she doesn't mean it as a compliment. it's more of an accusation.
strength of character. empathy. big heart. taste for futility - god i love you. she eyes with disapproval her mother's empty glass.
florrrrr.
well, i'm in the vitamin section and this little hip hop girl. what's her name. grammys - adorable -- big voice. subtle phrasing. oh, she's famous. the kids know her. oh - little blue shoes. darn me. flor looks concerned over evelyn's displeasure with herself, a fact picked up by the older woman. it is actually a small
god bless the language barrier, it keeps you from being bored with me. spoken to directly like this, flor is confused.
anyway, she said, "aren't you evelyn wright?" first of all, that she recognized me from the old covers and then she .  oh, please her name. it makes the story so much better. she said, "whenever i think everything is" pardon my french. pardon her french "a mother hmmmhmmm. i put on one of your records"
just such a lovely thing to come from the blue.  deborah enters, carrying a load of packages. with lightning speed, her eye picks out. the glass her mother is drinking from.
it's almost two o'clock.
no.
every time he has a nightmare, i teach him one of my old songs. that way the nightmares have a purpose.
he likes to know that stuff.
seventy-six thousand. which is great for a jazz album. they resume harmonizing. as john leaves, the song lyric making some comment on:
you okay?
john. john. oh, my god you even look different to me.
did you ask her if she could live in?
i think flor is perfect and we should do all we can to keep her from changing.
if she didn't tell us about her child she has to have a deep sense of privacy. we can figure out how she can still live at home. hell, i don't mind driving her at night.
not now. but i promise i'll go in the summer after next. john enters the scene.
i'm so glad to meet you. i'm a fan of your mother's.
what's wrong? she shows her the letter. evelyn reads it and hands it back. she is about to offer something. flor waves it off and enters the house. john comes in from the beach with his kids. boogie boards. evelyn hands him the letter.
she's wild-eyed over this.  john moves after flor as bernie reads the letter.
you can't just take someone else's.
and to think i was worried about flor living here with her kid?
talk to flor.
hi, flor, want some port?
thanks for never judging me. love you. love everybody. that's what's killing me.  sleep well.
no. i've given up drinking. i had to do it john. i need every brain cell to watch out for all of us. given the current climate. anyway. john, i think you're great and i'm going to act accordingly.
let's hope.
wait! deborah turns, startled.
i need to talk to you privately, honey.
just give me a moment to talk here.
no. i gave up drinking weeks ago. yes. nobody noticed -- which shows i probably conducted myself pretty well as a drunk. but duty called and i'm sober so may i say just one thing.
thanks. deborah, you're going to lose your husband and you'll never find someone as good. there will only be men who you know are cheap and shallow and have no real warmth in their souls. you may have gotten by on those surfaces once but now you've been spoiled by a good man and you can no longer glide on such thin ice. if you do not act quickly you will soon cement an awful fate for yourself. a life, with no hope of repair, which has already begun to turn desperate and dumb. that's it. drive safely. she grabs a deep breath and then turns and walks to the house.
if we're out of coffee, it's over for me. suddenly a sharp horn is heard. evelyn jumps. then turns to see her daughter calling to her from the driver's seat of the
honey, lately your low self-esteem is just good common sense. deborah considers that last thought for a long beat before she drives off.
john, better wait a minute. but john hears deb's crying from upstairs.
nothing. in all futility, can i urge you not to go up there. but he is already moving quickly up the stairs. as he turns at the top of the stairs we see the door close to bernice's
denouement.
what are you doing here?
i don't think you can do any of it right this minute.
i don't think you want to wake her when you're this upset and the other kids are right there and.  flor makes a noise of frustration and retreats from the room.
besides that he turned it off?
forty messages start to look needy.
no. definitely not in the way you think.
i am enjoying actually being of use to my daughter. i am enjoying the fact that i really know how to advise you and the miracle that you are so deeply disoriented that you are gobbling up everything i say. deborah nods in agreement -- then looks at her mother in a somewhat new way. as if evelyn were an actual person instead of an upsetting extension of herself.
you don't have to.
okay.
you have a solid point, dear. but right now the lessons of my life are coming in handy for you.
do you know that right now you are your own worst enemy. that you can't trust one thought in your brain?
then trust me and only allow yourself to say one thing to him. one thing"i'm so glad you're back."
yes.
just those words i said. if you want a prayer of coming out of this.
but what?
"i'm so glad you're back."
no. he may not come up here. go to him.
just go.
you need a hose but you don't have the time. it's fine that you look like that. it's genuine. you can use genuine.
the fact that you didn't just make things worse should fill you with hope.  in her current state, she has to process that one. and does. her breath slows.
you. are. a. trip.
why don't you run upstairs and say goodbye to deborah? flor flashes a look of thanks.