Emily & Tim (2015) - full transcript

**

You know, baby,

I-- I don't think
I ever told you before,

but I loved you

the very first time I saw you.

There's one thing you can say

about the marriage
of Tim and Emily--

it started in bed.

**

Back in college,

Tim and his buddies
spent weekend nights



trying to pick up secretaries

in the bars along
the Boston Post Road.

-Hey.
-Hello.

Raincoats, boys.

Heaven forbid we knock
one of these bimbos up.

The guys called it "posting."

Ah, the intoxicating scent

of estrogen mixed
with cheap perfume.

Hello.

-Hello.
-Hey.

-Hey.
-Hey.

Hello.

Wow, twins.

Emily never had any trouble



spotting the college boys.

They were the ones
with ironed shirts.

And, of course,
they were terrible dancers.

Virgin. Virgin.

Jailbait.

Come on, I bet she's never
had a period before.

You got to stop picking
these virgins, man.

You're never gonna
get laid that way.

Oh, boy.

Mañana, Tim-o.

Tell Phayer we got
a ride, okay?

I don't bite.

Oh, shit!
Shit. Sorry.

I'm sorry.

That's okay.

So... how come
no one's snatched up

a pretty girl like you?

You think I'm pretty?

-Yeah.
-Timmy, my boy. Miss, um...

Jo Ann.

Yes, Miss Jo Ann here, uh,
doesn't have a ride home.

You think you could,
uh, catch a lift?

Let's go already.

I mean, I can come back
and pick you up.

I can give him a ride.

I don't mind.

Such a generous lass.

If I don't show up
in the morning,

send in the Marines.

Okay.

He's funny.

Yeah, yeah, he's...

He's funny.

You know,
you don't look old enough

to have your
driver's license.

I'm older than I look.
I'm 26.

I get my nursing degree
this year.

Well, you know
what they say about nurses.

Oh, oh.

Oh, sorry. Shit.

That's okay.
We can fix that.

Ooh.

Wait.

Call me.

Okay.

Hey, Tim, Mrs. Tamberelli
wants a tuna salad on rye toast,

just shy of burnt
and no crust.

She'll absolutely die if there's
even a speck of crust.

You get laid last night?

-Three times.
-Welcome to the club, buddy.

Yo, Lerner, guess who
popped his cherry last night.

-Ah.
-Yeah, you know,

we did it with her roommate
right there on the other bed.

Christ, what a slut.

Yeah, you can
say that again.

You know, you should have
nailed the roommate as well.

Hey, no members
in the kitchen, pal.

Oh, how ironic--
I'm not allowed in,

but riffraff like you
run rampant.

Say, uh, I don't suppose
either of you bozos

would want to join me
for a set or two.

You know, my trust fund
just ran out.

You!

Word is you became
a man last night.

Ah, three times.

Oh, making up
for lost time, I see.

Hey, you know,
she was almost 26.

Oh, a spinster, huh?

Well, on the other hand,
if you marry,

you'll die around
the same time.

Women live longer
than men.

I'm not gonna marry her.

Hey, did she, um...

Did she do that little--

that little maneuver
on you? Yeah?

That's none of your
fuckin' business.

Oh, that means she did.
Huh?

It's fuckin' freezin'.

Hey, quit hoggin' the scotch,
Timmy boy.

I hate the cold.

I like it.

Crewneck sweaters,
cashmere scarves.

It's like I just stepped off
a Brooks Brothers

catalogue or something.

Hey, Jo Ann!

Yeah, that's her.

Hey, where's your
fourth musketeer?

Who, Phayer?

I never see him
around anymore.

Oh, well, he's up at Yale,
don't ya know.

Yeah, but the Poz
is always available.

When they're your size,
I throw 'em back.

Ooh.

Fuckin' broads.

Ah, it's kind of weird
with Phayer back at school.

Weird? It's great!

Phayer's around,
you get a broad in bed,

all she's thinkin' about
is Phayer.

I was thinking
of writing a book--

"Living in Phayer's Wake," huh?

Yeah, I think James Joyce
got there first.

Hey, pass that back.

Hey.

Yo, AnnMarie.

-Hi.
-Wait up.

I'll see you guys.

Hey, how do you know
that's not my twin?

'Cause yours had
the mustache.

This fuckin' guy.

Hey, isn't that
your little nurse?

Oh, yeah.

Well, if you're not
gonna dance with her...

Hey, Vinny, let me get
a Cutty on the rocks, huh?

Make it a double.

Bowwow,
what a dog!

Come on. At least
part of you likes her.

Yeah, well, my kid sister's
got bigger tits.

So what?

You know what?
Tits aren't everything.

Okay, Mahatma Gandhi.

There were so many reasons

for Tim not to get
involved.

At 26, Emily was surely
looking for a husband.

Tim was terrified
at how easily

she'd taken him
into her bed.

And if he took things
any further,

would there be
any going back?

Hey.

Want to dance?

So, how'd you like
my friend?

Which one?

Jon.

Posnick, the guy
with the leather jacket.

Oh, he was all right.

Kept trying to press his thing
into me, though.

I like
your other friend.

Which one?

You know, the one
with the gray hair.

He's nice.

Is he here tonight?

Uh, he's back at--
oh, he got married.

Really?

