♪ ♪
[Samuel L. Jackson] [voice-over] Cue "Love Sick," Bob Dylan,
track one, "Time Out of Mind."
[needle drops on record]
["Love Sick" by Bob Dylan playing]
♪ I'm walking... ♪
Yeah, that's good.
♪ Through streets that are dead... ♪
That's real good.
[clears throat]
We open tight on a man.
Oh, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up, let me rephrase.
We open on our hero.
We push in on his face.
[over speaker] Motherfucker, I said push in on that shit.
[feedback hums]
Mid-20s, handsome, gay...
gay in that cool cat kind of way.
Gay like "Billy on the Street" gay.
Gay like, "It's who I am, it's not all I am, baby."
[chuckles] Yeah, that's one cool cat we got over here.
But right now, this cat's anything but cool.
This cat's in crisis.
I feel ashamed, I guess.
I know this doesn't make me look very good,
but it's, uh, breaking me, and, um...
[Jackson] Let it go, brother,
let it go like a proud asshole.
Let it go, let it go.
I just...
He and I have been together for so long.
I know it sounds cliché, but I guess...
I like knowing he's on my team, you know?
[Jackson] I know, my brother. I hear you, my brother.
Let it go.
Well, this new guy has come along.
[Jackson] Hmm, proceed.
He's new, he's exciting,
and he's so much younger.
[Jackson] Aw, ain't no shame, brother.
I know I can't stick with someone out of loyalty.
[Jackson] And you know this.
Okay, I'm gonna do it.
I'm gonna put Sterling Shepard in my flex wide receiver spot
and drop Larry Fitzgerald
and maybe I'll pick up Miami D off waivers, too.
[Jackson] Say what now?
- [Morris] Henry. - [song stops abruptly]
You know we've talked about how obsessing over fantasy football
can't simply replace obsessing over food.
[Jackson] Okay, my bad.
That motherfucker is not our hero.
Look at that pretty therapist over there.
Calming his anorexic fantasy football-loving ass down.
Push in on her for a sec.
[Morris] Okay.
[Jackson] [over speaker] I said push in, man! Come on!
Oh, yeah.
Now I'm seeing it.
That's a hero right there.
Amazing smile, the silky smooth hair.
Let me look at you, girl.
Whoo! That's what I'm talking 'bout.
Now we in bidness, ladies and gentlemen.
We got ourselves a hero.
♪ And I wonder... ♪
Now, like any great hero, our hero wasn't perfect.
She smoked, first of all,
which they normally don't let you show in movies anymore,
even though we all still smoke sometimes.
You know you smoke sometimes.
You and the wife have a date night,
you each have two martinis, you guys are feeling wild
so you buy a pack of smokes on the way home
and you each smoke one in the 7-Eleven parking lot.
Then she makes you throw out the pack,
but instead of throwing it out, you hide it in a plant,
and some nights, you sneak out and have one.
But she smells that shit on you
like she's a nicotine detective.
She smells that shit on you
like she's Mariska Hargitay on "Law & Order: SVU,"
- [Will] Hey. - Marg Helgenberger on "CSI,"
Big fan.
S. Epatha Merkerson on "Law & Order,"
- Angie Harmon on "Rizzoli & Isles..." - [tires screech]
What the fuck?!
Oh, my God.
[Jackson] Holy shit!
She just got straight-up run over by a bus!
- Ma'am? - [crowd murmuring]
[Jackson] She's gonna be okay, everybody.
Probably a little banged up, but she's gonna be fine.
She's our hero, she's gonna be...
- Fuck! - [crowd exclaiming]
[Will] Ma'am?
Ma'am, can you hear me?
♪ Just don't know what to do ♪
- ♪ I'd give anything to ♪ - Fuck it, I'm out.
♪ Be with you. ♪
[sighs]
[Narrator] Will Dempsey was 35 years old
when he gave up on his
Sam Jackson Unreliable Narrator screenplay.
[humming]
[car horns honking]
[continues humming]
Will was not well,
but you don't need me to tell you that.
Top o' the morning to you, good sir. [chuckles]
- Oh, boy. - What could I get for you?
Double espresso, large cup.
You got it.
- And what's your name? - Will.
Is that Will with one "L" or two "L"s?
It's two "L" s.
W-I-L-L.
♪ Light in this place ♪
♪ Is so bad ♪
Fuck you so much.
♪ Making me sick in the head ♪
♪ And all the laughter is just making me sad ♪
♪ The stars have turned cherry red... ♪
- [Man] Will! - Yep.
Double espresso, large cup.
Oh, delicious.
Thank you.
Just gonna do a long pour here.
Double.
Thank you. You want one?
No, thanks.
- It's Xanax. - Still no.
Boo humbug.
It's actually "bah humbug."
That's what she said.
[loudly] ♪ I got nowhere left to turn ♪
♪ I got nothing left to burn ♪
It's Dylan! "Standing in the Doorway."
Third track on "Time Out of Mind."
It's his comeback album.
The whole thing's like a giant fucking Keats poem.
- Sir? - You're gonna love it.
Just give it a chance. You're gonna make me leave?
- I am. - Bah humbug.
♪ I'm strumming on my gay guitar ♪
Sir? Okay. Strum outside. Here we go.
- ♪ Smoking a cheap cigar ♪ - Okay.
Here we go. Thank you very much.
♪ Under the midnight moon ♪
- Sir. - You got to give it a chance!
- No. Get out. - Give it a chance.
It's gonna grow on you. You're gonna love it!
["Standing in the Doorway" by Bob Dylan playing]
[Narrator] Will hadn't always been not well.
It had really only been since his wife had left him.
You know what, we'll get to that.
Right now, let's just enjoy them as they were.
- [Abby] Give it a chance. It'll grow on you. - [dog moans]
[Will] He sound, he sounds like he's suffering.
- [Abby] He is suffering. - [barks]
- He's suffering like... - [Will] From a throat infection.
[Abby] ...every great artist is suffering.
I think it's sinusitis, is what it is.
No one rocks a sinus infection like Bob Dylan.
- [both laughing] - [music continues over stereo]
- I'll give him that. - Just, just...
- just, like, just give him a chance. - [dog barks]
Well, he ain't the only one suffering.
Come here, Fuckface.
- [Abby] Uh-oh. - Hello, buddy.
- Hey, little buddy. What? - [Abby groans]
- You feeling left out? - See, Fuckface gets it.
Come here, Fuckface.
[Narrator] Will loved his wife Abby with an intensity
usually reserved for stalkers.
She was everything a man could ask for in a wife.
She was nurturing and she was beautiful,
and she ate any kind of sushi the chef served to her,
even the uni.
Yes, Will was sure of it:
Abby Dempsey was absolutely perfect.
At least back then she was.
Listen to this for 30 seconds,
and then try and tell me Bob Dylan's not a poet.
Okay. Let's listen to Hoobastank now.
See? No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Just 30 seconds...
- To Mars? - Thir... [laughing]
- Okay, let's pop that in. - Just 30 seconds.
Baby, we've been listening to him gargle
Shh.
- ...for, like, a month. - Because... I know,
- because I'm in a phase. - I can't hear this, like,
- Chewbacca noise anymore. - I'm in a phase... [laughs]
I just want you to just lean into it with me, okay?
Will you please?
♪ Is just making me sad... ♪
This is an important album.
I mean, this is the comeback album.
They thought he was done. Everybody just wrote him off.
They said you don't come back from the crazy he had,
and then boom.
'97, "Time Out of Mind."
He won three Grammys, including Album of the Year.
He beat Radiohead and Paul McCartney.
It was this intense, unexpected genius.
