Green Card Page #6

When are you coming, chrie?"

"Dear Georges...

"the apartment is looking beautiful.

"I only have to look

in the fish pond to think of you.

"Hurry home.

"You are never

far from my thoughts.

Much love, B."

- This is ridiculous!

- No, no, no. Look.

For the green card,

I do anything. Look.

Give me camera, huh?

- We need blue sky. Ah!

- Mm-hmm.

We are on honeymoon,

and we have to smile like oafs.

Okay, now, do it, yes.

- Do on the skis, okay?

- Okay, I'll do one. I-I'll do one.

Okay. On the slaloms, you know?

I'm very good on slalom.

Will you remember, hmm?

Oh.

- Okay. I need some blue sky.

- We're loadin'up our Woody

- With our boards inside

and headin'out singin'our song

- Okay.

- That's good.

- Come on, baby, wait and see

- Okay, that's it.

That-That-That's great!

- Yes, I'm gonna take you surfin' with me

- Come along, baby, surfin'safari

- Okay. That's good.

- Yeah, I'm gonna

take you surfin' with me

- Surfin'safari

- Let's go surfin'now

everybody's learnin' how

- Oh, lovely, lovely.

Come on and safari with me

- Okay.

- Come on. Political ballet.

- What?

- I make the oppressed.

You make the victory.

- Okay.

- Victory!

- Victory.

Yeah.

- Victory.

- Okay?

- Okay. One more.

- Oh!

Okay.

The green... Yes.

Put the plant behind you.

Uh, Faites attention.

- Put-Put-Put the green plant...

- Of course. The green plant...

There. That's-That's good. Okay.

- We feel the elephants?

- I feel them, but, oh,

maybe with the knife, like you could...

Yes. Ah, uh... Th... Uh, yes.

- This is so silly.

- No, no, no, no. That's all right.

- One more. Smile.

- Okay.

- Okay. One more.

- What now?

- Handyman.

- Handyman?

- Yes.

The good husband

always does handyman things.

- Oh! Okay, okay.

- Yes.

How 'bout these?

Oh, great. Great.

Oh.

Smile.

- Okay, do some handyman things.

- Yeah?

Stay here.

- Hello?

- Surprise! It's us, darling.

We're in your lobby.

Mother!

Why didn't you call?

- Can we come up?

- Of course! I... Look, um...

- You're sure it's all right?

- Of course. Come on up.

Georges!

Georges, it's my parents.

- This is the worst.

You've gotta go. They'll kill me.

- Okay. I'll change.

- No, no. There's no time.

- Okay. No time.

- Take, uh, the skis.

Put them back in the closet.

- The skis, yes. The skis.

Open... Open this, please. Fine.

Okay. Thank you.

- Open!

- Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- It's okay.

- Come on.

Just go.

I'll make something up.

Could I have a chat with you

and your husband, Mrs Faur?

- He was just leaving, Mrs Bird.

- Yes.

- But I want to know

about these government people.

- And last night I heard drums,

jungle drums.

- No, no, no.

- No, no, no.

- Not now, Mrs Bird. Please.

- They keep asking all sorts of

questions about you and your husband.

He's not a spy

or something, is he?

Of course not, Mrs Bird.

Georges. Oh, Mom, Dad!

- What's going on?

- Hello, darling.

- Hi. I'll speak to you later, Mrs Bird.

- How about the drums?

- Later.

- What?

I'll talk to you later.

- If you'd have called,

I would have prepared something.

- I made you something.

Since you never come visit these days,

I guess it's up to us.

Oh, no, it's not that.

Your father had to see someone.

- Hokey sort of entrance.

- Oh, it's lovely.

- This is Georges.

- Hello.

Hi.

A handyman.

- Oh.

- Ah.

- If you could just

finish up the work, Georges.

- Yeah. Right. I just finish my work.

- Oh, darling, it's beautiful.

- I know now why you were so excited.

- It's awfully small.

Did they sign

the big contracts, Dad?

- No. We're not gonna talk about that.

- Ah, did they sign the contracts?

No! They backed out. Liars!

- They lied to me.

- Dear, don't upset yourself.

- One thing I can't stand is a liar.

- You read your paper, dear.

We're gonna look

at the greenhouse. He's upset.

- Oh, yes.

- Oh, it is too beautiful to imagine!

- Do you want a hand, there, Georges?

- Oh, no, thanks.

I'm just... just measuring.

Oh. Measuring.

- She's had the baby already. Premature.

- Oh? Premature? What'd they name her?

Tiffany. Now they have a Tiffany

and a Tarquin.

- Thank you.

- Pretentious.

- Dear!

- Well, he's a pretentious writer too.

- Ho-ho.

Well, he is.

Well, don't you think so?

- You are in a bad mood.

- I need a screw.

- Pardon?

- I really need a screw.

- I thought you were leaving.

- I just fixed the door, but I need a...

I heard what you said.

In the cupboard under the sink.

I'm gonna help Georges.

He seems a bit lost.

Oh, you have to taste this.

Never mind your principles.

Taste this.

Let's get those orchids, Mom.

I'm sure you want to be on your way.

Oh, no, dear.

We're not in a hurry, not at all.

You're not really a handyman,

are you Georges?

- No. I'm a composer.

- Oh.

I used to be a cleaner

when I first started writing.

Long, long time ago.

We'd just got married...

against the wishes

of my parents, I might add.

Didn't have a bean.

We fell in love right off.

Oh, it was difficult,

very difficult.

But, yeah,

when you're in love, you know.

- Shipboard romance is what it was.

- Excuse me.

- Oh, I'll get it.

- No. It's okay. It's okay. No.

Bront, come here a minute.

What is this?

Thank you.

It was right in the middle

of a lifeboat drill.

We suddenly found ourselves

in the same boat.

- Shouldn't you be going, Georges?

- Now, you go on outside

with your mother. Outside.

- But?

- Georges and I have everything

under control.

Go on. Out you go.

We've been talking about music

and love and skiing...

and all manner of things,

haven't we, Georges?

- Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

- Sit down.

Oh, I like your Georges, Bront.

- A charming man.

- He's not my Georges, Mother.

- He should have left by now.

- Well, he's keeping your father happy.

And you know how restless

he gets in the city.

So let's be grateful.

Height, five feet seven.

- Five eight.

- Five eight.

- Weight, 140 pounds.

- No!

- Huh?

- No, 125.

- Twenty-five?

- Yeah.

Eyes?

- Brown.

- Brown, yeah.

- Small scar on your ankle.

- How did you know?

I know. I saw it.

Birthday, 24th August, 1959.

Correct. Okay, my turn.

Uh, eyes, green.

- Height...

- Nose, big!

- Oh, no!

- Yes, sure it is.

- Height, five eleven.

- Yeah.

Um, weight?

Oof! Weight!

You worry too much about weight.

- Um, at 17, you met Helene.

- Yeah.

She was at the University of Paris.

- She taught you to read and write music.

- Mm-hmm.

- And you lived together

for seven years, until she died.

- S-Seven. Seven years, yeah.

And then you gave up your music

for many years, right?

Yes, but I don't write any music.

I just play piano,

always in the bars.

Yes!

- And Anton heard you

one night in Paris...

- Yeah.

And said that he would help you

start over in America.

Yes! And I wake up in America.

Beautiful country, land of opportunity.

Uh-huh, ha, ha, ha.

Okay, back to work.

Um, you live with two men.

First Peter, then Stephen.

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