Stuck in Love Page #4

writer can ask for.

That's enough to land

one of those

20-something trophy wives.

You've really thought

about this, huh?

Well, I care about you, Bill.

I know you love Erica,

but she married someone else,

and you have to start

thinking about your future

and whether or not you want

that to be a happy one.

Because I don't want

to jog by in five years

and find you waiting on

that lawn chair for me.

It's a very comfortable lawn chair.

Is it?

Just think about it.

Procreation. You give to the

next one down the line.

That's really all we've got.

Society, government,

money, religion,

careers, nuclear families,

monogamy.

These are all just highly creative

socially accepted delusions

that we impose on reality to try and gain

some semblance of control over our lives.

It gives us the illusion of choice.

It makes us feel a little

less like animals.

Animals. What do you mean?

Like evolution?

Yeah, evolution, exactly.

I do not believe

in evolution.

There's 400 billion stars

in the Milky Way alone,

making the amount of stars

in the entire universe

completely mind-boggling.

We are nothing.

If an asteroid hadn't hit Earth

65 million years ago

and wiped out all the dinosaurs,

we wouldn't be here.

Yeah.

I'm going to go.

Good. All you creationists do is

blow chances at getting laid.

Really.

Ooh, that was awkward.

You've really got

to stop stalking me.

I can't even go anywhere without

you showing up to annoy me.

Were you hitting on that guy?

It's none of your business.

I think he's a Mormon.

Well, what the hell

is he doing here?

Trying to find other Mormon girls.

I'm sure you corrupted him,

ruined his relationship with God.

You want to get out of here?

Do you have brain damage?

No. I think I made it pretty clear

that I have absolutely no

interest in going out with you.

No, no, no. You and I

are going to be friends.

But I don't want to be

friends with you.

Oh, you don't want to be.

Well, I'm going

to take your jacket

and you can follow me. We can

get some coffee if you'd like.

I need that...

jacket.

What are some of your

favorite books?

Is that really the angle

you're going to play?

Really? I thought you'd be

more creative than this.

Well, come on, we're writers, right?

Yeah.

Books matter to us. I mean,

come on here, please.

Fine, what are some

of your favorite books?

No, you can't do that.

I asked you.

Because you want to know

something personal about me.

If I tell you what

my favorite books are,

you'll say titles that will convince

me that we're soulmates,

or you'll latch onto one

of my favorites

and try to convince me it's

one of your favorites, too.

God, you're so tough.

It's why you're obsessed with me.

I'm not obsessed with you.

I'm like a unicorn to you.

You'll do or say anything

to possess me.

I'm not like that and

you're not like a unicorn.

Okay, well, then books.

But please, at least

attempt to be interesting.

No Catcher in the Rye or

Portnoy's Complaint, okay?

Well, I write mysteries, so...

I love Elmore Leonard,

James Lee Burke,

Ed Brubaker.

Who's Ed Brubaker.

He writes an incredible, hard-boiled

crime comic called Criminal.

Telling me that you

read comic books

isn't exactly sweeping

me off my feet.

What's your favorite book?

Just say the first thing

that pops into your head.

Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary.

Been my favorite

since I was a kid.

Read it, like, 100 times.

It's actually what made me

want to be a writer.

Hey, is something wrong?

I have to go.

Well, what... what do you mean?

Did I do something?

I have to go.

Samantha.

Samantha, wait. Come on. What?

What do you want from me?

What do you mean what

do I want from you?

I like you.

I want to get to know you better.

No.

Why do you keep running away?

Because this...

whatever this is between us,

it can't go any further.

I won't let it. We're not

even in the same species.

Is Dear Mr. Henshaw

your favorite book, too?

I don't do this, Lou.

No.

No, of course not.

You just give yourself away

to a**holes with infinitely

lower IQs than yours.

F***.

Hi.

Hi.

Is your dad here?

Uh, no...

Well, when is he

going to be back?

I don't know. Maybe

a couple of hours.

Why?

I want to give you

your Christmas present.

Um, okay.

Merry Christmas.

Oh... awesome.

Come with me.

Where are we going?

To the closet.

Wait, why the closet?

Why not on the bed?

Can we open it?

Because you've

never had sex,

and I've never had sex

in a closet.

You'll remember me and

you'll remember this moment

and that makes me

very, very happy.

Oh, f***.

Hi.

How's she feeling?

She's okay.

You should go see her.

How you feeling?

Not too bad.

Don't bullshit me.

I'm like a no bullshit detector here.

I'm fine.

Shut up and read to me.

Okay.

"Dalie Hallie couldn't tell

if she felt huge or small.

"She wondered whether

her head

"were so big as to be able to

contain all this starry universe...

"or if the universe were so

little that it would fit

"within the compass

of her human head. "

Lou?

Do you see that angel by the door

or am I the only one seeing her?

Oh, that... that's definitely

not an angel, Mom.

Hi.

Hi.

Hi. What are you doing here?

Oh, same thing

you're doing, I hope.

Don't be suspicious.

I'm getting a laptop for Samantha.

In fact, I got to pick out a color.

Why don't you come?

I don't know.

Excuse me.

Huh?

What don't you know?

I don't know if it's

a good idea, Bill.

It will take ten minutes.

I'd love to.

Yeah.

Yeah?

Yeah, I love to.

I'm glad I bumped into you.

I'm sure that's

what all stalkers say.

No, really.

I've been thinking a lot

about what you said.

Really?

Mm-hmm.

Somebody else said

the same thing recently.

Someone else asked you to stop

hanging around their house at night?

About moving on with my life.

Who was that?

Tricia Wolcott.

Lives about a mile and

a half down the beach.

Yeah, I remember her.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I always suspected

you had a crush on her.

Yeah, she's very pretty.

She's very married, as I recall.

You're seeing her?

I think I'm a good way

for her to kill an hour

after she drops her

kids off at school.

An hour?

An hour.

So she thinks you need to

stop moping around, too, huh?

Something like that.

Here's a confession.

I'm not a great writer.

I'm a great re-writer.

I think about us.

Our story and...

and all the things that

went wrong with us

and I... I could do it so

much better this time.

I haven't written anything

since you left.

Bill...

you've had two books published.

Well, they were books that I

started when we were married.

I finished them, but I haven't

written anything new.

You are a great writer.

Don't waste all your

imagination on me.

Which way are you...

I'm over here.

I'm the other way.

It was great running into you.

You, too.

Bill...

I have... I have days when I'm not

sure if I made the right decision.

I have bad days, too.

I don't know why I'm saying this.

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