The Confession

No, give it gas... No, give it gas!

Put your foot on the gas pedal.

Uh... Okay.

Miss Lapp, why are you

taking your driver's test

on a car that has a stick shift?

I'm sorry. It's my girlfriend's car.

She ain't no friend.

Okay, now...

Now turn up here.

Where are you going?

You can't go this way!

Oh!

I have right of way. Ain't so?

Not ain't so when you're going

the wrong way down a one-way street!

Hey, come on, lady.

What are you doing?

Come on, move your car!

Katie, order's up.

Here's your change.

Two cheeseburgers.

Thank you, dear.

I hope everything tasted wonderful gut.

Yeah, it was amazing gut.

I know, right?

Oh, wow.

I think I left my wallet in the car.

Is it okay if I run out and grab it quick?

Yeah, that's no problem.

Okay, good.

I'll be right back. Thanks.

Hello, is this

the Laura Bennett residence?

Is this Laura Bennett?

I'm Katie Lapp.

You don't know any Katie Lapps.

I'm very sorry to bother you.

The owner says you letting that jerk

walk off without paying

is coming out of your paycheck.

Did you tell him he said

he'd be right back,

that he just left his wallet in the car?

It's called the dine-and-dash.

You're too trusting, Katie.

Alexis, where I come from,

people keep their word.

What have I been telling you ever

since you started working here?

You can't be gullible.

You're not in Hickory Farms

anymore.

Hollow. Hickory Hollow.

Whatever.

Look, maybe in Amishland

people are good to their word

but everywhere else,

Englishers are liars and thieves.

And the sooner you accept that,

the better off you'll be.

Any luck?

Not yet.

How many Laura Bennetts

in New York can there be?

A lot.

Break's over in five minutes,

okay?

Where are you, Laura?

I need to find you.

While you delayed surgery

for the tumor on your spine,

the cancer was quietly spreading

elsewhere.

I've had three top oncologists

consulting with me on this.

The tumors are both supratentorial

and glioblastoma multiforme.

So it's not over?

I'm afraid it's much worse.

That doesn't make

any sense.

She's been fine since the surgery.

Yes, but unfortunately these

cancers can turn at a moment's notice.

Other than all of a sudden I have to wear

these silly things to read a menu...

At least one of the tumors has

worked its way to the optic nerve.

So how long do I have?

It's a very aggressive cancer, Laura.

Weeks.

Maybe months. It's hard to say.

Wait, wait, wait.

What, that's it?

Other than my eyes failing,

what else can I expect

to happen to me?

Probably your balance first.

Then muscle weakness.

Then your memory

and speech will go.

Everything will escalate

rapidly at the end.

Okey-dokey.

Well, as much as I would like to

stay and talk about tumors,

I've got to get back to living.

Thank you.

Laura, what are you doing?

I'm not leaving. Not today.

Laura, stop it!

Let go.

No!

Stop it! I need you

to get your life together.

I know what you need me to do,

but I need to be here with you.

We need to fight this together,

beat this together.

Did you hear Dr. Stein?

My problem is terminal, yours is not.

Look, I know you want me to get help,

and I promised I would,

but not today, please, Laura.

No. No more delays.

Besides, I need

some time alone to think.

To make decisions.

Okay.

I love you, you know.

I know. I love you too.

Fresh pot,

brewed especially for you.

Hey.

- You want anything?

- Uh...

Thank you, no. I won't be long.

Well, if you need me, just whistle.

Or I'll be back.

I'm real good with accents.

All right, two shots. One

on the rocks, one straight up.

You don't have it,

do you?

There's a lot

going on right now.

Well, we want our money.

I just need a little more time

to raise the capital, that's all.

Capital? You played

the ponies and lost, Bennett.

It's a gambling debt,

not some investment.

Your wife,

she's old money, right?

Get it from her.

I can't.

I promised her I was done with this.

Ah, come on.

You know? Shake her

for the money and then,

I don't know,

go get counseling or something.

That's where

I'm supposed to be now.

At the best Manhattan therapist

money can buy.

Fifty K, end of the month.

And, uh, what if I can't get it?

It's not the '60s, Dylan.

We don't kneecap people anymore.

We have lawyers now.

Yeah.

But I can guarantee you this:

We will tap your wife

for the money,

one way or another.

All right.

Good talk, huh?

You want a refill?

No, thank you.

Gin and tonic, please.

Double.

A spoonful of sugar

helps the medicine go down, right? Heh.

Let me guess, Alyson.

A chronically

underemployed actor

waiting to make it big

on Broadway?

How did you know that?

Honey, come on. I'm in a sports

bar in the middle of Manhattan

with a waitress making cheesy

movie lines to the customers.

I mean, how predictable

can you be?

You think you know my life?

Juggling three jobs

so I can pursue my dream.

Um...

Uh... Listen, um...

It's okay. I...

Alyson, that's your name, right?

Um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean

to offend you. Okay?

Could have won a Tony

with that performance, huh?

I'll be right back with your drink, love.

What about

the Amish marmalade?

We ran out.

She's not going to like that.

She loves her Amish marmalade.

You don't need to lecture me,

Fulton Taylor.

I know what she likes

better than you do.

I'd have to agree with that.

Would you like me to bring the car

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