April Flowers (2017) - full transcript

.

Narrator: Meet April.

She finds coffee shops fascinating, particularly

in the afternoon when they house a collection of loners.

An empty picture frame, once hung as a fashion

she had fancied from a television show,

had now become a resting place for lost dreams.

She refers to past relationships as "time spent,"

and once broke up with a man because

his tattoo failed to hold any special meaning.

April's greatest fears are in an equal and ironic measure.



That of living a purposeless life,

and the fear of God speaking to her.

(Subway noise)

April: Mirror mirror, truthfully lied, sharing one heart,

running two minds, breathless, tired,

Male voice: muddle that binds, I am Jekyll, no need to Hyde.

Narrator: There was no name, address or number indicating its owner.

There were clues however.

Places he had been, and first names of people he had spoken with.

April had read fifteen pages of intimate thoughts by this unknown individual

and for the first time in nearly three years she had felt a pang, a stabbing ache.

Was it guilt?

No, it was her once dormant friend loneliness.

She decided to end her voyeuristic crime on the final line of the fifteenth page.



It read, (Male voice) "her death left me feeling as free as I had felt in a very long time,

and I'll never forgive myself for it."

Narrator: As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined the sun-soaked afternoon

when she would return the journal to its creator.

(Door opens)

(Workplace noise)

(Typing)

(Clock ticking)

(Clock ticking)

(Clock ticking)

(Traffic)

Narrator: He could be anyone...

but could he be everyone?

Was it possible that there were hundreds, thousands, even millions of men wearing invisible

armor to mask their profound understanding of self? Of life?

And if so, was she to blame for a lack of effort

in attempting to penetrate this protective shell?

Suddenly April felt culpable for her failed relationships.

(Background music)

How ya going to track him down?

Not sure.

So far I've posted it on Craigslist.

Any response?

Just a couple of guys sending pictures of their you-know-what's.

Forward please.

Not worth it, trust me.

Oooh, you looked.

Such a perv.

Oh shush.

Maybe one of them was his?

No.

Oh, right, I forgot, he's perfect.

You haven't read his stuff.

So let me.

I can't.

It's personal.

You read it.

I was trying to find a name or something.

Fine.

Woo hoo!

Shhh.

Jesus, you gotta hear to draw?

I'll read one passage.

I occupy my being with obtuse tasks,

in the hopes of freezing the circulating matter inside my head.

I shut my eyes and concur with irrational fantasies

that fool me into believing in their lucidity.

I ponder the relevance of being me.

He's gay.

Stop it.

Absolutely.

He talks about women a lot.

Because he wants to be one.

He's not gay.

Is there some dark relationship past you've never told me about?

What?

No.

Then why in the five years that I've known you has the one person you've fallen in love

with been an unknown, depressed, gay man that you will never meet?

I'm not afraid of love if that's what you mean.

No?

No.

What was wrong with Robert again?

Laura, please.

Right, he chewed with his mouth open.

Sorry if I had a pet peeve.

And that John guy?

John?

You know, the one who shaved his junk.

Josh.

Josh.

It was his whole body, he shaved his entire body.

Right. Too metrosexual.

It was like cuddling with an alien.

And besides, it wasn't about that. He...

He never listened.

Right.

The orange peels.

That was an example, okay?

Laura, he never listened to me.

How are you not seeing this?

Shhh.

Calm yourself, Dali.

They just weren't the right match.

Isn't that possible?

It is possible but it's also possible you need to make it the right match.

I would have married Yusef.

Yeah, to prove you were liberal.

Okay, lets say you do track this guy down, and he turns out to be straight, which there's

no way in hell but whatever, you know he's going to be balding and fat.

I mean come on, then what?

How fat?

Ginormous.

I don't know.

Looks like the only way to prove my point is to help you find this fat ass.

So, what do we know about him?

He lives in the city and he works as a consultant of some sort.

Wherever he lives there are Hispanic men around the corner waiting to be picked up for work.

Jesus, April, that's one in a thousand corners of New York.

What's next, he's Jewish?

He listens to blues.

