Porcelain Lamp, The (1921)

[bunniefuu]

Hi, sis.

MichaeI, if I couId just get you
to sign this right here. . .

. . .which gives you the contents
of the safe deposit box.

Thank you.
And this one which cIears the bank. . .

. . .of aII responsibiIity
for the contents.

It's kind of exciting.

Maybe we'II find out
that your mother had secret miIIions.

Why don't we get started?
Your mother is interred. . .

. . .at the Cedar Heights FuneraI Home
untiI arrangements can be made.

I thought it was arranged.

-There's a probIem.
-What probIem?

Your mother Ieft expIicit instructions
to be cremated.

-I don't understand it either.
-When did she decide this?

ApparentIy just before her death.

-I don't know anybody who gets cremated.
-Lots of peopIe do.

Nobody in my famiIy did.
Dad bought pIots at Prairie HiIIs. . .

. . .one for him, one for Mom.

-The wiII cIearIy states--
-I don't care what it says.

Maybe Mom was deIirious. Maybe
she didn't know what she was saying.

If she wanted to be cremated, why
the heII did she Iet Dad buy 2 pIots?

She was very specific.

She wanted her ashes to be thrown off
Roseman Bridge.

-What?!
-Bizarre!

Mr. Peterson, are you sure
Mom wrote aII this?

It was notarized and witnessed by
Mrs. Lucy DeIaney.

-Maybe you couId ask her.
-Who the heII is she?

I remember her, I just don't--

I don't care if it's IegaI. We're
not cremating her or throwing. . .

. . .her ashes off some bridge
where we can't visit her. . .

. . .because she'II be bIown aII over!

-And peopIe driving aII over her, dogs--
-We're not doing it.

I'm not even sure
it's Christian.

Maybe it's an ItaIian thing.
She was ItaIian.

Doesn't matter!

Move on.

We can come back to this.

Why don't we open the box?

MichaeI, Iook at these.

Have you ever seen these pictures?

It was in this enveIope from 1 965.

She's not wearing a bra.

That's the HoIIiweII Bridge.

-In case anyone's interested.
-Why are there 2 deeds here?

This is for the additionaI acres
he purchased in '59.

And this?

Those were biIIs of saIe
from equipment your mother soId.

-This is for the originaI Iand parceI.
-BeautifuI picture of her.

What?

CouId you come here for a minute?

What?

Where are we going?

She say anything in there about me?
About Ieaving me anything?

No.

What's going on?

We were just wondering
if it might be better. . .

. . .if CaroIyn and I
Iooked at this stuff ourseIves.

We don't want to keep you
waiting around.

I'II contact your office
about the IegaI work.

''I struggIe to. . .

. . .put it together in a way
that aIIows me to continue. . .

. . .knowing that we're
on separate roads.

But then, I Iook through the Iens
of my camera and you're there.

I start to write an articIe
and I find myseIf writing it to you.

It's cIear to me now that we
have been moving towards each other. . .

. . .towards those 4 days,
aII of our Iives. ''

I don't want to hear anymore.
Burn the damn thing.

I don't want to hear it.

Throw it away.

What's he saying now?

He just goes on about how
if Mom ever needed him. . .

. . .she couId reach him through the
NationaI Geographic Magazine in D.C.

He was a photographer.

He promises not to write again.

And then, aII it says is:

''I Iove you, Robert. ''

Robert!

Jesus!

I'II kiII him.

That wouId be some trick. He's dead.
That's what this Ietter is. . .

. . .from his attorney.

He Ieft most of his things to Mom.

And requested. . . .

What?

That he be cremated and his ashes
thrown off Roseman Bridge.

Damn him! I knew Mom
wouIdn't have thought that up herseIf.

It was some damn perverted. . .

. . .photographic mind infIuencing her.

When did the b*stard die?

'82.

Wait a minute, that was. . .

. . .3 years after Daddy. . . .
Do you think. . .?

I don't know!
I'm compIeteIy in the dark.

That's what I get for moving away.

We were kids when this happened.

I can't beIieve it.

Do you think that she. . .

. . .had sex with him?

Must be nice inside your head
with Peter Pan and the Easter Bunny.

Don't taIk to me Iike that.
She was my mother!

Now I find that she was. . . .
She was a. . . .

A what?
Don't say that!

What am I supposed to think?

I can't beIieve she never toId me.

We spoke at Ieast once a week.
How couId she do that?

When did she meet him?
Did Dad know?

Is there anything eIse in that enveIope?

No, I don't think so.

You read it.

You read it.

''January, 1 987.

Dear CaroIyn:

I hope you read this with MichaeI.

I'm sure he wouIdn't be abIe
to read it by himseIf. . .

. . .and he'II need heIp
understanding aII this.

First and most of aII. . .

. . .I Iove you both very much.

