United States of Tara (2009–2011): Season 2, Episode 5 - Doin' Time - full transcript

Tara's latest alter is Shoshana who describes herself as Tara's therapist. Tara concludes that her new alter is actually helping her remember things from her past but Max has a hard time with that. Charmaine goes for her first ultrasound and gets some surprising news. Kate's video with her as Valhalla Hawkwind becomes an Internet hit. Max is arrested for assaulting the carpenter who took his money but didn't do any work on the house next door. He has to get Neal to bail him out when Tara doesn't show up. Marshall decides that he is definitely gay and now has to deal with Courtney. He tries to break up with her but her reaction makes him back off.

Hey, Marshall. You obviously
belong over here, babe.

I'm straight, but not narrow.

How is your beard,
anyway? You guys boning?

I'm gay.

Good.

We've got some big news. We're pregnant!

Do you think that Nick can tell
that I had a thing with Neil?

Is that an engagement ring?

This is my big fish... Lynda P. Frazier.

Your check bounced. You owe me money.

Who is that?



Princess Valhalla Hawkwind.

Let's make a movie.

I thought that you were her.

Well, I'll always be her.

What do you want?!

I need the body!

Oh, baby.

Oh, baby.

And I thought I was better!

I just can't bring myself to tell him

I'm transitioning again.

Buck, I love you.

I love you.

Sully!



Give me my money back. That's all I want.

Relax, will you?

Tara, what have you done with your poncho?

I don't know, Mimi.

Written by my old therapist.

Oh, the much-lauded
Shoshana Schoenbaum, huh?

It's simple stuff, but
she's very down-to-earth.

Till you find the right doctor.

I found somebody.

She's in new York city?

Excuse me? Do you mind?

I'm finishing up a session.

Hold on, Dolores.

Can I help you?

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Honey, I'm gonna have to call you back.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I'm sorry. I have several clients today.

I can't just take a walk-in.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

No, no, no, no, no. Fuck, no.

Wait.

You're Max, aren't you?

Fantastic.

So pleased to finally meet you.

I've heard so much from Tara.

Maybe I can squeeze you in.

Ohhhh, fuck.

Okay, who are you?

I'm Shoshana Schoenbaum...
Tara's new therapist.

Don't do this to me, God damn it!

Please!

Max, I can see how angry you are.

Let's slow it down a bit.

Let's do an exercise.

I want you to express
your feelings to Tara.

This chair here... this is Tara.

Talk to the chair like it's Tara.

Oh, Tara. Are you insane?

No? Not the chair? You
want... You want me to be Tara?

Okay, fine. I'll be Tara.

Go on.

I don't even feel sick... just...

So, so tired, you know?

Like, prison-camp tired.

I don't see anything.

Nothing to see.

What do you mean?

You're not two months pregnant.

Well, we did four
accu-clears and an E.P.T.

According to your HCG levels,

you're only about three to four weeks in.

Too early for an external exam.

But my fiancé wasn't even in town then.

We're gonna need to do an internal.

And they're having a total emotional
meltdown, so what do they do?

They put me on lockdown, so they can...
quote, unquote... "Be in control."

Supreme bullshit.

I read that smoking weed too early
in the day can give you meningitis.

This is kryptonite. It's from California.

Makes your eyelashes thirsty.

Is the video done loading yet?

Yes! Whoo.

* I'm leaving today *

Wow.

That horse looks completely fake.

On purpose! It's a comment.

On what?

On... the testosterone-fueled
fantasy genre.

Totally subverting... the hero archetype.

Valhalla is postfeminist.

Do you even know what that means?

No, not really.

Tell me true, Moosh...

Are you or are you not a homo?

That term is a little onerous, but yes.

It's official.

Then why are you wasting
your time with jungle snatch?

Chuck her, dude.

Good, Max. Deep breaths.

Now, I understand Tara tried to discuss

her alter's recent... transgression,

but you put the kibosh
on the conversation.

Talk to me.

This is too much.

Max, listen.

Tara may have her problems,
but it takes two to tango.

You need to look at you.

In this world, there are
givers and there are getters.

And my real feeling here
is that you need to explore

becoming more of a getter
if you want to get better.

No real doctor would give rhyming advice.

I'm...

What the fuck am I talking
about? You're not a doctor.

Look, i... if you see Tara, you tell
her to pack a bag for the hospital.

I'm making a long-overdue phone call.

What is this?

Sir, please remain calm.

I don't understand.

Sir...

It doesn't make any sense to me.

If you'll just remain calm.

Cops. Cops!

Shit!

Shit!

Oh, shit.

Get it!

Go! Go! Go! Go! Heart attack...

Bona fide... Ugh!

Who called the fucking cops?

You have the right to remain silent.

Dad? What the fuck?

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

It's okay, kids. Go back inside.

What is happening?

Is this your wife, sir?

Who knows?

Yes, I am.

Uh, well, we have a warrant
for your husband's arrest

for aggravated assault and battery.

