Manhattan Nocturne Page #7

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the elevator, could they?

Because it was under

20 feet of rubble.

What would they be

looking for?

It's just an elevator.

Yo! Throw the rope!

- What?

- Feel that?

Mm-hmm.

Why have you been

buying milk lately?

They're going to demolish this

tomorrow morning.

Well,

can we make it quick?

It's creepy in here.

All right?

Yeah. You know, I'm going

to wait downstairs.

- This is too weird.

- Here.

Caroline?

Come talk to me.

Why is this elevator

not working? I want

to go downstairs.

Hey, come. Come talk to me.

I'm your husband.

Come talk to us.

Why do you

have my horse?

It's an item of marital

interest, wouldn't you say?

This old treasure

is about 1,000 years old.

Your phone's not gonna work,

baby. I took out the sim card

at home

and put it under your pillow.

It's made of Jade,

from the zhang dynasty.

And it's worth about

$1.8 million, I found out.

So, obviously, Mr. hobbs

appreciates you.

He appreciated you with

his tongue, we know that.

He appreciates your little horse

story that you told him,

to give you a gift like this.

Made you feel like you have

a real daddy?

Made you feel safe, car?

Tell me the story.

I'm not telling you the story.

- It's locked.

- We're leaving.

No, we're here.

All the doors are locked, babe.

F***.

We are not leaving until

you tell me the story,

exactly the way

you told it to him.

Okay.

Well... I guess

we'll stay the night.

Seriously. I am prepared

to wait all night.

I have my milk.

And if you have not told me

the story by the morning,

we can be demolished

along with this building,

and our bodies can be

crushed by the rubble,

and we'll be

compressed into dust.

I'm never telling you

that f***ing story, okay?

Ever.

Jesus, what the f***

are you doing?

Well, I'm breaking

the expensive horse.

This key will

bring the elevator back.

So...

- Give me the key.

- Give me the story.

No. Just give me the key, Simon.

Actually, that's, um,

that's our postal box key.

This key is the one that unlocks

the padlock around your ankle.

How about that story now?

- I f***ing hate you.

- I f***ing love you.

The more you resist,

the harder it's going to be.

So, tell me the story.

No?

No?

Okay, 'cause of that, I'm going

to have to drink my milk here.

I've been practicing

drinking milk.

It'll help me swallow keys.

Son of a b*tch.

Don't swallow the key.

Please don't. Please.

Please stop.

So now you

control your fate.

Tell me the story, so I won't

send the elevator down,

because, if I send it down

to the basement,

there's no way for it to be down

there and you to still be here.

I'm not telling you the story.

Just stop this, please.

Last chance.

I'll start it for you.

When I was a little girl...

- Please don't.

- I really wanted a horse.

Just tell the story and I won't

push this button, okay?

I don't want

to tell the story.

No. Stop.

Sh*t, Simon, f***.

Is your pathetic story

really worth this?

No. No, please, stop.

Stop the elevator.

Tell me the f***ing story!

Why aren't you trying

to stop this thing?

Okay. When I was a little girl,

i really wanted a horse.

- Okay.

- I begged my stepdad for one

every day.

- F***ing stop.

- Too late. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.

- Ow!

Hi. Okay.

So, I rigged it to stop.

I thought for sure you would

tell me sooner.

Anyway, so, yes.

"My stepdad,

every day, I asked him," and?

Ah!

Jesus.

Oh.

- Oh, god.

Simon?

Please--

- hello.

- - Please tell me that you found the hobbs tape

- and that you returned it.

- I did.

What?

You did, really?

- Where was it?

- I'm sorry.

I can't talk now.

Well,

can we have breakfast?

I'd like that.

- Hi.

- Hi.

Have you been rolling

around in the mud?

It's a long story.

Well, I like

long stories.

Before you tell me

everything,

there is something

that I would like to show you.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

I've got some things

to show you, too.

It's beautiful.

What is it?

Don't lie to me now,

Caroline.

Simon threw it

and broke it.

Yes.

You used the padlock

from your ankle

to lock the basement door

so no one would find the body.

Porter--

did you know...

It was all on camera?

Every second.

Moment by moment.

This is a copy for you.

The original is somewhere

you will never find.

If you ever contact my wife

in any way--

I see.

Keep me in check.

Will you tell it to me?

The horse story?

When I was nine,

i really wanted a horse.

And my stepfather, Ron,

was not into giving me one.

And my mother was so powerless

in the relationship

that she didn't even bother

to argue for me.

As my birthday got closer,

i used to beg

and beg for that horse.

And every time I begged, Ron

would slap me across the face.

It would only make me

beg more the next day.

One night he came into my room

and he said, if I could keep his

visit a secret...

And if he could do

whatever he wanted,

then he would buy me

a horse for my birthday.

And this went on

for about a week.

And when my birthday rolled

around, there was no horse.

So, that night,

when he came into my room,

I told him that I was

going to go tell my mother

what he had been doing to me.

And he promised me that

he'd kept his end of the deal...

And that there would be a horse

waiting for me the next day.

Happy birthday, Caroline.

Here's your horse.

Why did you look

in the elevator?

I think you wanted

me to, Caroline.

Goodbye, Caroline.

Well, don't just go.

Say something to me.

Be well.

As well as you can be.

The ugliness of who

I've been and who I am now

is strongest when I get to see

my wife and children.

I never told Lisa the truth,

choosing instead to let her

imagine the worst of me.

I think she decided that

whatever was in me now

was dark and ugly

and better left where it was,

as long as it was not near her

and the kids.

What was I doing here?

Maybe because it made me

feel safer

to know Caroline

was far away from me,

as if I alone were

not responsible for the

wreckage to my marriage.

Maybe to see her

in her new life

would bring me

some kind of closure.

Maybe I'm just feeling

stupidly sentimental,

like the a**hole that I am.

As the old reporter told me

on my first day,

"it's all one story, kid.

It's all one big story."

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