me to light it for you?" "would you mind?" "thank you." "i'm cal, by the way." "i'm kelly." "nice to meet you." "your kid is crying, kelly." "i know." "the whole fucking neighborhood can hear him cry." "so, you're just gonna let him cry it out?" "cry it out?" "it's called ferberizing." "when they cry." "right, i think i heard of ferberizing." "i'm sure you have." "no, i'm not kidding." "okay." "cool. smoke rings." "you have great tits." "excuse me?" "this little junior in there should be more grateful." "i don't know who you are, but you should not -- whoa, whoa, whoa. relax." "i was trying to give you a compliment, like a... get away from my house." "well, draw the freakin' curtains if you don't want the whole neighborhood to watch you breastfeed." "if you don't leave, i'll ...i will call the cops." "okay. okay. okay." "okay." "ciao, mamacita." "oh, fuck." "that's, uh, some opening line, you know." ""nice tits."" "i feel like such an asshole." "why?" "the kid's a peeping tom." "i know, but he's kind of the first real person i've met since we've moved here." "oh, so he gets a free pass because he's in a wheelchair?" "no, i just shouldn't have snapped at him." "he's a perv." "well, at least someone's looking." "i'm looking." "it's just hard to think of your boobs like that when they're jackson's food supply right now." "wow." "since you put it like that... know what you should do?" "take the baby on a stroll." "explore the neighborhood a little bit, you know?" "a little, uh, exercise, get the endorphins going." "sure." "i'm exhausted, i can barely get dressed, but a nice, brisk walk in the neighborhood ...that might do the trick." "you never know." "it'll get better." "so they say." "easy." "okay." "hey!" "hey!" "hey!" "wait!" "i am nowhere near your house." "oh, wait!" "wait." "i wanted to apologize for yelling at you before." "oh, yeah?" "yeah." "i didn't realize that, um... oh, right. the chair." "because tourettes is a common side effect of spinal injuries." "okay." "no, i've just been feeling really exhausted and out of sorts, you know, since the -- you got your baby to sleep." "congratulations." "yeah, i did." "apparently he ...he really likes going on walks." "me, too." "you know, that's a joke about the walking." "you can laugh." "right." "okay." "okay." "this is my stop." "wow." "you live here?" "nice house." "i accept your apology, and in return, i apologize if i admired your breasts inappropriately." "oh, hey." "hey mom wanted to drop by for dinner tonight." "okay with you?" "ye...sure." "he's so big!" "he's so beautiful." "so sweet." "you are the sweetest one!" "he is the sweetest one ever." "and you look so beautiful, julie." "jackson." "he looks just like you, kelly." "ooh, that is plenty wine." "this was so great." "thanks again for cooking, mom." "it was really good." "it was my pleasure, as always." "mm, mm, mm." "okay. okay." "does anybody, uh, want anything from the kitchen?" "how was your day, mommy?" "huh?" "i'm sorry." "what?" "you must be exhausted." "i was just wondering how your day was." "okay." "good." "i met a neighbor." "i, uh... all right." "you did?" "all right." "great." "that's wonderful." "remember our neighbor charlie?" "he's back with his wife now." "the old wife?" "yeah. mary ellen." "oh, guys, don't forget i'm taking jackson to my walking group on thursday." "but i don't know." "maybe it is." "maybe it has to do with... hi." "are you guys an organized mommies group, or you...?" "this is the glendora park mother's group." "cool." "well, i just moved here like a few months ago, right before he was born, so i haven't gotten out yet." "you should check us out online." "oh." "okay." "yeah, there's an application and, uh, a membership fee for snacks and activities." "sure, that makes sense." "but everyone's welcome to join." "see you soon." "you bet." "hey." "hey." "you can ignore that. come in." "is he sleeping?" "yeah." "finally." "where did you get all these signs?" "oh, it's a stupid game me and my girlfriend bailey used to play." "ex-girlfriend." "nice place." "thank you." "welcome to the clubhouse." "let me get you a beer." "uh, no. i'm nursing." "oh, you know, some cultures prescribe a daily beer for nursing mothers." "guinness, especially." "i think i have one back here." "i love guinness." "but i'm not ...no." "um, thank you. um... so, you live out here?" "yes, i do." "my parents didn't want to remodel." "it fucks up resale value." "wow." "are they gonna invest in a decent ramp anytime soon?" "what's wrong with my ramp?" "wobbles." "well, i like to live dangerously." "besides, what's the worst that could happen, really?" "so... my mom is suddenly this huge crusader for the disabled." "she's all over the high school to upgrade access to the stadium for graduation, which i have no plans on attending." "but why should that stop her?" "i mean, there's like genocide in darfur and human trafficking all throughout eastern europe, but her son needs a new fucking ramp." "yeah. whatever." "she was probably secretly pleased when it happened." "it gave her something to do." "fucking clipped my wings just a little bit." "my father, on the other hand, completely convinced that i'm not gonna be in this chair long enough to warrant getting a new ramp." "he's all bedazzled by these, uh, new advances in stem-cell research, you know." "theoretical advances, mind you." ""you'll be vertical in no time, buddy."" "vertical." "fucking jock." "oh, shit. my bad." "it's not you." "he does this all the time." "it's like he hates me." "what's his name?" "jackson." "jackson?" "no wonder he hates you." "can i call him jack?" "yeah. sure." "you ever try swaddling?" "what?" "swaddling." "may i?" "okay." "hand him to me." "hold his head." "try to take this blanket off here. don't want him to get too hot." "hello, jack. shh." "he's handsome." "there you go." "look at