Elsa & Fred Page #3

- There's a nice park nearby.

- "There's a nice park."

Why's everybody keep

talking about this park?

I mean, what's so great about this park?

Sitting on a bench, looking like an idiot.

Sweet, wonderful grandson,

don't you understand?

Grandpa doesn't want to go out.

He's fine at home.

I figured you wouldn't want to go out,

so I came with a plan B.

Mom, it's so hard to get taken seriously

as an artist... without a backer.

Didn't Sebastian say you could

do a show whenever you wanted?

Yeah, and soon as I show up to ask him,

he says to me, "you're welcome,

- as long as you cough up the cash."

- Well, how much does he want?

A lot, and they only do exhibitions

with other artists. It's not worth it.

Money, money, money.

Or... well, what are we talking

about here, dear? How much?

$1,500 up front.

- Who's that?

- F.B.I.

- Raymond, what a surprise.

- Did you give him the check?

Well, I went over, but he wasn't there.

- Mom, where are you?

- I'm in a museum,

and I can't talk right now, dear,

because I have a man glaring at me.

- Mom?

- Bye.

Pretty soon he'll put

a private eye on me.

Okay, I'll ask for the check.

You're paying, right?

I don't have a dime.

Mrs. Hayes! Please, please.

I need help.

- Just a minute.

- Mrs. Hayes!

- Mrs. Hayes! Mrs. Hayes!

- Yes, yes.

I wouldn't want to bother you

but this is an emergency.

- I don't want to bother you.

- Yes, I'm coming.

Please, everything is destroyed.

It's a complete catastrophe.

- House on fire?

- No, it's the pipe.

- I don't know. Mrs. Hayes...

- Elsa.

Please help me, I beg you.

Everyone's gone. The super's out.

Laverne is in Pittsburgh. Now,

I don't know how this happened,

but I was turning on the faucet

to get a glass of water, and look!

This wouldn't stop!

Turn off the water at the main pipe.

Where's your faucet?

- I don't know.

- You don't know where your faucet is?

Okay, I'm going to

find the faucet. Okay.

Wait a minute. We got it.

- Well, thank God that's over.

- You don't thank God. You thank me.

- I'm bound to get pneumonia.

- No, you won't.

Fred, help me.

- No.

- Please, help me.

I can't. My doctor told

me not to exert myself.

- No, just help me up, dear.

- Oh, all right.

Okay, one second. Let me

just walk. I can... I...

Okay.

Here we go.

- "Help."

- What?

I'm certain you got pneumonia.

- Fred?

- Here.

- Why are you always lying in bed like that?

- Why are you always on your feet?

Where do you go? Why bother

running around in circles like that?

It's pointless.

I'm tired, so I'm in bed.

Okay.

Good.

Yes. I used to have

a restaurant, years ago.

All right.

- Is this cream dressing?

- No, it's very, very, healthy

and nutritious and well-balanced.

I used to be a dietician.

How many things have you been, exactly?

Oh, Fred, you know, life is long,

and when you've lived so many years,

and you do things,

and you don't think when you're doing them,

they matter all that much, and then,

one day you wake up and you

realize you managed quite a bit,

and so much so you can't

even remember it all.

Oh, I remember it all.

Home, work. Work, home.

What's that?

That was my first life.

Over. I used to play classical guitar.

I had a career ahead of me.

I was fixing up my first home.

I had an electric saw.

You know, the do-it-yourself kind.

I slipped and...

severed my tendon.

Oh. Oh, Fred. I'm so sorry.

The only thing that was important to me.

Oh, that's a wonderful arpeggio.

Oh, come on. Now, play something for me.

You know, I used to teach music, so,

I know a good hand when I see one.

Leave it. Leave it.

That's only decoration.

I just don't have the guts

to throw things away.

Besides, I told you,

my technique is imperfect.

Just wanted to have a little fun.

Make some music. A song.

I don't care about technique.

I mean, so-so will do.

Excuse me. I don't do anything so-so.

I never have, until now.

Now I'm old, everything is so-so.

I much prefer lying in

bed than to waste energy

obtaining results that I know

will always be mediocre,

and that goes for walking,

talking, thinking.

Every day, worse.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

thank you for dinner.

Thank you for your help.

Just going to need a

little rest now. In peace.

Only the dead rest in peace.

Are you familiar with

the living dead? Good.

I am that rare case of the dead living.

I seem alive, but I'm already dead.

They installed it without a washer.

That's why it exploded.

Good job, Armande. You know,

what would we do without you?

I'll leave it open, Mr. Barcroft.

You won't have to get up to let me in.

Fred.

Fred.

Fred.

Oh. I found the door open.

I came for your memorial service,

but I see you're quite active.

Oh, yeah. Peak activity

time around here.

- Well, thank you.

- For what?

For inviting me to sit down.

I can read your mind.

Please sit down.

- So, what's going on in the world?

- Well, nothing. It's all nonsense.

Then why are you reading the newspaper?

I read the obituaries.

I like to catch up on my friends.

Oh, Fred... Why do you pretend

to be someone you're not?

Look, this is who I am.

It's you that sees something

in me, that isn't there.

But it is there. You gave me the

most wonderful gift last night.

Even a stone wouldn't have

been able to resist those stories

- about hungry grandchildren and sick babies.

- No, that's not what I'm talking about,

- although, that was an incredible gift.

- Thank you.

No, I mean that you asked

for my help, Fred.

And asking for help,

it's showing your weaknesses

and your helplessness and

standing naked in front of others.

You were naked in front of me, Fred.

It's a special, precious thing,

letting someone help you. And you asked me.

Fred, the path to life is long.

Who said that, Gandhi?

Mother Teresa of Calcutta? Rocky Balboa?

- No, I said it, Fred.

- I'm back.

I got you a melon.

I went to the prostate counter,

but they didn't have no

peanut-sized ones. Morning, ma'am.

Now, listen...

- Mrs. Hayes...

- Elsa.

Whatever, Elsa. I asked you to

help me because I was drowning.

I don't understand why you see

that as being so important.

However, what does strike me

is that you say things to me

that no one has ever said before.

Please, what do you want from me?

I want everything between

us to be the first time.

Fred, would you like me to

show you the path to life?

If it makes you feel better.

Well, it's baby steps.

One step after the other.

One, two, three.

Baby steps.

Excuse me, could I ask for some

information about dance lessons, please?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Thank you.

For you?

Well, if not me, who?

- Excuse me just one moment.

- Thank you.

- Do we have an age limit?

- Not officially.

We just don't like 'em croaking on the

dance floor. Tell her we're filled up.

I'm sorry, ma'am,

we only accept couples.

Couples?

Well, she's single. And I'm single.

No, no. That's discrimination.

And that's not okay. Want to know why?

Well, when you have a little

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