Waitress Page #8

---

- No.

- Yes.

Why?

Because I feel like

a bad person,

- and I can't live with that.

- Jenna...

No, don't say anything.

Don't get all nervous and sweet.

Don't talk me out of it.

Just, please, finish your pie

and go. Please.

I'm sorry.

Last piece.

Sold out even faster

than usual today.

Good on us.

Thanks.

Cal...

Yeah?

Are you happy?

I mean, would you call yourself

a happy man?

Well, if you're asking me

a serious question, I'll tell you.

I'm happy enough.

I don't expect much, give much,

I don't get much.

I generally enjoy whatever comes up.

That's my truth, summed up

for your feminine judgment.

I'm happy enough.

Why do you ask?

No reason.

Good evening.

Good evening.

I'm just waiting on Dawn.

Hmm.

Taking her to Stanton

for a steak dinner.

Gonna be asking her to marry me.

- Wow.

- Yeah.

There you are.

Dawn, if I had a penny for

everything I loved about you,

I would have many pennies.

He's-He's making me

a poem right here.

Penny for your teeth,

penny for your nose,

penny for your eyes, penny

for your hair, your navel,

penny for your odor.

A dollar for your heart.

Aw, Ogie, thank you.

That sure is sweet.

You two have a good time, you hear?

Oh, we will.

Bye.

Where we going?

Waiting for Earl?

Yeah.

Hey, I'm real sorry

for what I said before.

Listen, I love you no matter what you do.

Okay.

Okay.

I forgive you.

Good.

Good.

'Cause this is my little adventure.

Your little adventure?

Yeah.

I'm having me a little adventure

after many years of lots of nothing.

You love him?

Cal?

I don't know.

But I love it.

I love having someone

to look pretty for.

I love waking up and having

something to look forward to.

Something fun and sneaky and sexy.

He love you?

He kind of likes me.

He kind of hates me.

It's fun.

It doesn't sound very fun.

He makes me forget

about my invalid husband,

my loneliness,

the dreadful misplacement

of my bosoms.

Becky, I don't know how

to tell you this,

but your bosoms are fine.

There ain't nothing wrong with them.

It's all in your head.

What are you talking about?

Are you blind?

This one's way up here in Maine,

this one's dangling

down here in Florida.

All right, well,

I'll see you tomorrow, honey.

No, you won't.

Tomorrow's Thursday, my day off.

Then I'll see you Friday?

Yeah.

All right, bye.

Bye.

Hey, Porky.

Hey.

Why don't you treat me like a man?

I don't feel like it.

"I don't feel like it. "

Well, what makes you think

you have that option, hmm?

Earl.

Stop.

Come on.

Don't tell me to stop.

Hmm, come on.

I feed you.

I pay for this house.

I put clothes on your back.

Come on, just do what I tell you.

I won't get too mad.

Earl, that hurts, come on.

I love you, baby.

I don't care if you're fat.

You're my sweet thing.

"Pregnant, Miserable, Self-Pitying Loser Pie. "

Lumpy oatmeal with

fruitcake mashed in,

flambé, of course.

What are you doing here?

I took the whole day off.

I don't know.

I wanted to see you.

You look awful.

Thanks.

I mean, you look sad.

You look really sad.

It's taken you a long time

to notice this,

but, uh... I'm not a happy woman,

Dr. Pomatter.

And I don't want you to save me.

I don't want to save you.

Don't want to be saved.

Can I come in?

No.

Yeah.

So, what now?

I don't know.

I thought maybe you could

teach me how to make a pie.

Seriously?

Seriously.

I could do that, sure.

Come here.

Dear baby.

I hope someday, somebody

wants to hold you

for 20 minutes straight,

and that's all they do.

They don't pull away.

They don't look at your face.

They don't try to kiss you.

All they do is wrap you up

in their arms

and hold on tight without

an ounce of selfishness to it.

I got it.

- And now the berries.

- Berries.

Okay, I'm finished.

I can't let the chocolate burn.

I love watching you.

Once the chocolate's all in,

you'll pour the berries on top.

I'll pour the berries on top.

Mama used to call this

"The Lonely Chicago Pie. "

She made hundreds of

different kinds of pie.

They all have real strange names,

like "Car Radio Pie"

or "Jenna's First Kiss Pie. "

Now the berries... you do it.

- Okay.

- Mm-hmm.

You know, Mama would keep me in

the kitchen with her,

and teach me everything

she knew about baking.

She'd sing to me so sweetly.

Baby, don't you cry,

gonna make a pie

Gonna make a pie

with a heart in the middle

Baby, don't be blue,

gonna make for you

Gonna make a pie with

a heart in the middle

Gonna be a pie

from heaven above

Gonna be filled

with strawberry love

Baby, don't you cry,

gonna make a pie

Hold you forever in

the middle of my heart.

You are so beautiful.

No, I'm not.

You are.

I'm fat.

You're pregnant.

You've got a little baby

growing inside you.

There is nothing more beautiful.

It's an alien and a parasite.

It makes me tired and weak.

It complicates my whole life.

I resent it.

I have no idea

how to take care of it.

I'm the anti-mother.

I don't want to talk

about that no more.

I want to know

what the hell you're doing here.

I'm learning how to make

"Lonely Chicago Pie. "

No, I mean what you're doing here,

living in this town.

My wife.

She just finished med school and

we came here for her residency.

Are you happy with her?

No, don't answer that.

I'm happy right now.

Being here with you.

That's a good answer.

You make me feel calm.

You make me feel peaceful.

I don't feel that much.

I tend to be neurotic.

And you're so beautiful.

Keep going.

And so sexy.

More, please.

And I could find

the whole meaning of life

in those sad eyes.

Wow.

Dear baby.

Somewhere in the space

between the pie baking

and Earl eating it

later that night,

began the most intimate

conversation of my life.

About my mama,

about how much she loved me,

how sad she'd be to see my life

turned out like this.

About Earl and how he changed

after we married,

became someone I feared.

About how lonely it is to be

a woman so poor and so afraid.

And then I was addicted, baby.

I was addicted

to saying things

and having them matter to someone.

Mm.

I've never had a real best friend before,

except for my mama.

You feel like a best friend.

I have something for you.

A present.

A present for me?

Yes, for you.

I hope this is not

some damn baby thing.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes