Huff

He says he loves me, that he doesn't care if I'm blind or deaf or god forbid both.

And what's the matter with that?

He doesn't mean it.

Really?

How could you tell?

Ok, fine. He probably does mean it.

Kevin's like that.

He thinks love, music, and passion can overcome reality.

And you don't, I take it.

No, I don't.

No amount of poetry and music is going to keep me from going blind.

That train's left the station.

Ok, but who says you have to be sighted

to experience love and music and passion in your life?

Blindness trumps romanticism-- period, end of discussion.

Blindness trumps romanticism. Ok.

Uh, well, it definitely sounds like you and Kevin have different ideas

on the power of love and hope and passion.

Facts are facts.

Kevin hates when I say that.

Pouts and walks around like a puppy that just wet the carpet or something.

Calls me a pessimist.

I'm going blind, and he calls me a pessimist.

It sounds like Kevin is doing better with your impending blindness than you are.

That's because he's not the one going blind.

Holy cow, Dr. Huffstodt.

Holy cow, Dr. Huffstodt?

Yeah, holy cow.

I've made a deal with myself not to swear.

People might think I'm angry about what's happening to me if I go around cursing all day.

Well, golly gosh and gee whizzums, Kate. How's that working?

Fine.

Last week I asked him if he wanted to go to a movie.

He freaked out.

It used to be, sure, babe, what do you want to see?

Now it's ok, sure, right, we can do that.

We should probably sit close to the screen

so you have a better chance at seeing something.

And we probably shouldn't sit near anybody so I can talk and tell you what's going on.

And are you really ok with a stranger taking you into a public restroom?

I mean, I don't mind waiting outside, but

what if you have a problem in there?

Shit!

Shit and motherfucker!

Shit and motherfucking cocksucking--there!

Happy?

Go to Stanford, you fucking asshole!

Go ahead, just leave me alone!

Go to Stanford and live your life without me!

I'll be fine.

I'll be fine!

God damn it.

Shit.

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, sweet Jesus, fuck me. Are you having it?

Are you having the fucking-- oh, Jesus!

It? Is that what you're going to call your son--it?

And no, I am not having it.

But you would be the happiest guy in the world if I was.

No... no, I would not if it was early, Kelly. I woud not.

Just as long as he isn't born

you can just keep doing whatever the hell it is you're doing.

Painting shitty rainforest murals

and getting fucked up and acting as if it's my fault.

I never said it was your fault that I was late. I never said that.

Oh, sure. Are you ok, Kel?

Oh, gee, I'm so sorry, Kelly. Oh, business thing came up, Kel.

You know, it's still about you!

I am the one who's getting screwed

and somehow you're the one who needs taking care of.

It's fucked up, Russell!

You're angry.

I get it.

Sorry. I fucked up. I'm really truly very sorry.

And I'm sorry. Fuck.

And I just had one thing to say to you--

you really should not swear in front of the baby.

They've done lots of research,

and apparently the sound travels all up in there.

And it's not good. It's like music.

I read a lot about it on the internet.

What the fuck are you talking about?

I swear to god, Kelly, I planned to be here.

Just forget it.

This has never been an out-of-wedlock made in heaven. Who am I kidding?

But I'll tell you one thing--

I am getting ready for this baby with or without you.

Like I have a choice.

Oh, here we go. I got you, I got you.

Upsy-daisy, honey. Here we go.

Oh, cheese time for Kel.

Oh, like you never fart.

The shit that comes out of your mouth-- I swear, it's your asshole.

Another thing-- you snore through your ears. It's disgusting.

Deviated septum as a child.

Deviated, I'm sure.

I've got to take a shower.

Have a nice day.

All right.

You know, I already rode you once, and this is what I got.

I'll take the bus, thank you very much.

I've got a yoga class, I'm having this baby naturally without drugs.

Oh, and I am getting a doula.

I kind of like your hair the way it is.

A doula.