that, buddy." "hey, jack." "it's my quiet, little friend right there." "where did you learn that?" "i used to work at this halfway house for recovering meth addicts." "there was a lot of unwed mothers there." "and just...terrible." "really?" "no." "i have a baby cousin i take care of sometimes." "mostly i just do it to mess with my dad's head." "he gets so excited." "he's like, "good job, son."" "you know, that's the first thing he asked the doctor when i got injured was can i still get laid." "of course he asked in more respectable terms, like, can i still have babies." "now, that is what most people want to know, except usually, you know, they're too scared to ask unless they're drunk." "it's pretty amazing what they can do these days for these guys that are, like, hardcore crips." "you know, the guys that can't move, like, zip, zilch, nothing, right?" "how do they... they have this, like, anal vibrator thing, and they just stick it up the guy's ass and basically stimulate the poor fucker until he orgasms, then clean up the baby batter, use it for in vitro, boom, he's off and running." "so, i guess never stop believing." "that's great." "that... that's... yeah." "that they can do that." "fortunately for some of us, we don't need that much help." "and the answer's yes, uh, if the lady's on top." "but also my tongue still works." "okay, i'm gonna go." "um, it was nice talking to you." "thanks for sharing your place." "hey, if you ever, uh, need a swaddling, come on back." "yeah. oh, thank you." "what are you doing?" "i'm just trying to... i don't know." "here. here." "just let me have him." "hi." "ooh!" "hey, buddy." "what's up?" "i suck." "jack, my main man, you made it back." "so, where did you get drums?" "oh, dear, old dad." "you know, i, uh, was bummed out about the guitar, so he went on a bit of a shopping spree." "you got problems, you throw money at it." "it's a very sophisticated, emotional technique, you know?" "and what happened to the guitar?" "oh, the guitar, it was nothing." "it was me. it's my hands." "oh, don't look so fucking sad." "i can still do plenty of things, provided it doesn't require any fine motor skills." "shit, even a one-armed dude could be a drummer, right?" "yeah." "so, where's this guitar?" "you like?" "sweet." "it's been awhile." "i... i would have to cut my nails." "jack, listen to your mom." "she's fucking rocking it." "he likes you." "yeah, well, that's 'cause i talk to him, you know, like a real person." "man to man, isn't that right, mr. jack?" "it's that simple, huh?" "it really... yeah, i mean, it's pretty amazing what a straightforward conversation between equals can accomplish, you know?" "maybe i should try that." "where'd you learn to play?" "i was in a band." "wait, wait, wait." "you were in a band?" "yes." "why do you look so surprised?" "i wasn't always a suburban housewife." "i was young and wild once." "let me guess." "you were in, like, a mid '90s kind of riot-grrrl band type thing?" "what?" "what do you know about riot grrrls?" "it was kind of like sleater-kinney in a way." "so you were, like, a guitarist?" "i played bass, and i wrote all the lyrics." "sleater-kinney didn't have a bassist." "you are very smart." "no, they didn't." "we aspired to be like sleater-kinney." "so, what was your band's name?" "we were called wet-nap." "wet-nap?" "yeah, we thought it would be kind of gritty and dirty, and we liked the fact that it had the word "wet" in it, you know." "so, like wet-nap, like the thing you like after you eat ribs, you get a wet a moist towelette and you wipe your ribs grease?" "yeah, actually." "that was actually one of our biggest songs." "i'm not kidding." "what?" "no way." "it was called" ""moist towelette," and we would play it in the middle of the show, and that's when everybody would lose their shit." "you are jerking my chain right now." "well, i'd like to hear that sometime." "maybe you will." "i can't cut the string" "that's tying you to me" "love will let you in" "but i won't make you come in again" "dance until we sleep" "under that marquee" "20 miles from home" "with you is the only place where i've never felt alone" "so i need i just need to know if you hear me i just need to know if you're" "leaving i just need to know that you'll never let me go" "what is that?" "are you gonna start break-dancing for me?" "you gonna break-dance?" "this, my little millennial smart ass, is a device used for playing an obsolete form of musical technology called the cassette tape." "ohhh. okay." "and in the olden days, before mp3s and all that garbage, we used this as the homemade recording device of choice." ""moist towelette"?" "i don't know. is it?" "okay, okay, okay." "are you ready?" "yeah. yeah." "i live in a darkness you can never fear" "underneath the black light as i like the taste" "and i'd walk for miles just to scream your name" "you give me the runaround i never be the same i want, i want, want to be" "your moist towelette oh, my god!" "all right." "oh, let me be your moist towelette moist towelette dude!" "rub your hands on me dude, that is so fucking excellent." "thanks." "yeah." "i can't talk." "what?" "i guess we were all right." "also before there were blogs and the interwebs and you couldn't touch and feel everything, we primitives liked to share our information and spread the fire through little things called zines." "zines." "that's really cool." "that art, that's... yeah." "you know, i used to be, like, really good at that, too." "like, uh, i had scholarships lined up and everything for art." "i want to see that sometime." "yeah, well, i burned them all." "okay, well, do you recognize anybody?" "that's you." "oh, my god." "that's you on the left." "yep." "we were loud and proud." "hey, they're here!" "okay, i'll be right down!" "i'm gonna go start up the grill!" "you do that, honey!" "thanks, dad." "there you go." "think