The Hours Page #2

Are they still here?

No. They've gone.

Mm. How'd they look?

Today?

Sort of like black fire.

I mean, sort of light

and dark at the same time.

There was one a bit

like an electrified jellyfish.

They were singing.

May have been Greek.

So the ceremony is at 5:00.

Do you remember?

And then...

the party is right after.

They did bring you breakfast,

didn't they?

What a question. Of course.

Richard, you did eat it?

Well, can you see it?

Is it here?

Any breakfast lying around?

No, I don't see it.

Well, then I must have

eaten it, mustn't I?

I suppose.

Does it matter?

Of course, it matters.

You know what the doctors say.

Have you been skipping pills?

Clarissa, I can't take this.

Take what?

Having to be proud and brave

in front of everybody.

Oh. Honey, it's not

a performance.

Of course it is.

I got the prize

for my performance.

Well, that is

nonsense.

I got the prize for having AIDS

and going nuts

and being brave about it.

I actually got the prize

for having come through.

It's not true.

- For surviving, that's what

- It's not true.

I got the prize for.

Oh, you think they

would have given it to me

if I were healthy?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

Is it here somewhere?

What?

The prize.

I'd like to look at it.

No, you haven't gotten it yet.

It's tonight.

Are you sure?

Um...

I remember

the ceremony perfectly.

I seem to have

fallen out of time.

Richard.

Richard...

it's a party,

and it's only a party.

Hmm? Populated entirely

by people who respect

and admire you.

A small party, is it?

A select party, is it?

Your friends.

I thought I lost all my friends.

I thought I drove

my friends crazy.

Jesus.

Oh, Mrs. Dalloway,

always giving parties

to cover the silence.

Richard...

You won't need to do anything.

All you have to do is appear,

sit on the sofa.

And I will be there.

This is a group of people

who want to tell you

your work is going to live.

Oh, is it?

Is my work going to live?

I can't go through with it,

Clarissa.

Oh... Why do you say that?

- I can't.

- Why?

Because I wanted

to be a writer, that's all.

So?

I wanted to write about it all.

Everything that happens

in a moment.

The way the flowers looked

when you carried them

in your arms.

This towel, how it... smells,

how it feels.

This thread.

All our feelings,

yours and mine.

The history of it,

who we once were.

Everything in the world.

Everything all mixed up...

like it's all mixed up now.

And I failed.

I failed.

No matter what you start with,

it ends up being so much less.

Sheer f***ing pride...

and stupidity.

We want everything, don't we?

I suppose we do.

You kissed me on a beach.

Yeah.

Do you remember...

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