A birthing coach. You know, to help me stay healthy.

I thought that was la maze... la mazzie.

It's lamaze, ok?

And that is nothing more than hyperventilating.

That is the last thing I'll need when my vagina will be stretched

all the way to encino-- for somebody telling me to pant.

Doula, from the greek.

Meaning the most important female servant of the house.

Doulas are emotional, spiritual, and physical guides.

Well, you know what? By gum, I'm for it, I swear.

I think we should do it all-- the yogurt, the juice, it's great.

The stretching, the doula.

Fine. I'll be meeting a few tomorrow afternoon.

Be there if you can.

Don't be if you can't.

But the pressure's off,

because I am not counting on you.

Dad, you've been screwed up ever since that kid killed himself.

Byrd, that was almost 2 years ago.

So, he's still dead, right?

Yeah, he is.

Byrd, that was a really hard time for me.

But, you know, I've been working through it.

I think in a lot of ways I'm stronger for it.

Dad, with all due respect, that's such bullshit.

No, it isn't, Byrd.

Yeah it is.

You don't know that.

Ok, whatever.

At least I know what kind of father you are.

I'm sorry?

I said, at least I know what kind of father you are.

Yeah, that's what I thought you said.

Care to elaborate on that?

No, not really.

Are you sure?

'Cause it seems like you have something to say.

I'd like to hear it.

Ok, dad. First of all, I'm not the same kid

that walked into your office the day that kid Sam killed himself, all right?

And said that you could always come to me and that I'd always understand,

because that kid had to grow up.

And second of all, I'm not the same kid that said I'd always be your son,

because no matter what happened nobody could take that away from us,

because you took that away from us, dad.

And you walked out on being my dad about 2 years ago, and I'm doing fine.

Byrd, I never walked out on you.

Oh, bullshit, dad! You don't even know I exist anymore!

That is not true. Come on.

- Yes it is, dad! - No it isn't.

Byrd, maybe I haven't given the kind of attention you've wanted lately, and I'm sorry for that,

but I have never walked out on you.

Dad, you're doing that right now,

and there's a big difference between giving the kind of attention that I wanted

and the kind of attention that I needed. All right?

Just like asking me how I'm doing, or how I feel about the fact that nana almost died.

Or the fact that gram is becoming an alcoholic right before our very eyes.

Or that mom is walking around disintegrating inside,

while you just walking around complain all the time

because she isn't doing what the fuck you think she should!

And now you're going to fucking leave without asking any questions,

without doing anything, just goodbye!

Can I ask you something?

Byrd, when mom was going back to New Jersey to be with nana,

did you know she was going to stay indefinitely?

Of course I did, dad!

Why is that ok, but when I need to leave, I am the bad guy?

Because her mother was dying!

She was just using that as an excuse to leave.

No, dad. She couldn't stand being around you!

Ok, ok... come here. Come here.

- Dad, don't touch me! - Byrd, I love you--

Dad, don't touch me! Fuck!

Ok, ok. I'm sorry.

Can we just calm down and just talk about this?

I don't want to talk about it, dad.

I'm sure you have your reasons.

Please? You're right, we should talk.

No, I'm serious, dad. I don't need to hear about it.

I'm sure it makes perfect sense to you,

I'm sure you'd have no problem justifying any of it,

but I really don't want to hear it and I don't want to talk about it.

Look, I asked you never to do it again, all right,

and you ignored me and did it anyway. That's pretty fucked, don't you think?

It's definitely fucked.

So, why did you do it?

It was too easy not to.

Man, you broke into my uncle Teddy's place. That's not cool.

He's a schizoid, tweetie-pie. Don't worry-- who cares?

I care! All right? He's my uncle!

Why am I not surprised you're a shover?

Listen, dude, I asked you to lay off, and you didn't lay off.

If you asked me to lay off and I didn't lay off,

you'd shred my ass in 50 different ways.

That's right.