fast." "oh, and in case you're wondering, i like mine toasted." "oh, shit, i almost forgot." "you know what?" "i think something's wrong with her." "no, really." "are you guys okay?" "oh, fuck off, julie." "you fuck off." "please." "such language." "come on, guys." "deviled eggs." "do you even like deviled eggs?" "his family can just be so annoying and 1950s." "i felt like taking it to the next level, you know, whipping up some deviled eggs." "clearly, yeah. deviled eggs." "they eat them, at least?" "yeah, it was good." "it's a baby. excuse us." "we must look like freaks." "not me. you with the hair." "what?" "did you know about him and his family or whatever before you got married?" "i didn't think they would be so involved in our lives." "and i didn't think we'd be moving here, that's for sure." "what about your parents?" "oh, well, my dad's dead." "sorry." "what about your mom?" "we don't speak." "she hasn't met jackson?" "not yet." "she lives in upstate new york, and she's very busy whoring herself around the senior circuit, so... oh, man. count me in." "thought i hated my parents, but, i mean... can we talk about anything else?" "i really like your hair." "i mean, i think it's fucking sexy." "you do?" "you should have seen the looks on their faces when i came out and i was just like, "ta-da!"" "with the [laughing] platter." "i don't know." "it's funny." "you're not your mom, though, you know, i mean... what?" "i just mean you're gonna figure it out." "it's not gonna be like that for you and jack, you know." "for jack-o." "thank you for helping me with him and... and everything." "shut the fuck up. come on." "did you just mimic me?" "yeah." "hold on." "upsy daisy." "yoo-hoo!" "in here!" "hey." "i didn't expect to see you guys again so soon." "well, josh told us that he'd be working late a lot, and he asked us to check up on you." "oh. good." "neat-o." "mom and i have been talking about you." "is this an intervention?" "of course not." "you make it sound like you're an... an addict or something." "you're not, are you?" "no!" "no." "no, you're just sleep-deprived, overworked, and exhausted." "so we thought that we could help out with meals and babysitting." "we wanted you to have a chance to get out, clear your mind, and get recharged and come back ready to love the little pooper." "i do love my little pooper." "of course you do." "and i've got the number of a really good therapist for this sort of thing." "you haven't even found a sperm donor and you've already located a-a post-partum counselor for me?" "see?" "that is exactly what i mean, the moodiness, the irrational outbursts." "that was a joke, julie!" "that's not even an outburst!" "i think you need help." "we'd like to come by every afternoon." "would that be all right?" "do i have a choice?" "why don't you go out and do something nice for yourself?" "like maybe see a therapist." "i want to work with the handicapped." "that... that is a good idea." "yeah, working with the less fortunate." "i was thinking of something a little more fun, like a night out, girls night out, or something." "with you guys?" "of course not." "with your friends." "just take some time out, have a couple drinks." "gosh, i haven't talked to the girls in so long." "not that we want to encourage drinking to excess, of course." "of course." "i don't even like drinking." "oh, my god!" "kelly!" "hey!" "oh, my god!" "hey, ladies." "look at you!" "your hair!" "come here!" "come here, come here, come here, come here." "hi!" "hey." "when you said you were moving to the burbs, you weren't kidding." "i know." "nice to see you, too." "oh, pictures?" "oh." "pictures." "pictures!" "i want to see!" "he's so beautiful." "so cute!" "doesn't he look like josh?" "totally." "and this one ...there's a little bit of a smile." "oh, my god." "look at its teeny ..." "look at its teeny, little feet!" "i know!" "oh, my god. oh, my god." "kelly, you've got to see the pictures of nikki's new puppy." "show her." "okay." "uh, we got a weimaraner." "they're really high-strung dogs." "but, like, intelligent." "super intelligent." "like, human intelligent, but really needy." "it's exhausting, but rewarding." "you know what i mean." "look." "look at that." "i mean, look at the beautiful face on that dog." "yeah, that's ...that's a dog." "it's like your whole life changes, right?" "like, all of a sudden, your whole world revolves around them." "sweetie, i'm so proud of you, sweetie." "to the mommies!" "to the mommies." "to the mommies!" "it's so nice to see you, kel." "how many, um, calories are... hola." "nacho lady con cervezas." "hey." "you enjoying the view?" "no. not really." "who's the uptight bitch?" "that would be my sister-in-law julie." "she's a little bit overdressed." "what?" "i brought you nachos and cervezas." "muy bueno." "to what do i owe this unexpected nocturnal pleasure?" "you reading poetry?" "nice music." "yeah." "well, i know the bassist." "she's a total fox." "so, uh, what are you... doing here all dressed up?" "not that i'm unhappy to see you." "but shouldn't you be at home with your husband and kid?" "i was ordered to go out and have a good time, so i had a girls night out." "so, shouldn't you be out with your posse at fucking tommy's tavern or something?" "yep." "wow. i realized we don't have anything in common anymore." "people are cowards." "nobody ever just comes out and says, "dude, your life totally freaks me out."" "they just ...pfft ...vanish." "jesus." "sorry." "that's basically the same thing that happened to me." "just i got out of rehab, and they threw this big party for me, and then, you know, they all disappeared." "i haven't seen them since." "bailey said, uh, it was too intense for her." "she was fucking some other dude four weeks to the day after the accident." "what a bitch." "yeah, i mean, this was basically her fault." "what do you mean?" "she was