The Dust Storm Page #4

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bathroom this weekend.

- Is that what you think of me?

You know, and then not answering

doesn't make it better.

- You know what

I hate about you?

- What, that you

think I'm a whore?

- That I love you!

- You haven't seen me in seven

years, you don't know me.

- I know how destroyed

I was the last time,

and I hate, I hate

that I love you again.

- You're drunk.

- I hate knowing that if this

all ends, that you'll be fine.

You'll just go back home,

you'll walk into the old bar,

and you'll wake up with one of

those plaid-wearing dirtbags

leaning against the pool table,

he'll come up and buy a drink,

follow you back to your place,

you'll take off your pants,

but you're too insecure

to take off your top.

And I don't know

what hurts me more,

knowing that you'll

be thinking about me

or that you won't be.

Nora, wait.

- No, f*** that.

- Look, you're upset.

- Oh, yeah, you're

f***ing observant.

- Let's just cool off.

- F*** you!

- We should probably get up.

- Why?

- Because the

alarm is going off.

- I didn't set an alarm.

- It's noon.

- No, I just, I'm hungover.

I've been hungover

for like a week now.

I don't really know

what to say about that.

Maybe...

Yeah, maybe, we'll see.

I better go, okay.

Yeah, you too, bye.

- I, uh, picked them myself,

well, I didn't pick

them, you know.

- Yeah, well,

they're interesting.

Oh, and a card.

- Yeah.

- Thank you.

- You're welcome.

- You sure you don't

want something?

- Bleh, no.

I still feel queasy.

Looking at you

makes me feel sick.

- Hey.

- Not you, the food.

- Is that better?

- No, no, no don't eat me.

- Ah!

Gross, I don't eat meat.

I think I blacked

out last night,

but I remember us fighting.

- We weren't fighting,

we were arguing.

Disagreeing if you will.

- Oh.

Okay.

- So you leave tomorrow?

- I don't want to talk about it.

- It's our last night.

- So let's not waste it.

Come on.

Ha, come up here.

- I'll fall.

- Uh, I don't think

the crash'll hurt.

Come on.

- White flamingo?

- It's all they had.

- You're trying to

murder my liver?

- How romantic is

dying together?

- It's not as romantic

as living together.

- Fine, I will be

your opening act.

- Whoa, did you just

ask me to move in?

- Yeah, yeah I did.

- Haha, I do not know how you

get me to do these things.

Okay, get me a ukelele.

- What, pull it

out of my pocket?

All right.

Sounds fall from the dark

Lights spray across the room

Well, I'm a good cook,

but moderately messy,

with multiple cats.

- Aren't you a bit young

to be a crazy cat lady?

- I have four.

You are not a cat

lady until eight.

- Oh really, because seven

seems a little creepy to me.

- It does.

Do you know your friends

as well as I know mine

Can we escape

if only one time

Fall by the seaside

Get lost in the current

Wishing I fly, wishing I fly

- Hey, do you still

have Meatball?

- Yeah, aw.

She's a little temperamental,

mostly schizo, but I love her.

Even though she smells.

- Bathing her doesn't help.

- Um, no.

- By the way,

that cat was an a**hole.

Emory Blaine, 1931.

Beloved by his wife, Emily.

Beloved by his murderer, Emily,

who poisoned his

oatmeal one night

because she secretly feared

he was having an affair

with Katherine Johnson,

whom she also...

- Yeah, but he got her back.

- By haunting her

everyday for five years

until she went crazy and

jumped from a window.

- What?

Have some respect.

- Sorry.

- You know, sometimes I see

ghosts of ex-boyfriends.

I'll wake up, in the

middle of the night,

and they'll be standing

at the edge of my bed

in the shadows, watching me.

- They're not dead.

- No, but when I

finally do wake up,

I have to text

them to make sure.

- That's gotta be

an awkward text.

Hey, it's me, long time,

by any chance did you die?

If so, did you

haunt me last night?

- Vodka.

Makes letting them go harder.

- I never got a text, so

I guess you never saw me.

- I did.

Two days ago in Nashville.

- Whatcha doing?

- Self-deprecating.

- About what?

- Being 30.

I'm drunk, in a house of

judgment and forgiveness,

so I thought I would

evaluate my life choices

as I approach 30.

- 30 is still young.

- Not if I want to have kids.

If I want three,

I gotta start now.

- Oh, are you propositioning me?

- No, I was talking.

- I know, I was just kidding.

- Yeah, well you have

the freedom, as a guy,

to kid about that,

because truth be told

you can be 50, decide

you want a kid,

and knock up some young girl.

- Yeah, I'm sure

that's easy to do.

- I don't know why I'm

thinking about this.

The future is scary.

It's heavy.

You know, I'm the only one back

home who doesn't have a kid.

- Yeah, but you've got a job,

one that you actually enjoy.

In this economy that's

very impressive.

- Everyone thinks David and

I are gonna get married.

I get to go home and

destroy that image.

I'll figure it all out tomorrow.

- Tomorrow?

- I'll fly home, quit drinking,

go to the gym, and

then make a plan.

- Don't you think it was fate

that we ran into each other?

- Yeah.

- So?

- So.

- What about us?

- I'll fly into the rain and

you'll fly into the snow.

- It doesn't snow in July.

- I feel like it

always snows there.

- What did you do to me?

- Nothing.

- Yeah, but everything.

Last time it took me a

year to get over you.

365 days with your face tattooed

on the back of my eyelids.

And all the time, my

brain going crazy,

wondering who you're

with, what you're doing,

whether you're happy.

- You do remember that you

broke up with me last time?

- You forced me to.

- Oh, yes, I put a

gun to your head,

and I said, Brennan,

please, please dump me.

- We were living on a lifeboat

that was slowly sinking.

If I didn't get off,

we were gonna drown.

- I don't remember ever

going to the ocean.

- I was being metaphorical,

and we did go once.

- Brennan, let's not do this.

- What?

- Get all intense and sh*t.

Not now, not tonight.

I just want to live

in this moment.

- Don't sigh like that.

- When you get

scared, all right,

you think about the future

but you don't want

to talk about it,

that's a contradiction.

- You're not an

open book yourself.

You get scared, too.

Why?

Because the future is

f***ing unpredictable

and it is scary as hell.

Yes, I'm complicated.

I'm f***ed up, I'm screwed up.

But you walked away last

time because of this fear.

You got terrified and you

couldn't handle the pressure

because it was

too tough for you.

You quit singing because of it.

Are you happy at your job?

Are you happy at your job?

- No.

- Do you want to be a singer?

- I don't know.

- Do you want to be a singer?

- I don't know.

- Do you want to be a singer?

- I don't know, I don't know.

- Do you want to be a singer?

- Yes!

- Then stop being a

f***ing p*ssy, Brennan.

Stop getting frightened

and work for what you want,

even if it's gonna be

f***ing awful at times.

- Well, what about you?

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