He goes to a park with a pool.

And he eats hotdogs from food carts.

Wait.

I know.

Gross.

No. No.

Astoria Park.

There's a park in Astoria with an olympic-sized pool

and there's a huge Hispanic area around there.

Here's the plan.

This Saturday we print up fliers and we hang them all over Astoria.

We are so on to this Queen.

(Typing)

Narrator: What happened next would haunt her the entire night through.

(E-mail notification)

She had received yet another reply to her Craigslist ad.

(Thunder)

(Door slam)

How do you know it's him?

I copied the poem that he wrote and asked him to fill out the last line.

He got it right.

Sounds like you.

What if he looks like Chris Pratt?

Ya know, you would make cute babies with Chris Pratt.

If Chris Pratt kept a journal I bet it would be so steamy.

Like, s-e-xual escapade after s-e-xual escapade.

I bet he's violent in bed.

Like, angry s-e-x all the time.

I know he seems so sweet but I bet he has angry, angry s-e-x.

Angry.

(Laughs)

Oof.

You're infuriating.

What?

I know what you're thinking.

You do?

You wish it wasn't him.

I know it's not going to be Chris Pratt.

No, you wish you hadn't found him so quickly.

You wanted more time to dream about this guy.

I'm right, aren't I?

That is f'd up.

You know how I know?

How?

I knew a girl like you in college.

Completely cynical about love.

Or idealistic, or both, I don't know which.

Anyhow, one day this cute boy asked her out, she was super excited, talk of the floor.

The day before they were supposed to go out she called up the guy and postponed the date.

Then she did it another eight times.

Eventually the guy gave up.

You know why she kept cancelling?

I do not.

She preferred the gossip to the date.

You know what happened to her?

I do not.

You better love cats, that's all I'm saying.

I just haven't been this excited in years.

You are the only person who could turn that statement into a negative.

Okay. Let's move, Carly.

Call me when you're done c-l-i-m... climaxing.

Oh, thank you.

I love it.

I'll hang it on my wall.

Okay, and if I don't hear from you by five, I'm calling the police.

Come on, Carly.

(Door opens)

Here we go.

Okay?

Here.

Mmm hmm.

(Door closes)

(Door chime)

I'll have a little bit more.

(Diner noise)

Have a seat anywhere you like, hun.

Narrator: The diner was to be the rendezvous point.

And this was a calculated choice.

April found diners romantic in both their simplicity and history.

(Door chime)

(Camera click)

(Music)

April?

Yes?

Bill.

When you described yourself?

You left out beautiful.

Oh, thank you.

Cool place, huh?

Yeah.

Thanks.

So...

You found my journal?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

It dropped out of your backpack on the subway.

Yeah, that damn thing.

It's always giving me trouble.

And uh...

And I have a confession.

I did read quite a bit, all of it actually.

Did you?

I know I shouldn't have and it's totally wrong and rude and I completely

invaded your personal thoughts but it really wasn't my intention.

I really wanted to look for clues to help return the journal

but then as I read it I just...

I wanted to read more.

You have an amazing way of expressing yourself.

And I found myself feeling as though you were describing my thoughts.

What if I was?

Was what?

Describing you.

I find your writing poetic.

It's raw honesty.

I think a lot of people feel like you do

but are afraid to admit it or don't know how to express it and I just really wanted to tell you that.

I know you don't know me and you might not care

but I also think you really shouldn't feel so guilty.

I think it's human nature to feel conflicting things.

Guilty?

For what?

You know, um... like, your sister's death.

It was my fault?

No!

It's not your fault, that's what I'm saying.

How could you be responsible for her illness?

Just because you don't want that burden, which is natural I think, it doesn't mean you sped

up the process or had a negative impact.

Okay, you're good.

This ain't your first rodeo I see.

I wasn't sure at first.

Sure about what?

Right.

Well, uh, we were so close, my sister and I.

You want me to keep talking about my sister?

I just wanted to return the journal and let you know

that you're not alone in how you feel.

I should get going.

Hang on, should I follow you or...

What?

No, I don't think so.

