Stuck in Love

I remember that it hurt.

Looking at her hurt.

Your... your... your nose.

Oh, oh, it does that sometimes.

- Hey.

- Hi.

I never enjoy anything.

I'm always waiting

for whatever's next.

I think everyone's like that...

living life in fast forward,

never stopping to

enjoy the moment,

too busy trying to rush

through everything,

so we can get on with what we're really

supposed to be doing with our lives.

I get these flashes of

clarity, brilliant clarity,

where, for a second,

I stop and I think,

"Wait, this is it.

"This is my life. I'd better

slow down and enjoy it,

"because one day, we're all

going to end up in the ground,

"and that will be it.

We'll be gone.

So I think we should f***.

Um... what?

Let's just fast forward through all

the drunken seduction bullshit...

we have to look forward to.

You don't look like you'd

be very good at it anyway,

and I don't want to sit here and listen

to you bumblefuck your way through it.

We both want the same thing,

to go back to your room, have sex,

and never see each other again.

Are you with me?

Is this a trick?

The offer is about to expire.

No, no, I'm in.

I'm definitely in.

Do you like that book?

No, God, no.

No, it's my idiot brother's

favorite book.

Is it yours?

No, no.

It's my roommate's.

I'm not really much of a reader.

Good.

Now come here.

Yes, ma'am.

As I stood there staring

through the window

into my ex- wife's new life,

I was overcome by the

oddest sensation.

Watching her with this man was

like turning on a familiar sitcom

and realizing they had replaced one

of the lead actors with a stranger.

The show was the same, but the

thespian who played William Borgens

for nearly twenty years was gone.

And in his place was a

younger, dumber model.

What was that, boy?

Oh, sh*t.

Down! Heel! F***ing dog!

Rusty...

Oh yeah.

There you go.

You got that bowl?

Hey!

Just rock it on there.

Get him on there.

Gentle, gentle.

There you go.

Got it?

Don't push that hard.

All right.

There we go.

Yeah.

Dad, she's here.

Ready?

Hi, I'm back.

Dad...

Smells good.

Well, they said that you

have to go back there?

They just said that I think you

might have to end up paying for it.

No, but they're going to cancel

the whole thing? The appointment?

Yeah, they're canceling it.

It's over, basically...

My book is being published!

Oh, my God.

Congratulations.

Thank you. Thanks, Dad.

Oh, my God.

We're so proud of you.

What house is it?

Scribner.

What?

That's King's publisher.

Yeah,no, they're great.

Great.

We got to have a toast. We have

to have a toast. Scribner?

Yeah, that's exactly what I was

thinking when I submitted the book.

This will really piss

Rusty off.

It's not because they publish books

by Hemingway or Kurt Vonnegut.

David McCullough, Frank McCourt.

F. Scott Fitzgerald,

Bob f***ing Dylan.

I didn't know you had

dibs on Scribner.

I never said I had dibs, Samantha.

I just was...

You're just jealous.

Wow.

I'm not jealous.

What an accomplishment.

Your sister is having her first

book published, all right?

This is a cause for celebration.

This is what the holidays

are all about.

Okay, cool.

You might want to congratulate her.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

Geez, I didn't have my first

book published until...

I don't know.

I was 25 or 26.

I would have been happy

to call those guys.

I know them all over there.

I submitted it under a fake name

and didn't tell them whose

daughter I was

until after was accepted.

I wouldn't have minded.

I know. I just... Because you

wanted it to be about your book

and not about being my daughter.

Yeah. Okay, well, this

is a toast... psst.

To you and your first novel.

Just Saying Hi.

Oh, it's not Just Saying Hi.

Did they make you

change the title?

No, they're not publishing

Just Saying Hi.

It's a different book.

What?

I put that aside for now,

and I wrote a new one.

When?

Over the summer.

What happened

to Just Saying Hi?

You were excited about that.

I was excit... I put a lot of

work and effort into that.

I proofed the manuscript

and I...

I know.

I'm sorry. I...

I... I... I thought my opinion

meant something.

It does. Dad.

You know it does.

And yet you turn around and

write an entirely new book

and don't think

to share it with me?

I'm sorry.

Something's burning.

Congratulations.

Why would you let him set

that place at the table?

I set it.

He asked me to.

Yeah, well, she's not coming.

I'm about to head over there.

You should come.

Give Dad a chance to cool off.

I'm not going over there.

Fine.

Suit yourself.

I'll tell her you said hi.

You can tell Mom

to drop dead.

Whoa...

This food is so good.

Glad you like it.

So how did everything

go over at your Dad's?

It was good. Sam's getting

a book published.

What?

That was my reaction, too.

That's great.

I always thought your dad making you

and your sister keep journals was...

a little strange, but...

sounds like it's paying off.

- I can't believe it.

- Why is it's strange?

Rusty, just let that go.

No, why is it strange?

I just want to know why you

think it's so strange.

Well, it just seems like

he was forcing you

to be writers...

instead of allowing

you to choose to be.

We don't have to keep the

journals if we don't want to.

You'd have to get

a job if you stopped.

He pays us to do it so we

can focus on our writing

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