We're gonna be taking
him to Johnson County,

about 20 minutes away, in Olathe.

What the hell is going on?

I'll explain later.

C... can you hang with
the kids a couple hours?

Sure. No problem.

And you two, don't
worry. We'll be back soon.

And, Kate, you're still grounded.

Okay.

Who wants pancakes?

Like, with his fists?

Like, blam, blam, bloody knuckles?

He didn't say.

Got him arrested, so it
must have been pretty jacked.

Wait.

Why does Mrs. Butterworth
need to be black?

And aunt Jemima, too.

That's some fucked-up
racist pancake shit.

Mrs. Butterworth isn't black.
She's just filled with syrup.

I mean, technically, she's clear.

Huh.

She's a clear-casian.

Come on, you guys, your
dad's in fucking jail,

probably getting things
put up his booty right now.

Oh, I'm sorry, Marshall.

I... I know that man-sex is
great when it's consensual.

We're not laughing because it's funny.

We're laughing to keep
from blowing our brains out.

Yeah, you seem really broken up about it.

We thought mom was totally better.

I mean, she...

Okay, "a"... mom's alter
has a lesbyterian gal-pal.

"B"... dad has psycho renovation rage.

"C"... you're practically
an unwed teen mother.

Shut up.

And "d"... Marshall's
bangin' bitches, so...

Nice, Kate.

Right?

So...

as a family...

we're completely... fucked.

Do you think...

Do you think...

Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben are married?

No.

Aunt Jemima is married to uncle Jemima.

Husband with a criminal record.

Jesus. What is going on with you, Max?

Sweetie, your windows are filthy.

Wonderful.

Now I've got tab on my dress.

Fuck.

Hey, Tara's voicemail.
It's your husband... Max.

From jail.

Now, slow down, Tara.

Who are you calling?

Triple "a."

Honey, settle.

Let's think a moment.

Now.

Why are we in this predicament?

Because I drove my car off the road.

Okay. Yes.

And how often do you find yourself
driving your car off the road?

Never!

Exactly.

You had a very simple mission...

To drive 20 short miles to rescue
your husband from the clutches of doom.

As, I might add, he's
done so many times for you.

So you tell me... why?

To avoid bailing Max out of jail?

Because... he was gonna commit me?

Okay. Sure.

But what else?

Because I want to figure stuff
out before I see him again.

Yes, Tara. Good. Bravo.

You are so much more
insightful than you believe.

Am I?

You don't give yourself
nearly enough credit.

Self-esteem issues...
a whole other megillah.

We'll get to that.

But for now, I want to talk to
you about those two little girls...

The girls you saw in the hallway.

You got enough time for all that?

You know what I'm gonna do?

I'm gonna cancel all my
appointments for the rest of the day.

I want to give you all the time you need.

Okay?

I always... pictured
this place grungier...

Full of angry drunks and aging hookers.

What are you in for?

Okay.

Okay.

Here's what I've collected
for our literary journal

the past couple of weeks, and
here's the table of contents.

Impressive.

Thanks!

Okay, so I was thinking of, like,

a ghosted image beneath the list
of names, like a bulging eyeball.

Uh... sounds great.

What should we do with Zach's
"frigid mother, dead universe" piece?

Back page.

I love this, Marshy.

I love how it doesn't scream
"pretentious high-school zine."

It's a unique animal.

Like us.

M... my, uh...

my sister thinks we should break up.

Of course she does. She's
lonely and unevolved.

I'd be envious, too.

Courtney...

I just feel like I might need
some, uh... space, you know?

It's not about who you are.

It's about where I am in my...

No, Court, don't do that.

Okay.

Sorry, Marshy.

Just kidding.

Hi. I'm, uh, I'm here for Max Gregson.

Yeah, he left about half an hour ago.

He left?

Honey, you need to check your messages.

He wasn't very happy.

Uh-huh. Okay.

No, that's fine. I'll...
I'll see you at home.

That was Tara. She just
got to the jail now.

Mm.

Had a minor accident...
hit a pothole or something.

I don't know. She's... she's okay.

That explains it.

Doesn't explain why it took
her three hours to call me,

but what are you gonna do?

Max, how long have we known each other?

80 years?

Not once have I ever seen
you raise your fist to anyone.

All right?

I mean...

I... I mean, remember
"Bridget Jones's diary"?

Renée Zellweger finds the naked chick

in Hugh Grant's bathroom?

What?

She freaks. She dumps him.

She... she quits her job, right?

But you can't do that.

I mean, y... your anger
has to go somewhere else,

because you can't stick it
in the one place it belongs.

I told her to get a new therapist or else.

Great.

And?

Well, she did.

Except it's her.

She's her own therapist.

Uh, I don't... I don't get it.

It's a new alter, Neil...
a fucking therapist alter.

Jesus, Mary, and donkey.

Mm! Nurse!

Can we get two Jim Beams here?

No problem.

"Your love is like a scorched
carpet in the brothel of my mind."

This literary journal is a nightmare.