Don't you want the journal back?

It's your journal.

Right?

Sorry to break like this but are we still playing?

Playing what?

Role play.

Excuse me?

Role play.

No, I hear you but I just wanted to return the journal.

It's not mine.

You knew the poem.

It's not a poem, it's the lyrics to a Pink Floyd song.

Comfortably Numb.

Why didn't you post in the Lost and Found section?

I did.

No, you posted in Missed Connections.

There's a community of role players that post scenarios and then meet up.

Last week I was a cable guy late for my appointment.

Still have welts.

That explains the photos.

Sorry.

No worries.

(Laughs)

Hey.

If you don't find the guy I'm happy to play the role.

Yeah, that's good to know.

(Door chime)

(Laughing)

I would die.

Can you believe it?

Narrator: There are a number of words that would accurately describe April's condition.

But "concerned" trumped them all.

How had she posted the journal in the wrong section?

Let alone a section reserved for courting appealing strangers?

Freud would have a field day with this, she thought.

(Kettle whistle)

(Coughing)

Hi Chris. Um...

It's April, I'm just calling to take a day off tomorrow, if that's okay with you.

I'm really not feeling well.

I have a fever and I was hoping to take tomorrow off.

Um, anyway, uh, call me back. Thanks.

(Printer noise)

(Traffic)

(Camera click)

Male voice: Sometimes I feel I'm waiting for a message in a bottle to wash ashore,

only the message is a map and it's leading me to an alternate universe

where another version of me is living the way I was meant to live.

(Waves)

What ya advertising there?

Found a journal on the subway.

Yep.

Ever heard of Paul Piscerni?

I don't think so.

Yep.

Should I have?

That's a great question.

He was an actor.

We served together in Vietnam.

He died yesterday.

Sorry to hear that.

Thank you.

But I never met the man.

We served in the same war, that's all.

Help me up there, will ya?

(Grunts)

Thank you.

Would you mind placing that for me?

Who are they?

Oh, mostly family and friends.

And when I ran out of those

I began including people from popular culture during my lifetime.

Actors, politicians and the like.

The ones that seemed nice.

Nineteen-ninety-nine.

That was the year I had twenty-one funerals to attend.

Yep, twenty-one.

Yep.

The twenty-first funeral had only three attendees.

Most of the rest had passed on.

Pretty soon I found myself the only one left to console.

Yep.

Wasn't worth the travel anymore.

That is...

I'm sorry.

Why?

Your family and friends, you lost them.

Lost them how?

Didn't you say they passed away?

Yep.

Moved on to ride the fluff in the sky.

But nothing's really lost.

Look.

There's adventure.

And laughs.

Late night philosophy.

And bar brawls.

And love.

Yep.

Lots of love.

Nothing's really ever lost.

Do you mind if I take a photo?

Suit yourself.

(Camera click)

(Camera click)

Narrator: April's mind raced with questions.

Had she offended him by taking the photograph?

Where was he going?

Did his memories provide sufficient companionship?

Did he think he was cursed?

Had he learned the meaning of life?

Did he have regrets?

Did he fear anything?

Was there anything left for him to fear?

(Subway noise)

Narrator: April imagined herself as an eighty-year-old woman,

and she wondered how many rocks she will have collected

before needing to add popular culture to the mix.

(Subway noise)

(Street traffic)

(Waves)

Oop, sorry.

I didn't see you there.

Sorry, um, is this yours?

I was just wondering if you dropped this?

No.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I'm fairly certain.

Oh, it's just I saw it fall out of a backpack just like yours.

Oh!

Target.

They were on sale.

I'm sorry.

Don't be.

I love Target.

Uh, hey!

You live around here?

Um, yeah, a couple blocks up.

I was going to grab...

(Chuckle)

I was going to grab a bite to eat.

You should come.

I've got something.

Uh, Jared.

April.

Maybe next time.

(Subway noise)

(Subway noise)

(Music)

(Children playing)

It's not like if you say something it's going to jinx it.

That's it though.

We talked about books, music, traveling.

Spent a couple of hours.

Oh, he works for a food bank.