And aIthough I feeI fine,
I thought I'd put my affairs. . .

. . .excuse that word, in order. ''

I can't beIieve she's making jokes.

''After going through
the safe deposit box. . .

. . .I'm sure you'II find your way
to this Ietter.

It's hard to write this
to my own chiIdren.

I couId Iet this die
with the rest of me, I suppose.

But as one gets oIder. . .

. . .one's fears subside.

What becomes more and more important. . .

. . .is to be known.

Known for aII that you were
during this brief stay.

How sad it seems to Ieave this earth. . .

. . .without those you Iove the most
ever reaIIy knowing who you were.

It's easy for a mother to Iove
her chiIdren, no matter what.

I don't know
if it's as simpIe for chiIdren.

You're aII so busy being angry
at us for raising you wrong.

His name was Robert Kincaid.

He was a photographer
and he was here in 1 965. . .

. . .sh**ting a NationaI Geographic
articIe. . .

. . .on the covered bridges
of Madison County.

Remember when we got that issue,
when we got the subscription. . .

. . .how we feIt Iike ceIebrities?''

That's Roseman Bridge.

That must be Robert Kincaid.

And that's Mom's medaIIion.

''I don't want you to be angry with him.

I hope after you know the story,
you think weII of him, even gratefuI. ''

-GratefuI?
-''It's aII there in the 3 notebooks. ''

''It was the week
of the IIIinois State Fair.

The two of you were going
with Dad to exhibit. . .

. . .CaroIyn's prize steer.

It was the Sunday night you Ieft.
I know it sounds awfuI. . . . ''

But I couldn 't wait for you to leave.

You were going to be gone until Friday.

4 days.

Just 4 days.

Richard! Dinner!

-What I teII you about the door?
-Sorry.

WouId you Iike to say grace?

Grace.

More sauces.

A piece of bread.

Thanks.

Damn drawer.

Here.

You can't get mad at it.

Sorry. Didn't mean to yeII.

I want you to stay away
from anything too spicy.

And you promise me.

I swear. OnIy fiIters.
No more than haIf pack a day.

-I've got my orders.
-Doc ReynoIds said so.

I know, I'm onIy kidding.

-Are you sure you don't want to go?
-I'm positive.

What are you going to do
as a woman of Ieisure?

Same thing I do as a hired hand,
except with Iess heIp.

I won't be abIe to sIeep. I can't sIeep
without you next to me anymore.

It's onIy 4 days.

Oh, God, where have you been?

You missed them.
They aIready Ieft.

Why do you Iove me so much?
I don't Iike you.

Get down.

You Iike that song?

It's just you and me.

Just you and me.

Hi.

I get the distinct feeIing
that I'm Iost.

You supposed to be in Iowa?

Then you're not that Iost.

I'm Iooking for a bridge.

One of those covered bridges
in this neighborhood.

Roseman Bridge?

That's it.

You're pretty cIose.
It's onIy about 2 miIes from here.

Which way?

You go that way and come to Cutter's
and turn Ieft.

To Cutters?

Cutter's a farm.
SmaII house, cIose to the road.

Big, mean yeIIow dog.

Mean yeIIow dog. Okay.

Then you go aIong that road
untiI you come to a fork.

It's onIy. . . .
Less than haIf a miIe.

And then where, after the fork?

The right.

And then you. . . .

No, no. Not that fork.
Excuse me.

You pass Peterson's.

Peterson's.

Peterson's is a farm.

Past the oId schooIhouse, you turn Ieft.
It'd be easier to teII you. . .

. . .if the roads were marked.

It certainIy wouId.

I can take you if you want.

Or I can teII you.

I can take you
or teII you.

It's up to you.
I don't care.

I wouIdn't want to take you away.

No, I was just going to have
some iced tea, and then. . .

. . .spIit the atom,
but that can wait.

Okay.

I'II just get my shoes.

I wasn't exactIy expecting company.

Where are we headed?

Out. Then right.

Out. . .

. . .then right.

WonderfuI smeII to Iowa. Kind of
particuIar to this part of the country.

You know what I mean?

No.

It's kind of hard to expIain.
I guess it's in the Ioam of the soiI.

That kind of rich, earthy. . .

. . .aIive. . . .
WeII, maybe not aIive.

You don't smeII it?

Maybe it's because I Iive here.

Yeah, I guess so.

SmeIIs great though.

Are you from Washington?

I Iived there tiII I was in my mid-20s.

I moved to Chicago
when I got married.

When did you move back?

After the divorce.

How Iong have you been married?

Long time.

Long time, huh?

Where are you from?
Do you mind me asking?

I don't mind your asking.
I'm from. . . .

-I'm born in ItaIy.
-ItaIy?

From ItaIy to Iowa.
Where in ItaIy?

We Iived in a smaII town
on the eastern side.

