GINA This is what I remember — the first time you touched me. The first time you ever laid a finger on my flesh. You remember?
WILL It was after work.
GINA You smelled of Paco Rabanne.
WILL You wore that blue blouse.
GINA You said you hated your car. You said…
WILL Yes?
GINA No, you tell me.
WILL Not fair.
GINA Fair-schmair. And yes it is.
WILL I said… I said…
GINA You don’t have a clue.
WILL I said… I said, “If you were air, I’d never take another breath just to hold you in.”
GINA I always wondered if you heard that in a movie.
WILL Nope. All mine.
GINA Say it now.
WILL I just did.
GINA Not quoting. Say it for real.
[Beat.]
WILL If you were air, I’d never take another breath just to hold you in.
GINA Mmm. Good line. Came as a surprise.
WILL To me too.
GINA How is that?
WILL I don’t know. We never know what we’re going to say, do we?
GINA Sure we do. We say “I need a haircut,” and “I’d like a Fiero,” and “I want a shelf organizer.” And “You look terrific,” and “What’s on at ten?”
WILL Sounds so depressing.
GINA Until you.
WILL Until me…
GINA I could say “What’s on at ten?” to you and not feel existential dread.
WILL Until you, I, Jesus, fuck, I, my god, I mean, do you know I look at you sometimes and I just want to fucking cry? To scream? I want to grab you and squeeze you until your bones shatter. Not really, but you know? I want to tell the whole world that I couldn’t kiss you enough, lick you enough, fuck you enough. There is no enough with you.
GINA You know, you know when you’re inside me or when I just catch a look from you — you’re at your desk, I’m at mine — or when I think of the way you looked by the side of the road trying to jack up the car? Saying, “Stop, Gina. Stop laughing”? I think, my god, this is my life? God gave me this? And I think how I could just spread you on a cracker and eat you whole.
WILL I think, I think, I swear to Christ, how my whole life I felt something missing, you know? Like you were out there, somewhere, and I knew it, I did, but I never found you so I finally stopped looking. I told myself it was a fantasy. A child’s dream. Time to wake up, Will. So I did. I stopped believing and I got on with my life. I got on with my life. But then we met. And we talked. And suddenly I knew what I’d always known but tried to convince myself I didn’t.
GINA What?
WILL That you were the piece of me that went floating off into the ether when they pulled me from the womb. And I’m, right, I’m barely a fetus but I’m reaching for you, going, “Hey, come back. Please.” But you’re gone. You’re gone.
GINA Oh God.
WILL Oh Something.
GINA And I think how since the first time you touched me on the…?
WILL Breast.
GINA Chin.
WILL Sorry.
GINA Men. I thought, “Oh God, it all makes sense now. I can breathe. I can live. I’m, I’m home.”
WILL Home.
GINA I’m home, Will.
WILL Let’s kill him.
GINA Let’s kill him.
WILL Yeah.
GINA Who?
WILL Who.
GINA My husband?
WILL Yes.
GINA Okay.
WILL No, no really.
GINA No, no really.
Another booth. The DOCTOR, a psychiatrist, is meeting with his PATIENT, a woman.
PATIENT So, okay, we’re here.
DOCTOR We’re here. At your insistence.
PATIENT No, no. Yours.
DOCTOR You asked to meet. I suggested a public place.
PATIENT A bar. This bar.
DOCTOR A public place.
PATIENT With liquor.
DOCTOR As opposed to a Wal-Mart?
PATIENT As opposed to a Starbucks.
DOCTOR I don’t drink coffee.
PATIENT Maybe you should take it up.
DOCTOR I like tea. It’s better for you.
PATIENT And yet we’re here. So’s it safe to say you like liquor more than tea?
[DOCTOR stands. PATIENT is oblivious.]
PATIENT Can we assume that?
DOCTOR I’m going.
[PATIENT notices him standing.]
PATIENT Doctor, please.
DOCTOR This was a bad idea.
PATIENT Please.
[DOCTOR places some money on the table.]
DOCTOR A terrible idea.
PATIENT Just listen.
DOCTOR There’s enough there to pay for the drinks.
PATIENT Just please listen.
DOCTOR It was unprofessional of me. A bad, bad idea.
PATIENT I keep…
DOCTOR Please don’t drink too much—
PATIENT I can’t…
DOCTOR — if you drove.
PATIENT I used to…
DOCTOR Even if you didn’t.
PATIENT I used to remember things.
DOCTOR There’s a cabstand not too far. In front of that motel.
PATIENT I forget birthdays I had. Parts of high school, college, my twenties, last year.
DOCTOR Because you drink.
PATIENT You’re the one who wanted to meet here!
DOCTOR And why? Why do you think that is?
PATIENT Because you’re projecting?
DOCTOR Nice try.
PATIENT I thought you were leaving.
[He starts to walk.]
PATIENT I know where you live.
DOCTOR [Stops, looks back.] I moved.
PATIENT Two-twenty-four Stellar Lakes Lane.
[Beat.]
Oh, I’m sorry — another round?
[He slides into the booth.]
Another booth. BOBBY and BOBBY’S FATHER.
BOBBY’S FATHER So how was she?
BOBBY I sent her home.
BOBBY’S FATHER Before or after?
BOBBY During.
BOBBY’S FATHER How do you send a whore home during?
BOBBY She kept interrupting the blow job to pontificate on the merits of Michael Bay films.
BOBBY’S FATHER Who’s that?
BOBBY Movie director. Makes all those shitty movies like The Rock and Pearl Harbor and Bad Boys.
BOBBY’S FATHER I like those movies. They’ve got clarity.
BOBBY Clarity.
BOBBY’S FATHER
Yeah. No one’s all confused about how they feel or what they want or any of that whiny-ass bullshit. They want to fuck the blond chick, they feel like blowing shit up. It’s pure. So you sent her home.
BOBBY I gave her cab fare.
BOBBY’S FATHER She didn’t use it.
BOBBY Huh?
BOBBY’S FATHER She came over to my room.
BOBBY Your room.
BOBBY’S FATHER Somebody had to prop her ego up, poor girl like that.
[They stare at each other.]
BOBBY So what’d you do after?
BOBBY’S FATHER I rinsed my dick in the sink and drove her home.
BOBBY You drove her home.
BOBBY’S FATHER I’m speaking Czech?
BOBBY People do have a way of disappearing in your company, Daddy. You drove her home.
BOBBY’S FATHER I drove her home. Yes.
BOBBY Where’d she live?
BOBBY’S FATHER Home.
[Beat.]
So what was it like?
BOBBY You’ve never been?
BOBBY’S FATHER Been in county a couple times, but the big house? No, no, boy, not for your old man. So tell me, come on.
BOBBY It was like prison, Dad. The hard cons say you only do two days in prison. The day—