He has a cute ass, he smelled like musky heaven, give me the good stuff.

He did have a cute butt.

Ugh, finally.

Hey, Carly honey, tie your shoe.

Okay so what's wrong with him?

Nothing.

He's smart, funny, artsy.

But we spent a couple of hours, I don't really know much about him yet.

God, please stop being so guarded, it's irritating.

When are you going to go out again?

We'll see if he calls.

Of course he will, you're adorable.

And he works for a food bank.

What is that supposed to mean?

He's broke.

I don't care.

I for one have never regretted marrying for money.

Laura.

I haven't.

You don't ever think what if you waited... for something more...

More magical?

Nah.

One day you wake up and you realize you have spent years

looking for something that doesn't exist.

Well, it doesn't exist for me.

Might happen for you though.

Hey, Carly honey, tie your shoe.

So you think everyone settles.

I think love is more a mindset than emotion.

Sounds like you don't believe love exists.

I think we mold it into what we need it to be.

So it becomes important to find someone

who agrees with you on whatever philosophy that is.

Or you can just find a guy with a cute butt.

I'm serious.

Carly!

Your shoe!

Do you...

love Tom?

Yes.

As much as I could love anybody.

Even if I had married him believing he was a soulmate or whatever,

it would still be work.

It's always work.

When is it too much work?

Yeah well, I'm not sure there's just one answer to that question.

I mean, if he hits you.

Of course.

Unless your into that kind of thing.

Carly, what did I tell you?

Narrator: April wondered, with time were her expectations growing or diminishing?

She found herself concocting a dangerous notion.

She wanted to fuse Jared with the journal author.

(Phone rings)

(City noise)

(Background music)

Lady.

mmm, that is awful.

(Laughs)

Greatest love song ever.

Really?

Just listen.

(Music)

What did I tell ya?

I can see how a man might think that.

Are you kidding me?

It's about a woman following her man back to his hometown

after he failed to achieve his dreams.

Exactly.

And the brilliance is, is just when you think the song is about him you suddenly realize

it's not, about him, at all. It's really about her.

That's kind of my point, it doesn't say anything about how he feels about her.

It's nothing personal.

No, this is important.

This is artistic perfection.

It's a catchy tune.

(Laughs)

Okay, okay.

Okay.

How about this.

Why does it matter?

If he loves her, why does it matter?

I don't know, maybe because she's moving to another state for him?

Because she loves him.

Yeah, she loves him.

No.

No, you can't do that.

It might be one sided is all I'm saying.

Maybe he's letter her come back with him in an effort to hold on to his dreams,

like a keepsake.

Maybe that's what she is to him, a kind of comfort.

No, you're projecting, there's nothing about that in the song.

You said, "greatest love song ever"

except there's nothing about how he feels towards her.

Case closed.

(Laughs)

Do you think she loves him?

I'd say... she thinks she does, but maybe it's not shared, we just don't know.

The look, how can someone ever truly give love to someone else if they're waiting

for it to be returned in equal measure?

That's conditional love.

All I'm saying is if it isn't mutual it isn't going to last

and when I think of love I think of something lasting.

You ever been in love?

Yes.

But it didn't last.

Nope.

So was it love?

Not the kind I wanted it to be.

And you?

Yeah, I've been in love.

Mmmhmm, how many times?

Three and a half.

Me too.

Maybe the half we dated at the same time.

Oh my god.

Was he six foot tall?

Yes.

Good looking, smart, funny?

Yes, yes and yes.

With a Cheshire cat tattoo near his vagina?

No.

Really?

Yes.

Surprised that didn't last.

Oh, how judgy are you?

Meow.

Look it's not like relationships come with an expiration date.

You know, you just...

Come here.

Why?

I want to try something.

I bet.

Turn around.

It's not weird, turn around.

You've got a great ass.

But we can talk about that later.

Or not.

Hands by your side.

I'm not going to look at your ass.

Much.

I'm kidding, turn around, come on, hands by your side.

Close your eyes.

Fall back.

What?

Close your eyes and fall back.

I don't think this is a good...

