What are you doing here?
Georgianna went a half hour ago. You're gonna miss it.
Put that on my tab.
Your bill.
"Tab" sounds like y'all might pay it someday.
Time was never a friend to Bobby Long.
It would conspire against him...
allow him to believe in a generous nature, then rob him blind every time.
We had lost Lorraine, all of us...
but long before she died.
You can't park here. You'll get another ticket.
I don't see no signs, Miss Daisy.
It's all right. I can walk to the curb from here.
Get me a beer.
You find a job?
You clean the fuck up?
That Bobby guy called again today.
- Again? - He called a couple of days ago, remember?
No, you didn't tell me. What did he want?
He wanted to tell you about Lorraine.
What about her?
She died.
She what?
She's dead, all right? He called because he thought you'd wanna know.
Lorraine died and you didn't tell me?
To Lorraine. May she finally find peace.
So, now what? Lorraine finally kick y'all out?
No.
She never would. Besides, God wouldn't let that happen.
Really? And why not?
'Cause God knows me, and I know God.
Go.
Cecil's pretty torn up. Make sure he eats.
I'll see you later.
She never meant nothing to you...
and you didn't mean a damn thing to her. I didn't think you would care.
Come on, baby, stop.
Look, I'm sorry, all right?
Why don't you just cook me some dinner and I'll go rent us a porno?
I have to go to a funeral, Lee...
unless I missed it because you forgot to tell me...
that my mother is dead! Fucking asshole. I am so out of here.
She was never your mother!
Purslane? This is Bobby Long again.
I don't know if you remember me...
but you missed your mama's funeral.
So long.
You got any smokes?
Sorry, sir.
- Y'all going down to Cecil's? - In a minute.
- I'll see you guys. - See you there.
You got a light?
- I thought you didn't have any. - I don't.
Not for Junior.
He's got to cut down. He's got fierce emphysema.
That cough sends shivers of mortality down my spine.
"He'd make a lovely corpse," but I'll make no contribution.
Of course not. "Contribute only to one's own death." That's my motto.
Did you get the girl? She know anything?
- "He'd make a lovely corpse." - Come on, man. Charles Dickens.
Are you serious? It's Martin Chuzzlewit.
Smart-ass.
New Orleans is a siren of a city.
A place of fables and illusion.
A place Lorraine had to escape from...
and Bobby and I had to escape to.
Away from Alabama...
away from lives that no longer belonged to us.
I thought she was getting better that last time, I really did.
When was that?
- A few years ago, at least. - It'll be six years, October.
Was it that long since we seen her?
Since you seen her.
We should have gone to the hospital with you.
You should have done a lot of things.
Coming.
This Lorraine's house?
And who are you?
No one. I just live here.
Come on in.
Nice place.
Thanks. We try.
- You're not old enough to be Bobby. - That's because I'm Lawson.
Okay.
I'm sorry about your mother. You look a lot like her.
Sorry to wake you so early. It's barely noon.
Bobby. We got company, man. Wake up!
Honey, put your bags down. We don't bite.
- Juice? - No.
- Bobby, get up. She's here. - Who?
- Pursey. - Who?
The girl is here. Get up.
So, when's the funeral?
It was yesterday. It was real nice.
You should have been there, young lady.
That's your opinion.
You must be here for some reason.
I guess you already know the deal on the house.
What deal?
- The house. Your mother owned it... - The deal!
Let me tell you what the deal is.
The deal is that Lorraine left the three of us the house.
Lawson and I are two-thirds, and you are only one-third.
She did what?
Lawson and I have been living here for some time.
Your mother hasn't lived here for years.
And I don't believe that she thought you'd be interested.
Lorraine was great at being wrong.
Purslane, honey, we are here to stay. This is our home.
It's no big deal...
Lorraine thinking I'd share this shithole with two alcoholic strangers.
You are alcoholics, aren't you?
But we are not strangers. We were her friends.
We took care of her.
And this shithole is just fine for us.
It's not suited for a girl like you.
I'm getting up out of bed now. You can watch if you want.
It don't matter to me.
It seems hard to believe...
that you haven't seen a man naked before.
Not an old one.
I know that you're no innocent...
because I spoke to that boyfriend of yours...
over on the Redneck Riviera.
You certainly didn't choose him for his brains.
You don't know nothing about me.
I guess that will change if we all became roommates, wouldn't it?
I'll see you later. I'm out of cigarettes.
My brand is on sale.
Good to see you again, Purslane.
All growed up.
He's not usually such a jackass. He's just upset about Lorraine. We all are.
He's right, you know. I can't stay here.
It's pretty funny, actually. My grandma was always talking about...
the pretty little house Lorraine was fixing up for me...
and I guess that was the Ernest & Julio talking.
It's fine.
- There's no real surprises here. - The hospital sent her stuff.
Lorraine would want you to have these.
They went everywhere she did.
She loved those books.
I guess I could unload them at a flea market or something.
- Here, I'll help you out. - No, I'm fine.
I really did want to come to the funeral. I just never got his message.
That girl looks so much like Lorraine.
I remember the first time you took me to see her sing.
It was my first time in New Orleans.
I was so taken.
You were kind of sheltered.
Choked by that silver spoon.
I thought she was so beautiful.
She was.
What else can I get you boys?
Did anyone ever tell you that you smell like a Parisian woman in springtime?
Every day, at least once. Y'all gonna eat?
The lawyer could get to her at any time.
So what? The will says we can stay for a year.
Should I just come back?
Do you know how lethal the smell of a Parisian woman in springtime is?
Not nearly as lethal as a Louisiana woman who don't give a shit.
- Eggs and bacon, ma'am. Both of us. - Cheese on our grits, darling. Please.
You are fucking shameless.
Why didn't you use the bed, sweetheart?
- Oh, God. - I could have come in and cuddled with you.
That would have been fine with me.
- We could have spooned together. - Save it.
Why'd you give her this?
This is stories of misfits...
invisible people. It's beautiful.
Have you ever read it?
Have you ever read any book?
Lorraine didn't know she was a poet.
I really do enjoy...
fostering inspiration.
Lawson's a writer. A fine one, too.
Really?
He's writing a book about me.
That's fascinating.
"Chapter 1: I got up, I got drunk, I passed out.
- "Chapter 2: I got up, I got drunk..." - Lovely and witty.
You're an embarrassment of riches, little girl.
Which room is mine?
I'll need a place to stay, and y'all said I had a right.
Just figured I'd stay here until you get fed up and leave.
We are never leaving. Never!
- And don't even get it in your mind. - She should have Lorraine's room.
- I'll stay out here. I'll bunk with you. - Okay, fine.
Are you fucking crazy?
Better than her poking around and finding out the truth.
She won't last. You're gonna make sure of that.
Besides, you're always complaining how your bed is so cold.
You're too skinny for me.
- So, y'all are really into books? - They're mostly Bobby's.
- That's the plumage of an English professor. - Him?
- A professor? - Yeah, he was a good one.
And you, you're really a writer?
Bobby likes to think I am.
These boxes are all Lorraine's, so...
So what?
- I knew your mother pretty well. - How well?
She was hard to understand, but she kept the door to her heart open.
The way I heard it, it was more of a revolving door, wasn't it?
Purslane Hominy Will.
How come you know my name?
I know a lot about you.
Your mama and I were close since we were young.
I helped name you.
Your mama thought you were golden...
so we named you after yellow flowers and corn.
This is you here:
Pretty, golden purslane.
Purslane's really a weed, you know.
A neighbor told me when I was 9 and I ran over his tomato plants.
He said all gardeners hate purslane.
Yeah, and dandelions.
It doesn't stop kids from making wishes on them.
Purslane's an axillary bloom.
It closes up when the sun goes down.
Thanks.
Damn.
Last time I saw you, you were teeny.
Is there anyone here who doesn't remember me with Lorraine, or am I the only one?
She used to sing here. I was about your age. She was something.
- I'm so sorry. - Don't be.
I'll have red beans and rice and a beer, please.
I hear you'll be staying at Bobby and Lawson's for a while?
No, I'll be staying at Lorraine's indefinitely.
- Will you be starting school in September? - No.
I don't go to school. I waitress. You need one?
No, just me and Uncle Earl.
They know you're not going to school?
They're all torn up about it. Ranks up there with being out of vodka and cigarettes.
Mother, go make my bed
Make it long and narrow
My true love died for me yesterday
I shall die for him tomorrow
She was buried in the church house yard
And he was buried there beside her
And from his grave grew roses red
From hers grew greenbriers
They grew and they grew so very high
Till they could grow no higher
And at the top grew a true lover's knot
Twined with greenbriers
Y'all, this is Lorraine's daughter, Pursey. She's gonna stay with us for a while.
Come on in.
- You grew up real pretty. - Thank you.
Make yourself at home, darling.
I'm Ruthie. My gentleman friend, Ray.
Here 26 years.
Go on and relax, baby. Drink your beer.
Find anything?
I filled out a few applications.
You let that fresh young thing live with you?
She's fresh, all right.
I remember when there was a new one every night. Y'all was pussy magnets.
Which one of y'all snores like a goddamn train?
Bobby. If he's on his back, you have to turn him over.
I saw this program on the Medical Channel that you can cure people of snoring...
by cutting their throats open.
I believe that I do have a story for you gentlemen.
Quiet. Bobby's gonna tell a story.
When I was growing up, I always hung around boys a couple years older than me.
And this one summer, I was, I don't know, 10 or 11.
And we were doing all the normal things that boys in Alabama do.
We were fishing...
and playing ball, and swimming, and beating off.
But in addition to these activities of an innocent childhood...
mine included a lot of talk...
about this wonderfully elusive something called pussy.
I wasn't sure exactly what it was...
but I knew it was magical and very special because of the way it was spoken about.
Always in a whisper.
I'd go through the fields saying it to myself: "Pussy."
One day, we was all...
playing ball out in a broom sage field.
And up rode Leroy Tuberville.
Now, Leroy was an upstanding delinquent. Twelve.
And his shoulders were already broad, and his fingers were stained with tobacco.
And Leroy, he parked himself casually by third base, and he went in his pocket...
and he pulled out something. He started throwing it high in the air like that.
And I watched him play it cool...
his mysterious jewel going up and down.
I couldn't take it any longer. I had to ask.
"What's that you got there, Leroy?"
And everyone fell silent.
And Leroy looked at me with that nasty sideways grin...
and he said, "It's a piece of pussy, Long. My very own."
My face got hot, my breath quickened.
There he was, with this perfect piece of girl, tossing her up in the air.
And I watched, knowing that I had seen God for the first time.
And I wanted her for my very own.
But old Leroy popped his treasure between his teeth...
jumped on his bike grinning at me, and rode off...
leaving us in a cloud of dust and desire.
And it was in that tormented haze, at the age of 10...
when I dedicated the rest of my life...
to finding my very own tiny piece of love and wonder...
that I could carry with me for eternity.
All right, that's it. I'm going home.
To Florida?
Now, look, be careful.
"We cannot tear out a single page of our lives...
"but we can throw the whole book in the fire."
George Sand.
I thought that would be a hard one.
I don't feel right about lying to her.
What would a teenage hussy want with this place, anyway?
Said herself it was a shithole. She's better off.
Besides, when you sell that book, everything will change...
Change?
We'll go to Paris, drink '61 Latour...
write bad poetry. Yes, everything will be just perfect.
"We die only once, and for such a long time."
Molière.
She's here, honey.
I'll take better care of her this time.
See you tomorrow, darling.
Your mama used to come here a lot.
Why do you talk about her so much?
Because I miss her, I guess.
Were you in love with her or something?
We all loved her.
- She knew how to reach people, you know? - No, not really.
The night before my grandma died...
she warned me that Lorraine would always be selfish.
She finally told me about my father.
She did, did she?
Some sax player in Memphis.
Pretty much a one-night stand.
I think Gran wanted me to know that when she was gone, I'd be totally on my own.
She was right.
After she died, I hardly ever heard from Lorraine.
Never even got a chance to hear her sing.
Your mama loved you, you know? You meant the world to her.
She used to sit right where you're sitting now.
Always writing.
Called this granddaddy the Tree of Life.
That's so corny.
- You're in the wrong appliance. - What?
To succeed in killing oneself, one must be in the oven.
God damn, girl. You woke up productive.
- Come see what Pursey did. - Christ. Stop yelling.
I see what she didn't do: Leave.
She ain't gonna leave.
That's a really good look for you, too.
Good morning to y'all, too.
No school, I hear. What, you skip a grade?
A few. The 10th, 11th, and 12th. Do you mind?
God, we are living under the same roof as a goddamn dropout.
It takes one to mock one. At least I can support myself.
Look, as long as you're not lazing around here...
making Lawson lose his concentration, I do not care what you do.
You got work to do.