Just hard and dark and...
and... I mean, he said, "I'm Bob Dylan, you're not.
Eat a dick."
He told everybody to eat a dick?
Metaphorically, he told everyone to eat a dick.
So, listen... like, okay. [increases volume]
Okay, okay.
Shh, just listen to this.
Listen to this. The man's a genius.
He's pulling from the poetry of Keats.
- [Will snoring] - He's getting...
Shh. Stop it. Stop.
Shh, shh. Stop.
Stop.
This is important to me.
Okay?
[softly] Thank you.
- Come here, Fuckface. - ♪ Shadows are falling ♪
Appreciate this with me. [groans]
♪ And I've been here all day ♪
[Abby humming to music] ♪ It's too hot to sleep ♪
♪ Time is running away ♪
- ♪ Feel like my soul has ♪ - Stop.
♪ Turned into steel... ♪
Stop.
It sounds like he has a huge cock lodged in his throat.
- You are an asshole. - [gurgling]
[chuckles] You are an asshole.
No. No, no.
No. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
Fuckface, Fuckface, Fuckface! [laughs] We're crushing him.
- Careful, careful, careful, careful. - [dog whimpers]
Oh, I'm sorry, Fuckface.
- No. - He's okay.
Hey, we have to get up.
- I have to take a shower. - What?
And we have to go to your parents'.
- But you said that... - We're gonna be late.
You said that we could listen to Smash Mouth after.
- No, I did not. - Yes, you did.
Hey.
Are you pregnant?
[Abby laughs]
What's going on here?
- Surprise! - [kissing sounds]
["Tryin' to Get to Heaven" by Bob Dylan playing]
♪ The air is getting hotter ♪
♪ There's a rumbling in the skies ♪
♪ I've been wading through the high muddy water ♪
♪ With the heat rising in my eyes ♪
♪ Every day your memory grows dimmer ♪
♪ It doesn't haunt me like it did before ♪
♪ I've been walking through the middle of nowhere ♪
♪ Trying to get to heaven before they close the door ♪
♪ You broke a heart that loved you ♪
♪ Now you can seal up the book ♪
♪ And not write anymore ♪
♪ I've been walking that lonesome valley ♪
♪ Trying to get to heaven before they close the door... ♪
You ever gonna ask me out, Will?
I'm just waiting for the right moment.
[Abby] That's good to know.
All right.
I'll see you around.
Abby, I'm waiting for the right moment
'cause when I ask you out,
there's not gonna be any turning back for me.
I'm not gonna date anybody else for the rest of my life,
I'm not gonna love anybody else for the rest of my life,
I'm not gonna really care about anything else
for the rest of my life.
I'm waiting for the right moment, Abby,
'cause when I ask you out,
it's gonna be the most important moment of my life.
And I just want to make sure that I get it right.
[laughs softly]
♪ ♪
[Morris] So, how you doing today, Will?
Will.
Sorry. Did you say something?
[Morris] Yes, I said, "How are you doing?"
Uh... you know.
Same.
Okay.
I tried masturbating the other day.
I tried thinking of Abby, but I couldn't really get it done,
so then I, um...
I tried thinking of you...
but, you know, you jerk off to your therapist,
you should be institutionalized.
You were institutionalized.
Touché.
[no audio]
She left six months ago today.
[Morris] That's right.
And you've been in a facility
for almost half that time,
and now I, I can't help but wonder...
Will, are you listening to me?
Okay.
So, I'm just wondering how you're doing
being back in the world again.
Uh, you know. Same.
I did the writing exercise you asked me to do.
Really? I'm surprised.
You've been so resistant to writing down your feelings.
Oh, no, I didn't do that. I wrote a movie instead.
I did, like, uh, like, well, like, five pages of a movie.
It was very bad.
Abby and I always talked about writing a screenplay together.
Like a...
husband and wife Tarantino, you know?
[TV playing quietly]
...I'm "Super Fly T.N.T."
You wouldn't have liked it.
My screenplay.
You were in it, kind of.
Abby wasn't, which, you know, I know was the whole point.
I met this guy, when I was institutionalized.
This really sweet guy.
Horrible life.
All he could talk about without crying was fantasy football,
so he talked about it a lot.
[chuckles] I liked that guy.
Great face.
A movie star face, you know.
Oh, poor motherfucker was the only guy there
that seemed worse off than I was.
We'd have dinner every night together.
And then one night he didn't show up,
which sucked for him 'cause it was pizza night.
Turned out he'd...
[squishing sound]
How'd that make you feel?
Happy for him.
Or at least relieved.
I mean, you know, he was pretty miserable.
And I'm no doctor,
but I don't think he's ever gonna feel any better.
Okay, well, that brings me back to my initial question.
How are you feeling?
Uh, you know. Same.
[Morris] You keep saying that.
I keep meaning it.
Have you spoken to her, Will, since you've been out?
[crying] Abby, please, can you come back to me?
- I'm sorry. - This sucks, man.
- This fucking sucks. - I got to go. I'm sorry.
- I got to go. - Please.
[sighs]
No.
Have you been to your parents', like we discussed?
I don't want to.
Will, part of the reason that you were discharged
and put into my...
I don't want to!
Sorry. That was weird.
Yesterday, you said that you'd been feeling aimless.
Well, I usually have pretty good aim, so...
["You Can Never Tell" by Chuck Berry playing]
♪ It was a teenage wedding ♪
♪ And the old folks wished them well... ♪
Thanks, friend.
I ain't your friend, palooka.
- This is for you, Peggy Sue. - Oh, my.
Thanks, daddy-O.
We'll name him Fuckface.
[laughing]
Sit, Fuckface, sit.
Good, dog. [barks]
[pumping keg]
♪ It goes to show you never can tell ♪
♪ They furnished off an apartment ♪
♪ With a two-room Roebuck sale ♪
[liquid pouring]
♪ The Coolerator was crammed ♪
♪ With TV dinners and ginger ale ♪
♪ But when Pierre found work... ♪
Marry me.
Seriously.
Let's get married.
[laughs]
We've been dating less than a year.
Yeah, I know.
And I feel like I've shown incredible restraint
waiting this long.
Say yes.
- You want to say yes. - No, I don't.
You want to say yes so bad it hurts.
- You're cocky. - I'm right.
- Say yes. - [snickers]
Say yes.
Or I swear to God, if you don't say yes,
I will shoot this nimrod on general principle.
[laughs] Stop it.
[muffled] Please say, "Yes, I'll marry you,"
or I'll fucking shoot myself...
- Stop! Will! - Say, "Yes, I'll marry you."
Stop!
Sorry. That was weird.
I love you.
You're the love of my life, I'm sure of it.
But sometimes it scares me how much you feel.
You know?
It's not something I ever thought I would...
be scared of, but...
I may not be equipped to be loved this much.
I'll find another way.
- No... - I'll find another way.
Hey. I will.
I will love you
however you're best equipped to handle it, Abby.
I will love you...
on odd days of the week... [chuckles]
Baby, I will spend the rest of my life
making your life better, not worse.
I want to dance.
I want to win.
I want that trophy.
Ah, what a gyp.
Come on.
["D.A.N.C.E" by Justice playing]
[Abby] Ooh!
- [ball clatters in cup] - Oh!
One... Everybody.
Two...
Three!
- [gasps loudly] - [laughter]
♪ Deep inside I hope you feel it, too ♪
♪ Feel it, too ♪
♪ I'm the one who wants ♪
♪ I'm the one, whoa ♪ ♪ To be with you ♪
♪ Oh. ♪
We'd have to get a dog.
Okay.
I mean, I want kids, too, but not yet.
Okay.
Dog first. Small dog.
Yeah.