It's gonna be great!

Fall back.

I got you.

I don't want to do this.

Oh come on, you don't trust me?

No, it's not that I'm uncomfortable falling.

That's alright.

(Background music)

It's not that I don't trust you.

I was being silly.

You can trust someone without proving you'd fall out of a window.

I was just trying to look at your ass anyway.

What color was it?

What?

The Cheshire cat.

Ah.

I'm not going to answer that.

On the grounds that I wish to move past discussing ex-girlfriends' vaginal art.

(Camera click)

It was green wasn't it?

You wish.

(Laughs)

(Camera click)

(Background music)

(Music)

This remind you of anything?

Um...

Jules and Jim.

No way.

I can't believe you know this movie.

I used to dress like Jeanne Moreau.

What?

You know that hat she wore?

Uh huh.

Yeah, I wasn't very popular.

Oh man.

I would totally have been friends with you and your ugly hat.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Man I love this movie.

Yeah, me too.

Parlez-vous français?

Not at all.

You don't know the lyrics?

Well...

No.

I don't either.

You're screwing with me.

(Laughter)

Make 'em up.

Huh?

Make up the lyrics.

Seriously.

Sure.

Just try imagining them.

Or something.

Hmm.

I'd say she's singing about a happy moment from her past.

You must be really good with numbers.

What was that?

She's singing about a happy moment from... you can do better than that.

Oh fine.

I am very good with numbers.

I'm sure.

Get in the zone.

Shhh. Breathe.

(Exhale)

You got this.

Okay.

(Violin)

She walks through the park.

And it's spring.

She comes across a man, he's a violinist practicing a wonderful tune.

He's wearing one of those flat hats, you know, with a smooshed bill.

She lays down in the grass, it tickles her neck

in a way that reminds her of a passionate night from her past.

She exhales out her tension, imagining it breaks apart into tiny little spirits.

They comfort her and they say, "everything's going to be okay."

(Glass breaks)

Oh!

My bad.

Oh, I'll get something.

Of course I'm out of paper towels.

You are?

Yep.

Oh no.

(Background music)

Give me sexy.

Hey, are you done yet?

I guess.

Whoa, look at that.

Hey.

How'd you get that?

I don't know.

Let's see how you like it.

No.

Come on.

No.

Work it.

I don't want to work it.

Work it.

Lets see your sexy.

No, this is...

Work it for the camera.

Stop it.

(Music)

Narrator: Jared refused to confess that he found great difficulty

following the storylines when reading aloud.

April didn't have the heart to tell him that she preferred reading to herself.

Even so, over the past couple of months

this evening ritual had evolved into a source of great anticipation for each of them.

And what's your name?

April.

And yours?

Maximillian Von Russeau.

(Laughs)

Great, now if you get it within the thirty seconds you win the item,

if you don't guess right however one of you will die.

Crowd: Oooh

The product!

Crowd: Ahhh

You'll have to win this.

We'll work together.

I have too much humility to assign a value to my work.

You have thirty seconds, three, two, go.

(Ticking clock)

One hundred dollars.

Higher.

Two hundred dollars?

Higher.

Five hundred.

Higher.

One thousand dollars.

Higher.

Crowd: Four, three, two, one...

(Buzzer)

One million dollars!

Crowd: (Groan)

Oh so sorry this was a tough one.

The actual value of the journal was one hundred dollars.

(Crowd murmer)

But I said that.

Without conviction, I'm afraid.

You took too long now Max will suffer.

(Crowd applause)

No.

I'm sorry Maximillian Von Russeau.

What are you doing?

I think this guy's manic.

Please don't read that.

I'm sorry, I should have asked but...

You uh any leads yet?

No.

You know I probably met the guy.

What do you mean?

Come on, no.

Well he lives in Astoria.

We think he lives in Astoria.

He definitely lives in Astoria, or at least visits.

Actually, nobody visits Queens so I'm sure he lives there.

Why do you say that?

Because Manhattanites and Brooklynites are snobs like that.

No, why do you think he lives there?

Oh, he mentions Kelly's.

