Interiors Page #7

I happen to think you're a

very impressive person.

I think you have very impressive feet.

And I happen to think you're very drunk.

Come on. Not yet.

Yes. Thank you.

We are gathered together here,

in the presence of this company,

to join this man and this woman

in the bonds of matrimony.

Arthur, will you have this

woman as your wedded wife,

to live together in the ordinances

and the state of matrimony?

Will you love her, comfort

her, honor and keep her,

in sickness and in health,

and forsaking all others,

keep you only unto her

so long as you both do live?

I will.

Pearl, will you have this

man as your wedded husband,

to live together in the ordinances

and the state of matrimony?

Will you love him, comfort

him, honor and keep him,

in sickness and in health,

and forsaking all others,

keep you only unto him

so long as you both do live?

I will.

Inasmuch as Arthur and Pearl

have consented together in wedlock,

and have witnessed the same

before this company,

and thereto have pledged, each to the other,

and have declared the same

by joining of hands,

I, in accordance with the authority

vested in me by the State of New York

pronounce that they are husband and wife.

You may kiss the bride.

Well, Arthur, friends...

Congratulations.

Jesus, I don't think I've ever

seen him dance before in his life.

Okay, don't forget.

Let me get you some champagne.

Come on, baby.

My!

Jesus Christ! Be careful!

- You've had too much to drink.

- I'm not drunk.

Just because I don't act like an animal.

That's enough.

Please, just leave me alone!

What?

Frederick, you're drunk.

Come on. You're always flirting with me.

No.

Yes.

You flirt. You like to be looked at.

Otherwise you don't exist,

except in somebody else's eyes.

Stop it, Frederick. You're drunk.

No, I'm celebrating.

You've got a new mother. She's a hot number.

Can't you feel the heat?

Come on.

It's been a long time since I made love

to a woman I didn't feel inferior to.

Or am I being tactless?

Mother?

Is that you?

You shouldn't be here.

Not tonight.

I'll take you home.

You look so strange and tired.

I feel like we're in a dream together.

Please don't look so sad.

It makes me feel so guilty.

I'm so consumed with guilt.

It's ironic,

because

I've cared for you so,

and you have nothing but disdain for me,

and yet I feel guilty.

I think you're

really too perfect

to live in this world.

I mean, all the

beautifully furnished rooms,

carefully designed interiors,

everything so controlled.

There wasn't any room for

any real feelings.

None.

Between any of us.

Except Renata,

who never gave you the time of day.

You worship Renata.

You worship talent.

Well, what happens to those

of us who can't create?

What do we do? What do I do when I'm

overwhelmed with feelings about life?

How do I get them out?

I feel such rage toward you!

Mother,

don't you see?

You're

not just a sick woman.

That would be too easy.

The truth is,

there's been perverseness,

and willfulness of attitude

in many of the things you've done.

At the center of a sick psyche,

there is a sick spirit.

But I love you.

And we have no other choice

but to forgive each other.

Are you talking to someone?

Yes.

I thought I heard voices.

Mother?

- Yes?

- What?

You said "Mother," and I said "Yes."

Mother?

Mother!

Mother!

After the funeral service

we all returned to the beach house.

I couldn't help experiencing

some very nostalgic memories.

Naturally, of my mother,

and pleasantly, of the few

warmer moments we'd known.

I recalled how beautiful she was,

dressing to go out for the

evening with my father,

and of how Renata looked up to her

and her ideas about art,

and how Flyn was so impressed as a tiny girl

when Mother decorated a Christmas tree.

I felt compelled

to write these thoughts down.

They seemed very powerful to me.

The water's so calm.

Yes.

It's very peaceful.

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