My parents died young; it makes me sad sometimes.
I know.
It'd probably make me a terrible mother.
I disagree, but... okay.
Mainly, my big thing is the dog.
Small dog.
I am totally on board with the dog idea.
Okay, I'll marry you.
- Okay. - Okay.
You want to meet my parents?
[laughs]
Sure.
- Cool. - [giggles]
Thanks.
- How are you?! - Oh, my God, Abby!
- [laughs] - Look at you!
- Oh... - Oh, you look beautiful!
- [Irwin] How are you both? - [Abby] Great.
- Everybody's good? - Yeah.
- Hey, buddy boy. - Hey, Pop.
- Look at you! - How are you, man?
- Good. - Oh, my...
- You're positively... - Revolting.
- No! Stop. No. - Yeah. And gassy.
- You popped. - She is, Mom. She's really gassy.
- That means it's gonna be a boy. - Really?
Yeah. I practically needed a hazmat suit
when your mother was pregnant with you.
Stop that!
- It's true. - Farts mean it's a boy!
That almost makes them worth it.
[Irwin] Anything happening down there?
[Abby] Linda, I'm afraid to ask, but did you make that...
Meat loaf is coming out of the oven right now.
- Oh, yeah! - I have never craved anything
like this in my life. Lead me to that meat loaf and...
I hate fucking meat loaf.
[Abby] ...and backhanded compliment me all day long.
I'm just grateful she didn't burn down the fucking kitchen.
[Abby] What'd you do to get the foot
- unstuck from the... - [Linda] You just push.
[Abby] I'm not a big fan of, like,
when the face goes like this...
Dog dishes.
...against the outside of the belly.
- It's like an alien. - How do you know it's the face?
- Looks like an alien. - You actually see the face?
- I'm pretty sure it's a face. - No, I don't... that's creepy.
Is it possible that it's clawing out?
[Will] This is... Mom. [laughs]
You're aware that the baby's not gonna actually live with
- you guys, right? - I got a little carried away.
- This one's very cute. - Sue me.
- Isn't that cute? - [Will] Yes.
You better eat some of this before she gets it all.
- [Will] Okay. - Baby clothes, baby jumpers.
Tell me something, what the hell's
a baby jumper for, anyway? [Linda laughs]
Why does a baby need to jump?
All I know is I spend all day
breaking down the goddamn Amazon boxes.
Oh, shush, you.
Here, honey, a little bit more. Come on.
[Abby] He's good. He's good.
- Ay. Ay-yi-yi. - There's two, there's two of me.
[Linda chuckles]
- Oh. - [Will] Oh, piggy-wiggy.
I can't believe I'm gonna be a grandma!
I still can't believe it.
- All right, settle down. - Still can't believe it.
- [Linda] Abby? - Mm-hmm?
Don't take this the wrong way.
- Oh, here it comes. - Yep.
But, selfishly speaking,
I'm just so glad your parents are dead.
[Abby chuckles]
- And... boom. - [Linda] Oh, stop it.
Abby knows what I mean.
Really, yeah? She does? You do?
She's gonna explain.
What I mean is... all I ever wanted
was for Will to marry a woman with dead parents,
so I wouldn't have to share the grandchildren,
and, and he did.
I mean, my prayer came true.
Jesus Christ, Mom!
[Linda] It's okay! She knows what I mean.
[Abby laughs]
- Hey, Abby, by the way... - [Abby] Mm.
...did you get a look at that book I sent you yet?
No.
It's really good. It's about preschool
- and anxiety separation. - Oh, good.
That feels like a first priority thing. [snickers]
- 'Cause when you... - [laughing]
Sorry, I will, I will admit. I admit, I'm sorry.
Just talk about her dead parents again, Mom.
[Abby laughs]
[Irwin] Thank you.
- It's about separation anxiety. - Yeah.
So when you drop 'em off at preschool for the first day...
...and they, they go nuts and they go limp.
- Yeah. - [Irwin] Live your own life!
- Mind your own fucking... - Shush. Shush.
[fading] When you drop the kid off at preschool,
if they get hysterical and inconsolable...
[Will] Both Abby's parents
died in a car accident when she was a little girl.
Abby was in the car. She was seven.
Okay.
"Okay" seems kind of like a strange response
to that new information.
Well, I was caught a little off guard.
You don't talk about Abby a lot.
You don't ask about her a lot.
Will, I ask about her constantly.
Tomato, potato.
Tomato, to-mah-to.
Let's just call the whole thing off.
Well, the sessions are mandated, so...
No. Uh, the...
- ...the song, the... - What? I... I'm not following.
Oh, my God,
this is some kind of rhythm we have, huh, Doc?
Maybe this is why I can't jerk off to you.
Sorry, that was very inappropriate.
I was institutionalized.
Why don't you just tell me about Abby.
What, what was she like? I'd like to hear about her.
You want me to tell you about Abby?
Well, then you've come to the right place, Doc,
because I am the foremost expert on all things Abby.
Or... I was.
No, I still am.
I mean, it's not like somebody else has learned more about
her in the last six months.
Or I guess somebody could have.
I mean... I've been locked away
and Lord knows what she's been up to, wherever she is.
- [Morris] Will? - Right.
You want to know about Abby.
Let me tell you about Abby.
You got it. Last one. Last one.
[Will] Abby Lesher was born June 30, 1985.
Legend has it that, when she was born,
she didn't make a single peep.
For five minutes, little Abby just laid there
taking in the world around her,
- not so much as a single cry. - Hi.
In the years to come, her parents would always say,
"There wasn't anything wrong with little Abby."
She just didn't have anything to say yet."
Now keep in mind, I'm getting all this secondhand.
I've never met any of the people here, except for Abby.
Her parents died pretty soon.
Long before I come into the picture.
- No, I know. - And it's not like
I know the doctor or the nurses here.
- Why would I? - Right.
Please continue, Will.
Okay.
By all accounts, Abby's childhood was a happy one.
Family, I've gathered you here today 'cause I, I need
to talk about something very serious, so no laughing.
Uh, as you may have noticed,
I... have developed a bit of a drinking problem.
[Abby giggles]
[Will] Her parents, Jack and Elizabeth,
were kindhearted and openhearted
and all the other kinds of "hearted."
They were literally both elementary school teachers.
That's actually how they, how they met.
Mind if I sit?
[chuckles]
[Will] If Abby's mother knew
that she would meet her future husband at exactly that moment,
you think she would have taken such a big old bite
of that peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
Um... [laughs]
- Would you like some water? - Mm.
Wow. You fit half the sandwich in your mouth.
[giggles]
[laughs]
So strange to think about.
How a completely random moment involving peanut butter,
a moment that happened way before I was born,
would shape my entire life.
[Elizabeth laughs]
Are you glad it happened?
Ah, well, Dr. Morris, that is the big question.
Isn't it? Because if it hadn't happened,
Abby's parents would never have met.
They'd never have married, they'd never have
honeymooned in Aruba where they conceived Abby.
They'd never have seen her
come into the world without a peep.
They'd never have watched her blonde hair turn brown
as she got older.
They'd never have watched her become obsessed with dancing
and then soccer
and then horses and, of course, Christmas.
Always Christmas.
The lights, the gifts, and above all, the Rockettes.
So obsessed with the Rockettes was Abby
that every year, every single year,
her parents would have to drive her into town
to watch the Rockettes perform.
Every single year, except that one year...
[sighs]
Abby's parents died instantly.
[sighs] Abby was trapped in the backseat of the car
with them for over an hour before they got her out.
Her father...
...her father was decapitated by the steering column.
I know, right?
That's the detail that always gets everybody.
