Red Is the Color of Page #3

Thanks for sharing.

Well, um, I promised

Stephen...

I'll come

by the gallery.

He wants to show some of my old work.

That's crazy.

I have to talk him

out of that.

I'd love to see some of your stuff.

Could I come by sometime?

Um-- Uh, yes.

Yes, sure.

Bye. Um-- It's the

Stephen Stevens Gallery.

David, you can tell her

how to get there.

So... you don't seem

like an unhappily married pair.

I never said we were.

Well, men give off

this vibe.

Women have special sensors

to read...

the "I'm looking to get out of

my miserable marriage" signal.

Why did you leave

your underwear here?

I forgot.

Women never forget

their underwear.

I did.

Uh-oh.

I've lost them again.

Oops.

Here they are.

Take them off.

It's... so realistic.

Yes. So I've heard.

That's not meant to be

derogatory in any way.

I didn't think it was.

I mean, the detail

is excruciating.

It's so like a--

- A photograph?

No, no. A Brueghel.

Rotten fruit

and insects?

Yes.

But the observation--

The humanity. The obsessive-compulsive

attention to detail.

Is this yours?

No.

- Oh.

Well, David, as I said,

I do like your work.

My art gallery deals

with cutting-edge work.

What's hot now, today.

Not yesterday.

Realism isn't now today,

but if it's now tomorrow,

I'll give you a call.

Not a good meeting?

- Mmm.

I'm just not...

now enough.

But you evidently are.

- What?

Carl's waiting

with open arms...

any time you're ready

to fly Stephen's coop.

No. Did he say that?

I can't believe

he said that.

Anyway, there are so many other

galleries out there, David.

You'll just

have to be patient.

It'll happen. It will.

- I'm sick of this f***ing scene.

David--

- I'm sick of this f***ing city!

It's gonna be all right.

- Don't take care of me.

I'm just trying to--

- Shut up!

Just let me think.

You said shut up to me.

I'm sorry.

- You said shut up to me.

I said I'm sorry, didn't I?

- Well, you never say shut up.

Mary, do--

F***.

You-- You want everything

to be nice and pretty.

Yes. I want--

What's wrong with that?

Let me tell you something.

Life's not always nice and pretty.

If you don't want sand in your eyes, then

goddamn it, don't step into a sandstorm.

Well, excuse me

for caring.

You're too big for Stephen.

- Oh--

I am not leaving Stephen.

Carl's a prick,

but he could double

your sales.

I'm not painting in blood anymore.

- What?

Mary.

Hold on a sec-- Mary.

I can't do it.

I just can't do it anymore.

David, don't look at me

like that.

I can't get a single goddamned

gallery interested in my work,

and you--

- And I walked.

Do you know

how much we owe?

Yeah, I'm finally breaking through,

I'm finally getting somewhere,

and you wanna

pull the plug.

It's not like

I'm giving up painting.

It's just that--

What's that?

Oh, sh*t. This sh*t is

driving me crazy.

What's wrong?

- Well,

it won't-- it won't sleep,

it won't eat.

I think I'm killing him.

- It's just a toy, okay?

Oh.

What's that?

- I think he vomited.

You're joking.

Real sweet.

He's barely out of the first grade,

and he's already got

some incurable disease.

David, don't press

all the buttons at once.

You'll-- You'll crush his circuits.

- Let me push!

Don't. You'll--

That's it.

Now where are you going?

My studio.

- Mm-hmm.

Isn't that what you want?

I'm going to paint a big bunch

of really big, bloody paintings,

and I'm going to sell them

for lots and lots of money,

and then we're going

to live happily ever after.

Since when

did you start drinking?

It's beer.

It's only beer.

Shut up!

Excuse me.

I was talking to him.

I was talking to our little... boy.

- Uh--

I was-- Not you.

Right.

- I was talking to-- I was talking to him.

Oh, man.

I'm drunk already.

Ms. Shaw?

Hi.

Fran... Pinkerton.

Oh. Um-- Oh.

I just wanted

to come by to apologize.

I didn't want you to think

that I was being deceitful or--

I totally thought

that you knew who I was.

It's all right.

No worries.

Um, I have someone

waiting for me, so, uh--

I read that article about

your suicide attempt,

and, well, when I was 14,

I tried it.

Same way, actually.

Well, I see it didn't work

for you either.

No. It didn't.

That's a good thing.

Yeah. I guess.

Mmm.

I-- I really have to go.

You could come by tomorrow

in the afternoon, if you like.

We could talk some more.

Oh, I would really

appreciate that. Yeah.

Okay. Bye-bye.

- Bye.

Hey, Mary, did I tell you that

I really, really loved your work?

About a dozen times

ever since we left the gallery.

Would you like

a glass of wine?

Ever since David stopped drinking,

we don't keep any hard stuff around.

Sober-- That's tedious.

No, actually,

it's much better like this.

Although he was what you

could call a happy drunk.

We had some fun times,

but, you know.

- What's he like in bed?

David?

I'm sorry.

Is that too personal?

Oh, well, you know, actually,

we are going through...

sort of a dry spell,

you know.

Well, you've been married--

What? Six years?

Desire ebbs and flows. It's natural.

- Right.

Unfortunately, mine is flowing

while his is ebbing.

In the beginning,

he couldn't keep his--

hands off of me.

I'm not surprised.

- Really? What do you mean?

You have a--

a compelling sexual aura.

That's a new one.

Compelling sexual aura.

Oh?

- Very compelling.

Hmm.

- To your compelling sexual aura.

Oh. Well, to my compelling

sexual aura.

All right, then.

Some munchies, huh?

Mmm.

- Mmm.

So you were saying about you

and David, how it's changed--

Oh, yes. I was

saying that, wasn't I?

Uh, in the beginning,

he practically devoured me.

It was almost obscene, the

way he'd look at me sometimes.

Like I was a piece

of raw meat.

Oh, I love that look.

Oh, no, no.

I didn't mean David.

No, I mean men. You know?

Like, my boyfriend Carlo--

He looks at me like that.

You should meet him.

We should get together,

all four of us.

That would be fun.

- Oh. Carlo.

What is he like?

- Oh, very Italian--

Mm-hmm.

- and very--

very passionate.

Absolutely adores me.

- Mm-hmm.

It's beginning to irritate the sh*t out of me.

- You're joking.

No, he's-- He's rich enough,

handsome enough,

intelligent, sexy,

generous, attentive--

All that.

- Sounds... perfect to me.

I like my men flawed, you know?

With an edge.

Women always say that,

but they--

they don't really mean it,

you know?

Nice and stable and devoted are not

such bad qualities in a man, after all.

I have to admit, it is gratifying to

be the center of someone's universe.

I am the sun. He is the moon.

Oh. David used to

make me feel like that.

He used to? What happened?

I think we stopped

trying to...

be what we thought

the other one wanted us to be.

And I stopped pretending

to like sex the way--

the way, uh,

he wanted me to.

Well, nobody should have to pretend.

- Mmm.

Is he a bore in bed,

or what?

Uh-- Ooh.

He wants me...

to hold still.

You know?

Not to move at all.

That's really f***ed up.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes