Paint It Black Page #2

Thought you were smart,

original,

very real.

He said your... your dad

drives a tow truck?

Yeah.

Yes.

- Is there a mother

in the picture?

My dad was a... was a fisherman

out of coos bay, Oregon.

- Is this what

Michael thought of me?

Some kind of novelty?

"Real"?

That's another word

for "poor," right?

No.

"Real" means real.

He loved you.

Yeah.

Right.

I got you.

He left this for you.

Hello?

Get dressed.

- How the f***

did you get my keys?

- I took them when you were

passed out in your own piss.

Get up and get it together.

People are coming over.

What?

What people?

Your friends.

Remember them?

They're the people who help you

get through sh*t like this.

- And I was always

afraid of death

until, um,

my grandfather passed.

He was a big country music fan,

and he, you know, was...

We always used to

sing songs together.

When he actually died,

we all stood around the bed

holding hands, singing to him.

There was this

thing when he actually passed...

Hi.

So many friends.

Such good friends.

"We're sorry.

We're...

"oh... oh, we're so sorry.

We're so sorry for your loss."

And then they go out and

have their

teeth cleaned...

And eat dinner.

Do you live here alone?

- No, I have ghosts

that keep me company.

- You know, i... i could

hear you playing

from all the way

down the street.

It's brahms.

Whenever Michael had a headache,

he always had

to have his brahms.

He played me brahms.

And I played it for him,

of course.

- You were following me,

weren't you?

Well, i...

I was worried about Michael.

I hadn't heard from him

in a little while,

but I never thought that...

World's greatest pianist.

Help yourself.

I heard that you

had drinks with the father.

I'll assume he said

many horrible things about me.

There w... the base...

The... the baseball,

did he tell you?

No?

We were in New York

for a... a recital.

And Cal and I were

long since divorced,

but he had

one of those townhouses

down on bank street.

Between marriages,

as I recall,

briefly, of course.

Anyway,

he always kept this baseball

on his desk.

It was signed by

all those famous players,

you know, babe Ruth and so on.

He fondled it while he wrote.

Talk about freudian.

Anyway, we were up there

discussing Michael's future.

And he got it into his head

to throw the ball at Michael.

"Come on!

Think fast!"

you know... like a common

schoolyard bully.

That's... that's

the Jewish Hemingway for you.

But you know what Michael did?

He picked up the ball,

and he threw it

out of the window.

I mean, talk about babe Ruth.

You know, it was rolling down

the gutter on bank street.

It was fantastic.

I guess this is what they call

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