The Last Word Page #5
when they eventually die or...
No. No.
I'm really good with
where I'm at right now.
Oh, no.
What?
No. No, no.
This is not healthy,
for you to lie while you're...
I know it's not
technically a date,
but don't lie at the
beginning of a relationship.
Harriet, wha...
What are you doing?
What are you doing here?
I am...
Did she tell you
she wants to be a writer?
Yes, she is a writer.
No, no. A real writer.
She wants to be an essayist.
Harriet, don't do that.
An essayist is someone
who has a unifying
view, a worldview.
Tell me something, Anne,
what is your...
What are your collection
of essays saying?
I don't know.
Well, I don't believe you.
Do you believe her?
You know what, Anne,
let's get out of here.
No, no. Ms. Sherman,
I really am just
looking for an answer.
What is it that you want
to say in your essays?
Nothing. I don't want
to say anything.
I have nothing
interesting to say.
Oh, that's such bullshit.
Harriet, knock it off.
No. Mmm-mmm.
Don't you protect her like
some kind of wounded animal.
No, no. If she wants
to be a writer,
she has got to learn
to express her mind.
You don't have to listen
to any of this, Anne.
No, don't listen.
He's right.
Don't listen. Go back in your
little bubble. No problem.
Man, what is your problem?
Ambition neutered
by self-doubt.
Desire.
Desire. Desire is what
my essays are about.
It's, um...
It's, uh... They're about
the sacrifice that we make
in order to fulfill our desires.
I'm so sorry I asked.
Oh, f*** off. All right.
Oh, life! I see some life!
You bait me into
talking about sh*t
that I don't want to talk about
and then when I talk
about it, you mock me!
What's wrong with you?
Why don't you calm down?
I just want to understand
what is in your essays
and what you're trying to do.
They're just so very
precious it seems.
Oh, really? Are they?
I... I need. I yearn.
I long. I deserve.
Oh... And the world,
the world is so much
harder than you've dreamed.
And my trophies...
I don't have any trophies.
I was supposed to get trophies.
You know, in hindsight,
this all makes some sense.
Oh, really? Go ahead.
Should be good.
I think you're trying
and you haven't got a goddamn
idea of the subject matter.
Go f*** yourself, Harriet.
So, uh...
Did you have a title
for your collection of essays?
Uh...
Does it have a title?
Andalusia Now.
Andalusia Now.
Does it mean something to you?
Or is it just, like,
something you came up with?
When I was three,
my mom gave me this globe,
and every night
we would play a game.
Close your eyes.
Spin the globe.
Touch the globe and wherever
that's where you would
someday live.
And one night, my finger
landed on this place
in the southern coast of Spain,
and my mom told me
it was Andalusia.
And I just thought that was the most
beautiful word I had ever heard.
So that was the last time we
played that game before she...
She left.
Thank you for telling me that.
Which way are you going?
This way?
Yeah. Up that way.
We laid out four things
essential to a good obituary.
I'd say I have
more than enough material
to make three of them work.
All that is left is family.
You need to see your daughter.
And you need to make it right,
because that is all that's left.
And that is the only thing
keeping me
from ever having
to see you again.
Oh, I see.
I spoke to your ex-husband.
He told me that Elizabeth lives
We're going. I'm driving.
In your car?
Yes, in my car.
And Brenda's coming too.
I need a buffer.
Hey. How's everybody
doing this morning?
Mr. Sands, would you please
make me a mixed CD?
Anne and Brenda and I
are going on a road trip.
Great.
A compilation of songs
perfectly suited
for the occasion, please.
And what's the occasion?
We're visiting my daughter
and she hates me.
Okay. So let me
get this straight.
Senior-citizen control freak,
estranged daughter,
the obituary writer is driving,
and the nine-year-old intern
from the projects
is in the back seat.
Yeah, I can get
37 songs out of that.
Very good.
Perfect.
I agree.
Me too.
Harriet, it's a one-day trip.
It's a day trip.
Yeah, in your
filth-mobile.
I've packed a change of clothes
and I've packed some
smoked salmon tartines
with fresh dill capers
and a sprinkling
of goat cheese. Ah!
What the hell is a tartine?
It's a fancy name
for a sandwich.
We're going to hit McDonald's, Brenda.
Don't worry.
Okay.
No, we're not.
Who wants McDonald's?
I do.
Here you go, darling.
Harriet?
Yeah. I don't
want anything, really.
Oh, God.
Oh! Yes.
Road food.
This is better than
any f***ing tartines.
Whoa!
Amen, sister.
"I was five when
the circus came to town.
"I was six when it left.
"I was seven when I realized
"The ringleader spun plates,
"creating a world
of magic and mystery.
"And then,
in a puff of diesel smoke,
"the ringleader was gone.
"Three rings, two rings,
one ring, nothing.
"There's nothing
like a circus."
Very evocative.
Lyrical. I like it.
Who wrote it?
Me.
I don't get it.
It's okay.
It's about
mothers and daughters.
So basically you're a poet.
I don't know what I am, Brenda.
Well, you got to be something.
God put you into the world
so you can be something.
You got to be something.
I got to pee.
Go ahead.
No problem in this car.
Please don't do that.
I got to pee all over the place!
Now I gots to pee!
I've gots to pee.
This is not funny, Harriet!
I can hear you!
Tiny dancer outside.
You know, I used to have
this recurring nightmare
that I'd be wrapping Elizabeth
in blankets, pillows,
and swaddling her,
and loving her,
and protecting her.
And then I would
look down and realize
I was so overprotective
that I smothered her to death.
Whoa, Jesus.
Well...
I wonder what she's like now.
What she'll think of me.
It's kind of great
that we get to find out.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
So this is where
she wanted to meet?
Your ex-husband said
she eats lunch here
every Thursday at 12:35.
Thirty-five?
It's a little gauche,
don't you think?
Let's just focus
on your daughter.
Oh, my God.
Hello, Mother.
Hello.
I didn't know we were going
to have an audience.
Oh, no. This is a young
woman I know named Anne.
And this is Brenda.
Well, I don't have much time.
Maybe enough for a salad.
But you just got here.
Mother, relax. Have a drink.
Why don't we order?
Excuse me.
Okay, Brenda.
How's the lobster?
No. No lobster. No.
Chicken parm.
Same.
Mother.
I will have a salad Nicoise,
not raw, just seared,
and some beans, yellow and
not red, and some capers.
I'll have the panzanella.
Capers instead of olives.
Make sure the heirloom
tomatoes are ripe.
And I want
some basil. Fresh.
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"The Last Word" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_last_word_20658>.
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