The View From Here Page #5

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is just lose her job and

shack up with Bobby Flay

over here?

- Dad, you're not even giving me a chance.

- I'd like to propose a toast.

To Chris and Naomi, thank

you for having us here

on Christmas and sharing

hearth and whatever.

Chris, thank you for

the Bobby Flay comment,

I'm pretty sure it was meant as an insult,

but he is a national treasure.

So thanks for that.

Naomi, thank you for the potatoes.

Again, amazing.

And, to Gillian, the sweetest, kindest,

most loving person I've

ever met in my life.

May you have all the love you've shown

returned to you 10 fold,

and may you never let

the pessimism of experience get in the way

of following your dreams and passions.

I just hope I can be

there along for the ride.

Merry Christmas, sweetheart.

Merry Christmas, God bless us everyone.

Happy Kwanza.

Excuse me.

Okay look before you say anything.

(pleasant music)

- Thank you.

- Wait, so you're not mad?

- Oh no, I'm a little mad.

Don't ever do that again.

- Got it.

- Okay.

- [Gillian] That's the

scarf you wanted, right mom?

- Yes, I love it, so soft.

Mark, do you like the cookbook?

- I do.

Thank you very much.

- I thought you might find

some good ideas in there,

things that you haven't thought of.

- I'm sure I will.

I look forward to reading it.

Thank you.

- How come you don't

have a cookbook, Mark?

- Well I don't want to

give away all my secrets.

I'd be out of a job.

- I heard your dad was a chef.

Did he have a cookbook?

- I believe so, yeah.

- Well I made a pumpkin pie.

Would anyone like some?

- I'd love some.

- Chris, will you help me?

- Sure.

Excuse us.

("O Holy Night")

- Well I think I'm

officially ruined for pie.

("O Holy Night")

What's wrong?

- I was gonna wait until

Christmas to tell you,

but I think I'll just tell you now.

- What?

("O Holy Night")

- Why am I so nervous?

Wow, why am I nervous?

- I don't know, but it's kind of adorable.

- I'm just gonna say it.

I'm just gonna...

- Gillian whatever it--

- You're actually making this much worse.

Okay.

Mark,

I'm in love with you.

- Was that a question?

- I'm sorry.

I'm just gonna try that again.

I am in love with you.

- You're in love with me?

- Yes.

- You sure?

- Yes.

- Just so we're on the same page,

you love me, and I love you that means

we're in love?

- Yes, I think so.

What's wrong?

- Wrong, nothing's wrong.

I'm starting to get a clear view

of what the rest of my life looks like.

- And what's that?

- Us.

The city, the sky,

it glistens in your eye

The landscape, the view,

it's all prettier with you

The closeness of your touch

I can never get enough

Put your fingers in mine

And let them intertwine

So reach out, reach out for me

Cause I know you're falling

You're falling into me

- [Gillian] I think that's

what surprised me the most.

- What?

- I didn't realize I'd have

that much fun with you.

- I could just be myself.

- You know sometimes I

wonder if, never mind.

- What no?

- I wonder if things would be different

if you hadn't read that review.

- Maybe.

I don't know.

- [Gillian] What are we doing today?

- [Mark] Whatever you want.

I do have to pick up some

salmon that I ordered.

- Fish market.

How long's that gonna take?

- Only be an hour.

(phone buzzing)

Hey?

- [Peter] Can you believe what the bastard

wrote about us?

- Wait.

What?

- [Peter] Have you not read

your morning paper yet?

Can you believe we opened a

bottle of '98 for this guy?

- Hold on.

- Mark?

What is it?

- I'll call you back.

- [Peter] Mark, wait.

- What?

Smoke and Fire, a tired

and pretentious eatery

in the saturated Mission District opens

with a menu so bland you'll find yourself

wishing the place would

live up to its name

and clear the room with smoke and fire.

Mark.

- Read it.

- Chef Mark Mathison son of

infamous Chef Bruce Mathison

shows that while he does not have

his father's penchant for controversy,

he also does not share his

pallet for exceptional cuisine.

I don't want to read this anymore, Mark.

- Just read it, Gill.

- The only thing more

uninspiring than Mathison's

rustic and sloppy menu is the decor

which is a cross between

a Swedish furniture store

and a funeral home.

The wine list has little imagination

but contains just enough alcohol

to get you through dinner.

Two stars.

- You know what this is just bad writing.

Don't listen to anything she's got to say.

- He says, he.

- Okay who's Michele Blanc?

- Michele Leblanc is the only

voice in food that matters.

- Okay well people love your place.

They won't pay any attention to that.

- He just signed our death certificate.

As soon as people read

that, reses will drop,

and we'll have empty

tables on the weekends.

- Because of one bad review?

This guy clearly has it out for you.

- It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter if he's right or wrong.

It only matters that he said it.

And, now anyone looking for my place

is gonna read that.

- Okay so prove him wrong.

- How?

- I don't know.

Fight him back.

You know the guy is just bitter because

internet killed journalism and any idiot

with a smartphone can throw shade and say

whatever they want about food.

But, we both know that that's crap.

We know that your food's amazing.

That place is you from the ground up.

He can say whatever he wants, but he can't

fault that design.

Yeah well if you're such a good designer,

why'd you get fired?

- Don't say that to me.

I get that you're hurt, but you don't get

to say things that make me feel bad.

I'm trying to help.

- You've helped enough.

- Wow.

- Stupid.

(sizzling)

(sad piano music)

- [Narrator] For a few days after that,

the apartment was filled with the silence

of things left unsaid.

(sad piano music)

They moved around cautiously

as if the slightest sound

would upset the other.

(sad piano music)

It was only questions about

taking out the garbage

or buying milk.

Mark was ashamed.

Gillian was crushed.

And, laughter had left without a trace.

- Gillian?

- [Gillian] What?

- I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have said it.

I didn't mean it.

(sad music)

- What are you doing?

- These weren't clean.

- So get someone else to clean 'em.

- No, I'll do it since

nobody bothers to do

their job around here.

- Oh I get it.

- What, what do you get?

- You're still salty about the review.

Move on.

- Move on?

How Narratory reses canceled this week?

- 25.

- 25, but hey let's move on.

- Yeah you want to run a restaurant,

you better grow a pair.

People are gonna complain.

You wanna pout about it, go

home and pout to Gillian.

I'm not your wife!

- I can't go home.

- Why not?

- Cause I'm an idiot.

- Oh.

So say you're sorry.

- I already tried.

Not a word all week.

- Listen Mark, go home, fix it.

You're depressing the hell out

of everyone in the kitchen.

I'll take care of this stuff.

- Gill?

Gillian.

What's wrong?

- I'm late.

- Late for what?

- I mean I'm late.

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