I mean, the story in and of itself is tragic of course,
but when you give someone that image,
that singular image of a seven year old girl
trapped in the backseat of a car
with her decapitated father,
well, then it really just lands, doesn't it?
Anyhoo, you wanted to know about Abby, so...
I'll continue, but be forewarned,
her next decade isn't so great.
♪ ♪
Abby's parents didn't plan on dying together,
so there was no will and there was no plan for Abby.
And seeing as all her grandparents were deceased,
Abby's Uncle Joe got custody.
Now, Uncle Joe wasn't a nice man.
And when I say he wasn't a nice man,
I don't mean like he didn't hug her.
I mean, he bought her a puppy and then he killed it
when it chewed up his couch.
I mean, he sporadically molested her
for the better part of six years,
until, at 15 years old,
Abby borrowed a gun from some wannabe gangbanger
from her high school, she pointed it at Uncle Joe's head
and said in no uncertain terms...
I'll fucking kill you if you ever touch me again.
And then she shot him in the knee,
so he knew she wasn't playing.
[Joe cries out]
Fuck! Ow!
[imitates gunshot]
It's like a movie, right?
I always pictured a young Natalie Portman playing her.
I don't know who that is.
You don't know who Natalie Portman is?
- No. - Doc, you got to get out more.
Yeah, I'm sure you're right.
[Will] I'll tell you what.
One of these nights, we'll do, like, a marathon
of early Portman.
Beautiful Girls, The Professional.
You'll see what I'm talking about.
- Okay? - Okay.
Right.
Okay, well, uh...
well, things got better from there.
Obviously, damage had been done.
Decapitated father, molesting uncle, you don't just, like,
bounce back from that shit, but...
Abby was smart, determined, a dreamer, a reader.
She hunkered down, she got herself into college,
started seeing a therapist on campus
who truly changed her life.
She even made a very close friend.
[laughs]
[chuckles]
[both laugh]
[whispers] You're gonna get me kicked out.
- [candy rattles on floor] - Could you please stop?
[Abby] I'm so sorry.
Oh, my God, Doc, look. Oh, my God.
Look.
- [laughs] - Oh.
Look at me. This is what I looked like in college.
I have 491 more pages.
Oh, my God, look how young I look.
No, no, I think you look very much the same.
Oh, well, I think I look like a completely different person.
Yeah, tomato, to-mah-to.
Doc, look at us.
Maybe we have a chance after all.
[laughs] Yeah.
Anyway, Abby really came into her own in college.
[laughs] My aim.
She engaged in the outside world,
she became extremely popular,
she even fell in love.
Not to toot my own horn, but toot, toot!
She graduated top of her class with an English lit degree.
Yeah, she wrote her thesis on...
[Abby and Will] The Unreliable Narrator!
The Unreliable Narrator.
- What's that? - My thesis.
Hey, guys, what's up?
Unreliable narrators are considered a device, right?
Don't answer. They are. They are.
And they don't get a lot of literary analysis
because it's a gimmick, it's a trick.
I mean, "Canterbury Tales" gets a, gets a shout-out
because, you know, it's good,
but then typically, it's used for popcorn crime novels
and thriller movies, like Agatha Christie, Usual Suspects,
- so on and so forth. - Right.
But I'm gonna argue that every narrator,
by its very definition, is unreliable.
Because when you tell a story,
there's always an essential distance
between the story itself and the telling
of said story, right?
So, therefore, every story that has ever been told
has an unreliable narrator.
The only truly reliable narrator would be
someone hypothetically telling a story that unfolds
before our very eyes, which is obviously impossible.
So, what does that tell us?
That the only truly reliable narrator
is life itself.
But life itself is also a completely unreliable narrator
because it is constantly misdirecting
and misleading us and taking us on this journey
where it is literally impossible to predict
where it's gonna go next.
And that is my thesis!
Life as the ultimate unreliable narrator.
- What do you think? - Yeah.
It'll make more sense when I write it. I love you.
Bye, guys.
I love you.
- [Chuck] You're up. - I love her, Chuck.
[laughs] Yeah. Come on.
- [Will] Holy shit. - Your turn.
I love you, Abby!
Hey, before, when I invited you over to watch
Natalie Portman movies,
you know I was just being funny, right?
- Yes, I do. - Okay.
'Cause I'm still married, so...
At least I think I am.
I mean, I haven't signed any papers or anything yet,
so I don't really know how the whole thing works.
Will, it's fine. Okay?
Take a deep breath.
And you can tell me about your marriage now.
[no audio]
You want me to tell you about my marriage?
Yeah.
So, you haven't, you haven't really been listening
to me, then, because...
it doesn't matter what I tell you, don't you...
I don't... [scoffs] Why can't you lean into this
- just one fucking time? - [Will] You see that, right?
Doesn't matter what I say, 'cause I could tell you
every detail about our marriage.
I could tell you every detail
about the day that she left me, but...
why, why would my memory even be remotely accurate?
- I'm going through a phase! - Yeah, but why do I
- have to listen... - And I'm asking you, just...
[Will] Maybe... maybe I'd actually
been smothering her for years.
- [Abby] No. Stop. - Smothering her with my love
and my dreams and a baby that she wasn't ready for.
Crushed him.
[Will] Maybe I was just another guy that was in her life
that seemed like I was gonna save it,
but really I was just there to ruin it.
Maybe she was really unhappy and this dream girl
that I created in my mind's eye was just like
a narrative trick, to get us through a life, you know?
I mean, this is really some
deep philosophical shit we're talking about here.
Yes, it is. It is.
Will...
we've been seeing each other for a while now.
And today, you're talking about Abby a lot for the first time.
And it's good.
It's really good.
So, tell me about that day.
You had a nice morning with Abby...
- [Will] No, no. - ...talking about Bob Dylan.
I didn't. I didn't. That's not what I fucking said.
I just said that it may not have been a nice morning.
- Okay. - I said that it could've been
a smothering, horrible morning.
Okay. It could've been a smothering, horrible morning.
You talked about Bob Dylan,
then you went over to your parents' house for lunch,
and then what happened?
Then she just left me. Then she just left me.
Will, she didn't just leave you.
She just left. Yes, she did.
Have you seen Abby since you've been released, Will?
[crying] Come back to me, Abby.
Please come back to me. I'll, I'll do anything.
- Will? - Just give me another chance.
Will?
I'm talking to my fucking wife!
But your wife wasn't there, was she?
I don't know. What am I doing? What are you doing?
Will...
...you're not well yet.
Okay? You're mixing meds.
You're, you're not yourself.
Tell me about that day.
We talked about Bob Dylan.
Okay.
We laughed.
Okay.
Go ahead.
We almost crushed the dog.
Okay.
We went to my parents' house.
Right.
We ate meat loaf.
- Oh, my God, my mom's crazy. - [laughs]
- She's totally fucking nuts. - She is.
We're never gonna do that again.
Oh, gosh.
- How you feeling, my love? - I ate too much.
[both laugh]
- You think? - Just a little bit.
You freakin' ate the gross national
meat loaf product of a small nation.
I think we might have a meat loaf instead of a human baby.
You're giving birth to meat loaf?
Yeah, we're having meat loaf.
[both laugh]
- Cab? - No.
- Walk it off? - Yes, please.
All right, let's walk it off.
[Abby] My heart's on fire.
[laughing] Not in a good way.
[Will talks indistinctly]
♪ ♪
The baby's a girl, Will.
What?
I know we weren't gonna find out,
but then the nurse slipped up, and now I feel shitty knowing.
In about three weeks, you're gonna have a daughter.
Say something.
What?
I know what you want to name her.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Yeah, I think so.
I know you don't like his music, but...
I love it.
Big fan.