By "literary journal," do
you mean "relationship"?

Courtney says...

"Courtney says."

What?

You can be bi if you want,

but you don't have to
get with every female

who crushes on you, Marshall.

It's called "chemistry."

Madonna's biceps make me nervous.

Looky. It's getting out of hand.

I saw. Marshall showed me.

Oh, my God.

251,642 hits?

You're a national treasure.

I know.

"You move like a retarded baby.

Do something cool, like suck a dick"?

There's better ones.

"She look like my camp
friend who I made out wit."

Why can't these people spell?

Hey, so, I saw your girlfriend earlier.

Did you kick her like a meth habit?

It... didn't really take.

Why isn't Lynda calling me back?

You think she's jealous?

Of what... your online-stalker mob?

No, maybe... maybe she thinks

that I'm trying to steal her thunder.

Or maybe she thinks that I'm
just, like, some loser idiot kid.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God! She hates me!

I thought you said your mom was psycho.

Mm!

Well, my blood-alcohol content
is just beneath the legal limit.

Why don't you go ahead?

I'm, uh, gonna use the little boys' room.

Okay.

Hey.

Hey.

You know that little thing
that you had with my wife...

I don't... I don't know your wife.

I have a thing for Buck.

Right, right.

Buck.

Anyway, Tara feels real bad about
what happened between you two.

Her disease gets her into
some hot water now and then.

Never a dull moment.

Anyhoo...

I just want to thank you for not taking
advantage of her in her fragile state.

What is this?

Consider that a tip.

Your wife...

she tastes like rain.

Sometimes kiwi fruit.

And once, she tasted like a penny.

Hey.

Where's Max?

Neil picked him up.

I, uh...

Drove my car into a sign.

Shit! Are you okay?

I'm fine. Small sign.

God. The drama around here.

All this anxiety is bad for my embryo.

Oh.

By the way,

I found out the baby's... not Nick's.

It's Neil's.

- What?
- Yup.

Fuckin' load of poop.

Thought you were revirginating.

With Nick.

Oh, I just... I love Neil's
weird, sweet little body.

He's got this patch of
fuzz on his lower back,

right above his ass crack.

I named it Sophie.

Ew! Stop it!

When did you even see him?

Here and there.

I couldn't stay away from him.

You know what it is?

I want my wedding pictures with Nick,

but I want my wedding night with Neil.

You know, I could marry
Nick and have Neil's baby,

and no one would even find out.

You could, but the kid could
come out looking like a tiny Neil.

Mm.

With a little rectangular mozzarella body.

And an adorable underbite.

And a genius for doing
cartoon voices during sex.

Wow.

It's really fucked-up.

Charm, can I ask you something?

Do you remember someone named Mimi?

No. Why?

I have this memory of you and
me and this woman named Mimi.

Nope.

Doesn't even sound familiar...
Like a babysitter or something?

Mimi? No.

Oh, shit. Neil's here.

All right, I'm not gonna tell
him the baby's his yet, okay?

God, I hate when they fight.

It makes me feel like an orphan.

See?

Sex screws up everything.
It makes people cruel.

Take sex out of the equation,
and no one gets hurt.

I haven't really figured out
what the big deal is about it.

I mean, I think it's fun, but
I don't know if it's fun fun.

I'm afraid that if Courtney knows

that I don't want to have sex
with her, she'll be traumatized.

And split into 17 billion people?

Like, what if I'm pathologically unable

to let anyone down forever?

I mean, what if...

Yo, woman! 'Sup?

Oh, no. No worries.

I'm just chillin' with my little bro.

She lost her charger.

So, did you see?

I know!

You know, people who knew about you

used to ask me how we made it work,

and I'd say, "well, we're
fucking crazy in love."

And it was working, Tara... for 17 years.

But it's not fucking working anymore.

I know it sounds insane, but I've
been seeing therapists for decades,

and not one of them has ever given me

even a fraction of the insight she has.

Tara, listen to me.

She is not real!

If the measure of being real is that
she helps me figure things out...

Oh!

That I can't unpack on
my own, then she is real.

Unpack what things?

Well, it's still foggy, but I'm...

I'm having memories, after
a lifetime of nothing.

Can you believe that?

And Shoshana thinks it's
the... the Hubbard house

that's bringing this
up and making it happen.

Oh, it's the Hubbard house. That's rich.

Why the Hubbard house?

We don't know yet.

Yeah.

She's had some pretty interesting
things to say about you, too.

Oh, yeah? Like what?

She said that you need me to be sick.

Because it's the only fucking
thing holding us together.

I knew you'd be back.

But listen.

I can't be your therapist.

My professional code of ethics dictates...

I don't want a therapist.

I just...

Tara doesn't know I'm here, does she?

I can... trust you not to tell her?

I'm a professional, Max.

I don't take this role lightly.

If I were to violate a confidence,
well, I'd lose my self-respect.

Not to mention my license.

Okay.

I just want someone who will listen.

Mm-hmm.

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