Stuck in Love Page #2

I'm guessing you don't

want to read the new one?

F*** no.

Never?

No, thank you.

I brought you a hard copy.

Really?

Yeah.

I was going to sign it

for you if you wanted,

or not... but maybe?

Leave it on my desk.

Wait... can I ask you a question

without you getting defensive?

What?

Rusty told me Martin called the

cops on a prowler the other night.

Dad, you've got to stop doing this

to yourself. It's been two years.

She's coming back. You're

completely delusional.

And what's with setting

a place for her at the table?

That's f***ing nuts. You

know they're fighting again?

And where did you see that?

Through their window?

Really? People get arrested

for doing things like that.

You're a well

respected novelist.

You've won the PEN

Faulkner Award twice.

You can't behave like that.

She's coming back.

Jesus, at least tell me

you've been writing.

Look at what you've let

her do to you, Dad.

Seriously.

Hey. What are you working on?

It's a poem for English class.

Sorry about earlier.

I was being a dick.

It's okay.

Yeah, you were right.

I was just jealous.

I really am happy for you.

It's awesome.

You're going to have a book

published one day, too, you know.

Sure, I know.

Jason hooked me up

with some weed.

Roof?

Got your eye on any girls this year?

Yeah, there's this girl...

Kate, in my English class.

Every time I see her,

I hear that song,

the Beatles' song, "I've Just Seen a

Face," playing in my head.

God, you are so pathetic.

At least I know I'm pathetic.

Let me give you some advice.

I can't wait to hear your advice.

It's so friggin' awesome.

There are two kinds

of people in this world.

Hopeless romantics and realists.

Right.

A realist just sees that face

and packs it in with every other

pretty girl they've ever seen before.

The hopeless romantic

becomes convinced

that God put them on Earth

to be with that one person.

But there is no God,

and life is only as meaningful as you

fool yourself into thinking it is.

Guys who get laid

a lot are realists.

You should be listening.

Just avoid love at all costs.

That's my motto.

You never been in love?

If love is setting a place at the table

for someone who is never coming home,

I think I'll pass.

That's f***ing depressing, Sam.

Making students read their poetry

assignments in front of the class

is a sadistic exercise

in public humiliation.

You could have already been

done with it by now, Rusty.

Okay, okay, okay.

Just' read it.

Um, okay, this is a poem I

wrote over Thanksgiving break.

Uh... It's called School.

It was written under the

influence of cannabis.

Okay, um... In the sea

of... This is so awkward.

Uh...

"In the sea of desks, there's

talk of games and bags

"and long pipes that leak dreams

with the strike of a match.

"And there's a loudness

to the whispers I hear.

"Whispers shouldn't be

that loud, should they?

"There's a girl over there

who everyone knows

"and men without ears who will

stand by the door for a price.

"In long hallways, there are

angry mobs of dwarves and rats

"and one single angel. "

Hey, Rusty. Hi.

Hi. Hi, I, um...

I liked your poem.

Yeah?

Yeah, it was really good.

Thanks.

Sure.

How was your Thanksgiving?

Oh, it was good.

It was a little weird.

My parents are divorced,

sol have two Thanksgivings

in one Thanksgiving.

It's just, like, strange.

How about you?

It was just boring. Whatever.

That's cool.

Yeah.

Kate.

I have to go.

I just wanted to say I

liked your poem, so...

Bye.

All right.

Who the f*** is that?

Just a guy from class.

F***ing a**hole.

Hi.

I literally have 20 minutes,

so it will have to be quick.

Come on.

Let's go.

Did you stretch?

Come on.

Just a second.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, make it rain.

Yeah.

Yeah.

To the left.

To the...

yeah.

Yes!

All right, I got to run.

Thursday, be ready.

Yes, Sarah.

Hey!

Hey!

Goddamn it!

What are you doing?

You scared me.

I caught you.

You're reading my journal.

You promised you'd never

read our journals.

Sorry. I trusted you, Dad.

I'm sorry. That pisses

me off so much.

I'm sorry. It's an

invasion of privacy.

Rusty, I... I... I... Sit down for

a second. Let me explain.

No, I'm not going

to sit down.

Okay, okay. I wasn't

reading your journal.

I... I flipped it open to check

the dates like I always do

and something

jumped out at me

and-and-and grabbed me.

I'm sorry, okay?

I'm sorry.

What?

May I?

"I remember that it hurt.

"Looking at her hurt. "

That's it.

If that was the opening line of a book,

you'd have your reader hooked.

They would have to keep reading.

I had to keep reading. Sorry.

Flattery is not going

to get you out of this.

No, no, that's coming

to an end right now.

You know Flannery O'Connor?

I know Flannery O'Connor.

She said nothing needed to happen in

a writer's life after they were 20.

By then, they had experienced

more than enough

to last their creative life. So?

So what's your point?

My point is...

Sit down for a second, please.

Rusty...

I don't think you're

experiencing enough.

I mean, the reason that you're comfortable

leaving your goddamn journal on my desk

is because there's nothing you're

trying to hide from me in your life.

And that really worries me, you know?

Sweet, sensitive guys like you, they

spend their entire high school years

frozen in place while...

everybody is running around

going to parties

and getting laid, doing whatever.

I don't want you to look back

years from now

and think about this girl.

Is it Kate? Yeah.

Tell this girl how you feel.

Put your heart on the line.

It's not that easy.

It is, too. It is, too.

Look at your sister.

You can...

Hey!

You can roll your eyes

all you want.

Your sister is a great writer.

And it's because she's

courageous in her life.

She's promiscuous, Dad.

It's not the same thing.

Rusty, a writer is the sum

of their experiences.

Go get some.

It will be fun.

Come on. This is crazy.

What are we doing here, man?

Everyone hates us.

Not tonight, they don't.

Not tonight.

What?

Uh, we're here for the party.

What party?

Dude, come on man. I'm, like,

in three classes with you.

F*** off.

Okay, but...

what are going to do

with all this weed?

I was just playing, man.

Come on.

Really? Yeah. Come on in.

Hey! Hey, my boys...

Wait.

What's your name?

Rusty.

This is Jason.

Hey, my boys Rusty and Jason just

brought us a shitload of weed.

Your name is Rodney, right?

Hey, man, Rodney.

What's up?

You make sure with Jason that

everybody gets some, okay?

Where you going?

I'm going to go find

my friend, Kate.

Which chick?

Oh, they still upstairs!

Dude, who are you?

I'm a new and improved

Rusty Borgens.

This is Sam. Leave me a

message after the beep.

Come on, Glen.

Glen, open the door.

I've been waiting for ten minutes.

Come on.

Could I have a f***ing

second please?

No, I can't give you a f***ing second.

I'm in pain.

Shut the f***ing door!

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