I think it's cute. I think it's...
[tires screeching]
I was smothering her. I was smothering her.
That's why she left me.
Will, listen, you suffered a trauma.
It was horrific.
- Can you fucking help me?! - Horrific.
Help me, please!
[Morris] You thought about killing yourself.
You... you were in treatment for months
to keep you safe.
And now you're, you're constructing a story
that somehow makes it bearable.
Will... you have a baby.
All right?
Your baby lived.
For whatever reason, miraculously, she's alive.
Now, Will, wouldn't Abby want you to be there for that child?
Now, why haven't you gone to your parents'?
Will, look at me.
Why haven't you seen that baby?
I think it would help you.
- Okay. - That's why you're out,
and that's why you're seeing me, to get you there.
I, I think you're ready.
Okay.
I'm gonna go.
No, hang on, Will. Will, hang on.
No, I don't want you to leave yet. Let's...
That's not the right story. No.
I'm not really the hero of the story.
This is, trauma is vicious, Will.
I'm sorry. You're very nice.
You're very nice.
I don't want to be here anymore.
Look, just sit down. We can...
Let me talk you through this.
Bye.
[gun shot]
[screams]
[exhales]
[gasps]
["Make You Feel My Love" by Bob Dylan playing]
♪ When the rain is blowing in your face ♪
♪ And the whole world is on your case ♪
♪ I could offer you a warm embrace ♪
♪ To make you feel my love ♪
[Narrator] To say Dylan Dempsey's childhood
was marked by death and tragedy would be
the grossest of understatements,
and also a little bit douchey.
She was literally born of death and tragedy.
[tires screech, crash]
Six months into her little life,
her father started locking in the pattern.
[gunshot]
And that was just the start.
Dylan lost her grandma when she was six.
♪ The storms are raging on the rolling sea ♪
♪ And on the highway of regret ♪
And her best friend when she was seven.
♪ The winds of change are blowing wild and free ♪
♪ You ain't seen nothing like me yet. ♪
[whispers] Tell them I'm nice.
[knock on door]
Come in.
How you feeling, kiddo?
I feel like my whole life is gonna be
marked by death and tragedy.
[Narrator] She did not say this, of course,
but if she could verbalize what she was feeling
at eight years old, she would've.
[Irwin sighs]
I crave a happy life, Grandpa.
I have a almost desperate craving
for stability and happiness,
the way fat people crave chocolate
or lost hikers crave rescue.
I want to live a big, great, fantastical life,
but I'm concerned that
the tragedy that seems to follow me,
the tragedy that birthed me
will prevent that from ever happening.
And I don't know if I can withstand
another body blow like this.
[Narrator] But what she really said was...
How you feeling, kiddo?
Are you gonna die, Grandpa?
Yes. I am.
Probably sooner than you'd like, kiddo...
if I'm being honest.
I'm gonna fight like hell to stick around for you
as long as possible, to prevent one more death
from coming anywhere near your doorstep.
I'm gonna get on the fucking treadmill,
cut back on the red meat.
I'm gonna do my best.
Get you through your teenage years
without losing one more goddamn thing.
Gonna do it for your mother and father.
I'm gonna do it for your grandmother.
Most of all, I'm gonna do it for you, granddaughter.
I'm gonna squeeze out ten more years
from this decrepit old body, for you, my girl.
My angel.
[Narrator] Again, Irwin expressed this all with...
No. No more dying around here, kiddo.
- Okay? - Okay.
[both sigh loudly]
["Million Miles" by Bob Dylan playing]
[Narrator] The Dylan Dempsey transformation years.
The years brought puberty.
Puberty brought sexuality.
Sexuality brought anger and fear and confusion.
And when the smoke cleared,
where that sweet little girl once stood,
there remained only a woman
who scared the absolute shit out of everyone.
♪ You took a part of me that I really miss ♪
♪ I keep asking myself how long it can go on like this ♪
♪ You told yourself a lie ♪
♪ That's all right, mama, I told myself one, too... ♪
- [knock on door] - Come in.
♪ Still a million miles from you. ♪
Hey.
Hey. I'm going out.
With who?
Just with some friends.
Cigarettes.
Grandma used to say it's a nasty habit
of people lighting little fires under their noses.
Cool.
You aren't even gonna try and hide them from me?
Aren't we both better than that?
I don't know.
You hear Vermont's made them illegal?
Remind me never to go to Vermont.
- Can I have one? - No.
Just one?
No, these things will kill you.
Was hoping we could talk about college.
We talked about it last night.
- Didn't get very far. - Yes, we did.
We just didn't get where you wanted it to go.
I'm 21, Irwin. Give up on the dream.
I've almost saved enough to get out of your hair.
I promise.
Promise you'll be home by 11:00?
I'd rather not lie to you.
- Please lie to me. - I'll be home by 11:00.
Dylan.
Happy 21st, kiddo.
[both sigh loudly]
Some sugar.
Mwah.
Peace!
[tinny melody playing]
[door opens, closes in distance]
[lid closes, melody stops]
♪ ♪
[Dylan] Hey. [clears throat] Hey, everyone.
We're PB&J.
[scattered cheers, whoops] [Man] Yeah!
Um... [sucks teeth]
Uh, this first song is kind of personal.
Um... [clears throat]
My mom died 21 years ago today, and...
[Man] Take it off!
[crowd murmurs, giggles]
They tell me she used to listen to Bob Dylan.
[Man] Show us your tits!
[bottle shatters] [crowd whooping, cheering]
Whatever.
[sighs] [playing gentle melody]
♪ When the rain is blowing in your face ♪
♪ And the whole world is on your case ♪
♪ I can offer you a warm embrace ♪
♪ To make you feel my love ♪
♪ When the evening shadows and the stars appear ♪
♪ And there is no one there to dry your tears ♪
♪ I could hold you for a million years ♪
♪ To make you feel my love ♪
[dissonant feedback squeals]
[thrashing heavy metal music begins]
♪ I know you haven't made your mind up yet ♪
♪ But I would never do you wrong ♪
♪ I've known it from the moment that we met ♪
♪ There's no doubt in my mind where you belong ♪
♪ I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue ♪
♪ I'd go crawling down the avenue ♪
♪ No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do ♪
♪ To make you feel my love. ♪
♪ ♪
[slow rock music playing in distance]
[women giggling softly]
[giggling continues]
- Oh, shit. - Oh, shit.
[Woman] Hey!
What the fuck?
[Woman] Hey!
Hey, you owe me a new phone, bitch.
Yeah. You're right, I'm sorry.
That, uh... [exhales] I shouldn't have done that.
Uh, it's just been a really weird day for me.
Um...
Let me see what I have on me. Can you hold that a second?
I'm so, so sorry.
- [woman grunts] - [onlookers exclaiming]
You think that's funny? You fucking filming me?!
Dylan!
I'm fine. I'm fine!
I'm fine.
[panting]
[horn honks]
[passing horn blares]
[Abby] The baby's a girl, Will.
[Will] What?
I know we weren't gonna find out,
but then the nurse slipped up, and now I feel shitty knowing.
In about three weeks, you're gonna have a daughter.
Actually, Daddy's gonna blow his brains out
before he even meets me, so...
[Abby] Say something.
I know what you want to name her.
[Abby] I know you don't like his music...
Might want to look to your right, lady.
[Will] I love it.
- Big fan. - Mom.
- I think it's pretty cute. - I think it's gonna be...
- Mom, Mom, look out! - [tires screech, crash]
[sniffles]
[panting]
♪ ♪
Are you okay?
Does it matter?
[Narrator] If Rodrigo Gonzalez
had really been there that night,
he might have told the stoned young woman
sitting in front of him that it mattered quite a bit to him
that Dylan Dempsey was okay.
