The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them Page #5

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OK, OK, yeah, yeah.

This is what you want?

- Is that a joke?

- No, they're really going at it.

- That doesn't sound so good to me.

- We're not quite open yet.

I was third in my class at the New York

Academy of Culinary Arts, you fuckhead.

I know that, a**hole.

Then cut the sh*t.

Hey.

I love our little set-up here.

I do.

But the lease has gotten

prohibitively expensive,

and unless you want

to camp out in the kitchen...

Yeah. I'll bring the sleeping bags.

Just... time to let go.

Time to grow up.

I am grown up.

- I am.

- Fine.

When do we call it quits?

End of next week.

Can we have one last banger

before we close shop?

Yeah.

Can we abuse some heavy narcotics?

- Whatever tickles your thing.

- Good.

I'm sorry.

- Blow me.

- OK.

Yeah, it's amazing.

So you're well?

I'm OK.

- Good.

- Yeah.

I'm just painting and here,

you know, that same stuff.

- Eat me.

- Hey, hey, hey.

Sorry.

Holy Shatner.

Nice to see you, too, Stuart.

Well, this is nice.

Like old times, reconnecting and all.

- I'm gonna go to the kitchen.

- Yeah.

I will join you.

Shirley Temple?

Please.

What do I owe you?

Your money's no good here.

You know that.

OK.

Business is good?

It's great.

We're closing.

- I'm sorry.

- Yeah.

Yeah, me, too.

So, what's next?

I don't know.

I thought I might...

develop some interests in things

that people actually take

an interest in.

You gonna work with your dad?

Hmm?

You know, before you,

I had no idea who I was.

Then when we were together,

I thought I had it all figured out.

Now I'm just back to wondering again.

Well, when you figure it out,

tell me how, OK?

OK.

- Let's get out of here.

- What?

Let's go.

- Right now?

- Yeah. That's the idea.

OK.

Yeah, uh...

Don't forget to fill it up

before you drop it off.

You got it.

- That.

- What are you doing?

Do you want to listen to that?

Yeah. Suck it up, Ludlow.

Is it gonna rain?

F*** me!

Ah...

Of course, we get the car

with the retarded wipers.

We could just wait it out.

What are we doing here?

You tell me. You're the one who said

that we needed to talk.

You stalked me,

you went to my parents' house.

What are we doing here?

Just recently, like an hour ago,

you walked into my bar

and you suggested we drive aimlessly

into the perfect f***ing storm here.

This is funny.

Yeah.

Yeah, it's f***ing hilarious.

You know, for a while there,

I thought we'd actually pieced together

a pretty decent life.

I have to move everything

out of the apartment next week.

Do you want me to

keep anything for you?

Where will you move to?

I don't know.

I could stay with my dad

for a little while,

- until I get things figured out.

- How is he?

Oh...

I'm pretty certain he's losing his mind.

- Fernanda left him. Yeah.

- Oh.

He's getting all talkative.

Waxing philosophical.

Same sh*t he pulls every time

he's between significant others.

I think it's probably more than that.

Yeah, maybe.

- At least you guys are talking.

- Yeah.

What did you tell your parents about us?

What would I say?

That we're fabulous.

I feel like we're living

some dreadful disaster clich.

We are.

You're sopping wet.

Oh, you noticed? Thank you.

- Wait...

- No, no, no, no.

No, wait, wait.

Just a second, wait.

Shh.

Sh*t.

I slept with someone else.

I'm sorry.

It doesn't matter.

What do you mean, it doesn't matter?

Get off me.

Don't, El...

- Come on.

- Get off.

What do you mean, it doesn't matter?

Get over yourself, Conor.

- You don't care?

- No.

That's bullshit. I know you care.

El, you're supposed to say,

"What the f*** are you thinking, Conor?"

You're supposed to say,

"You're a selfish piece of sh*t."

No.

We're past that.

And you just said it for me.

Come on, let's go back to the city.

I'm gonna get out of here.

- Ma'am?

- Yes?

You're a dick.

And you look like ass.

Thank you.

Where were you last night?

Do you want to take a load off?

I come here on breaks.

One of the librarians

advocates a whole nap philosophy.

Nap philosophy?

Yeah, naps throughout the day, like,

help with productivity and stuff.

Mmm.

If you want to read this.

What?

I was hoping you could read my mind.

Wouldn't that be nice?

You want to do something stupid

this weekend?

Yeah. I'm the queen

of doing something stupid.

What are you thinking?

Get bent, take a train into the city,

save the world.

When did you become an idealist?

A couple seconds ago.

I have a date

with the dentist this weekend.

It's OK. He can be our third wheel.

- You like drinks?

- Yeah.

Yeah, I'll have a drink.

- Should we get, like...

- A shot?

- Three shots?

- Tequila.

A round of tequila.

I feel old!

- What?

- I feel...

I feel old!

Me, too!

Cheers.

What's your name?

I'm good, thanks.

Oh, wait.

Wait... No, wait, wait, wait.

- What? What?

- Wait.

What is it?

Uh...

Did I hurt you?

No, no.

What is it?

You're a stranger.

So are you.

You ever have that moment where you

know you're doing something stupid,

but you do it anyway?

Yeah, every day.

What? Come on.

- No.

- Come on.

Stay there.

- I'm gonna go.

- No, don't go.

- Don't.

- Oh, Jesus.

Just stay for a minute.

Really?

Sorry.

Where to?

Uh...

Just make a loop around the city.

Got a destination?

Eventually.

Hey, Phoebe.

- Hey, how are you?

- How are you?

Good. Your hair got long.

- Not really.

- Yeah.

He's in his spot.

You could make this place your own,

if you want.

Do what you like with it.

Seriously, I...

I'm done.

Used to be pretty cool,

once upon a time.

Some of the same faces still show up,

except more wrinkled.

Some of them less so.

The Stones were in last week

after playing the Garden,

but... mostly people

are just fading away.

I've been doing this way too long.

I think you've done pretty good.

Yeah, well... complacency scares

the sh*t out of me.

- Yeah?

- Mmm-hmm.

Then how's this?

I forfeited the loan the bank gave me,

I'm losing the lease on my bar,

Eleanor's gone with the f***ing wind.

I'm 33 years old,

and my life's a f***ing boat wreck.

I'm in my 60s.

I lost a grandson this year that

I'm basically forbidden to talk about.

My third wife just walked out on me,

and I come here every afternoon to this

restaurant named after your mother.

It's time to shoot the crow.

Where are you gonna go?

You gonna fly off to Never-Never Land?

Become a Buddhist?

What are you doing here, anyway?

I was...

I was just in the neighborhood.

"Just in the neighborhood."

What is it?

Do you ever wonder why we fall in love

with a specific person?

Not really.

I think to myself,

"Something's wrong here, but I can't

quite put my finger on what it is."

There's always one that haunts us.

So give her time.

It's the right thing to do,

given the circumstances.

- Circumstances suck.

- Yeah.

I really forbid you

from talking about him?

Uh-huh.

What the f*** are you gonna say to me?

Ever since he...

Ever since what happened happened,

any thought or memory of him

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