If Lucy Fell Page #3

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but I called."

It bores me.

Well, it bores me, too!

This ultimate Faustian prison.

I want to stop. Why the hell

do you think I see you?

I don't know.

Maybe you're bored?

I look at the phone.

I stare at the phone.

Then I pick up the phone.

I feel I am the phone.

I'm imprisoned by the phone.

Therefore, I am a prison,

with the phone as my bars.

Where's your partner?

No?

Couldn't find a partner?

Man, I know how you feel.

I don't have a partner, either.

Do you wanna be my partner?

Really? Uh-huh.

You serious? Uh-huh.

All right.

What do you wanna paint?

A rainbow.

Yeah? Mmm-hmm.

All right.

Start with what?

A little red over here?

Who would...

A person could...

Oh, goodness. Who would leave

this phone here like this?

God!

Hi.

Hi.

How was class?

Okay.

Good.

Do you think you help

people in therapy, Lucy?

Well, I try.

I think it's possible.

The pain of these little kids

sometimes is, uh...

Just, uh, makes me sad.

Another

deep-painting-subject day?

Why do you always do that?

Why do you act flippant about

things that are important to me?

You've reconsidered

the death pact, I hope?

You are so afraid

that I may be right

you will not answer one

simple question, will you?

What I really hear you saying is that

you're frightened about something, Joe.

So, do you want

to tell me about it

or do you want to continue

to project your fears onto me?

I'm not projecting sh*t.

Why do you act flippant about

things that are important to me?

Well, I don't feel that I do.

Well, I'm telling you, you do.

Well, that's your perception.

It's not perception, Lucy.

You make me feel like sh*t

when you act like you don't care about

things that are important to me.

Period. That's how I feel.

That's no perception.

What, is this about Jane? Are

you having a crisis about Jane?

Because I could understand...

If I were celibate,

if I were saving myself

for five years for somebody.

If I was obsessing over

somebody for five years

and I didn't even have the

courage to speak to them,

I can imagine that I might be in a

bit of a crisis about this person.

You just have a glib little

response for everything, don't you?

You're, like, in this

little, protected shell.

You hide behind your smug, pseudo-intellectual,

you know, psycho-babble humor.

I mean, you wanna talk about being afraid, Lucy?

Why don't we talk about Dick?

Why don't we talk about two and a

half years of you hiding behind Dick,

a man that you don't

give a sh*t about,

you could care less

about how he feels,

and turned down

everything that's come along.

I mean, if you want to talk about

being afraid, Lucy, forget about me.

I mean, let's talk about you.

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