You know Kelly?

It's a bar, not a guy.

Yeah my friends and I used to go there a lot.

Hey...

I need to go there.

Well lets grab brunch first huh?

I'm starving.

(Diner chatter)

Have you decided what you're going to wear for the gala on Friday?

The what?

Seriously?

Oh, um, no, I haven't.

You know if you don't want to go you don't have to.

I want to go.

I do.

This omelette's really good, you should try some.

That's okay.

I said I don't want any.

It's good.

I'm not trying it.

Fine.

Sorry I tried sharing something delicious with you.

There's no need to get all riled up.

Bad timing, I guess.

I'm not PMSing if that's what you mean.

Narrator: April was PMSing but that had nothing to do with the tiff

she had started with Jared. She was feeling a sort of guilt over

permitting Jared to join in on her search for the journal's author.

(Sports broadcast on TV)

What can I do ya for?

Hi, I'm looking for...

Two IPA's.

Please

We used to do karaoke here every Saturday.

Guessing you're not much of a karaokier.

I sing, but only in groups.

Safety in numbers.

Not for the group.

May you die in bed at ninety-five, shot by a jealous spouse.

Can I ask a favor?

What have ya got, beautiful?

Can I please hang this here?

A green backpack.

Like this one.

You can hang it.

Thank you.

I haven't seen him much though, not lately.

Used to come in a lot.

Come back on Friday, when Lindsay's behind the bar.

Hey.

Popcorn or candy?

Popcorn's healthier.

Yeah but...

Where's Jared?

He's not coming.

That sucks, I wanted to thank him for the playlist.

I'll let him know.

How much do you think the fruit counts in Raisinettes?

If it was fruit they'd be called chocolate covered raisins.

Hi.

So how's it going?

I have no idea what to where, it's totally weird because I know so much about him and

yet he knows nothing about me so it's kind of like who do I want to be, ya know?

I'm thinking of wearing the black dress, ya know the one I wore--

I was talking about Jared.

How are things going with Jared?

Good.

Good?

Yeah they're going really well.

And that's why you're in a tizzy over what to wear?

I hope you find this guy because you're being an idiot right now.

Okay...

Well I'm sorry but you are.

Jared is a great guy and you're pining over an imaginary friend.

I'm not pining, I just find this whole mystery thing exciting.

It's always exciting, April.

If it's not a journal it's the guy buying your favorite breakfast bar or the guy sitting

across from you reading the Village Voice.

At a certain point you need to say "close enough."

I don't want you to make a mistake.

Like when you say "close enough" what does that mean?

What parts are close enough?

Where are we supposed to trim?

What parts?

I don't know, April.

I don't want "close enough," you can say it's immature or idealistic or naive...

Over speaker: We're now seating for the seven-thirty showing of The Philadelphia Story.

So what are you going to do about Jared?

It's two completely different things.

Except it's not.

Look, I like Jared, I enjoy spending time with him, we're learning about each other.

It's just, I'm trying not to think so much.

You're the one always telling me not to think so much.

Yeah.

If this journal guy ends up being some sort of soulmate

I'm going to have to rethink the entire universe.

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

Let me see it.

I wouldn't feel comfortable with that.

Did you read it?

I looked for his contact information.

Right.

Am I in it?

I don't think so, I... no.

Yeah well he's a douche.

He's a liar so don't believe anything that he says.

He plays innocent but he's not.

Do you know where I can find him?

Yeah, um, he lives around the corner on forty-second.

It's...

I don't know the exact address but it's the one with the Bob Marley on the door.

Oh, what is his name?

Dave Moore.

Douchebag Dave.

What are you doing?

That's a good question.

I'm glad I didn't get the limo.

What time is it?

Doesn't matter.

Did you find him?

Yes, no.

Was it all fireworks and lightening bolts?

I...

I haven't...

What are you doing?

Returning the journal.

When you were supposed to be getting ready for the gala, which I can't help but notice

you're dressed rather nicely for having forgotten.

Jared, I'm ready, lets go.

I'm not ready.

April I've fallen for you.

See I'm scared too.