You sound disappointed.

No, just surprised.

The Posnick taking
the evening vapors.

What the fuck
are you doing here?

Got out of econ early.

And who can resist
the clarion call of Hogan's?

Yeah?
Well, miss you, man.

It's a lot easier wrangling
chickies with you around,

you know?

Well, let's get to it.

All right.

**

I thought
you were gonna call.

Yeah, I was,
but, you know,

I just got busy
gettin' back to school,

and then I lost your number,
so...

Mind if I cut in?

Your wife lets you
go dancing?

Uh, yeah, I told her
you got married.

Oh. Yeah.

Yeah, it's-- Yeah,
it's in the pre-nup.

She has-- She gets
unlimited pedicures,

and I can go out with
the guys on Friday nights.

It's fantastic.

Um...

Well, don't let me
disturb you.

Oh...

Go home to the wife.

Like I said, I tried
to find your number,

but I didn't know
your name.

I'm Tim.

I'm Emily.

**

When Emily thinks

of where their
relationship began,

it amuses her

that Tim has turned
into such a romantic.

It's Tuesday night.
What's with the candles?

Lord, are you
in bed already?

No, I'm playing shortstop
for the Yankees.

It's 10 after 8:00,
this is the time

born-againers in Kansas
go to sleep.

I don't think
what time you go to bed

has anything to do
with how chic you are.

In Rio, they're just now
getting dressed for dinner.

I hate going to bed
on a full stomach.

Don't worry about
the Brazilians.

They work it off
on top of the sheets,

thongs halfway up
their crotch.

Unbelievable.

49 years together,

and you're still
talking about sex.

Well, I can't do it anymore.

No kidding.

-More Dickens?
-I told you, I'm gonna

read every word
he wrote before...

you know.

Better hurry, "Nickleby's"
over a thousand pages.

Could be touch and go.

It was the mid-'60s.

With the sexual revolution
raging all about them,

Tim and Emily were married

and not long after
had a child.

Mommy,
I can't sleep.

Oh, sweetie,
you scared me.

I have a tickle
right here.

Good thing
Mommy's a nurse.

A "pediactress" nurse.

That's right,
in just two months,

Mommy'll get
her advanced degree

to be a "pediactress" nurse.

Taking care of cute
little children just like you.

Ahh.

Well, no wonder
you have a tickle.

You have
a little sore throat.

This'll make it
all better.

All right,
just go right up to bed.

Mommy'll come
kiss you good night.

Go on.

Marriage was turning out to be

much more difficult
than Emily had imagined.

With Tim working late
every night,

she was lonely.

Still, she was doing
everything she could

to bring out the warmth
she knew was in there.

Tim.

-How was your day?
-Don't ask.

Jason has me line-editing
Hilda's latest oeuvre.

What a hack.

-Oover?
-Oh, Christ, Emily, "oeuvre."

Oeuvre, it's French
for an artist's body of work.

I'm using it ironically.
It's the biggest piece of shit

I've ever read.

-You hungry?
-Goddamn weathermen.

Not a drop-- Oh, damn it!
Goddamn it.

Well, next time they say
it's gonna be sunny,

you should pack
an umbrella.

Is that fish?

-It's a surprise.
-Oh, you know I hate fish.

Well, you like fish sticks.

And that's fish, kind of.

Why don't you wash up?
I'll go put Meg to bed.

Could we please have one dinner
where we look at each other?

I thought you had to study
for your anatomy final.

Half an hour
is all I'm asking for.

Take some salad, I made the
sour cream dressing you like.

So it is fish.

Yes, lemon sole,
on special at King's.

How much was it?

Here, knock yourself out.

Wow, $2.86.
Unbelievable.

You can get a whole pack
of fish sticks for $0.70.

What are you doing?

Where are you going?

It's too expensive.

I'm gonna take it back.

-You've already cooked it.
-It's going back.

All right, I'll eat it.

I wouldn't want us
going broke.

Back in college,

Tim had dreamed of girls
who wrote poetry,

played the violin,

and here he was,
married to a practical nurse.

Emphasis on "practical."

They wouldn't take it back,
would they?

They have a policy.
Once you've cooked it--

Here you go, big spender.

Oh, my God... Hey--

Every last one
of your 286 cents!

And if you don't believe me,
you can get down

on your hands and knees
and count them!

Hey, come here!
Come on. Come here.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

-Hey, I'll get up.
-No, I'm up. I'm up.

I've got to get up anyway.

I'm meeting the guys
at the golf course at 7:30.

-You're playing golf today?
-We play every Saturday.

I don't know,
with Meg sick?

You realize I worked
over 60 hours this week?

Okay.

Okay, you're right,
I'm being selfish.

Just do me one favor.

See if Raymond'll
give you a ride.

What's with Raymond
all the time?

Raymond lives
down the block.

How come you always
call Jon and Ethan

by their last names

but Phayer's always
"Raymond?"

Goddamn it,
just call him now.

Mommy, I don't feel so good.

I know, sweetie.
It's just a nasty little cold.

Phayer's already left
for the golf course.

Damn.

From now on, could you
please try to get a ride?

I hate being without the car
on weekends.

You know what,
I'll just stay home.

No, go, I don't want you
hanging around,

looking miserable all day.