always making me jump through hoops and do crazy shit for her." "stealing these signs." "you know, i was supposed to prove how i felt about her or something." "anyways, i was performing what turned out to be the last of my [clears throat] grand gestures when i had the accident." "i climbed to the top of this water tower." "you know the one on the hill by the overpass?" "and, uh, i was gonna put her name on it, but, i mean, not just her name ..." "like, this whole mural with, like, undergrowth and plants and leaves and flowers." "it's so cool up there, man." "and, uh, it was a statement about bailey as this life force." "like, uh, the electrical energy of wild-growing things." "that's beautiful." "yeah." "well, this is how she made me feel." "and, uh, i'm 50 feet above the ground spray painting her name, and then i never finished." "i got to the word "bail," which is basically what she did when she figured out the fucking physical therapy wasn't gonna take." "to absent friends." "fuck 'em." "fuck 'em." "but i still have to go to school with her." "jesus." "i can't wait till this graduation shit is over!" "oh, god, you must have all that senior bullshit coming up like with the pajama breakfast and amusement park day and" "The prom." "what a farce." "god, prom." "there's no way i'm attending now." "who's bailey going with?" "my former best friend, zack." "i'm sure they'll take lovely commemorative photos, post them on facebook." "i remember my prom." "i got dumped by my boyfriend two weeks before, and, um, he started seeing this girl who would wear black nail polish after i did, then she'd show up in the same vans after i wore" "them, and he basically was falling for this little slutty counterfeit." "it was whatever." "and then i, you know, i didn't want to stay home and feel like a loser, so i asked somebody out, and it was this guy named gordy." "gordy?" "yes. groovy gordy." "groovy gordy was the weed connection on our campus, so i thought i was sort of one-upping my boyfriend, but it turns out" "groovy gordy was really a dd-playing, fantasy-novel reading loner who spent lots of time in his head, so we end up" "at his house watching this... this thing called "zardoz" while he's just fumble-y trying to unhook my bra, and it was" "just... wait, wait." "what is "zardoz"?" "oh, you don't want to know." "it was just ...the whole thing was a total debacle." "and, you know, as far as prom goes, there are worse things than opting out entirely." "i like that, "opting out."" "well, it's getting late for me." "okay." "it was nice hanging." "i guess i'll see you when i see you." "okay." "thanks for the nachos, nacho lady." "hey." "hi." "good night out?" "yeah, it was nice." "i was hoping they'd get you a little liquored up so i could take advantage of you." "that's sweet." "were you busy lighting candles?" "yeah." "i just, um, well, i wanted to try and make you feel sexy again." "really?" "come here." "hi." "hi." "you know... if you're still too sore down there... we could do it up the butt." "whatever makes you feel sexy." "so, you know, if you're gonna pretend to be all sensitive and emotional and shit, you might want to lay off the anal-sex requests." "unless you just too chicken shit 'cause you can't admit you saw it in a video with a ukrainian girl." "oh, sorry, i shouldn't say all that stuff about your dad, 'cause i love your daddy, and he loves your mommy." "oh, good." "it's all good." "oh, crap." "oh, yay, it's meemaw." "this is one of my favorites." "oh, i just love it." "thank you." "yes." "very stylish." "and i love your outfit." "mine?" "yes." "you look so fantastic." "hey, bev." "oh, hey." "i've got a surprise for you." "a surprise?" "kelly, come meet mitzi." "she does makeovers." "actually, i like to say i offer head-to-toe transformation." "oh. hi." "okay, come on." "and sit down right over here." "it'll be fun!" "so, i understand you've been feeling a little down and dumpy and housewifey." "let's start with that hair." "home job, i take it?" "yeah, but it's manic panic." "it's just... oh, lord, like that old bangles song." ""just another manic monday"?" "i hear you." "anyway, i think it can be salvaged." "and we also brought along some outfits for you to try on." "and a little pixie dust to bring out the natural beauty in you." "so, shall we get started?" "yes!" "okay." "i like transforming." "check me out." "eat your heart out." "what happened to you?" "it's a depressed mommy makeover." "was that julie's idea?" "actually, it was bev's, because, really, what psychological problem/existential crisis can't be fixed with a good makeover?" "well, you ...you're creeping me out." "you look like my mom." "is that such a bad thing?" "yes." "yes, it is a bad thing." "no, think about it." "i could sign your permission slips." "i could get you out of those pesky sessions with the school counselor that you love." "i could just bail you out of class whenever." "for the love of god and all that is holy, please change that shirt." "you got to lose those barrettes, too." "yes, sir." "you know, uh... it's a shame about that turquoise." "it was really growing on me." "i know. me, too." "but you can't solve the blues with blue hair, you know." "god, did bev say that?" "no, actually, the transformation lady said it." "that's awesome." "so, how was your day at school?" "school was swell." "let me see." "i passed my chem exam, we watched a very enlightening video about stds, um, tried to ignore zack and bailey inhaling each other's face off in the library all day." "fuck 'em." "yeah, fuck 'em." "no plans for the evening?" "no." "what?" "no candlelit dinner with the hubby?" "no. he's at work." "he's gonna be home late again." "he has a very big deadline." "very big." "he works late a lot, doesn't he?" "yeah, well, he has a really high-pressure job." "you don't think he's cheating on you?" "no." "that's too clich, right?" "pregnant wife, right after the baby's born." "listen, i have a question for you." "do you have a-a nice dress?" "a dress?" "yes. a nice dress." "something nice, you know, you wear to formal events and that kind of thing." "yeah, 'cause i go to a lot of formal events." "why?" "because i want to take you somewhere nice." "well, that's sweet of you." "unless you're being sarcastic, in which case it's really mean." "no, no, no. i'm not." "where are you gonna take me?" "can't tell you. surprise." "except you have to tell me, otherwise i'm not gonna go anywhere." "sure you are." "sounds like a required trip to, like, a thrift shop, consignment, vintage, whatever hipsters call it." "how nice of a dress are you talking about?" "just something that makes you feel pretty and fancy." "i'm not going to your prom, cal." "fuck the prom." "so?" "so?" "buy a dress, something young and sexy and not mommyish, not that mommies aren't sexy sometimes." "no, you don't understand." "i'm not going to your prom." "just buy the damn dress, okay?" "it's for special teens awards." "special teens?" "special teens." "you've been nominated best new mentor." "i was gonna give you mentor of the year, but, you know, it seemed like overkill." "oh, you're special, all right." "just buy the damn dress, okay?" "okay." "hello?" "hi. it's me." "hey, is everything all right?" "yeah." "i was just calling to say hi." "oh. well, hi, you." "hi." "the baby sleeping okay?" "yeah, he fought it for a little bit, but now he's down." "good, good." "so, you gonna be there late again tonight?" "yeah, unfortunately." "definitely don't wait up." "you should get some sleep while you can." "okay." "bye." "we made pie!" "thought the kids might like it." "what kids?" "the special teens, you know." "oh, i'm not doing that today." "why not?" "aren't you feeling okay?" "you look okay to me." "no, i'm ...i'm not feeling up to it." "that was fast." "what?" "the novelty wear off?" "no." "do you think that they feel like being in a wheelchair or having a seeing eye dog or service monkey or whatever their unfortunate circumstances are?" "they don't got a choice." "she's not saying she'll never go again." "she just needs a day off." "right. that's... you know, we don't want to let a good pie go to waste." "right, kelly?" "yeah, okay." "i'll get us plates." "make it a chocolate cream pie!" "twist my arm!" "everybody always makes it sound like it's our fault, like we're these terrible career-obsessed women too selfish to stop and have kids until it's too late." "what about the man children in their late 30s blowing huge chunks of their life playing grand theft auto?" "why don't they analyze that trend?" "you should go out with an older man." "they have a much longer shelf life than we do." "don't be disgusting." "no, i think bev has a point." "who's that old guy?" "tony randall?" "he's still pumping out kids." "he's dead, kelly." "you know, it takes men a lot longer to grow up than we do." "that's a fact." "why?" "because we let them." "because growing up is actually really painful and women have a stronger threshold for pain, supposedly." "we can't all be adolescent narcissists." "where are you going?" "to put on some coffee and so i don't have to listen to you." "nasty." "it's so easy for you to be smug, isn't it?" "you have everything i want." "you should be so happy, kelly." "what is wrong with you?" "i don't know." "oh, hey." "hey, lady. need a ride?" "hop in." "okay." "nice wheels." "i wanted a firebird, but, uh, this is much more expensive and safer." "my parents have no fucking sense of irony." "you got it this time." "what?" "nothing." "cal." "what?" "cal." "you jackass!" "it's a volvo." "it's completely safe, remember?" "wow. there's like no one here." "yeah, yeah, yeah." "we timed it perfectly." "too late for the lunch rush, too early for the early birds, way too early for the night owls." "okay, so what's good here?" "well, um, actually, can we just have two orders of french fries with gravy, two cherry cokes, extra syrup, and $5 in quarters, same as always?" "i guess that's what i'll be having." "she used to be my babysitter." "really?" "yeah." "she didn't even look you in the eye." "yeah, i know." "nobody does." "except for you." "okay, so what's with the quarters?" "this goes all the way back to the '80s." "it's when you were in high school, right?" "shut up." "oh, my god." "i remember all these songs." "did you get the dress?" "the dress?" "you know. the dress." "no, i don't know." "what are you ...what... come on, you know exactly what i'm talking about." "don't do this." "yes, i got a dress." "okay." "a really kick-ass one, actually." "what's it look like?" "i'm not telling you." "that'll be my surprise." "nice." "all through the night" "i'll be awake and i'll be with you" "hello!" "hey." "wow, that smells good." "you're home early." "mom said she made lasagna, and i wasn't gonna miss that." "of course." "she said something about that." "sweet." "so, i'll just go change, and i'll be right back down." "mom's lasagna." "has it been helpful having her and, um, julie around?" "yeah." "how'd you get on that whole, um, helping the handicapped thing?" "oh, i don't know." "i think i just felt bad about, um, yelling at the kid in the wheelchair." "i'll see." "hi." "hey." "mrs. cooper ...is she in?" "oh, honey?" "um... hi, mrs. cooper." "hi, calvin." "oh, you didn't..." "you didn't forget, did you?" "oh, my goodness." "i did forget." "special teen awards." "miss cooper is probably too modest to tell you, but she's been nominated for best new mentor." "that's tonight?" "can't win if you don't go." "okay, uh, i'll ...i'll go get ready." "come on in." "hey, thanks." "sure." "i was coming home late from school one night." "we were working hard on our harvard model u.n. debate." "my team was arguing in favor of microloans for physically