A Love Song for Bobby Long Page #3

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No school, I hear. What, you skip a grade?

A few. The 10th, 11th, and 12th.

Do you mind?

God, we are living under the same roof

as a goddamn dropout.

It takes one to mock one.

At least I can support myself.

Look, as long as

you're not lazing around here...

making Lawson lose his concentration,

I do not care what you do.

You got work to do.

Do you have to go after her

like that, relentlessly?

Do you want her to stick around?

Is that what you want?

Has it ever occurred to you that if we help

her get on her feet, she might move on?

How help her?

You want to help her out of

them tight little pants. That's what you want.

- Forget it, man, all right?

- Forgotten.

A New Orleans summer

drowns in thick, dank stillness.

Come on, man, let's play gin.

- Can't you see us doing something here?

- To hell with you.

Lorraine's house shrank with each

passing day, straining uneasy walls closer.

Turn that music off, girl!

Can't you see he's working?

Jesus H. Christ.

How long you gonna sit around here

smoking up our cigarette money?

Lawson said he didn't mind.

Lawson's cigarettes are red. Mine are green.

You may not smoke green. Bobby's.

What is that sh*t you are drinking?

God, it reeks.

This is beer and tomato juice.

Breakfast of champions.

Champion fuckup, maybe.

You know, girl, I have had

just about enough of your bad attitude.

Whether you like it or not,

I am the senior male in this house...

and you will respect me!

We have been very patient

out of respect for Lorraine...

but you will not continue

to lay around here...

and play parasite to our generosity.

Now, you must work

as if you're gonna live 100 years...

and pray as if you're gonna die tomorrow.

- What did you say?

- Ben Franklin said it.

It probably meant something

coming from him.

You know damn well

I've been looking for a job.

God, what do you do? Except sh*t around

and talk about how smart you used to be.

I am a professor. I am a troubadour. A poet.

And it's none of your damn business

how we live.

- You are responsible for your share.

- My share?

You already live in my house for free.

- God, you should be grateful...

- This is our house!

Maybe you'd rather I earn money

bringing friends home.

Didn't Lorraine have to do that for a while?

Most junkies do.

God damn it!

Have you no respect for the dead?

That was your mother, Pursey.

Besides...

we all know

that you ain't no angel of purity...

are you, little Purslane?

Did you ever have two men at once?

Have you?

That would buy a lot of cigarettes

in our house. It would, wouldn't it?

F*** you!

You're supposed to be the senior male?

The grownup.

I'm just a girl. Don't you get that?

I'm so sick of your high and mighty attitude

about poor, dead Lorraine.

You wanna teach me about respect?

Who respects you?

The wife who's smart enough to get rid

of you, or the kids you never f***ing see?

What did I tell you about her?

Oh, God!

You know, I know what y'all think of me.

- School just seemed like a waste of time.

- It's not.

I know that.

I'm not some dumb kid, you know.

I wanna be normal. It's just not my life.

What is your life? What do you want?

If I could do anything?

Promise you won't laugh?

I don't know if I can promise.

Well, I thought about maybe working

in a hospital or something...

like being an x-ray technician

or something like that.

Okay.

- Can I ask why?

- I don't know.

I like the way bones look on a light box.

They're like portraits, but on the inside.

I know it does sound totally stupid.

No, it's not stupid.

Hello?

Hello? Is anyone there?

- Sorry.

- It's all right.

I keep forgetting

there's a woman in the house.

Any sign of him?

Listen, Pursey, I need to tell you something.

What, you worried about him?

What are you doing today?

I thought I'd go down to the Quarter...

look for a job. I haven't tried there yet.

Want someone to show you around?

- Give us a call next week.

- All right, thanks.

Well?

Maybe, but only part-time.

It's not like you have rent.

You don't have to work full-time.

I need to get away

from Bobby full-time. Overtime.

Maybe I could help you get started

on those bone portraits.

You can get your GED, you know.

Sure I can. Then maybe I can go to Harvard.

Maybe.

You know, you eat like sh*t?

You drink too much.

Okay.

Would you let me read your book sometime?

- I don't think so.

- Why not?

- Most of it ends up in the trash.

- How long you been writing it?

Too long, and not long enough.

- Did you graduate from college?

- Yes, ma'am, I did.

With the privilege of becoming

Bobby Long's teaching assistant.

Why did y'all leave that school?

It's complicated. So many reasons.

Tell me one.

A lot happened real fast...

and New Orleans, all this...

it sort of seemed romantic at the time.

Is it?

Is it romantic?

It has its moments.

Would you really help me get my GED?

Yes, I really would.

- Why?

- Why not?

Don't have anything else to do.

Would you quit drinking so much?

Why?

Why not?

You don't have anything else to do.

All right.

All right.

So, where is he, the son of a b*tch?

Probably on some barstool somewhere,

whining about how misunderstood he is.

You've better things to do than waste

another day worrying about Bobby Long.

He didn't. We had a nice day, didn't we?

Yeah.

Come on, darling, we better get home.

See you at home.

It must be getting pretty crowded for you,

only two rooms.

What about your work, sugar?

There's no privacy there.

You could stay at my place.

Will you think about it?

I'm back.

Aren't you people glad to see me?

- No.

- You might have called.

Well, then ask me. Say:

"Bobby, what have you brought me?"

Biloxi?

Video poker or nickel slots?

- Man, where's my car?

- I sold it.

Now, Pursey, go put some music on.

We're gonna celebrate.

- You what?

- I sold it. We didn't need a car.

This is a single malt. When was the last time

you had a single malt?

- For how much?

- $300.

You f***ing sold my car for f***ing $300?

Have you lost

your goddamn mind completely?

Just hold that punch.

Now, you remember...

I have a broken face.

Now, I didn't have any money.

That's because your check is here.

And this, too. From the lawyer.

It's time to tell her.

I waited for you to get the...

What the f*** are you doing?

You give me five minutes,

and then you do what you think is right.

Well, look how nice

you changed everything.

I'd have destroyed that TV weeks ago

if I'd known it would drive you to Steinbeck.

All right, now, I have something to tell y'all.

Come on in, sit down.

Come on, man, sit...

Will you stop grieving

about that hunk of sh*t and sit down?

I'll stand.

All right, close your eyes.

- Close your eyes, man.

- I'm not closing my goddamn eyes.

Come on, Lawson. Christ.

All right, now.

You can open them now, darling.

Courtesy of a lovely teacher...

whose heart once found Bobby Long

cause enough to skip a beat or two.

"To certify that Purslane Hominy Will...

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