I've got a briefcase
full of manuscripts.

Go. Me and Miss Margaret'll
be fine.

Won't we, sweetie?

And how's my little princess?

-My throat hurts.
-Oh, no.

What's 3 times 9?

-27.
-And 8 times 6?

48. Daddy, stop.

Such a smart little girl.

She's way ahead of other kids
her age, isn't she?

Go. Get out of here.

All right.

It's supposed to rain.
You should take an umbrella.

I'll be okay.

What's 56 divided by 8?

-7.
-Unbelievable.

I don't think
it's gonna break.

You keep saying it's
gonna break.

It's gonna break.

Whoo.

I do believe you've
out-driven me for once, old boy.

-Good one.
-Fuckin' Cary Middlecoff here.

Guys, we're never
gonna get in 18.

-We're going to kick your ass.
-I wish you the best of luck.

Come on, this is nuts.

Yeah, but you and I will
have a side bet.

You should've
brought your umbrella.

Does Sheila pack you
your umbrella these days?

Don't tell me about Sheila.

You're kidding me.

Check it out.

Same time next week?

Yeah, but can one of you guys
give me a lift?

Emily's pissed that I left her
without the car.

You can count on me,
"Timo-thee."

See you punks later.

Hey, anybody wanna
grab a beer?

Sheila's on the warpath.
I got to take her to the cinema.

Hey, great playin' today,
Tim.

For real.

25 bucks.

Guess who kicked
Phayer's butt.

Excuse me,
where's the emergency room?

Okay, nice, deep breath.

One more.

I'm concerned
about her breathing.

Emily!
Em, what's going on?

Let the doctor speak.

I'm afraid your daughter's
having a severe asthma attack.

-It's not bronchitis?
-No, definitely not.

-Why didn't you call me?
-Any asthmatics in the family?

Yes, his mother.

We're gonna start her
on a nebulizer.

And then if her breathing
doesn't improve,

we'll give her a shot
of adrenaline, all right?

All right, you sit tight.
I'm gonna get that set up.

Hi, baby.
How you feeling?

Huh?

Do you have $5?

The nurse lent me the money
to pay the cab driver.

You took a cab?

What did you want us to do,
wait for the bus?

I took 25 bucks
from Phayer.

Bully for you.

How could you leave me alone
with a sick child and no car?

I don't see you all week,

and then
the first chance you get,

you're off to play
your fucking golf game.

Sweetie?

Sweetie, it's okay.
Just relax.

Nurse, Doctor, anyone,
we have an emergency here!

Hey, Meg? Hey, Meg,

look at me, sweetie,
look at me.

You're gonna be fine, okay?

Sir, please step back.
Out of the way, please.

You can't die from
an asthma attack, can you?

Of course you can.

Especially if
you're only four years old.

I'm so sorry, baby.
I'm so sorry.

Stop pacing.

-What? What is it?
-Everything's going to be fine.

-Is she all right, is she--
-Let the doctor speak.

The asthma has broken.

Now, there's still
a fair amount of congestion

but the worst is over.

She's gonna be all right.

Oh, thank you, Doctor.
Thank you so much.

Now, I do need
to tell you, though,

we lost her for
just a little while there.

Oh, my poor, poor baby.

"Lost her,"
what do you mean?

She actually stopped breathing
for about 30 seconds.

Now, with an attack
this severe,

that is not unusual.

Look, the important thing is
we got her through it,

and I'm pretty sure
she's gonna be just fine.

"Pretty sure," what--

what does that mean?
Brain damage, what?

The brain can go
quite some time

without oxygen, Mr. Hanratty.

Now, you two, you need to
go home and get some sleep.

Your daughter's
going to be fine.

If anything is wrong
with that child...

Emily, I'm home.

Tim? I'm late for
my anatomy exam.

Can't you take
a make-up exam?

It's been 10 days.
Meg's fine.

Oh, hey.
Are you fine, baby?

-Yeah.
-Are you fine?

-Yeah.
-So, after the exam,

me and a couple of the girls
are going out to Hogan's.

"A couple of
the girls and I..."

Yes.

All right.
Night, sweetie.

You be a good girl.

There's a cold chicken
in the fridge.

-All right, kiss.
-I'm late.

Mommy's-- Mommy's
going to take a test,

just like the ones
I give you.

What's 4 times 6?

I don't like that game
anymore.

Oh, sh...

Em, are you awake?

Emily?

As troubling memories

of the past began
to roil Tim's sleep,

he turned, as he always did,
to Emily's body.

Even after
all their years together,

he never stopped
loving her scent,

the feel of her skin.

Some of you might
think it's not sex,

but it's not...
not sex, either.

I'm asleep!

The Swinging '70s.

Tim was promoted
to editor-in-chief,

with only one person
to report to--

the legendary publisher
Oscar Dystel.

Yeah?

Anything you need before I go?

Not really.
Uh, any calls?

Dr. Snider's office.
Your tests are in.

They want you to call
in the morning.

Did they say
anything else?

Just to call
in the morning.

-Okay, um--
-Henry.

How are you coming
with "Spirited Cooking"?

Uh, I'm drawing
a blank here.

"Spirited Cooking."

200 fun-filled
alcohol-based recipes.

It's young Helayne's project.

The manuscript is a hoot.

