i'm the wife. we've met.
jack? jack, you promised.
he thought so.
evie has a little something for you.
you do.
honey, we have gifts for you and all sorts of surprises. where is america? i know she's here somewhere.
no, i have a little talking to do with america. privately. i'll find her.
oh my god! america told me your neighbors are coming?
and she was saying how happy you were to finally have them over. because you're both, so, what - introspective? and you should have done it ages ago. i'm sophia gold. come meet my husband, cal.
the very one. and you are.
sorry?
yes.
ah.
hmm. where are my kids?
i hope they're watercolors!
would you like to meet my husband?
then he'll be thrilled.
you look so well, clair. a wraith.
i'm glad that's all over for me.
never.
not for a second. cal can have all that.
so where is young jonah?
what is that thing?
you should have brought him.
oh. do you have any pictures?
are you the funniest person i know, or what?
who's not going to get that in fifteen seconds.
two words.
oh shit. it's one of cal's. obscure shakespeare, folks.
maybe something original for a change.
part of our gift. honey!!
oh honey, you're gonna love it.
yes.
hm.
i thought it was okay where it was.
a notch above the storage room.
the both of you.
so how much do you hate her?
well, i don't trust her. i never have.
i trust you.
you'll hate it in london. it's wet and miserable. a medical hellhole sally. it's socialized. beds in the corridors. terrible plumbing.
you are not having your baby in london. you're going to have your baby at cedars in beverly hills, america, delivered by dr. milton cohen. period. and you're getting that epidural right away, don't let anyone talk you into any of that lamase bullshit. there's no excuse for pain like that.
well good. thank god.
oh honey, let's.
well, are you sure about this baby thing? it's not the ticking clock shit, is it?
honey, i'm not worried about you. you are going to be a fantastic mom. not an issue. i pressed you, remember? joe, on the other hand, is a different story.
he wants playmates. oh he's a sweetheart, sal, you know i love him. but he's not going to be a good father. he's just not parenting material.
don't try and change the subject. oh god, it feels great! he's just a little narcissistic, irresponsible and unreliable.
cal knows who he is. did you notice how happy joe was when the drugs came out tonight?
i don't have a drug problem.
his sister does. big time. and the new york times says addiction is genetic -- i'll e-mail you the article.
you don't have kids to keep a marriage together, sally. it's only five months since joe came back.
well, you weren't fine last summer when you went sylvia plath on me in connecticut.
ha! not half so not kind as your husband was in his portrayal of you in his novel.
his image of you is a possessive, fragile neurotic.
no you are not. you're sally nash. listen to me, you're sally nash. you're my best friend and i love you more than anyone, and you're not going to move to london to have the offspring of a sexually ambivalent man-child. "oh now i'm a novelist, oh now i'm a director" english prick bastard joe therrian who's probably going to leave you for skye davidson anyway.
he's always one step removed, always looking over his shoulder always looking for something else, something more intoxicating, and i don't mean drugs. i love him, sal, but he's a child. he's not ready. oh god, you're so lucky you don't have kids. you can't stick your head in the oven. you can't take a handful of percoden if you want to, or slit your wrists. you can't do yourself in. kids rob you of that option. trust me. oh my god, this ecstacy must be really good.
no, no, start again.
let's get the kids.
i'm going to be home all weekend, call if you need anything.