No one's heard of it.
Bari.

I know Bari.

I was on assignment to Greece. . .

. . .and I went through Bari
to get to Brindisi.

I was Iooking out,
it Iooked Iike pretty country.

So I got off the train
and stayed a few days.

You got off the train
because it Iooked pretty?

Yeah, I did.

Excuse me.

Care for a cigarette?

Sure, I'II have one.

So teII me, how Iong
have you Iived in Iowa?

Long.
You just got off the train. . .

. . .and stayed
without knowing anyone there?

That's it.

It's beautifuI.

Yeah, this is great.

I won't sh**t this today.
I'II just do a IittIe prep work.

sh**t it tomorrow.
The Iight's no good right now.

So I'II just wait.

I don't mind.

Go on down here.

This is about as good a pIace
to start as any.

BeautifuI bridge.

BeautifuI.
You out here much?

No.

AIways this hot around here?

Oh, yes. This time of year.

There's some sodas in the truck
if you'd Iike one.

-WouId you Iike one?
-Not right now.

I'II go get one.

There you are.

You caught me.

I was picking you some fIowers.

Men stiII do that, don't they?
I'm not out of date, am I?

Picking fIowers
as a sign of appreciation?

No, except those are poisonous.

I'm kidding!
I'm sorry.

I'm just kidding.

I'm so sorry.

Are you sadistic by nature or what?

I don't know why I did that.

-Here.
-They're beautifuI.

I'm sorry.

You're Iooking for something specific?
There's not much seIection.

I had a station out of Chicago earIier.
PIayed good bIues.

It's 1 41 0.

That's nice.

Care for another cigarette?

Sure.

Is that the mean yeIIow dog?

-Is it white?
-No, it's yeIIow.

I want to thank you for aII
your kindness, Mrs. Johnson.

Francesca.

Robert.

WouId you Iike some iced tea?

Yeah.

Now I'm alone with you

Yes, sit down.

-You Iike Iemon?
-Sure.

Maybe. . .

. . .a IittIe bit of sugar?

You bet.

If you want more. . . .

Thanks.

Aren't you afraid to have those in here?

I'm so sorry I did that.
I don't know why. . .

. . .why I said that.

Where are you staying?

Some pIace with smaII cabins.

Something or other motor inn.

I've got it written down,
but I haven't checked in yet.

And how Iong are you here for?

I don't know, maybe 4 or 5 days,
a week on the outside.

As Iong as it takes to do the work.
Where's your famiIy?

My husband took the kids
to the state fair.

My daughter is entering a prize steer.

How oId?

A year and a haIf.

No, I meant the kids.

MichaeI is 1 7.
And CaroIyn is 1 6.

That's nice, having kids.

They're not kids anymore.

Things change.

They aIways do.

One of the Iaws of nature.

Most peopIe are afraid of change,
but if you Iook at it. . .

. . .as something you can count on,
then it can be a comfort.

There's not many things
you can reaIIy count on.

I guess.

I'm one of those peopIe
it frightens, I think.

I doubt that.

Why do you say that?

From ItaIy to Iowa,
that's a big change.

But Richard was in the Army there.

I met him
when I was Iiving in NapIes.

I didn't know anything about Iowa.

I just cared that it was America. . .

. . .and, of course,
being with Richard.

What's he Iike?

He's very cIean.

CIean?

No. I mean. . . .

He's other things too.

He's a very hard worker. . .

. . .very caring. . .

. . .honest.

He's gentIe.

He's a good father.

And cIean.

CIean.

And you Iike Iiving here in Iowa,
I guess?

Go ahead.
I'm not going to teII anyone.

I'm supposed to say:

''It's just fine. It's quiet
and the peopIe are reaI nice. ''

And aII that's true.
MostIy.

It is quiet.

And the peopIe are nice.

In certain ways.

We aII heIp each other out.

If someone gets sick or hurt,
aII the neighbors come in.

They pick the corn, harvest the oats
or whatever needs to be done.

In town, you can Ieave your car
unIocked, and Iet the kids run around.

Don't worry about them.

There are a Iot of nice. . .

. . .things about the peopIe here.

And I respect them for those quaIities.

But. . . .

But?

It's not. . .

. . .what I dreamed of. . .

. . .as a girI.

I scribbIed something down
the other day.

I often do that
when I'm out on the road.

Kind of goes Iike this:

''The oId dreams. . .

. . .were good dreams.

They didn't work out,
but I'm gIad I had them. ''

I don't know what it means.
I thought I might use it someday.

Anyway, I think I know how you feeI.

WouId you Iike to stay for dinner?

There's not much in town.

And you'd have to eat aIone.

So wouId I.

Yeah, I'd Iike that.

I don't get a home-cooked meaI too often
out on the road.

Okay.

This is ridicuIous.

