Why Women Kill

Previously on Why Women Kill...

Fuck!

I-I know that it looks bad.

You're going to rehab first thing in the morning.

You are cut off.

I-I-I don't think it's the best time for me right now.

You don't really have a choice here.

I just sold a script for $1.2 million.

You know, I think I got a lot of fucking choices.

- Come on, Jade. - I think maybe the best way

to help him is to stay here.

Fuck you both.

Uh, I have an appointment.

And would this appointment

involve your new boyfriend Hector?

He may tag along, yes.

I, uh, leave for Paris two days after graduation.

Care to join me?

- You should go. - You'll be okay?

I'll be delightful.

_

You've got get over this obsession with another woman's husband.

I'm pregnant.

How do you think he'll react?

- He will be thrilled. - Come clean.

Tell him you know about the affair and the baby.

What if...

he doesn't choose me?

Aren't you done with all the lies?

We definitely need to have a talk.

You're starting to scare me.

I'm scared, too.

Once I tell you,

everything is going to be different.

Are you sick?

I'm sick.

Baby, what's wrong?

I have cancer.

Oh, my... oh, my God.

_

I'm going to die.

I'm not sure when.

I just know one day I won't be here.

I'm afraid to meet God.

I'll have to account for my sins.

I have sinned a lot.

I had an affair with a married man.

I slept with another guy's wife.

I had sex with a married couple

and pretty much everyone else I ever met.

Now I'm pregnant and unmarried.

My mom has no idea I've fallen in love.

Taylor doesn't know I gave Eli drugs.

I'm not going to tell Rob.

I'm gonna propose to Simone.

I'll probably deny everything.

When I do meet God, I'll just beg his forgiveness.

I'll thank him for sending me the perfect woman.

I'll say I did what I had to

to survive.

Sheila.

Oh, my God.

I've been on pins and needles. Did you talk to Rob last night?

I did.

So? I'm dying here.

How did he react when you told him

you knew that he was cheating on you?

Well,

the conversation went in a surprising direction.

You said what? You said what?

What? How could you say that?

How could you say that, Beth Ann?

What are you thinking? What are you thinking?

I can't even believe you just said that!

Get back here so I can give it to you!

It's your mother's fault.

Clearly, she forgot to teach you some of the basics.

Things like, when you grow up, don't pretend to have cancer.

Women lie to their husbands every day.

Some lie about how much they spend.

My lie's that I'm dying.

Just because you act classy

doesn't mean you're not fucking crazy.

There is a method to my madness.

Rob will never leave me while I'm sick.

But what if April decides

to tell him that she's having his kid?

That is where her good friend Sheila comes in.

I'm going to convince her to leave town.

Start a new life, sever the tie for good.

And then, once she's out of the picture

and I have Rob all to myself,

my cancer will be miraculously cured.

I used to find that little grin charming.

Now it just scares the shit out of me.

Ladies.

The doctor will see you now.

Enzo.

Aunt Sheila.

Look at you in the white coat.

This is my neighbor, Beth Ann Stanton.

Beth Ann, my nephew, Enzo. The doctor.

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stanton.

Likewise.

So, Sheila says you studied oncology.

For a little while, and then I switched to hematology.

Oh, still, I bet you remember lots of useful tidbits.

I suppose so. How can I help you?

Well, I was wondering

if there was a cancer you could recommend.

- Recommend? - Something rare.

That no one's ever heard of.

It should be serious.

Oh, but occasionally curable.

I'm sorry...

And symptoms.

She's gonna need symptoms.

Oh, some symptoms would be lovely.

Just wait a...

What exactly are we talking about here?

Enzo.

I say this to you as your aunt and a Sicilian:

The less you know, the better.

Okay.

Um, rare cancers.

What about...

Epithelioid hemangioendothelioma.

Say that again.

I'd rather not.

That's the cancer you have?

It affects soft tissue.

I'd give you the details,

but they're disgusting and we're having fondue.

God, I wish you'd let me go to the doctor's with you.

You always get so emotional.

No. I prefer to go with Sheila.

Now, I'm going to set the table.

Wait. Wait.

At least tell me your prognosis.

I will, but I don't want to ruin our meal.

Beth Ann! Please, just tell me!

Fine.

But I need you to be strong.

Can you do that for me, Robert? Can you be my brave boy?

Yeah.

Well,

it seems I only have six months to live.

Six months!

But that doesn't mean I can't recover.

Miracles happen every day.

But the doctor feels we should prepare for the worst.

It sounds like he's giving up already.

We should get a second opinion.

No. I mean, what is another doctor going to say?

I don't have cancer?

No, this is the situation, and we all must accept it.

Okay?

Okay.

Now, obviously, if I'm going to fight this thing,

I need you by my side.

Constantly.

I'm not going anywhere.

You're my wife.

I meant it when I said,

"Till death do us part."

Oh, my darling.

I'm going to hold you to that.

This is hard.

I've never packed for a three-month trip before.

Oh, packing for three months is easy.

I do it every time I go away for the weekend.

These look sturdy.

Should I try them on?

Knock yourself out.

Hey, I know we agreed that you'd fly to Paris a week after me,

but wouldn't three days be enough?

Or even two?

You can't wait one week?

We need as much time for sex as possible.

Remember, you said you'd make love

to me in every city in Europe.

What am I supposed to do on my own for a whole week?

Beat it.

That's cold.

Oh, not you.

What do you think? Do you like them?

Oh, what are all the pockets for?

Carrying stuff.

They'll be great for hiking over the Alps.

- Hiking over the Alps? - Yeah.

Good Lord, are we taking a vacation or fleeing the Nazis?

I'm starting to think that we're imagining very different trips.

Well, I want our vacation to be elegant, romantic.

Nights at la Comédie-Française, dinner at Maxim's.

Yeah, well, I can't afford those things.

Oh, well, if that's the problem...

No, I know you can afford those things,

but I-I don't want to feel like your gigolo.

- I have an idea. - What?

Return my brooch and get your money back.