[men chattering in Spanish]
[man laughs]
[man whistling a tune]
♪ ♪
He's here!
[engine stops]
- [greets in Spanish] - [men respond]
Bueno. Bueno. Hombre.
[conversing in Spanish]
[man whistling a tune]
♪ ♪
Come here. I'll be with you in a second. Have a seat.
Sit.
Javier, it occurs to me that we've
never really spoken.
It's been
five years
I've owned this land
and I don't think we've said more than a few words to one another.
Drink?
- No, sir. - No, right.
I was raised in Italy, did you know that?
That I'm Italian?
I look like you and sound like you,
but my name is Saccione
and I have lived most of my life
in Italy.
My Italian father
traveled to Andalusia
and this is where he met my mother.
Did you know these things?
That my mother was from this region?
No, señor.
My father
was a royal
fuck of a man.
He met my mother young,
he won her over, moved her away
from everything she knew,
everyone she loved.
He was,
possessive,
controlling, aggressive.
And he was rich,
which makes a royal fuck of a man like that
particularly
dangerous.
Hey, are you sure I can't offer you a drink?
Wine, manzanilla?
I will go for manzanilla.
Okay, manzanilla sounds good.
Very well, of course.
So there's my mother
a young Spanish lady
full-blooded Andalusian
cut off from her family
living in the Italian countryside.
By the way,
doesn't speak a word of Italian.
Here you go.
Cheers.
My father
decides he wants
an "Italian" wife.
and an "Italian" family.
So he disallows Spanish in his home.
He cuts off contact with her family.
My mother has nothing.
No one to love.
And so she gets pregnant.
With me.
As I get older
whenever my father travels for work
she
arranges packages to be sent from home.
Spanish foods, wines.
Our favorite treat was
the Spanish olive oil.
Can you imagine?
There we are
in the Italian countryside
home to the most famous olive oil in the world,
pouring Spanish olive oil down our throats
like we now drink this manzanilla.
What a pair
Mama and I were.
What a pair.
She died, my mother,
when I was just sixteen.
As soon as she died,
that royal fuck of a man cut me off.
He saw my mother
in me.
And in my mother he saw only a dirty Spaniard
who had ruined his life.
Luckily for me,
my father wasn't just a bigot,
he was also a narcissist.
He never thought he would die,
even as he got older, even as he got sicker.
And so...
he never made a will.
Ay, ay ay.
The moment he left this earth,
I became a wildly wealthy man, Javier.
And the first thing I did was
buy this land back in Andalusia,
where I now grow hundreds of acres
of the olive oil that Mama and I once hoarded.
And while
business keeps me away
most of the time,
this land is the only thing that matters to me.
This land is my story,
and it is my mama's story.
That is why
the olives
mean so much to me.
And now
I must ask,
why do they mean so much to you?
I don't follow.
The other men use rakes and nets
but you pick by hand.
You can only pick half as many...
I work twice as long.
No, I am aware. This is not
criticism. It is simply a question.
Why do you work harder than the other men?
Because it's the right way...
I tell you my story,
the story of my fuck of a father
and my poor abused mother
and when I ask you for the same...
all I get is "because it's the right way?"
Come on Janvier, drink your manzanila and tell me your story
I am a simple man.
I do not have a story.
I did not have a fuck of a father.
My father was
funny and whistled while he worked,
and I like having a job where I can whistle while I work, too.
The rakes bruise the olives
so I pick them by hand.
It's the right way. That is all.
The men love you.
I hear you telling them stories,
making them laugh.
I have a big mouth.
But with me, you are reserved.
You are my boss.
I want to be your friend.
No.
I would disappoint you as your friend.
I disagree...
I gave you my answer.
It's curious.
The other men admire me,
and they barely know me.
But you, you hear my story and it does not affect you.
It does not make you
like me?
It's okay,
you can be
completely honest.
No, it does not.
May I ask why...
I would not have taken his money.
Okay.
Would you like to live here
and oversee the men? As foreman?
For free?
Yes, for free.
Of course, there would be a raise...
No.
The free rent would be more than enough.
I have one condition.
I will take care of your land.
I will help it thrive as if it's my own.
But my whistling
is for me,
and my big mouth is for the men.
You will not ask of that from me.
And I will never ask anything of you.
[Narrator] At exactly this moment,
a mere 4,000 miles away,
Abby Dempsey, then Abby Lesher,
had just finished the first draft of her college thesis.
[Abby] "But life itself proves to be
"the most unreliable of narrators,
"forever taking us on a journey
"where it is impossible to predict
what might happen next. Life its..."
Okay. This next part gets a little flowery...
Read, woman.
I know, but I feel like it's getting away
- from literary crit... - Read!
Life itself tricks us.
It misleads us.
It paints one man a hero when he may well be a villain.
Hero or villain?
Villain or hero?
Or maybe neither.
Maybe life is playing the role
of unreliable trickster yet again.
Maybe those it paints
as the heroes and villains of our stories
are actually just day players in a much bigger movie.
Maybe they're simply extras,
filling the frames so the real heroes
can have bodies crossing in the background.
And then it sort of says that over and over again...
- You... - [clears throat]
...are so much smarter than me.
I really am, aren't I?
[Spanish version of "Make You Feel My Love" playing]
[Narrator] Abby's thesis was a total disaster.
Her favorite and most trusted professor argued,
as she feared he might,
that she had strayed from literary criticism
and had veered into an unwieldy cross
of creative writing and 17th-century French philosophy.
Then Abby's favorite and most trusted professor
tried to fuck her.
Which, one might argue, proved Abby's thesis after all.
♪ ♪
[whistling a tune]
A continent away,
Javier González was worried about none of this.
Javier González didn't philosophize
and he never wondered what life had in store for him.
Javier González knew where he was going.
He'd known all along.
- ♪ ♪ - [women speaking Spanish]
Oh.
[speaking Spanish]
[Narrator] Isabel Diaz had been taught from birth
to expect a very average life.
She was one of six sisters
and was openly considered to be the fourth prettiest.
♪ ♪
[Isabel speaks Spanish]
Bravo.
[Javier laughs]
[Isabel giggles]
I brought this.
Ooh.
because, we have to celebrate that I've been promoted.
Stop fucking with me.
Seriously?
Seriously.
How do you say it so calmly?
Congratulations!
I can make a life for us now.
Bella...
I know I'll never be a rich man.
But...
I also know...
that I will be a good one.
And I also know that my heart...
has been yours since the day I saw you.
Don't laugh!
I would like to make it official.
- Yes. - Yes what?
Yes to everything.
But don't cry, okay?
No, no. [laughs]
[both laughing]
♪ ♪
[conversing in Spanish]
[Javier laughs]
[Javier] Una...
[Isabel] Dos...
- Y... - Y tres!
[Isabel exclaims]
All of this is yours?
Ours, Bella.
[laughs]
What do you think?
I feel like a...
landowner.
It's ours, Bella.
This is ours.
[Isabel squeals]
- [Javier] [speaking excitedly] - [Isabel laughing]
♪ ♪
[Javier laughs]
[Isabel gasps]
[conversing in Spanish]
♪ ♪
[chanting]
[conversing in Spanish]
♪ ♪
This is where we are.
Andalusia.
If you cross over here, like this...
Here we run into
this piece of land
kind of brownish-greenish called
America.
New York?
New York, you remember?
[speaking Spanish]
[Narrator] Isabel could no longer remember
when Mr. Saccione first started coming over to visit Rodrigo.
[sighs]
She only knew that the visits had become more consistent,
usually in the middle of the day,
always when Javier was in the fields.