Truthfully, I've been
so busy getting

Mary's novel
ready to launch--

Look, I know a new
Chaneau novel is a big deal,

but it's the "how-to" books
that pay the rent.

There are 45 million alcoholics
in this country,

every single one of them
looking for more ways

to sneak booze
into their gut-- Hmm?

Helayne, I thought I killed

that stupid
food-for-alcoholics book.

Oops.

-You gonna fire me?
-I should.

What'd you do,
slip it into his briefcase?

No. I just dangle these
whenever I hear him coming back

from one of his many trips
to the men's room.

Jesus Christ!

Come on.
I'll buy you a drink.

Give you an update
on "Spirited Cooking."

You are unbelievable.

Sorry to barge in on you
like this.

Only way to get hold
of a doctor these days

is if he's in your foursome.

Take a real deep breath
for me, Bryce.

Things were going well

for Emily too.

She's been made
head of her department.

Clear as a bell, Raymond.

I would suggest
you take him home,

give him a baby aspirin,
and put him to bed.

How can we ever thank you?

This lad's got so much
to live for.

Shut up.

Hey, how's Miranda?

At an orthodontist convention
in Scottsdale.

Staying an extra week
to get in a little golf.

Hey, I've got an idea.

How about Bryce and I
take you and Meg to dinner?

Double date.

Hmm.
Tim's working late,

so... why not?

I'll go change.

But you look so good
in a nurse's uniform.

You know what they say
about nurses.

Hey, sweetie,
did Daddy call?

How should I know?

Guess what.

Raymond Phayer
and his cute, little son Bryce

are gonna take us out to dinner.

Ugh! Yuck!

-Oh, come on. It'll be fun.
-For who?

We'll go out for pizza.

I hate pizza.

Fine. Suit yourself.

You want to come up
for a drink?

Make you my special
Brandy Alexander.

On top of the two martinis?

Who knows what'll happen.

Nah, I, uh...
I got to haul ass,

or I'm gonna miss
the last train.

Stay over.

I don't think
that's a good idea.

Au contraire,
it's the perfect idea.

You don't waste two hours
of your life commuting,

you get in early,
impress the shit out of Oscar.

He'd love that--

me sleeping with the only editor
he's got his eye on.

Not with
or atop or on or in.

Merely at one of your editor's.

The lady knows
her prepositions.

Good night.

Comme les français.

**

Night, sweetie.

I thought you'd be home
at the regular time.

You scared me.

-I was worried.
-I'm sorry, I, uh...

I was literally out the door

when Chaneau
comes storming in

wanting to go over
every one of my edits.

When we finally surfaced
for air, it was after 11:00.

You could have called.

I lost all track of time.

Well... you must be starving.

Want me to make you an omelet?

We ordered in Chinese.

How about you and Meg?

What'd you do for dinner?

Oh, we just ordered in pizza.

For the first time

in their marriage...

they lied to each other.

Everything okay with Meg?

Actually, no.

-What's the matter?
-She finally got her period.

Well, isn't that a good thing?

In school this morning.

Oh. Well, at least she got it.

Apparently, she was trailing
droplets of blood

throughout the cafeteria

before a gym teacher
brought it to her attention.

-Oh, God.
-She came home in tears.

Poor kid.

She's so fucking sensitive.

She's just gonna have
to toughen up is all.

Bye, Daddy.

Hey. What--
What the hell?

-Oh, God...
-Oh, no. Who did that?

Hey!

Come back here! Hey!

Hey, Eddie...
I know your mother.

-Daddy, don't.
-No, it's just--

Hey, excuse me.
My daughter just got her...

Never mind.

Oh, baby.

I love you so much.

That's what you got
to think about, okay?

When shit like this happens,
"Daddy loves me."

I don't want to go
to school today.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
You got to go.

You got to go.

Hey, remember what my...
my soccer coach used to say?

Don't let...

Don't let the bastards
get you down?

Yeah, don't let the bastards
get you down.

Don't let the bastards
get you down.

Don't let the bastards
get you down, yes!

Don't let the bastards
get you down!

Fuck.

We found a little lesion
right here and nowhere else.

The important thing is,

your Gleason score
is low -- 6.2.

That's good?

Yeah, 6.2 means it's not
a very aggressive tumor.

So what I'm gonna recommend
is that we just watch and wait.

No need for surgery.

At least for now.

So, let him watch cartoons
for an hour,

and then read him
"Pat the Bunny."

Always gets him
straight to sleep.

"Pat the Bunny"?

I read
"Pat the Bunny"

to Meg when she was
a year and a half.

Yes, well...

Em, come on. We're late.

And this is his bottle
and his diapers.

Diapers?

Boom-boom here is
a bit of a late bloomer.

Uh-huh.

I'm ready.

Oh, wow.

-You know Mary Chaneau.
-Wait a second.

-You're Mary Chaneau's editor?
-Yeah.

Well, in New York.

Ellen Crutchfield in London.

Well, the next time
you see her,

you can tell her from me

that lesbianism
so infuses her work,

it's like she's selling it.

If you knew Mary,
you'd know that that's--

Come on.
I want to dance.

Yeah... in a minute.

I-- I need to explain
something to Sarah.

Look, if-- if it's not on
the page, it doesn't matter.

No, I totally understand that.
I know.

I-- I'm just saying
that there are a lot

of overtones of lesbianism.

Sure, but if you didn't know
she was a lesbian,

-it wouldn't inform--
-I know, but I-- I do know.

So, now, how can I not know?

It wouldn't inform, you know,
your opinion in this way.

-I completely disagree.
-Well...

-I mean--
-You can disagree all you want.

Every chick in her last book

is either wearing
a lumber jacket

or slipping into a pair
of Birkenstocks.

Oh, Tim...

Tim, for Christ's sake,
I'm asleep.

Tim, don't. You're crazy.

You're soaking wet.

You're so hot.
Such a little whore.

Don't think I don't know
who you're thinking about.

Voilà.
Page 37.

Chou-fleur en Chablis.

Join me.

It's delicious.

Now I know
how to get you drunk.

Hey, sweetie.
How was your day?

I assume you finished
all of your homework.

Daddy called.
He says he has to work late,

not to wait up.

Huh.

I'm going out
for a few hours.

That's not a fanfare.

And now the
pièce de la résistance.

Very nice.

Mmm. Very good.

I shouldn't do this.

It'll be our little secret.

Is everything okay?

Oh, no, actually.

What's up?

I seem to be having a little
bit of a prostate issue.

It's a hell of a dessert.

Ray, what's a six-letter word
for a lake in Siberia?

I have a house
on Lake Hopatcong.

I saw on the bulletin board

that you have folk dancing
at night.

I drive an Olds. A '98.

I remember,
'98s were beautiful.

-Since when do you know
about cars?

Miranda was born
in Minneapolis.

She's adopted.

The man is totally out of it.

That's a terrible thing
to say.

You were the handsomest
of all the men, Raymond.

The best-looking of all.

You take care, Raymond.

We're going home tomorrow.

Good-bye now, Raymond.
We'll see you next week.

When you said
he was the handsomest,

did you mean better than me?

Of course not,
you're the handsomest.

Ah, I bet way back when,

there was something going on
between you two.

You're an idiot.

Uh, no, it's...

Oh, my apologies.
I'm sorry.

-Thank you.
-Here's the salad.

Please... enjoy your meal.

-Oh, yes.
-Thank you.

Oh, he's adorable.

Emily! Em!

Wake up! Come on!

Christ's sakes,
what is it now?

Sit up!
I want you to look at me!

You always do this to me.

I have the most amazing idea.

-You're crazy.
-Not just me, the two of us.

The breathing will improve,
it's just a phase.

No, it's not just
the breathing, you idiot.

It's everything.

No golf, no sex life,
no friends left,

no one to illustrate my books.

What about Levenstein?

Levenstein died last November,
for Christ's sake.

There are lots
of young artists

who would love to work with you.

Nobody wants to work
with an old man.

What about my headaches?
Do you hear me complain?

If life doesn't give you
exactly what you want,

you want to take your ball
and go home?

And what's worse,
you want to take me with you?

Only if you want.

Well, I don't.

Helayne?
You wanted to see me?

Tim!
Come on in.

I hope this won't
take too long.

As you know,

Emile is being operated on
as we speak.

Won't take a minute.

We're retiring you.

What?

Just like that?

This is so sudden.

I mean, what about all
the manuscripts I'm working on?

I've given them
to the younger editors.

It's your time to enjoy.

Enjoy?

I enjoy editing.
It's all I enjoy.

Take up bridge.

You and Emile
learn how to tango.

Well, what about...
my own imprint?

It doesn't have to be big.

One or two novels a year.

Look, Tim,
H.R. has put together

a great disengagement
package, hmm?

With Social and Medicare,
you'll be fine.

Decent fiction is
still important, Helayne.

Hasn't earned its keep
in this house in years.

Well, if I'm gonna go,
then I'm gonna take
Mary with me.

No one under 40
knows who she is anyway.

Think of it this way.

Now you'll have time
to concentrate

on your own writing.

Funny little
cash register books,

they sell.

Funny, I--
I started working on one

when you took over last fall.

"88 Ways to Bring Down
Your Boss."

-Funny.
-Make me an offer.

I'll be happy to look
at a completed manuscript.

Look, I've got
a meeting with Bresna.

Remember all those years ago

when you had me
up to your place?

Wined me and dined me

and tried to get me
to go to bed with you.

Yes.

Boy, am I glad
I didn't go along with that.

Why?

Maybe if you had,
you'd still have a job.

It was 1989.

Boom times were over.

Tim had to have
his prostate removed,

and three weeks later,
lost his job,

which gave him plenty of time

to help Em recover
from heart surgery.

Here we go.

Your chamomile tea.

My God.

I heated the milk.

Almond butter.

All this niceness
is scaring me.

Why? You did it for me.

Yeah, but for me it's easy.
I'm a nurse.

You know, it just...
makes us even, I guess.

You don't have a prostate and...

I've got a pig's valve
in my left ventricle.

Don't start oinking at me.

You can go back to work,
you know.

Honey, it's been five weeks.

You stay out
too much longer,

they'll forget
who you are.

Well, we'll see.

Maybe it was their
newly empty nest,

or maybe just
old-fashioned need,

but Tim and Em began to take
a deeper comfort

in each other's company.

Want to see it?