abused pakistani women to start their own candle-making co-op." "we left high-fiving each other, walking on air, sure that we would win." "but... i never made that debate." "a drunk driver plowed across the divider and changed my life forever." "shit." "you know what, though?" "thanks to the hard work of my team, that co-op has helped over 300 women change their lives forever." "oh, yeah?" "one candle at a time." "oh, cool. thanks, man." "that's awesome. thanks." "cinnamon-y." "it's the smell of hope, my friend." "okay. ready." "oh, miss ...miss cooper, you look nice." "thanks, calvin." "are you wearing combat boots?" "okay, let's just go." "all right, you guys." "have fun." "don't, uh, don't keep her out late." "thank you." "all righty then." "see you soon." "see you guys." "geez, your husband's such a douche." "no, he isn't." "and what was that in there?" "thanks for the warning." "the whole thing's supposed to be a surprise." "could you please just oh. sorry." "don't push me." "i hate that shit." "i know." "you look retro-tastic, by the way." "thank you." "you look very...suave." "thank you." "where are we going?" "what's that?" "more surprises." "get in." "watch your feet." "oh, shit." "get back in." "are you kidding me?" "does it look like i'm kidding you?" "here, here, here, here." "so bad." "do it, do it!" "here, here, here. take it." "wait, wait, run, run, run." "fucking school." "hop on." "whee!" "[ laughs ]" "sorry i don't have any pot." "that's okay." "i don't smoke that anymore." "why?" "because your awesome prom date groovy gordy?" "groovy gordy." "oh, fuck you." "i got this." "do it." "nailed it!" "i had no idea that you were a jock." "can we still be friends?" "okay." "i'll think about it." "i'll just put you in a headlock and, like, not invite you to parties and stuff." "what is with the candles, cal?" "please don't tell me you're planning an animal sacrifice." "no, no, no." "no. this is an exorcism." "of what?" "we are exorcising your shitty prom past and my shitty no-prom present." "yes!" "how we gonna do it?" "well... since you asked... what?" "!" "oh, no." "how did you know?" "it was an educated guess, and, uh, okay, i used the internet." "well, mrs. cooper?" "don't call me that." "mrs. cooper?" "i can't ...i'm not dancing." "you can't ...bullshit you can't dance." "are you in a wheelchair?" "oh, don't give me that crap." "i can dance." "check out these moves." "it's not worth trying for that's pretty slick." "then you can dance, okay?" "so get your ass out on the floor." "i can't." "i'm too drunk." "then you're perfectly primed up. come on." "okay." "do it for you here she goes." "look into your heart you will find there's nothing there to hide" "don't!" "take me as i am hold on, hold on, hold on." "wait." "stop!" "i'm not ...i can't!" "really, i'm not... oh, no!" "my god, i am so sorry." "oh, my god." "let's do it again." "you want to do it again?" "yes." "all right. hop on." "i love this song." "i know." "you pay attention." "so, are we dancing?" "yeah." "am i doing okay?" "yeah." "doing great." "just got to hold on." "all through the night today" "knowing that we feel the same without saying and we're dancing." "we won't reach back keep with me forward all through the night and once we start, the meter clicks" "and it goes running all through the night until it ends, there is no end" "cal." "what?" "oh, my god. cal." "it's the cops!" "oh, shit." "are you kidding me?" "just grab your bag." "grab your bag." "what do you got?" "we got everything?" "this can't be happening. we got to go. we got to go." "thanks for planning all this and surprising me." "no problem." "i'm glad you came." "i had a really nice time." "well, good night." "good night." "hey." "hi." "how was the awards thing?" "it was, um, nice." "hmm. did you win?" "um, no." "no?" "well, you are best new mentor in my book." "a monkey knows how you'll" "react creating want by holding back" "some reverse pyromaniac" "let me try, baby try i brought my window up and then" "i turned my back to lure you in" "do i fall through what i might of been let me try, baby" "try" "i hope you like lemon meringue." "bev's been busy." "hello." "you ...you must be kelly." "oh, yes, i am." "well, cal has told me so much about you." "he has?" "you've been a real lifeline for him." "thank god for special teens." "he absolutely refused to see a-a traditional therapist." "yeah, that sounds like cal." "yes." "i want to assure you that i... i... iunderstand the ...the privacy of your process, but he has been off his anti-depressants for... for two months now, and he seems fine, but i-i can't help but worry." "so, if you ever hear any language or see any behavior that could be troubling, you will let me know?" "of course." "mom." "hi, cal." "what are you doing in here?" "i'm just doing a little cleaning." "you mean snooping?" "i was not snooping." "well, do you mind?" "it's a private session." "calvin, consider me gone." "pbbbt." "hey, i missed you yesterday." "i was with my in-laws." "i thought maybe you were avoiding me." "no." "i brought pie." "i love pie." "yeah, i thought so." "let's go to the park." "it's so stuffy in here." "what about the pie?" "we'll bring it, have a picnic." "i got to hand it to bev." "that is the best pie i've ever had." "got a little bit of meringue over here." "thank you." "smoke?" "i have to quit." "josh can smell it in my hair." "when was the last time josh smelled your hair?" "and you shouldn't be smoking, either." "why?" "i'm not fucking pregnant." "well, i'm not gonna lecture you." "good, 'cause life's too fucking short." "it is short." "it's short and precious." "don't squander it." "wow. that's, like, beautiful, man." "you're still young, cal." "yes." "i got so many years ahead of me to obsess about what my life could have been." "you can't just let that chair be the only thing that defines