I apologize.
I've overstayed my welcome.
No, not at all.
- Si, si. - No, no, no. [chuckles]
I have.
I have many great things in my life, Mrs. Gonzáles...
but
I fear my strange upbringing
has left me,
with scars that have kept me from finding,
the most important things.
It is not fair
that now I try to fill that void
here.
Don't be silly.
Rigo loves you.
That's very kind of you.
No, it's true.
He really is such a
special boy.
He is very smart, isn't he?
The things I could teach him. English and literature, and...
That would be great.
My love. Hello.
Javier.
Perfect, because I came to talk to you about the
extension to the mill.
And brought a gift for your son.
It wasn't necessary. It's too generous.
Just a small gift.
Besides, my son has enough toys.
And from now on, when you need me,
just send word,
and I'll save you the trip.
No!
Thank you.
Let me fill you in on the mill.
Of course.
I want to go to New York with him!
[Narrator] Javier González was a simple man,
- but not a stupid one. - [speaks Spanish]
And that day, he began doing something
he'd never done before: planning a family vacation.
To a place that he had just learned
his son desperately wanted to visit with someone else.
- ♪ ♪ - [shouting playfully]
[woman singing gentle melody in Spanish]
♪ ♪
I want to go up front.
No, not up front, Rigo. It's dangerous.
You want us to go up front?
I got him! And we're going up front!
- Hello. - Hello.
- [woman] Hello. - Hola.
- Hola.
Hola. Hola.
Hey, little guy. Look.
Where'd it go? Look.
- Whoa. - There it is.
Where are you from?
We're from Spain.
Hello.
I'm from the south.
Rodrigo, don't bother the bus driver. He's driving.
♪ ♪
[Narrator] A pregnant woman eviscerated by a bus.
A grown man weeping desperately.
Bystanders screaming.
It was only about 20 seconds of footage,
but it would replay on a loop
in little Rodrigo González's brain for years to come.
Mamá!
My love.
Go to sleep, OK?
One eye,
we close it.
This other eye...
No more bad dreams.
Only good ones.
[timer ticking]
You can hear he's awake, don't you?
Or am I the only one that can hear he's awake?
If you yell at him he won't go to sleep.
You put him to sleep.
[fork clinking on plate]
Rigo!
You're going to force me to eat?
I am not hungry.
I'm not hungry, Bella!
[plates clatter]
[sighs]
[rythymic tapping and clapping]
[Rodrigo] Mamá!
[clapping continues]
[slams bottle on table]
- No! - Rigo.
- That's enough! - No!
[door opens]
I can smell you from here.
[breaking glass]
Bella, I'm talking to you.
Damn it!
[Rodrigo moaning in distance]
He is getting worse, Javier.
He is getting worse.
I know.
He will get better, I know it.
He just needs time.
We need to get him help.
We took him to all the doctors.
He needs a specialist!
In Madrid.
The doctors the rich people...
We are not rich people, Bella.
He is our son.
He is our little boy and he is in pain.
Okay.
If you want, I will ask him.
No. No.
No, Bella.
I must. Okay?
Okay.
♪ ♪ [pen scribbling]
Excuse me, sir.
Do you have a moment?
Your Uncle called me,
he told me you've been sad.
Hm-mm.
The diagnosis is pretty clear,
after these two sessions.
Rodrigo experienced a trauma, as you know.
From the event he experienced.
The accident.
Rodrigo is responding very well to my suggestions,
and expressing himself through drawings and games,
which is very important.
It will take some time,
but the good news is it's treatable and curable.
It's very important you know that.
So, on a financial level, for us...
Do not worry about that.
♪ ♪
[Narrator] Months passed.
Mr. Saccione's visits were no longer restricted.
[bird chirping] His gifts no longer withheld.
- [Saccione laughs] - Wow.
Ooh. Hola, Oli.
[Saccione] And now, in English.
My name is...
Rodrigo...
González.
Very good.
Well done.
But I like to be called Rod.
[Saccione] Or Rigo. [Rodrigo] Yeah.
[Saccione] Oh.
[Rodrigo] I am from Spain.
[Saccione] Keep going.
[Rodrigo] I was sad
for a long time.
But my uncle got me a bird,
which helps.
[keys clink]
Do you love her?
Yes.
And Rodrigo?
Yes.
I am sorry, Javier.
I suppose loneliness makes men...
weak.
I am not proud.
But I'm sure your father would be.
You've turned out to be your father's son after all.
Javier, I give you my word, I will stay away from them.
Your son is healing, he doesn't need my anymore.
They are your family, Javier.
- Not mine. - No.
♪ ♪
[glass ringing softly]
What is this?
This is goodbye.
Bella.
Where are you going?
I see the way you look at him. The way he looks at you.
[scoffs]
Dear God, you are drunk.
You are drunk and jealous.
I see what he has done for our son.
He helped him get better.
Things I could not do.
That is why we asked him for help.
And when he offered his help...
you disappeared, isn't that right?
Were you looking for an answer at the bottom of those bottles?
I've taken a job in Madrid, as a mechanic.
They pay well.
What? What are you saying?
I will send you all the money.
Though I'm betting soon you will not need it.
[slap]
I'm sorry.
You deserve more.
[slap]
Do not tell me what I deserve, Javi!
Don't you dare tell me what I deserve.
I know what I deserve!
Do you think you're doing me a favor?
That you saved me from something?
That my life was shit and you saved me?
Is that what you think?
I chose you.
Javier.
Hola.
I chose you because I knew I deserved someone special.
Someone good.
Someone who could smile with his eyes.
Then look me in those eyes.
Look me in the eyes and tell me...
you would have a better life with me than with him.
I would have a better life with you than with him.
[door creaks open]
[door closes]
Rigo is all I have.
I don't want him to suffer anymore.
I don't want him to suffer a minute longer.
I don't care what he becomes.
Just that he finds his way, that he be happy.
You will help him find that with me.
Say it.
I will help Rodrigo find his way.
I won't love you the way I love him.
I know.
[Narrator] If we've learned anything by now,
it's not to get attached to new heroes.
They tend to disappoint.
♪ ♪
But damn if little Rodrigo González
didn't look like the real deal.
[man singing upbeat song in Spanish]
♪ ♪
Mom?
I've been admitted to the University! I'm in, look!
I got in!
What is wrong?
She's sick, Rodrigo.
I'll postpone.
With all that's happening...
It is not your decision.
She has given me everything. She has given me her life.
I can give her this.
Rodrigo...
I've already said I'm doing it.
We will fix this.
We will fix her the way you fixed me.
Look at me.
We will fix her.
♪ ♪
Okay.
This'll hurt.
Ay, ay, ay!
♪ ♪
[sniffs]
Rigo.
Your mother is asking for you.
OK.
- Hi. - Hi.
It has been a long time, I do not get better.
He spends enough
so I do not get worse.
But, Rigo.
You just wait.
My love.
It is enough.
- Mom... - It is enough.
It is enough, Rigo.
♪ ♪
[Narrator] Rodrigo entered college a visiting freshman,
and as he'd been doing for most of the previous decade,
he thrived.
He lettered in two sports.
[Professor] ...proportional to the ratio...
[Narrator] His marks were at the very top of his class.
He even embarked on a relationship
with a 20-something from Long Island
named Shari Dickstein.
[giggles]
She made him laugh... usually not intentionally.
Oh, my God. You've never been to Whole Foods?
- No. But what is that? - Okay, I'll take you there.
It's like a dream. It's like a...
[Narrator] She wasn't his great love, but she was company.
And great love wasn't his priority at the moment.
...clean eating, vegan dream.
What's-what's vegan?