Want to see what?

Wow.
That looks amazing.

-Really?
-Yeah.

It really doesn't
look bad at all.

It's... it's kind of sexy.

Oh, shut up.

Well...

Is it okay to be in the sun?

It's vitamin D, baby.
What could be bad about that?

What's the worst thing
you can hear

when you're blowing
Willie Nelson?

Um...

I'm not really Willie Nelson.

I'm actually Bea Arthur.

Oh... wow.

"Dear Emile,

"hope you are feeling better.

"Miranda and I send
our best wishes

"for a speedy recovery.

"I know it's last minute,
but it would be our pleasure

to have you and Tim..."

That's nice.

"...join us for a casual dinner
at our club.

Love, Raymond and Miranda."

At their club?
La-di-da.

I knew that was him
in the bushes.

Oh, my God,
he saw my scar!

"Oh, my God, he saw my scar!"

-Give me a break.
-Would you get out of here?

I'm losing all the steam.

Are you up to it?

Raymond's club?
Are you kidding me?

-Close the door!
-Okay!

**

Um, hello.
I'm standing here.

You look great.

-Oh, God!
-Answer it.

-It's Meg.
-You don't know.

Well, who else is gonna
call us on a Saturday

while we're going out?

Hello?

Hi, sweetie. Hi.

How's everything
up in Boston?

Uh-huh.
Anything going on tonight?

I am not prying.
I'm just making conversation.

Shut up.

Uh-huh.

Uh, yeah. Let me see
if I can find him.

Actually, uh, you know what?
I think he's down in the car.

Yeah, we're going
to this big thing at, uh...

He's not standing
two feet away from me,

I swear.

You know what? Actually--

Oh, wait, I think I heard him
in the kitchen.

Let me just call him.

Tim, Meg is on the phone!

Hi, sweetie.

No, Dad's not a secret bitch.

He just cares about you
very much.

Oh, you...

You've met somebody.
That's wonderful.

Well, so what if he's not
age-appropriate.

Well, an older man can love you
just as well as a...

Oh, he's younger.

How younger?

And about seven years later,

she had a mitral valve
replacement,

and the amazing thing is--

Okay, here's Mom,
she's 89 years old.

Athena, can-- can we please
talk about something

besides heart conditions?

-Oh, thank you.
-Oh, sorry.

It's okay.

I'd like to propose a toast.

To our gang of eight.

Back together again happily.

Hear, hear.

Now that we have our captain,

our champion,

our... knight in shining armor,
back with us

all healthy and healed,

his radiant self once again.

Hear, hear.

-Hear, hear.
-Hear, hear.

Thank you, Raymond.
Thank you.

-Cheers, to Emile.
-To Emile.

Didn't we clink glasses
at the beginning of the meal?

Darling, at this age,

one can't clink glasses
often enough.

So, Raymond...

what do you think
of Emile's scar?

Um... I don't know quite
what you mean, old chum.

Well, I think it's healing
beautifully, don't you?

-Timothy.
-I love a man with a scar.

Oh, for Christ's sake,
Raymond.

What, you don't think I saw you
hiding in the rhododendrons?

You mean the Japanese maple.

Oh.

Em, I didn't even see a scar.

Well, what do you want?
Who's sexier than Emile?

Uh, Pee-wee Herman.

Oh, come on!
With these legs, are you crazy?

You have the best hair.

You still have
that great body.

I mean, you look really good.

I second that emotion.

-To Emile.
-To Emile.

Well, I guess at this age
you can't clink enough.

That's right.

-Speech.
-Speech.

-Really?
-Speech.

-Speech.
-Speech.

Well... I, um...

I just want to say
it's a funny time,

you know, at this stage
of our lives.

The eight of us...

Oh, my God, we go way back,
don't we.

I mean, we used to be
so young and good-looking,

and now cancer...

diabetes...

Fucking stents.

Yeah. It's like
dodging bullets, isn't it?

I mean...

The only thing
that makes it bearable

is that we're all here
for each other.

You all make me feel
more loved than...

my own parents ever did.

I keep telling him
he's gonna outlive me

by a hundred years.

If Sheila outlives me,

the first thing she's gonna do
is have sex

with my billionaire brother.

Oh, come on!

I most definitely will.

-Wow.
-That's a good idea.

Woodward and Bernstein said,
"Follow the money, honey."

Who can argue with that?

I hope that Sarah finds
someone after I'm gone.

I just want her to be happy.

Oh, my God.

How wimpy can you get?

Where are you going?

Well, I have something
that might cheer us all up.

It would appear
that our Bryce and your Meg

-have become an item.
-Wow!

-What?
-All in the family.

Meg and Bryce?

Meg is 12 years older
than Bryce.

That's supposed
to cheer us up?

Tim always hates it that
I kiss everybody on the lips,

but from now on
I'm kissing each one of you

every time we're together.

-I love you.
-I love you too.

Don't be such a hater.

-I love you.
-Love you.

Raymond, it was
a lovely evening.

You are so generous.

-Oh, yeah.
-Thank you so much.

We're happy to have you back.

Thank you.

Can we leave, already?

Just saying good-bye.

Tim still found himself
wrestling with jealousy.

He rationalized
perhaps every couple

has a Raymond Phayer
in their life.