Do you have to go after her like that, relentlessly?
Do you want her to stick around? Is that what you want?
Has it ever occurred to you that if we help her get on her feet, she might move on?
How help her?
You want to help her out of them tight little pants. That's what you want.
- Forget it, man, all right? - Forgotten.
A New Orleans summer drowns in thick, dank stillness.
Come on, man, let's play gin.
- Can't you see us doing something here? - To hell with you.
Lorraine's house shrank with each passing day, straining uneasy walls closer.
Turn that music off, girl! Can't you see he's working?
Jesus H. Christ.
How long you gonna sit around here smoking up our cigarette money?
Lawson said he didn't mind.
Lawson's cigarettes are red. Mine are green.
You may not smoke green. Bobby's.
What is that shit you are drinking? God, it reeks.
This is beer and tomato juice.
Breakfast of champions.
Champion fuckup, maybe.
You know, girl, I have had just about enough of your bad attitude.
Whether you like it or not, I am the senior male in this house...
and you will respect me!
We have been very patient out of respect for Lorraine...
but you will not continue to lay around here...
and play parasite to our generosity.
Now, you must work as if you're gonna live 100 years...
and pray as if you're gonna die tomorrow.
- What did you say? - Ben Franklin said it.
It probably meant something coming from him.
You know damn well I've been looking for a job.
God, what do you do? Except shit around and talk about how smart you used to be.
I am a professor. I am a troubadour. A poet.
And it's none of your damn business how we live.
- You are responsible for your share. - My share?
You already live in my house for free.
- God, you should be grateful... - This is our house!
Maybe you'd rather I earn money bringing friends home.
Didn't Lorraine have to do that for a while? Most junkies do.
God damn it!
Have you no respect for the dead?
That was your mother, Pursey.
Besides...
we all know that you ain't no angel of purity...
are you, little Purslane?
Did you ever have two men at once? Have you?
That would buy a lot of cigarettes in our house. It would, wouldn't it?
Fuck you!
You're supposed to be the senior male? The grownup.
I'm just a girl. Don't you get that?
I'm so sick of your high and mighty attitude about poor, dead Lorraine.
You wanna teach me about respect? Who respects you?
The wife who's smart enough to get rid of you, or the kids you never fucking see?
What did I tell you about her?
Oh, God!
You know, I know what y'all think of me.
- School just seemed like a waste of time. - It's not.
I know that. I'm not some dumb kid, you know.
I wanna be normal. It's just not my life.
What is your life? What do you want?
If I could do anything?
Promise you won't laugh?
I don't know if I can promise.
Well, I thought about maybe working in a hospital or something...
like being an x-ray technician or something like that.
Okay.
- Can I ask why? - I don't know.
I like the way bones look on a light box.
They're like portraits, but on the inside.
I know it does sound totally stupid.
No, it's not stupid.
Hello?
Hello? Is anyone there?
- Sorry. - It's all right.
I keep forgetting there's a woman in the house.
Any sign of him?
Listen, Pursey, I need to tell you something.
What, you worried about him?
What are you doing today?
I thought I'd go down to the Quarter...
Iook for a job. I haven't tried there yet.
Want someone to show you around?
- Give us a call next week. - All right, thanks.
Well?
Maybe, but only part-time.
It's not like you have rent. You don't have to work full-time.
I need to get away from Bobby full-time. Overtime.
Maybe I could help you get started on those bone portraits.
You can get your GED, you know.
Sure I can. Then maybe I can go to Harvard.
Maybe.
You know, you eat like shit?
You drink too much.
Okay.
Would you let me read your book sometime?
- I don't think so. - Why not?
- Most of it ends up in the trash. - How long you been writing it?
Too long, and not long enough.
- Did you graduate from college? - Yes, ma'am, I did.
With the privilege of becoming Bobby Long's teaching assistant.
Why did y'all leave that school?
It's complicated. So many reasons.
Tell me one.
A lot happened real fast...
and New Orleans, all this...
it sort of seemed romantic at the time.
Is it?
Is it romantic?
It has its moments.
Would you really help me get my GED?
Yes, I really would.
- Why? - Why not?
Don't have anything else to do.
Would you quit drinking so much?
Why?
Why not? You don't have anything else to do.
All right.
So, where is he, the son of a bitch?
Probably on some barstool somewhere, whining about how misunderstood he is.
