The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them Page #6

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has been something just to run my mind

as far as f*** away from as I can get,

and...

A shooting star only lasts a second,

but... aren't you glad

to at least have seen it?

That's nice.

It's a little Hallmark,

but it's nice.

I mean it, it's nice.

You have a delicate soul, Dad.

Oh, nobody ever said that to me before.

You know, we're in imminent danger

of sappiness.

- Oh, we can't have that, can we?

- Mmm-mmm.

- You hungry?

- Yeah.

- I'll fix you something up.

- OK.

"All the lonely people,

where do they all come from?"

Hmm?

That's the Beatles song

you were named after.

Ah...

Three Splendas.

Wow, full service.

Want me to come down there

or you want to join me in here?

I think I'm gonna leave your class.

You're breaking up with me.

So this is what heartbreak feels like.

You never had your heart broken?

Only read about it in books.

Liar.

Sure.

You know, you don't have to tell me

this. You could've just not shown up.

I just got to get out of here.

"Here"?

- The tri-state area.

- Oh.

You know, they say

that if you walk away from things,

then you'll just keep walking away.

Start a whole history of walk-aways.

Did that sound

as lame as I thought it did?

No.

Good, 'cause I don't have a f***ing clue

as to how life should be lived.

Well, could you refer me

to someone who does, please?

Yeah.

I had a dog... Miles.

I got him from a pound.

He did it pretty well.

Lived every day

like he won the lottery.

Where's Miles when we need him?

Somewhere in Pennsylvania.

Took him on a road trip,

trying to be all Travels with Charley.

As soon as we hit the open countryside,

he starts jumping up and down

like he picked up a scent

or found something

he'd always been looking for.

Let him out.

He hightails it,

chasing the sun to nowhere.

He ran away?

Mmm-hmm.

I imagine he's happy

wherever he wound up.

Hooked up with some Amish people.

Lives on a dairy farm.

It's possible.

I have a colleague at NYU.

From my days of working

with your dad there.

Teaches anthropology at the

American University in Paris,

does some work

at the Musee du Quai Branly.

I can make a phone call.

Send him that dissertation

you started on.

Want half a bagel?

No, I'm good, I'm good.

You getting enough to eat?

You're starting to sound maternal.

Oh, that would be a first.

When's the last time you got

to talk to your son?

Some holiday too long ago.

Is it sad that I don't remember?

Probably.

I should call, shouldn't I?

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

Now you sound maternal.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hey.

Do I seem like

a different person to you?

You look the same to me.

I'm sorry.

For what?

For disappearing.

We'll never get to where we were.

Where was that?

Someplace good.

Yeah.

Tell me what you're thinking.

I forgot what he looked like.

Sometimes I'll get a glimpse

of his eyes or...

...the way he'd smile at me

from his crib.

But then he'll vanish.

I can't picture his face.

I can't picture his face anymore.

He was pale.

He frowned a lot.

He had your eyes, he had your nose,

he had your... your lips,

he had your cheeks.

El, he was all you.

He was the most beautiful thing

I've ever seen.

I wasn't prepared

for what this feels like.

I know. Neither was I.

I love you.

I know.

- How's it coming?

- It's coming.

There's a great cafe

called Le Cafe

at the Rue Tiquetonne that

a lot of artsy fartsies go to.

Your mother and I used to go there

when we visited her parents.

I met Jean-Marie Le Clezio there once,

before he won his Nobel.

Cool.

And you should get

some of those big French macaroons

at Laduree

in Saint-Germain.

Call me when you do...

...and I will live

vicariously through you.

I will. Thanks.

I lost you in the ocean once.

What?

I lost you in the ocean once.

We had rented a house

at Ditch Plains Beach on Montauk,

when you could afford Montauk.

You were about two.

Your mother was pregnant with Katy,

and I took you down swimming

one afternoon.

Not a lot of people down there.

I...

I waded out...

...holding you.

Thinking, at one point,

"This might not be the best idea."

But you were game.

Or I imagined that you were game

because you never, ever seemed scared.

Of anything.

The Atlantic is moody,

and a big set of waves snuck in.

We made it under the first one.

You were clinging to my neck.

But we got caught

in front of the second.

And I came up without you.

I have never felt anything like that.

The throes of that

stupid couple seconds,

treading the white water.

And then, miraculously, I...

...felt you at my feet.

I never told your mother.

I never told anyone.

That was the worst

and the best moment of my life.

OK.

- Is this ready?

- Yeah.

- I'll be downstairs in a bit.

- OK.

What have you got?

Chardonnay.

- It's good? Hmm?

- Hmm.

Mmm.

You know I'm full of sh*t, right?

Depends on the day.

But you know that I love you, hmm?

Say good-bye to Auntie Em, OK?

OK.

Good-bye, chickadee.

You make sure that they behave, OK?

- OK.

- OK, kiss.

What time is it in France?

Um, it is past your bedtime.

Why?

Don't be a stranger.

I won't.

I don't want to go to bed.

It's still light out.

You don't have to go to bed, sweetie.

Be good, OK? I'll be back.

When is Auntie Em coming back?

She'll be back next summer.

Hey, guys, I'm gonna go take a stroll

before the rush, OK?

- OK.

- OK.

Aren't you worried about

these 15 people in that section?

What are we going to do with them?

Um, you know what we do is we

open up this back room here...

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