you." "you just really don't know what the fuck you're talking about, so you should probably just shut up right now, okay?" "you can't just define yourself by the things you lost." "give me something else." "hey." "what are you doing down here?" "believe me, i can hear him down here." "okay." "look how young we were." "i'm...trying to figure out what to do about cal." "who?" "oh, the kid in the wheelchair?" "yeah." "him." "haven't you done enough already?" "we were so hot." "that bass slung over your shoulder and your bra strap all hanging out." "he used to be an artist like you." "yeah." "used to be." "and he used to draw... like you." "yeah, well, gonna become a corporate sellout like me, too?" "no." "he had a spinal injury and lost all his fine motor function." "he can't draw?" "okay, that sucks." "yeah." "yeah, it does." "so, what'd you think?" "maybe some shitty pottery might cheer him up?" "fuck you." "kelly." "kelly, i was just kidding." "jesus christ. come on!" "what is that?" "a cadaver?" "it's your something else." "it stinks." "i want you to take this clay and just put it in your hands." "first lesson ...the coil pot." "you take a piece of clay like this." "you can squeeze it and make a snake-like formation." "and then... you just wrap it or coil it around itself." "it's really simple." "no fine motor skills are required, and you can make yourself a great ashtray." "thought you were quitting." "yeah, i am, but you don't have to." "don't watch." "okay." "where'd you learn this profoundly useful skill?" ""expressions in three dimensions."" "it was my elective." "awesome." "it's where i met josh." "you met josh in art class?" "yep." "he was an art major." "he was an art major?" "why are you acting so shocked?" "have you seen the guy?" "he's like a poster boy for fucking abercrombie  douche." "no, he isn't." "and he has to dress like that for work." "he's in advertising." "oh, that makes sense." "you know, everybody makes compromises, cal." "we all have to make sacrifices in life, and sometimes even when you do all that and you play by the rules, things still don't turn out like you expected them to." "i'm done." "can i look?" "it's not quite to scale." "i'm a little bit bigger." "asshole." "i'm an asshole?" "yeah!" "you're the one who turned into mother fucking teresa overnight." "i'm just doing my best." "i'm ...i'm just trying." "what are you trying to do?" "help me adjust to my new life?" "help me contribute to society?" "i thought you were my fucking friend!" "i am." "then quit jerking me around with this art-therapy shit." "i don't need your fucking pity, okay?" "and a fucking ashtray isn't gonna make my life worth living." "so if you need some short, little project to make your life worth living, why don't you go to the gym and rehabilitate your draggy, fucking used-up, old, nasty ass, then maybe your husband would fuck you!" "hello?" "hello?" "what are you doing?" "hi." "i was just gonna take a bath." "wait." "what?" "what's this?" "it's an apology for... everything." "i want you to know that i haven't forgotten." "haven't forgotten who you are, why i fell in love with you." "what's wrong?" "you don't like it?" "no. it's beautiful." "kelly." "kel." "are you okay?" "look, kelly, i want to make you happy, but i... i don't know what to do." "you know, i'm new to this, too." "i'm trying." "well, i'm going to bed." "hey." "hey." "hey." "yeah. i know." "thanks, bev." "oh, you're welcome." "anything interesting?" "this." "fancy." "mrs. kelly cooper." "let me see." "special teen initiative." "is that from the young man you were mentoring?" "i think so." "what's it say?" "it says "you are invited to a special exhibition this saturday."" "well, well, well." "look who came back for another pottery lesson." "i can't see you anymore." "what?" "um, this thing... that we have between us, it was wrong." "and i know it's my fault, and i shouldn't have, uh, let it go as far as it did." "and i...thought we were being friends." "that's what i told myself." "but i ...we have to just... you're serious." "i have a husband, and i have a baby." "and i'm like twice your age." "i'm supposed to be a grownup." "i... i shouldn't have ever let it get as far as it did." "what's that?" "i can't hear you." "speak up!" "i'm sorry!" "i'm sorry!" "don't!" "how are you?" "how's everybody?" "how are you?" "so, you gonna go to that art-show thing?" "that special-teen thing?" "i don't know. maybe." "so, he's still doing art, huh?" "i mean, 'cause of you?" "yeah." "well, guess i was wrong about that shitty pottery." "kidding." "now, um... actually, i think it's pretty cool." "you, uh, really made a difference in his life." "thanks." "do you like it?" "where have you been?" "here and there." "i had to get ready for the show, find a kiln, get it all fired up." "what is that doing here with my name on it?" "hopefully winning the grand jury prize in the art show for retards." "might want to unhand me, by the way." "you're basically assaulting a handicapped teenager in public right now." "that was a private moment." "that's better." "now it just seems like we're having a lover's spat." "stop pushing me, all right?" "that was between us." "there is no "us."" "i... i... i think you made that very clear." "that moment, i did it because i was worried about you, and i didn't want you slipping away and opting out, and i wanted you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start living." "wrong." "you felt sorry for yourself and you were jerking me around so you could get more fucking attention." "it's not true." "come on." "just come out and say it, all right?" "you're a big fucking cock tease!" "what are you doing?" "cal." "i'm so sorry." "I..." "I..." "I have no idea what would make him say something like that." "where do you think i got the idea to sculpt a naked woman, mother?" "wasn't from rodin." "calvin, let's