Didn't Freud say intercourse
is a union of four people?

The two doing it,

the two
they're thinking about.

-All right, what's bugging you?
-Nothing.

I'm fine.

"Thank you for such
a lovely evening, Raymond.

Can I suck your cock now?"

Oh, come on.
Please don't start this again.

Well, you always say
you're not attracted to him.

Could have fooled me.

-Why? Because I'm nice to him?
-'Cause you flirt with him.

Maybe 'cause he does things

like throw dinner parties
for us.

He wants
to get in your pants.

God, you are a full-fledged
paranoid.

Well, he's a closet case.
We both know that.

-And Miranda should get tested.
-Stop it.

I'll bet he told his idiot son
to hit on Meg

just to spend more time
with you.

They've been friends
since they were children.

I know he's a bit
younger than her.

I actually think
Bryce is retarded.

He is somebody, okay?

I mean, she's--
she's almost 30 years old,

she's never
had a boyfriend.

He looks like
he could be her son.

I can't bear her
being alone anymore.

I can't stand it.

What are you working on?

Hmm?

Haven't seen you working
in your notebooks for ages.

Mm.

Which one is it?

Helayne giving you
a hard time again?

I have to tell you something.

What?

She fired me.

Oh, my God.

When?

The day you were operated on.

You've been keeping this
from me for a month?

She called me in, 8:00 a.m.

I said, "Emile's being
operated on today."

And she said, "Oh, this'll
only take a minute."

I thought I was getting
a midyear bonus

for the Balkan states book.

Go figure.

Oh, honey. Come here.

No, I don't want
to be hugged

for getting shit-canned.

She couldn't carry your shoes.

Not as an editor, no,

but she's a much better
in-fighter.

Yeah, well, you never were
a very good fighter.

I always wanted to be,

I just... guess I don't
have the stomach for it.

That's what I love about you.

You're not a fighter.

Most men,
that's all they wanna do.

I'm okay.

You sure you want
to do this right now?

Mm-hmm.

I'm not really feeling it
so much.

You will.

What about your heart?
Isn't it too soon?

Look, I don't see
the cardiologist till Wednesday.

That gives us four days
to fuck our brains out.

Okay.

But you have
to promise me one thing.

What?

Stop pretending
I'm Raymond.

Oh, Raymond...

Shit.

That feels good.

So good.

And what about Meg?

-Here comes the guilt trip.
-She has issues.

How do you think she'll feel
knowing her own father

doesn't love her enough
to stay alive?

Oh, now she has issues.

Last week she was just "quirky,"
like a TV character.

And what about Riley?

Starting fullback
and only a sophomore?

-Well, what about him?
-We're supposed to go see him

play a Thanksgiving day game,
we already have tickets.

Flying 2,500 miles to see
a high school football game

in fucking December?

Last time I looked,

Thanksgiving
was in fucking November.

It was now 1997.

What a dump, Emily.

I didn't think
it was so bad.

My bed vibrated.

My bed sagged.

Such a positive attitude.

Tim and Em were both retired

and for the last several years
raising their grandson, Riley.

Why the hell we couldn't
stay at the Marriott

like everyone else
I'll never understand.

Dad, because Bryce
can't see the dress.

It's bad luck.

Well, plenty of that
to go around.

Hush up, Tim.

No-no-no-no-no-no,
you let me get in first.

Then you come in, okay?

Yes, yes-yes.

I want to sit on Mommy's lap.

If you sit on Mommy's lap,

you'll crush
her beautiful dress.

I want to sit
on Mommy's lap now.

Tim, stop him.

Riley.

I don't like you anymore,
Grandma.

I wanted to sit
on Mommy's lap.

Riley, that's not nice.

In my day, we used
to get married first

and then have the kid.

Dad, shut up.
This is my day.

I wish you would just get
into the spirit of things.

I'm trying, baby.

I'm trying.

Where Raymond gets
his money...

Oh, he inherited it.

And if that weren't enough,
he married an orthodontist.

Well, I think
it's very generous of them.

I mean, it's usually
the bride's family that...

Well, if we were
paying for it, Meg,

we'd have to work
for the rest of our lives.

And you must be
the Hanrattys.

Hi, Mom and Dad, this is
Valerie, the wedding planner.

Nice to meet you.

-You look lovely.
-Thank you.

-Are we early?
-No, no, don't be silly.

Meg, why don't you come with me
up to hair and makeup?

-Okay.
-And you can just...

hang out
wherever you want.

I could use a drink.

There's a bar
around the corner.

Okay, come on, Riley.
Grandpa'll buy you a soda.

I want to be with Mommy.

Oh, okay, it's okay,
Dad, it's okay.

-It's your day, sweetie.
-It's all right.

Going up
to hair and makeup.

You're gonna
sit quietly with Mommy.

That kid has
an Oedipus complex.

Thank you,
Dr. Spock.

Careful.

You don't want to get drunk
at your only child's wedding.

That's precisely
what I do want.

You're crazy,
you know that?

This should be
the happiest day of your life.

Can I have another
scotch, please?

Make that a double.

What? I'm Irish.

You're an idiot is
what you are.

I can just see
Posnick and Lerner

as the "young" couple come
walking down the aisle.

"He's marrying
his fuckin' mother!"

