The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her

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Hey!

Mrs. Ludlow? You ready?

Yep.

- Hey.

- Hi.

Can I... Is it gonna hurt?

No, it's fine.

on...

- Is this all your stuff?

- Mm-hmm.

- Uh... You sure?

- Yeah.

- Nice meeting you.

- Yeah. Have a great day.

- I think I...

- I got it.

OK.

- Come on, Katy.

- What?

I can put a seat belt on.

Sorry...

Sorry.

Flaughsl

Stupid.

What?

What am I supposed to say?

You can say anything you want.

Come on.

Where's Philip?

He's asleep. He's exhausted.

What should I do?

Just put it somewhere.

I closed your wireless account.

Thanks.

What do you want to do about

all your stuff in the city?

You've got some clothes here

in the closet

and I have some more stuff for you

in the attic, if you want.

I'm sure that'll do fine.

It's just like old times.

Hey, Daddy.

So, what happens now?

I'm guessing you give a speech

of some sort.

What do you want to do, El?

Something else.

I'm open to ideas.

I'm looking for

a part-timer on campus.

Was I such a different person

when I lived here?

It was, like, a thousand years ago.

You could take some classes.

Could we talk about it later?

What about Conor?

Hey...

- Auntie Em!

- Hi.

Missed you.

I missed you.

What'd you guys do today, huh?

Chasing butterflies.

- Mm.

- I catched one.

- Really?

- "Caught. "

I caught one.

You did?

Jonah Greenbaum ate

a caterpillar at school.

That sounds pretty gross.

Yeah. Will he have a

butterfly in his tummy?

I don't know, honey.

Um, let's, let's give her some time

to get settled in, OK, babe?

- Bye, honey.

- Bye.

Do you need anything?

Nope. Thank you.

I'm going into town in a bit

if you want to join, get out?

Yeah. You yell up at me

when you're going?

- You ready?

- Yeah.

I feel like

I'm seven years old.

- Why?

- Being here with you.

You remember that time you and Mom took

Katy and me to see Cats for my birthday?

It was a wash for me.

We came in from New Haven.

Yeah, I remember.

I remember the train ride

better than anything.

We were all so gussied up.

Katy and me wearing those

silly matching dresses,

standing on the seats,

looking out at everything,

pointing at this and that.

Everything seemed so limitless.

It was.

It still is.

How many more times do you think

I'll remember that moment?

What?

It was such a good moment,

but I'll probably only...

...remember it a couple of more

times in my life, if that.

Mm, I suppose so.

Whoa, hey. Hey, El.

H9)'-

- Hey, Stu.

- Wow.

- Hey. All right.

- You remember my father?

- Hey. How are you?

- Good, thanks.

Good.

You're Conor's chef.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm his chef.

Yeah.

How's the restaurant?

Good. Good.

We're doing good.

Everything's all right.

Yeah.

El, you have to register.

We- we have to head off.

All right, yeah, I got to get this back

to the restaurant, but it's good to...

- Good to see you.

- Yeah, you, too.

Hey, if you ever want

to get, like, coffee or...

or something...

you know, shoot me a text

- or call or something.

- OK.

Good seeing you.

- So, Lillian is expecting you.

- Mm-hmm.

She and I were colleagues at NYU.

I know. You told me.

You have...

- pencils and notebooks and all that?

- Yes, Dad.

I have class, and, um...

then I have patients...

so I guess I'll...

see you at the house

later tonight.

OK.

- Hey, El?

- Yeah?

Have a good first day.

I Will.

How's the weather down there?

- Balmy.

- Do we have an appointment?

I'm Eleanor Rigby.

That must be tough.

I'm here to talk my way

into your Identity Theory class.

Oh, you're Julian's kid.

I need some caffeine.

You're welcome to walk with me.

OK.

So, was Julian into

the Beatles or something?

- Sort of.

- What do you mean, sort of?

Um, he met my mom on the street during

one of the Beatles' hoax reunions.

There was a rumor they were gonna play

a show here before Lennon died,

just like the one they did

on the rooftop in London.

My parents stood next to each other

waiting for the band to never show.

Nostalgists.

- That, and my dad's surname is Rigby.

- You must detest the Beatles.

No, not really.

Do you want something?

Uh...

Double espresso,

three Splendas, please.

So, why do you want

to be in my class?

Your course sounds interesting.

And... look, you're

a colleague of my dad's, so...

Yeah, well, you got to

do better than that.

- You want me to make something up?

- Well, most people do.

You're just taking classes

just to take classes, right?

- Something like that.

- Well, let me save you some time.

All the perpetual students,

the hedge-fund wives,

and your generation of too many choices,

they usually go to Tim Gunn's class and

listen to him talk about Project Runway,

or you could take the art history class

on the advent of color photography

just for good cocktail party

conversation.

My "generation of too many choices"?

Democracy has its drawbacks.

Here's a double espresso,

three Splendas.

Thank you.

You're... teaching classes

just to teach classes, right?

Something like that.

I'm having a month.

I'm sorry.

Your father didn't give me much warning

or tell me much about you.

And I'm really not

one for nepotism.

I just got the call asking if

I could squeeze you into a class.

So I don't really know who you are.

It's OK.

Neither do I.

You want to help me?

You making chemise?

Mm-hmm.

With summer vegetables

and... and some basil.

Mmm!

You remember when you

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