The Prince of Tides Page #5

No, he's being a teenager.

I used to be one myself.

No kidding?

Where are you from?

Your accent's weird.

South Carolina.

Is this TV or-?

I'm trying to watch this movie.

All right, it's late. Come on.

It's time for bed, Bernard.

Let's go.

Turn down the TV and go to bed.

I'll see you, Bernard.

I'm sorry that he was so rude to you.

You don't have to apologize,

Lowenstein.

Teenagers, by definition,

are not fit for society.

That's true.

Bernard wants to play football.

That's why I brought you to meet him.

I thought that maybe you could

coach him a couple of days a week.

You see, he never gets a chance

to play while his father's around.

Herbert's on tour.

I thought maybe-

Is this a job offer?

Yes, and I would insist on paying you.

What would you consider

a reasonable rate?

What are your rates?

I charge $150 an hour.

Fine, I'll take it.

You must be a very good coach.

Forget it, Lowenstein.

I'm not a charity case yet.

Tell Bernard we'll start Monday.

Good.

Good night.

First rule of thumb, Bernard.

Never be late.

I didn't want to come anyway, okay?

Your mother thinks you want to play.

Is that true?

Maybe, maybe not.

Where do you coach, Mr. Wingo?

Hillbilly country?

We're a little

class-conscious, are we?

Do you go to Miss Porter's?

Phillips Exeter, smart-ass.

You didn't get to play last year,

did you?

How'd you know?

Because any snot-nosed punk that

would dare call his coach a smart-ass...

...wouldn't get to haul water,

let alone play.

With your attitude, you belong

in the bleachers, kid.

When you get ready to play football,

get my number from your mother.

Catch.

You need help.

This is not an attractive look

for a middle-aged man.

You can take me shopping. Did you

ever hear of Renata Halpern?

No, who is she?

I don't know, but she writes poems

about growing up Jewish in Brooklyn.

Was she staying

with Savannah recently?

Not that I know of. Of course,

I've been out of town a lot.

Bloomingdale's on Saturday, big boy.

Coach Wingo?

You know, yesterday, I...

You know, I...

I accept your apology, Bernard.

I didn't play last year,

because I never made the team.

They made fun of me.

If I coach you, I promise

they won't make fun of you.

But you gotta promise something.

You gotta shut up, Bernard.

Your mouth pisses me off.

"Yes, sir" is the way

to address me.

First thing we'll do

is follow certain courtesies.

You'll do whatever I tell you

and do it with enthusiasm.

I'm gonna teach you

to play football well.

- I'll run your ass off every day.

- I have my violin lessons.

- Shut up, Bernard.

- Yes, sir.

After I run you till you drop,

make you lift weights...

...tackle till your arms cramp...

...something will happen to you

that's never happened in your life.

What's that, sir?

You're gonna be happy, kid.

Keep moving. Move them.

Hit it!

Come on! Get up.

Drop that leg. Roll.

Drop this leg. Roll.

That's it. All right,

let's see that smile.

Do it again with a smile.

Cross. Back. Cross.

That's it. Cross them over. Cross!

Bring this shoulder out.

This shoulder.

Keep your eyes on the ball.

Concentrate!

Come on, Bernard. Get your hands up.

Get it. Look behind!

Turn around and run!

You're the greatest person

in the whole world, Daddy.

What? I don't even get the pleasure

of asking the questions anymore?

- When you coming home, Daddy?

- Soon.

Well, if you miss my birthday,

I'm gonna kill you.

Chandler, how could I miss

your birthday?

I was there the day you pushed

your way into the world.

I want an alligator!

You go down to the marsh

and you get one.

I want a stuffed alligator so he can

sleep in bed with me.

Now, that's a dangerous habit

to get into, kiddo.

Is Mama there?

Daddy wants to talk to you.

Oh, hi, Sal.

I want to come home

for Chandler's birthday.

It would only be-

We'd all be upset if you

didn't come, Tom.

Oh, good. Well, thanks, Sally.

Okay. I'll talk to you. Bye.

All right. Bye-bye.

Hustle. Hustle. Hustle!

- You got a broken cigarette.

- You gonna take it away?

So this became my routine.

Coaching Bernard in the morning...

...and in the afternoon, telling the

Wingo family secrets to his mother.

And looking forward to telling them.

Or looking forward to seeing her.

It's as if Savannah has

some kind of a splinter...

...that she's neglected.

It festers.

It festers inside you until you...

...you get it out.

You know what I mean?

The stories you're telling me

are helping her remember...

...and I'm very proud

of the work we're doing.

Know what I mean?

Time's up. Out.

Lowenstein.

- Here. Catch.

- My nails!

- Throw me the ball.

- Throw you the ball?

Coach, are you trying to kill yourself?

I'm not quitting, Bernard. You hear?

Then I'll smoke.

No, you're not smoking.

You're not smoking.

Then throw them out.

All right. I will.

All of them.

All right. All right!

- Congratulations. How do you feel?

- I feel better already.

You know, it's an art form

to hate New York properly.

No, it's not. It's a clich.

You're not such a dumb kid after all.

Let's go to the bookstore.

It's my daughter's birthday.

She wants an alligator.

There's a crocodile in Peter Pan.

Think she'll buy it?

It's my mom's birthday next week.

I bet you got her exactly nothing.

Come on, we'll see if we can

find her something.

Sh*t! Sh*t.

Who is Renata Halpern, and

what's she got to do with my sister?

Sit down and cool off.

You knew about this, didn't you?

It's difficult to conduct a session-

This is not a session!

I'm asking you a question.

You're doing a shitty job

of evading it. Who wrote this?

What's so disturbing?

That's not the issue.

Why didn't you tell me?

It wasn't my place to-

You're a piece of work.

I tell you everything, and you withhold

important information!

- Maybe you're withholding.

- This is not about me!

Then why are you so upset?

I don't like being lied to.

I don't like secrets.

I could report you.

Have your license suspended.

Stop acting like a petulant child.

You haven't answered my question.

Who wrote this book?

You tell me.

I will. My sister wrote it.

It's all about my goddamn family.

If my mother read it,

she'd rip out Savannah's pancreas.

Why? Why would she do that?

What are you hiding?

I don't answer any more questions

till you answer mine.

Then why don't you sit down and listen.

That is, if you're not too exhausted

by your temper tantrum.

Sh*t!

When Savannah came to see me, she

told me her name was Renata Halpern.

- She's even crazier than I thought.

- Shut up, or I won't continue.

She said her father was a furrier and

both parents were Holocaust survivors.

She couldn't fool me about being

Jewish, but what fascinated me...

...was why she chose to be

the child of survivors.

What was she trying to survive?

What is she trying to survive?

- How would I know?

- I think you do.

You're supposed to be

answering my questions.

Why'd she do it?

Writing made her want

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