Under the Tuscan Sun

Before I start signing these, I need to thank somebody who's here tonight.

When I had her at State... Wait. That didn't sound right.

I never had her. Wanted her, but never had her.

What I meant to say was when I took her class at State,

I had the worst case of writer's block in the world.

All I had were terrible ideas. I hated them all.

I was just about to drop the class

when she said something to me that changed everything.

She said, "Terrible ideas are like playground scapegoats",

"given the right encouragement, they grow up to be geniuses."

She told me to take one of my terrible ideas and work on it.

Well, I did.

Frances Mayes, who loves terrible ideas.

- May I please French kiss you now? Yeah, go for it, William boy!

Married, William. Sorry.

- Proud of me? - Ridiculously.

Frances, these are amazing. What did you do to them?

Chocolate is timing, my friend. The rest is magic.

Hey, Professor.

- I am so thirsty. Where's the wine? - There.

Tom is one lucky bastard. A literary wife who makes brownies?

I swear, if you tell me you cook in the nude, I'll go home and kill myself.

Never in the nude. Always in a thong.

Actually, if you knew Frances better,

you'd know these brownies are a sign of avoidance.

- Thanks. - You're welcome.

- How's the novel going? - Not so well.

But the procrastination, of course, is coming along fabulously.

Then soon it will breed abject self-loathing,

and then I'll just become a writing machine.

- It's her process. - What about Tom?

How's his book going?

Fine. He's home writing right now.

- You know Tom? - I met him recently.

Sort of by coincidence.

The other coincidence is that you reviewed a book of mine.

I did? Did I like it?

- You didn't. - Well, I'm sorry.

I'm sure there were a lot of other critics who loved it.

And I really hope you didn't take it personally.

You called my lead character "unrealistic."

I think that bad reviews should just be forgotten.

Give him a brownie.

And I would like to give you this brownie.

It comes in peace.

You said you just couldn't get interested in a novel

where the protagonist was a middle-aged guy

who spent all of his time living out his horny teenaged fantasies.

I just find that ironic.

Ironic? Why?

Ask your husband.

What did he just say?

Frances.

Frances?

I've got some unfortunate news for you.

I just got off the phone with your husband's attorney

and they're going to... They're going to pursue alimony.

How can we be talking about alimony when I hardly make enough money to...

But you... You supported him during the marriage.

Yes, but while he was researching and writing his book.

I worked while he pretended to be.

Unfortunately, this is just about the math.

- Well, he was having an affair. - California's a no-fault state.

His attorney indicated

that your husband would prefer an alimony buyout.

Since you two were living rather modestly,

I don't think the numbers should be too bad.

They're probably talking about something like

$200,000.

- I don't have that kind of money. - Unfortunately, you do.

The house?

Its value went through the roof since you bought it.

And renovated it, with my mother's money.

Well, it's all... It's all community property now.

So he gets half the house and alimony?

Well, there's leeway in the numbers

and we'll make all the arguments we can.

But there is a bargaining chip. He wants the house.

- He wants to keep living there? - Yeah.

And if you let him have it, well,

you could end up with a lot of money in your pocket.

I understand he wants it pretty badly.

Sorry. This is so surreal. Um...

How... How would he even find the money to buy me out of my half?

Oh...

Oh. Wow.

Apparently she likes the place.

It's near the right schools.

Schools. She's...

Wow.

You're gonna get over this.

You will, Frances.

- Someday you're gonna be happy again. - Mm.

Right.

- And the desk? - The desk goes.

No. The desk can stay.

- The couch? - Yes, please.

Vamos con la sofa, por favor, y de aprisa.

Wait a minute. No. The sofas can stay.

No, esperate. Esperese para alla, por favor.

- How about the chairs? - They stay, too.

Actually, everything's going to stay except...

Except those boxes over there, those three boxes with the books in them.

If you don't mind.

- You're sure? - Yeah.

The bedroom?

No.

- Kitchen? - No.

Levantense los car tones, por favor.

So then we're done?

We're done.

You gettin' a divorce?

It shows?

These are furnished short-term apartments. That's all we get.

Your neighbor in 2B, he's an attorney.

His divorce has been draggin' on for three years.

Nice guy. Gives free legal advice to the other tenants.

If his crying gets on your nerves, you just bang on the wall. He'll stop.

Sorry.

The guy in the apartment above you is a doctor.

He hands out the sleeping pills.

- What do you do? - I'm a writer.

So you can help the others with their suicide notes.

Ah, you're one of those funny landlords.

Not really.

Well, here's your keys.

Have a good stay.

Thanks.

Home.

Ta-da! You start a marriage with cake and champagne,

you should finish it that way, too.

The beginning and the end should be fun, fun, fun.

Too bad about those pesky years in the middle.

- Sorry. - Make a wish.

- Things got crazy at the hospital. - Hi.

- You made it in time for the toast. - Bravo. And it only took a year.

- To freedom. - To freedom.

Thanks.

You're not drinking. You're not drinking!

- Fifth time was a charm. - Oh, my God! Patti!

- When are you due? - May.

May! Oh, my God.

I'm going to be an auntie! I'm going to be an auntie. Yes.

- It changes our plans a little bit. - Well, of course.

We were about to take a 10-day tour to romantic Tuscany,

but I don't want Patti flying during her first trimester.

Small sacrifice.

So we decided to change our coach tickets into an upgraded ticket

for you.

Oh...

This is amazing. Really generous. Thank you.

But, no.

How can you say no to Tuscany?

No. Like that.

- That's your depression speaking. - Well, it doesn't speak Italian.

It speaks a little high-school French. Besides, I'm not depressed anymore.

Then what are you still doing living at Camp Divorce with all those losers?

- Be nice. Those are my people. - That's not a place you live.

Guys, come on.

Thank you so much.

There is no way that I can go

on a romantic tour of Tuscany right now, okay?

- I mean, I'm not ready to meet anyone. - Oh, you won't. That we can assure you.

Oh?

- It's a gay tour of romantic Tuscany. - Oh.

So it would be very relaxing for you.

Mostly couples, no one would be there to hit on you or check you out,

and you could just concentrate and listen to your own inner voice.

My inner voice. My inner voice that would be saying,

"What the fuck am I doing on a gay tour of Tuscany?"

Frances, it's Italy. Italy.

Plus, you could use it as a time to start writing.

Well, I'm busy. I have to review all those books, Patti.

Instead of working on your own book.

Wow.

Are you being mean, or just hormonal?

Okay. Don't kill each other until I get back.

Can we please just talk about the baby?

- I think you're in danger. - Of?

Of never recovering.

You know when you come across one of those empty-shell people,

and you think, "What the hell happened to you?"

Well, there came a time in each one of those lives

where they were standing at a crossroads.

Crossroads. God, that is so Oprah.

Someplace where they had to decide to turn left or right.

This is no time to be a chickenshit, Frances.

I'm not being a chickenshit, Patti. I'm not.

Okay, just promise me you'll think about it.

I'll think about it. Okay?

I got a feelin' about you. Are you lookin' for a place to stay?

Yeah, I guess.

- You gettin' a divorce? - What?

We got short-term apartments, but don't worry, some people stay for years.

We got a writer, we got a doctor...

Hey!

- Sorry. Sorry. - It's okay.

- You wanna come over? - No!

Maybe later.

"Maybe later." Oh...