You've better things to do than waste another day worrying about Bobby Long.
He didn't. We had a nice day, didn't we?
Yeah.
Come on, darling, we better get home.
See you at home.
It must be getting pretty crowded for you, only two rooms.
What about your work, sugar? There's no privacy there.
You could stay at my place.
Will you think about it?
I'm back.
Aren't you people glad to see me?
- No. - You might have called.
Well, then ask me. Say:
"Bobby, what have you brought me?"
Biloxi?
Video poker or nickel slots?
- Man, where's my car? - I sold it.
Now, Pursey, go put some music on. We're gonna celebrate.
- You what? - I sold it. We didn't need a car.
This is a single malt. When was the last time you had a single malt?
- For how much? - $300.
You fucking sold my car for fucking $300?
Have you lost your goddamn mind completely?
Just hold that punch.
Now, you remember...
I have a broken face.
Now, I didn't have any money.
That's because your check is here.
And this, too. From the lawyer. It's time to tell her.
I waited for you to get the... What the fuck are you doing?
You give me five minutes, and then you do what you think is right.
Well, look how nice you changed everything.
I'd have destroyed that TV weeks ago if I'd known it would drive you to Steinbeck.
All right, now, I have something to tell y'all.
Come on in, sit down.
Come on, man, sit...
Will you stop grieving about that hunk of shit and sit down?
I'll stand.
All right, close your eyes.
- Close your eyes, man. - I'm not closing my goddamn eyes.
Come on, Lawson. Christ.
All right, now.
You can open them now, darling.
Courtesy of a lovely teacher...
whose heart once found Bobby Long cause enough to skip a beat or two.
"To certify that Purslane Hominy Will...
"has successfully completed the 11th grade...
"and is recommended to the 12th grade."
"Why stay we on earth except to grow?"
Robert Browning.
He's definitely your run-of-the-mill senior-year poet.
Is this really your idea of an apology...
or are you just trying to one-up his GED offer?
Great minds.
Come on, man. Of course she takes a language.
- You want to speak French, don't you? - Don't be an ass.
You know that she can't take French 1 as a senior.
All right.
So we got English Lit, European History, Geography, Psychology.
We need one more.
- I think Art Appreciation. - Music.
- I think she'd like music. - I'm not going.
Well, God damn, it's already set up.
Do you know how much I had to go through for you for this?
For me? You expect me to... Come on. What's in it for you?
Firstly, it'll get you out of the house, for my sanity.
- That's what I thought. - No, look.
You said something to me recently. It got me thinking.
You said, "I'm just a girl."
Maybe I've grown too calloused over the years, but you are just a girl.
Not unlike the students that flowed through my classes years ago.
And I know that we must seem horrible to you...
but we still got something to offer. We must.
And besides, I think we owe it to your mother.
And as hard is it is to believe...
we, too, once were innocent children.
You are such a shameless ham.
What makes you think I could do this?
Because we know God, and God knows us.
And he and Lorraine brought you here for a reason.
School starts in a month.
You can give us a chance. It might be fun.
"Fun" is a stretch, don't you think?
Listen, sweetheart, that's one of your mama's songs.
That's beautiful.
She'd be so proud.
What do you think of my face?
See this bone? It's broken.
But you can move it.
How'd that happen?
"Never fight fair with a stranger." Arthur Miller.
That happened in a fight? You lost?
Well, I lost a lot more than the fight.
Does it take away from my appearance, in your opinion, miss?
I think you're still handsome.
Well, aren't y'all sweet?
Are you having sexual intercourse with one another?
- Okay, Dr. Ruth, let's go. - It's all right if you are.
Sex is nice.
Just remember to be kind to one another.
And stay young as long as you can. Your youth is fleeting. Be kind.
We should start with memorization.
I think we should stick to the Socratic method.
You do? Just exactly who is Plato and who is Socrates...
in this arrangement? Because I'll just stay out.
You are Socrates, of course.
- You are the Teacher. - You're goddamn right I am.
I wish y'all would just shut up...
because if it's gonna be like this, I ain't learning nothing.
Girl, your English is fucking atrocious.
Purslane Hominy, sit up.
Why can't I study in bed?
It's so hot, and this chair is so uncomfortable.
It is not supposed to be comfortable. It'll put your brain to sleep. Sit up.
- It's just bad habits. - You're talking to me about bad habits?
Don't fuck with the Teacher, okay?
