The Room Next Door (La habitación de al lado)

- Hi. How are you? - I'm good. Thanks.

Who do I make this out to?

Uh, Bobbi with an "I".

In the prologue, you say you wrote this book

in order to better understand and accept death.

Um...

Yeah. It feels unnatural to me.

I can't accept that something alive has to die.

Thank you.

- Ingrid... - Mm.

We've fulfilled the hour.

I mean, in fact, we've gone over.

Well, there's still a lot of people waiting.

Yes. We'll do what you want.

Could you sign mine?

Stella! I didn't see you.

Why didn't you come straight up?

I was embarrassed.

You draw a crowd!

- A lot of young people. - Thank you.

Not just women.

Stella, this is Anne. Anne, my friend Stella.

- Nice to meet you. - Nice to meet you.

I'm gonna stay until I've signed for everybody.

Yes. I'll just make sure that no one else joins the line.

Okay.

Oh, I haven't seen you in forever.

I'm living in Boston now.

I came to see my son,

and to visit Martha in the hospital.

You know she has cancer, right?

It's a bad one.

Martha?

Martha Hunt?

Yes.

She's at Manhattan Memorial Cancer Center.

I thought you would've heard.

No. To be honest, I haven't seen her in years.

Martha is sick? I can't imagine it.

If you go see her, it'll make her very happy.

Yeah. Of course.

Of course I will.

Um, thank you so much for coming. I really appreciate it.

Congratulations.

- Thank you. - Mm!

- I'll see you soon. - Thanks.

- Bye. - Bye.

Hi.

- Who do I make this out to? - Frances.

- Is that you? - No, it's my girlfriend.

She really admires you.

- So do I. - Thank you.

Could you write "It won't happen again"?

Of course I can.

Yes. Thank you. It won't happen again.

I hope not.

Hi. I'm here to see Martha Hunt.

I think she's on the 16th floor.

Okay. One sec.

Yes. Room 1614.

The elevator is at the end of the hall, on the left.

- Thanks. - No problem.

Martha?

Ingrid!

What a surprise!

- How did you hear? - I ran into Stella.

- She told me. - Oh.

I'm so sorry, I didn't even know you were sick.

Oh, well, you with your work and me with mine.

I mean, time's gotten away from us.

Yes, and I was living in Paris.

Yeah, I heard. I've been reading about you.

I know you have published another book

and it's doing very well.

Thank you.

So...

How are you?

I'm sure you're sick of telling everybody.

Well, it's cervical cancer. Stage three.

It isn't operable, but they're treating me, so

looks like I'm not gonna die quite yet.

Um, I've become a guinea pig for an experimental treatment

and the results are better than the doctors expected.

- Great! - Yeah.

That's great! Well, you seem like you're in good spirits.

Well, I swing between euphoria and depression.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

No, it's normal, and the doctors warned me, you know.

- Highs and lows. - Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm.

It will sound absurd,

but after all the accepting and preparing to face the end,

survival feels almost disappointing.

Oh, don't say that.

No, I was prepared to leave.

In fact, when they gave me the initial diagnosis,

I didn't want any treatment.

Well, I'm glad you changed your mind.

'Cause, you know, just the thought...

And that I wouldn't know...

Anyway, I realized that I really...

I'm not ready to abandon the party just yet.

But I had truly gotten used to the idea.

Well, I suppose that it's good to get used to the idea,

but without giving up, right?

You've been through a lot of wars, remember?

I live with them every day.

Oh, Ingrid, I'm so happy to see you.

I almost called you a thousand times.

- I'm sorry. - Me, too!

It's ridiculous that we haven't seen each other.

I promise I'm gonna visit until you get sick of me.

Will you?

You promise?

I'm gonna hold you to that.

Your daughter knows, I guess.

Yes.

When I first made up my mind to forgo any treatment,

I told her,

and she just said...

"It's your choice."

Period.

As if it was something trivial,

something that had nothing to do with her.

How are you two getting along?

Um, same as ever.

We're barely in touch.

What does she do?

She's doing well.

She is, uh, an agent for classical musicians.

It might sound horrible,

but I don't feel like she's my daughter.

I fantasize frequently about her being swapped at birth.

What?

What are you talking about? She looks just like you.

She has your face.

I never interested her as a mother.

Why not?

I was a teenager when I had her.

I didn't know what to do with a baby.

And when we started working at Paper Magazine, you remember?

We practically lived at night.

You remember New York in the '80s?

Yeah.

Anything important happened at night.

And then I went to work as a war correspondent,

traveling constantly.

And that didn't help.

My work just completely took over.

I was never what a mother is supposed to be.

But Michelle started to hate me

long before I was away so much.

I remember feeling her resentment even when she was a little girl.

She made herself very clear.

She couldn't bear... not having a father.

She saw other girls with their fathers and she wanted to know about hers.

At first, I told her I didn't know who he was, but...

It kind of made things worse.

I was lying to her.

Of course I knew who her father was.

His name was Fred.

We dated for a few months before he was drafted.

And then went away to fight, towards the end of Vietnam.

When he came back, a year later, he was

somebody different.

Fred! What happened?

He was a broken toy.

Hey. Hey, it's okay.

I'm here. It's all over now, Fred. You're back home.

But it's not over for me.

I still got the war inside my head.

I can't get free of it.

I hallucinate every single day.

And I was high practically all the time.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life,

but I'm not staying here.

It's all right.

Feel free to do what you like.

Think about what's best for you.

Okay.

Thanks.

Can I kiss you?

- Does Michelle know this? - Oh.

She started asking about her father as soon as she could talk.

But it's not something you can explain to a child, right?

By puberty, she carved out quite an abyss between us.

It came to define her adolescence.

But, by then, I was no longer there.

I was in New York, with you, living my life.

I arranged to meet Fred one evening to tell him about the situation.

So, I took a first aid course

and, because I'm a war veteran, they've hired me at a hospital,

down in San Diego.

It's good news, right?

I have some news for you too.

I'm pregnant.

- You're pregnant? - Yes.

But I was planning on moving to San Diego next week.

Then what are we gonna do?

Whatever I do, my parents will support me, so...