Because what that really means is that I think I'm falling in love with you.

Which means I am in love with you.

But if you don't feel the same way...

I do.

I keep waiting.

For you to let go, to trust me.

Now I'm starting to feel like that's not the problem.

Burn it.

What?

Burn it.

It's not mine, that's not fair.

Remember when we were talking about love

and you said it had to be mutual or it was pointless?

I think you were right.

Jared please.

Good luck.

(Car door closes)

(Music)

Narrator: And just like that, the urgency associated with the journal had disappeared.

In a strange way the pain was a relief, an outing of sorts.

But as April reflected on the many mistakes she had made along the way

there was one question she couldn't shake.

Why had she been the one to find the journal?

(Music)

(Knock on door)

(Footsteps)

Yeah?

Dave?

(Door closes)

Nice place.

You knew Dave?

I found his journal.

Dave kept a journal?

I don't know.

Let's see it.

(Snaps fingers)

I prefer to give it to Dave, just because it's personal.

Is he here?

He's dead.

What do you mean?

He died, he's dead, gone, poof, over.

What happened?

He killed himself.

And you care because?

I'm sorry.

Here.

Wait.

(Searching through clutter)

This is his mom's place.

She won't see me.

(Door closes)

(Music)

May I help you?

Are you Dave's mother?

Yes.

I have something I think you'd like to see.

Please come in.

He never lost the pudge, I'm afraid.

This is a more recent one.

I had no idea he kept a journal.

Even in the afterlife he continues to surprise me.

He had an amazing way of expressing himself.

I feel like we would have been friends.

Thank you.

You're very kind to have made the effort to return it.

Can I... ask you... a question?

Of course.

May I ask if you know...

Why?

It's hard to believe any one thing could lead to something like this.

When he was a boy, David loved sports.

He'd play for hours with the neighborhood kids.

And I remember him coming home one day after school,

I think it was junior high, yes, and he was really upset.

He'd been cut from the school basketball team.

I tried talking to him, telling him there was always next year.

He was convinced it was over.

His basketball career had ended in sixth grade.

David took everything so hard.

I'm sure it was many things but he...

He just didn't like himself.

Which has to be the toughest thing for a parent to understand.

As a mother you remember him as this big.

Wide-eyed and full of promise.

You don't understand how they can't love themselves when you love them

so much it's painful. It's not even love anymore.

It's life, it's meaning.

You question everything, you blame yourself for not being able

to keep the happiness they had as a child bottled up inside them forever.

How did it get out?

Where did it go?

I just never saw what there wasn't to like?

I'm so sorry.

(Doorbell)

Oh Lord, look at me.

Oh hello Father.

Something sweet.

Oh look at that.

How kind of you.

Come in, please.

Thanks.

(Door closes)

Father Randy, this is April.

She was returning something of David's.

I'm just going to put this in the kitchen.

Have a seat, please.

We're you at the memorial?

No.

No, I... didn't really know him.

Oh.

Father Randy gave the most amazing sermon at David's funeral.

Divinely inspired.

Thank you, Donna, thank you.

April here found David's journal on the subway and tracked us down to return it.

Isn't that just the kindest thing?

It is, yes.

I can't bring myself to open it.

Apparently he wrote quite well.

He had a gift.

I should be going.

Oh I have a plate of cookies for ya.

That's not...

People have dropped off a decade's worth of sweets, I swear.

That must have been quite a task trying to track us down.

It's nothing really.

Thank you.

No, thank you.

Very nice to meet you.

(Music)

(Knock on door)

(Knock on door)

(Groaning)

(Unlocking door)

(Opens door)

Did I catch you at a bad time?

No, I was...

I hope you don't mind, I got your information from Donna.

Donna Moore.

I was hoping to speak to you about the journal, if you don't mind.

Ugh, that journal.

(Bangs head on door)

Well I can also, I can come back another time.

No, I was...

Uh how about if I wait for you over here.

I'll be right out.

(Door closes)

(Door closes)

What can I help you with?

Well if you don't mind I was hoping to hear about how you went about returning the journal.