Oh, my God, you're adorable.
I love that you don't know things.
[Narrator] He saved every dollar,
coveted every vacation.
Rodrigo González had an internal compass,
and it always pointed in the same direction.
She's from a place called Long Island.
- [hoarsely] En Nueva York? - Si.
Look...
Very pretty.
Her name is Shari Dickstein.
Shari with an "S".
- Shari? - Shari.
Shari Distin.
Shari Dickstein.
What is she like?
She is...
She's loud.
[both laugh]
- No. - Si. Si, si, si.
[Narrator] Like so many of the biggest years of our lives,
it flew by.
But in truth, that year was just a setup,
a preamble to the biggest day of Rodrigo González's life.
[Shari snoring lightly]
Where are you going?
I'm just going for a quick run.
- Miarma. - Huh?
When we first started dating, you used to call me "Miarma."
You would've said,
"Just going for a quick run, Miarma."
It always made me feel like Kelly Ripa. [chuckles]
Shari...
I'm pregnant.
I know. Obvi, lots to talk about.
Hey, will you take me for brunch?
There's this place I really want to try.
It's Vietnamese, which I'm assuming
is kind of like dim sum or something.
We can talk at brunch, at the Vietnamese place.
I really want to try it.
So, I just started feeling shitty a few weeks ago.
I thought I was just getting a really bad period.
Ever since I got off the pill,
I have been having bananas periods, you know?
But it wasn't stopping, so I went to my gyno,
and he was like, "Are you sexually active?"
So I told him about you,
and then he did the test thing and blammo!
I hadn't even thought to try an at-home test.
For whatever reason,
my brain did not go there whatso-fucking-ever.
Anyways, I know that we haven't been together very long,
and clearly this is as "what the fuck" as things get.
I mean, I don't know what your deal is with religious stuff,
but I'm thinking that I should probably just get an abortion.
Are you, like, are you, like, super against that? Abortion?
I know abortion's a really big deal for Christians.
There should, like, be, like, a pill or something
for something like this, like, unplanned pregnancy.
'Cause if you're Christian, I'm...
[horn blares]
Anyhow, we don't have to decide any of this right now,
but I would like to make the call early,
just before the thing has, like,
a head and stuff, you know?
Oh, hey, there we are!
[chuckles]
So, the way I see it, we have, like, three options.
Option one: we have it.
I mean, a mixed-race baby
with our skin complexions would be amazeballs.
My family have batshit money,
so we could get nannies and stuff.
I don't know, it's probably a bad idea.
Option two: abort. But again, I would like to make
that call sooner rather than later.
Or option three: we can just both agree
that this is all an insane April Fools' joke!
Ah!
What?
April Fools', bitch!
Wh-What is that?
Seriously? You don't know April Fools'?
No, I don't.
Well, I didn't know that.
So there is no baby?
Dude! Ew, no.
Of course not.
Oh, come on.
You have to admit, that was, that was pretty funny.
[chuckles]
Shari...
[chuckles]
Oh, fuck.
You're gonna break up with me, aren't you?
[Narrator] He was.
Yes, I am. I'm-I'm sorry...
[Narrator] Obviously, nothing thus far
had indicated that this would be
the most important day of Rodrigo's life.
No.
Sometimes the most important days of our lives begin,
and we're not even there to see it.
[nurse whispers]
♪ ♪
[Saccione sighs]
I need to call Rodrigo.
Isabel.
I've already said goodbye to him.
Isabel.
It's not necessary to say goodbye twice.
Vincent.
You are a good man.
No.
You are.
[footsteps approach]
[sad guitar music]
Hola, Bella.
[Narrator] Mr. Saccione was a letter writer.
He always had been.
He believed in the power of the written word,
the force of actually sitting down
and writing to someone by hand.
Javier, I give you my word.
I will stay away from them.
Your son is healing, he doesn't need me anymore.
They are your family, Javier.
- Not mine. - No.
I won't return.
I'll ask only one favor.
[Narrator] And with that, Mr. Saccione's letters
found a new recipient.
A man whose only request was that he be kept up to date
on those he had abandoned but still cherished.
Dear Javier.
Remember when I told you about Rodrigo...
[sighs]
♪ ♪
She's dying, Javier.
Come home.
[sighs]
[Javier] Hola, Bella.
Hola.
[both laughing]
♪ ♪
[sighs]
[keys clatter]
[phone rings]
How's it going, Uncle?
How are you?
Good. It has been a busy afternoon.
Yes.
With the loud girl.
[breathing shakily]
♪ ♪
[Narrator] When critics reviewed Abby Dempsey's favorite album,
Bob Dylan's 1997 release, "Time Out of Mind,"
the song "Make You Feel My Love"
was a source of much criticism.
[panting]
Every track on the album
brimmed with unrelenting melancholy and sadness.
But there, smack in the middle of it all,
sat an unabashedly populist hit song,
a love song...
a song that in years to come would be covered
by Garth Brooks, of all people.
Critics argued that putting an on-the-nose love song
in the middle of an album about despair and tragedy
- was Dylan's only misstep. - [woman crying softly]
Others argued that it was his point.
[Rodrigo] Are you okay?
[crying continues]
Hola.
[sniffles]
[Narrator] My father, Rodrigo González,
officially met my mother, Dylan Dempsey, that day...
the most important day of his life.
Hi.
[Narrator] They would not spend a single night apart
for the next 42 years.
They would go on to have four children,
seven grandchildren.
A love story for the ages.
My grandmother, Abby Dempsey,
argued in her failed college thesis
that life itself is our most unreliable narrator.
She argued that no one knows where their story is going,
nor who the heroes in it are going to be.
And while it's true that life has often made it difficult
to pinpoint the heroes of my family's story,
my parents have always made it incredibly easy for me.
They found the one populist love song
in our family's often very melancholy album.
Unlike my grandmother Abby,
my grandmother Isabel was neither a writer
nor a philosopher.
But sometimes I wonder if she didn't understand
exactly what Bob Dylan was going for.
[speaks Spanish]
Spanish does not often translate perfectly,
but what Isabel said to my father
the day she sent him away, it required no translation.
- Mamá... - [speaks Spanish]
Enough.
Listen to me.
Rigo, you have had many ups and downs in your life.
Too many.
And you will have more.
This is life.
And this is what it does.
Life brings you to your knees.
[laughs, sniffles]
It brings you lower than you think you can go.
But if you stand back up...
and move forward...
if you go just a little farther...
you will always find love.
I found love in you. [laughs]
And my life, my story,
it will continue after I'm gone.
Because you are my story.
You are your father's story.
Your uncle's.
[sniffles]
Rigo, my body fails me.
But you are me.
♪ ♪
So you go now.
[sniffles]
Give me a beautiful life.
The most beautiful life ever.
Yeah?
And if life brings us to our knees...
you stand us back up.
You get up.
And go farther.
[sniffles]
And find us the love.
Will you do that?
[whispering in Spanish]
♪ ♪
[Elena] I'm not sure whose story I have been telling.
I'm not sure if it is mine,
or if it's some character's I have yet to meet.
I'm not sure of anything.
All I know is that, at any moment,
life will surprise me.
It will bring me to my knees.
And when it does,
I will remind myself...
I will remind myself
that I am my father.
And I am my father's father.
I am my mother.
And I am my mother's mother.
♪ ♪
And while it may be easy
to wallow in the tragedies that shape our lives,
and while it's natural to focus on those
unspeakable moments that bring us to our knees,
we must remind ourselves
that if we get up,
if we take the story a little bit farther...
[speaks Spanish]
If we go far enough,
there's love.
Hey.
[sighs]
Hey.
Goddamn.
♪ ♪