Oh, they will not!

Believe me,
I know those guys.

Absolutely not.

It's such a godawful
compromise, Emily.

Oh, please,
everything's a compromise.

That's what life is.

He's a major pothead.
She's twice his age.

So? Lots of women
marry younger men.

-20 years?
-12.

And what difference does it
make? They love each other.

No, Emily,
they need each other.

And we didn't.

*

You okay, baby?

I'm great.

Okay.
Then I'm great too.

Wasn't it ironic,

that with all the young men
in the world,

Meg had to pick Phayer's kid?

Now Raymond would be
in their life more than ever.

Something funny, guys?
What's so funny?

Dearly beloved,
please be seated.

Why is Grandpa crying?

Because he is so happy
for Mommy and Daddy and you.

-I want Mommy.
-Not now, sweetheart.

-Dearly beloved...
-Oh, Jesus, come back!

It's okay, Dad,
I don't mind.

Aww.

All right, everybody,
all right.

Now, our lovely bride
and her handsome father

are going to dance for us
to a very special tune.

Oh, I'm so sorry,
sweetheart.

I've been
such a pill to you.

It's okay, Dad.

I don't know, I just get
so anxious sometimes.

Riley.

The job situation.

-The age difference...
-Shh.

Everything's
going to be okay.

Okay.

And now the handsome groom
and his beautiful mother.

It is such
a beautiful day.

And Meg is such
a beautiful bride.

Bryce looks so handsome
in his tuxedo.

So dignified.

-Grandpa?
-Hmm?

Yep?

I need to make a poo-poo.

Okay.

His daughter's wedding
had Tim thinking about

his first night with Emily.

Had it been the same
with Meg and Bryce?

After all, bed hadn't been
a bad place to begin.

-Wipe me, Grandpa!
-Mm-kay.

Get in the wiping position.

Wow, that's a man-sized
poo-poo for such a little boy.

Where's Daddy?

Over there.

Where's Mommy?

Right there.

Where's Grandma
"Em-ah-ree"?

Um...

She's with Grandpa Ray.

Yeah.

Grandpa Ray.

Don't you guys play something
people can dance to?

People are dancing.

No, I mean something...

You know,
something fast.

We're just playing what
the bride wanted, Mister.

Well, I'm the father
of the bride,

and I'm requesting
something high-energy.

How about, uh...

"Rock Around The Clock"
or something like that?

Don't know it.

What about
"U Can't Touch This"?

Touch what?

What about "Push It"?

"Push it"?!

There's this song we play
at Jewish weddings.

It gets everybody up
and moving.

It goes "Da-da da-da-da..."

Da-da da-da-da...

Sure, play that,
play that.

Ahh, Riley, this is
going to be interesting.

Raymond Phayer knows
how to make you feel at home.

Let's go, boys!

I always thought Phayer
had a little Jew in him.

Hava nagila, hava nagila,

hava nagila,
ve-nis'mecha!

Hava nagila, hava nagila,

hava nagila,
ve-nis'mecha!

Hava nagila, hava nagila,

hava nagila,
ve-nis'mecha!

Hava nagila, hava nagila,

hava nagila,
ve-nis'mecha! Hey!

Obsessed with his
and Emily's ending it together,

Tim combed through
local cemeteries

looking for couples who had
passed at the same time.

He didn't find one.

He shuddered at the idea
of living on without Em,

and he certainly didn't want her
living on without him.

It wouldn't be long before
she found someone new.

Wouldn't it be
romantic, then?

Stepping into the great
unknown together?

If you're gonna
off yourself,

you're gonna have
to do it alone.

Emily?

Em?

Oh, Jesus!

**

I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem
like she's gonna come out.

I'm so sorry, sir.

She's resting
comfortably now.

Are you comfy?

Tim... this is it.

Oh, come on.

All the women
in your family

lived well in
their nineties.

Well, you always said
you wanted to have sex...

with other girls.

Who would have me?

And if they would,
I don't think I could.

You've never been
with anyone... but me,

have you?

Have you?

You're the only one.

Have you?

Raymond?

It never meant
anything to me.

Okay, you don't have
to be telling me this,

I... it doesn't matter,
I don't care.

Just tying up loose ends.

Where are the pills?

Em, no.

This way, we won't use up
Meg's inheritance.

**

Married so many years now,

and, for so much of that time,
believing they'd had a choice.

Emily.

Everything is
going to be okay.

I promise you.

Never realizing that,
the moment they locked eyes,

that was it.

Yes, even with
all the hurt and the pain

they'd caused each other,
it had to be.

And now...

neither would
change a thing.

You know, baby,

I don't think
I ever told you before,

but the first time
I saw you...

I loved you.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God, Em.

Don't leave me,
don't leave me.

It's not supposed
to happen this way.

Em?

I'll be there,
I'll be there,

I'll be there with you.

Oh... I...

God.

**

* Do, do, do

* Do, do, do

* I see lilacs in the rain

Like I said,
uh, you know,

I tried to find
your number, but...

I didn't know
your name, so...

I'm Tim.

I'm Emily.

* In my heart

* Do, do, do

* Do, do, do

* When we parted in the lane

* The skies were
tearful with rain *

* The scent of lilacs
remained in my heart *

* Two other arms
around you now... **

**