I'd say tragically.

Is everything okay?

No, I'm sorry, it was a lot to take in yesterday.

Oh I'm sure.

When I first found the journal...

Narrator: April retold the entire journey of the journal.

From the subway to the Craigslist guy to the fight with Jared

to the failed drop off attempt at Ms. Moore's home.

Once April had reached the end of her tale she felt lighter but no less confused.

Oh ye of little faith.

That is quite a story.

The odds, the odds must have been...

Doesn't matter, does it?

Pardon?

It's too late, I tried to return the journal as quickly as I could, I mean I did but

I slowed down after I met Jared and--

April I hope you're not feeling guilty over David's death.

If you thought returning the journal would somehow thwart his suicide,

I don't think so.

It's just...

I wanted him to know that he wasn't alone in how he felt.

Maybe it would have...

It wouldn't have.

How do you know?

David was deeply troubled.

And uh also,

because it's my journal.

The odds must have been in the billions.

Did you just say...?

Yeah, I wrote it.

It's mine.

(Laughing)

Brilliant.

Wait...

That's what I'm saying, the odds.

It appears that you and I were on the same mission.

You see I wrote the journal while I was in my twenties, but I wanted David to know that

here was someone who felt lost, isolated, scared, and eventually somehow made it through.

And like you, I felt a measure of guilt over his death.

As if my intention somehow had the opposite affect.

(Sigh)

I started looking for reasons.

You'd think I'd know by now that you can't force a reason upon a greater unknown plan.

It made me feel less alone.

Pardon?

The journal made me feel less alone.

Well thank you for sharing your story.

Thank you.

I should go now.

There uh... there was a wise man who once said, "you can't always get what you want,

but if you try sometime you just might get what you need."

The odds, billions.

(Door closes)

(Children playing)

Narrator: April thought back to choices she had made,

mostly choices she had not made.

Choices like not searching for a new job because she was sure the hours would be worse,

or not joining friends on a ski trip to Vermont

for she was sure to embarrass herself on the slopes.

It occurred to her that she was so intensely focused on the outcome of her choices that

she was missing the moments in-between.

But it's the moments that give meaning to the outcome.

It's the moments that provide the allegiance,

the excitement,

the sorrow,

the faith,

the love,

of life.

With moments...

Mr. X: nothing's really ever lost.

So have you talked to him?

He's not taking my calls.

Don't blame him.

Lost out to a gay, dead man.

A priest, actually.

Oh god...

Thank you for supporting me, no, really, I appreciate it.

Almost got you a cat.

I am not ready for a cat.

We need a game plan.

Yes.

Got it.

Text him an n-a-k-e-d photo of yourself, with your face showing.

It says so much.

Yes, yes it does.

(Laughter)

(Music)

Call you tonight.

Okay, hey, with your face!

Uh huh.

Carly?

Hun, tie your shoe.

(Music)

(Knock on door)

(Footsteps)

(Unlocking door)

(Door opens)

April.

(Crash)

Ow.

Are you okay?

Ow!

Ohhh.

(Chuckle)

I have a concussion.

How many fingers am I holding up?

Mmm two?

Yeah, you're okay.

No, I have a concussion.

What are you doing here, April?

I'm trying...

To prove you're crazy?

Did it work?

Mission accomplished.

And I'm sorry I...

I want to be with you.

I've been looking for you for so long, long before I found this journal and I maybe,

I guess I got scared.

I understand.

I've been fooling myself into believing that I...

Ow.

What?

I get it.

You do?

(Sigh)

Fear.

Is one of the signs, ya know?

How's your head?

(Groan)

(Laugh)

I'm still concussed.

Yeah?

See if this helps.

Mmm...

Nuh uh.

No?

No.

Nothing?

No.

Again.

Again?

Uh huh.

Okay.

Better?

Come on.

Why don't you let doctor Jared give you a thorough examination.

That is so creepy.

Narrator: For the briefest of moments

April wondered if she and Jared would spend the rest of their lives together.

And then,

just as quickly,

(Door closes)

she wondered what they'd be having for dinner.