just calm down, okay, and think about what is coming out of our mouths before we talk." "it was her parading around with her tits out, begging me to look and her kissing me and giving me a fucking lap dance and then pretending like it meant nothing." "why do you think that i called it "kelly"?" "Tell her." "That's... come on." "that's enough." "tell her." "tell me what?" "it wasn't like that." "It wasn't like that." "wasn't like that." "wasn't like that." "you should go." "josh, wait!" "wait!" "it's not what it looks like!" "really?" "really?" "then what is it, kel?" "because, you know, this should not be confusing." "it's stupid." "it's a puppy-love crush." "he made a life-size nude sculpture of you ...a pretty accurate one, too ...and publicly displayed it." "i mean, christ." "it's nothing!" "it's nothing, i swear!" "i just needed someone to talk to." "right, right." "so naturally you thought a-a teenage boy would be the perfect person to pour your heart out to, right?" "because, well, i mean, hell, they're legendary for being sensitive and insightful." "i mean, are you serious?" "maybe it didn't occur to me that anybody could ever look at me like that anymore!" "kelly, he's a child." "what have you done?" "i don't know, and i was just" "Lonely, and you were... oh, my god." "and you were gone all the time!" "yeah, i was gone!" "i was at work!" "i was at work!" "probably with your secretary!" "oh, my god." "are you fucking serious?" "are you really gonna try and turn this around on me?" "really?" "i was working my ass off, kelly, for you, for jackson." "for us." "where are you going?" "my parents." "what about jackson?" "now you ask." "josh, will you just talk to me?" "the baby's with josh." "he's fine." "i just, uh, stopped by to gather a few things." "josh wants to crash on our couch for a while." "if we're okay with it." "and we are." "a baby changes marriage in ways no one can imagine." "if there's a crack before, it tends to widen." "he loves you." "but you can only push someone away so often." "give it time." "okay?" "josh." "kelly?" "this is cal's mother." "oh. hi." "hello." "is cal there?" "no, i haven't seen him since the gallery." "is everything okay?" "hello?" "cal!" "cal!" "you got everybody worried about you!" "I'm worried about you!" "what are you doing?" "i'm not talking to you." "you broke into a public building." "don't you think you're gonna get caught?" "i have a mask." "they can't i.d. me." "and gloves." "no fingerprints." "how many wheelchair bandits do you think are out there, huh?" "come on. what's your plan?" "cal, what are you gonna do?" "come on." "cal!" "cal." "come on." "come on. talk to me." "how many times do you think that one person can have their heart broken in a year and survive?" "every time that you put someone up on a pedestal, they just show you how they don't deserve to be there." "i mean, i tried to lift bailey up." "i tried to climb too high, and i... fell." "and then i did it with you." "my blue lady." "Cal... i realize now that i should have ...i should have never talked to you." "i mean, i had unrealistic expectations." "i should have never broken down my wall of illusion." "you paint a picture of someone that you want to see." "and the reality never measures up." "i took my blue lady off her pedestal." "okay, i hear what you're saying, all right, and i completely understand you." "but, you know, why don't we go get some coffee and we'll continue this conversation?" "we can go to the diner or something." "Shit." "see?" "now we're both broken." "come on." "graduation's next week." "yeah?" "you gonna go?" "i don't know." "apparently they're trying to give me some kind of, like, a scholarship for winning the art show." "who?" "special teens?" "special teens, yeah." "no shit." "does it still count if you obliterated the winning entry?" "mm-hmm. i took pictures." "why do you do that, cal?" "destroy everything that you make?" "i don't know." "i was thinking that maybe i'm a buddhist and i'm highlighting the impermanence of things, you know." "yeah, i'm sure that's it." "could be like ..." "like a hindu, you know." "reminding everyone the other half of creation is destruction." "brahma and shiva." "yep." "that's exactly what i thought." "or maybe i need to chill the fuck out." "I don't know." "maybe they can teach me that at art school, like, preferably with the use of recreational druggage." "hugs, not drugs." "right." "'cause life is precious, short and precious." "yeah." "what's gonna happen with, uh, with josh?" "i don't know." "am i ever gonna see you again?" "I..." "I don't know." "i love you." "you know that, right?" "i know." "you'll get over it." "i promise." "hello, kelly." "hi, bev." "is josh here?" "come on in." "thank you." "wake up, josh." "what are you doing here?" "i came to apologize." "outside." "is he sleeping?" "yeah." "good." "so... i've been thinking" "A lot about you and me." "I'm really sorry for the way i treated you." "and i'm sorry for the way i've been acting." "i understand if you don't want to talk." "it's just lately i felt like i totally lost who i was before jackson." "and then i'd lost you, and... and i really needed you." "i can't do it by myself." "and i don't want to." "me neither." "i screwed up so bad." "stop. stop." "let me just say something." "i love you." "i've always loved you." "i knew you needed me." "but i just ...i didn't know how." "i guess we need to try harder." "both of us." "i'd like that." "i look back through the storm" "i look back 'cause it keeps me warm" "and all you learn is you regret oh, you're walking down again and you change" "i want to tell you how i feel when i'm not there i needed something to believe" "something we both share in a secret hiding place" "you'll always find me there and you change slowly change" "cha-a-a-a-a-a-nge and you change" "oh, you change and you change"