After.Life (Afterlife / After Life) (After.Life)

It's time now.

You have to look beautiful for your funeral,

as if you were still alive,

just sleeping.

This is how they're all going to remember you.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

You used to enjoy it.

Baby, I'm sorry.

Fuck. Fuck!

Anna, what's wrong?

It just... it feels like...

it feels like you're somewhere else.

Is it about us? Is that what it is?

It's not about us.

What is it do you think, huh?

I don't know.

Listen,

I just want us to be happy again.

Are you happy?

I'm happy.

Anna, I love you so much.

Hey, Jack.

Didn't you hear me, jackoff?

You deaf, jackoff? Can't fucking speak either?

- Say something! - Hey.

What's going on here?

- Nothing, Ms. Taylor. - Nothing?

It doesn't look like nothing.

You boys get back to class.

Now! Back to class.

Jack, you okay?

- I think it's dead. - Which one?

That guy? No.

Poor thing. He's just scared.

See?

Jordan, are you guys picking up George Shore?

George is...

Hello?

Is somebody there?

- Jack? - Did I scare you, Mr. Taylor?

No, um...

it's locked.

Shouldn't you be home?

My mom's picking me up.

Okay, well, I've gotta run.

- Where are you going? - To a funeral.

- My old piano teacher. - Can I come?

No, Jack.

A funeral's a very... a very private affair.

I've never been to a funeral before.

It wouldn't be appropriate.

Anyway, wouldn't your mother worry?

- Not really. - I'm sure she would.

Have a wonderful day, okay?

I'll see you in class tomorrow.

- Okay. Bye. - Bye.

We have entrusted our brother James Hutton to God's mercy

in sure and certain hope of the resurrection...

White roses... they were his favorite.

How did you know?

They just seemed appropriate somehow.

Mrs. Hutton, I'm so sorry.

Thank you, Anna.

You look tired, dear.

No no, I'm fine.

Everything's fine.

- I'm so sorry. - You scared the life out of me.

I'm sorry.

Oh! Your hair.

- Do you not like it? - No, I didn't say that.

It's just very...

it's very red.

Not really you, is it?

- Are you ready to order? - Yes.

We'll have the duck, please.

- Paul. - You always have the duck here.

I don't always have the duck.

- I'll have the duck. - Yes, ma'am.

The duck's very good.

Listen, let's...

come here.

Let's try not to fight tonight, okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

What are we drinking?

Oh yes, all right.

It's good.

And it has a very expensive-looking label.

What's the special occasion?

There's something I really need to talk to you about.

About us. I've been offered a transfer to head office

in Chicago. It's gonna mean a lot more work,

of course a lot of responsibility and a lot of changes,

but it's an incredible opportunity and I'd be crazy to turn it down.

So I'm thinking maybe

it's time for us to...

- You're leaving me. - What?

You could have told me this morning. You didn't have to buy me off

- with this expensive dinner. - Anna, wait.

- No. - You told me everything

- was gonna be okay. - Don't be ridiculous.

- Anna, you've got it all wrong. - I'm not being ridiculous.

Jesus Christ, can we get through one meal without arguing?

- No. No. - Please, just one meal!

Apparently we can't. Apparently I'm not capable of that.

Maybe you aren't. I'm beginning to wonder.

- Fuck you. - Please, everyone's watching.

- Don't do this. - Fuck you!

You're... you're crazy. You're just like your goddamn mother.

I am nothing like my mother.

You know, I'm not running after you, Anna.

Good!

Shit.

Fuck.

Anna, Anna!

Anna, come on. Please open the door.

I don't want to hear it.

I want you to come. I want you to come to...

Don't do this. Anna! Hey hey hey.

Anna, I want you to come to... I want you to come to Chicago.

Anna, Anna... God damn it!

Please don't go.

Shit.

Oh, Anna.

Fucking asshole.

Shit!

Where am I?

You're in a funeral home. You're dead.

You were in a car accident.

Shit.

You hit a truck loaded with metal pipes.

I'm not dead.

You were pronounced dead eight hours ago.

Your blood no longer circulates through your body.

Your brain cells are slowly dying.

Your body's already decomposing.

I'm not dead.

This is your death certificate.

Cause of death, massive internal trauma.

Time of death: 8:23 p.m.

You were dead on arrival. The attendant physician signed here

at 9:45 last night.

I'm sorry.

What's happening? Why can't I move?

Don't touch me. Why are you touching me?

I'm preparing your body.

You have to look beautiful for your funeral.

But I'm not dead.

You all say the same thing.

Maybe you should rest now.

Oh my God.

I can't be dead. I can't be dead.

This must be a nightmare.

Oh, God, wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up. Wake up!

Anna.

Baby, you've got it wrong. I want you to come to Chicago.

I want you to come.

Okay, we've gotta talk.

I'm gonna come by your place before I go to the office

and everything's going to be fine.

I promise. Call me when you get this.

I love you so much.

Okay, I'll see you soon.

- The shell grows... - Hi, I'm...

Iooking for Anna Taylor.

I'm sorry, you can't just come in here.

I'm Anna's fiancé Paul Coleman.

This is her room, right?

She didn't come in today.

Did she call in sick?

She didn't call in at all.

Okay, yeah, thanks. Sorry. Thank you.

She's a schoolteacher.

I know. It's always so difficult when they're so young.

That's right, you knew her. She was at your funeral.

She's in good hands now.

Oh, hi, Diane.

- Is Anna home? - I think you'd better come in.

What's wrong?

What happened? Where is Anna?

Anna was in a car accident last night.

My daughter's dead.

That's what's happened.

Car accident?

When? What... what are you talking about?

I don't know.

They said it happened just before 8:30.

We were at...

no, we were at a restaurant.

You shouldn't have let her drive in that weather.

She can't be dead.

There must be some mistake.

There's no mistake.

And flowers... how appropriate.

What?

Why wouldn't you call me?

You took her away from me.

I don't want you anywhere near her.