Just tell me what is Nebraska's role in American Literature? Go.
- Shouldn't I be learning the state capitals? - Bullshit. You'll learn what matters.
- Don't procrastinate. - By whatever do you mean?
I don't have a card for procrastinate.
You are just incorrigible.
"Procrastinate.
"To drag one's ass in such a pathetic manner...
"as to ensure one's place in life as a loser."
Hey, who are you calling a loser?
- Fuck. - Go.
All right, Nebraska.
Home state of Willa Cather, one of our first successful female authors.
Or should I move east to Missouri, where Mark Twain...
alias Samuel Clemens, was born, or down south to Kansas...
where William Burroughs spent his last years?
- Stop! - Hey, man...
I don't think they'll teach Burroughs at Catholic school.
Well, they ought to.
Why don't you pour your old buddy a drink?
- We're out of juice. - Well, what's in that glass?
It doesn't have a smell.
Well, God damn it, pour some vodka in it then.
- Go ahead. - We gotta quit.
I promised Pursey if she'd study. I mean, look at us. We're worthless.
And when was that, that you quit?
Nineteen hours ago, when we were quizzing.
- Did you get some sleep? - No.
There's no rush for her or for us...
so if you want to quit, take it slow.
Now, trust me on this.
Take away the bottle, take away the genie.
Hey, what are you doing here?
I just thought I'd give Lawson a break.
Let him use the bedroom. Come on, sit down.
You look very pretty today, Purslane.
No one calls me that but my dead grandmother, but thanks.
Now, you remember how to get there?
I know where it is all right, so I guess I should be going.
You nervous?
No.
Yeah.
Want me to take the streetcar with you?
No, I'll be okay.
Well, I know you'll just do fine.
And we'll be right here when you get back from school...
to help you with your homework.
Christ, you're really living in some parallel universe.
Me and "homework" in the same sentence.
It's about to become you and "tardy" in the same sentence, so...
Think she'll come right home?
Where else would a teenage girl go but straight home...
to her endlessly entertaining middle-aged roommates?
She's no picnic. Tortures me with that noise.
That child should know anything worth listening to is on vinyl.
My kids knew it.
I taught them. I was their father.
You still are.
One day they'll understand, when you finish that book.
My kids don't even know me.
Shit, can we do anything besides this?
- Like what? - Fuck if I know.
- We could go fishing. - You don't fish.
Maybe I should start...
something.
Maybe you should start working on your damn book.
I don't know the end of the story yet.
Checkmate. Let's get out of here. We're depressing me.
You know, I wanna say something...
about life, because an unexamined life...
- is simply a life... - Not worth living.
Purslane, our prodigy has returned.
Now, tell us everything.
Honey, why did you leave school early?
I didn't belong there.
I appreciate what y'all are doing, but I'm not going back.
What?
I really need a job.
- You can work here on the weekends, sugar. - Really?
- Only if you're in school, though. - Good one, Earl.
Autumn comes slowly in New Orleans.
The grass remains a stubborn green...
but the heat gives way to a gentle warmth.
Pursey did begin to catch on in school.
She was surprised. We weren't.
Winter arrived before we realized the sunlit hours of summer had waned.
Somehow, the wine began to outlast the day...
and that was more than anyone could have asked for.
Someone should have told them Creoles we got something called winter in Louisiana.
We might have improved on their oversight...
with this cool new invention called heat.
- Pursey, where'd you put the vodka? - You told me to hide it.
I did. But where did you hide it?
I'm not supposed to tell you, remember?
You don't do anything else I tell you to do. Where is it?
Lawson, Bobby's trying to get me to tell him where the vodka is again.
- It is Christmas. - Whatever. It's under the back stairs.
And I could have sworn it was your turn to do the laundry.
Don't forget to use the cuddly bear stuff.
But you aren't a virgin, are you?
You know, some people would call you a disgusting old man...
for your constant sexual harassment.
I believe the term is "dirty old man," not "disgusting."
And you are a young, blooming bud.
- Let me live vicariously. You aren't, are you? - Are you?
Well, I have children.
Why don't you ever see them?
Well, that's a good question. But you haven't answered mine.
You know, I'm trying to be serious for once, Bobby. God.
The truth is, I wish I could see them. I miss them like hell.
It seems to me if someone wanted to see their kids...
then they damn well would, unless they didn't give a shit.