Do you mind
if I put some fiIm in the fridge?

-No, go ahead.
-This heat out here isn't too forgiving.

Anything I can do to heIp?

-To heIp? What, cook?
-Yeah, men cook.

Okay, sure.

What can I do?

You can scrape the carrot.

Scrape the carrots.

And grate them.
Make a nice saIad.

Scrape the carrots. Like that.
How's that?

Very good. Very nice.

Not bad, huh?

Don't forget to pick off the end.

Pick off end.

Let me get these. . . .

Excuse me.
I can take the ends off of these too.

Yes. That's a good idea.

This the way you do it?

That's good.
But don't use your fingers.

Then they smeII Iike. . . .

I'II get you some Iemon.

WouId you Iike a beer?

-I've got some in the car.
-I wouId Iove a beer.

Anything to get out of a IittIe work.

Very nice.

No, wait a second.
It gets better.

You must picture this:
I have 3 cameras around my neck. . .

. . .and I've got a tripod,
and my pants are around my ankIes.

I'm behind a bush, and then
suddenIy I see this goriIIa.

A huge goriIIa,
staring right at me. . .

. . .with the most Iascivious Iook
you've ever seen.

More than any creature
with that much hair.

I freeze, because that's
what you're supposed to do.

And then
it started coming towards me.

And what?

What?
My God!

I can't. . . .

You're bIushing.

It's a very painfuI subject.
A very sore. . .

. . .sore subject matter, reaIIy.

-What happened?
-We became engaged.

You shouId reaIIy. . .

. . .write these stories down.

I wouId, except this is a femaIe
goriIIa. It had on eye shadow. . .

. . .and a IittIe Iip gIoss on
and it was so nice. . . .

We stiII write.

I don't want
to put this stuff down.

I'm afraid. . . .

I'm afraid my writing's
a IittIe too technicaI.

The troubIe with being a
journaIist too Iong is. . .

. . .you stop aIIowing yourseIf
to invent.

I'II just stick to making pictures.

Making pictures.

I Iike that.

You reaIIy Iove what you do.

I'm obsessed by it, reaIIy.

Why is that, do you think?

I don't know.

I don't think obsessions have reasons.
That's why they're obsessions.

You sound Iike an artist.

I wouIdn't say that.

NationaI Geographic
Iikes their photos in focus. . .

. . .and not too much personaI comment.
I don't mind reaIIy.

I'm no artist.

That's one of the curses of being
too weII-adjusted, too normaI.

I don't think you're so normaI.

ReaIIy?

I didn't mean it in the way. . .

. . .in the way that it sounded.

We'II just chaIk it up
to a compIiment. . .

. . .and move on.

Did you just Iove teaching?

Yes, when there was a particuIar student
who can make a difference. . . .

They're aII supposed to, but they don't.
You tend. . .

. . .to singIe out 1 or 2 who you think
you can contribute something to.

-And did you?
-I hope so. One went to medicaI schooI.

Why'd you quit?

My chiIdren, my kids.

And. . .

. . .Richard didn't Iike my working.

But you miss it, obviousIy.

I never think about it.

What's the most exciting pIace
that you've ever been?

-UnIess you're too tired to taIk.
-Most exciting. . . .

You're asking if a man's tired of
taIking about himseIf? Been out much?

Didn't mean to make
it sound Iike a dumb--

Maybe it's a IittIe duII for you. . .

. . .teIIing this to some housewife
in the middIe of nowhere.

This is your home.
This isn't nowhere.

And it's not duII.

Let's see.

I guess I'd say that the most exciting
pIace I've been to was Africa.

Because it's another worId.

It's not just the cuItures
and the peopIe.

That's great, but it's the air.

The coIors from dawn to dusk.

There's something tangibIe about it.

The cohabitation of man and beast,
and beast and beast.

Who'II survive and who won't.

There's no judgement about it either.

There's no imposed moraIity.

It's just the way it is.

It's beautifuI, reaIIy.

Just nothing Iike it.
It's. . .

. . .a voyeur's paradise.

I'd Iove to see that.

There's safaris.
You can ask your husband.

Yeah.

It's a beautifuI evening.
WouId you Iike to take a waIk?

You've got it aII right here.

I'm serious. This is as nice a pIace
as I've ever been.

''The siIver appIes of the moon,
and the goIden appIes of the sun. ''

Yeats.
''The Song of Wandering Aengus. ''

-Good stuff, Yeats, huh?
-Yes.

ReaIism,
economy, sensuousness. . .

. . .beauty, and magic.
AII that appeaIs to my Irish ancestry.

-Something wrong?
-WouId you Iike something to drink?

Coffee?

Maybe some brandy?

Maybe some both.

Yes?

Let's.

Sure you don't want me to heIp?

No. I'm not going to wash them now.
I'II rinse them now. I'II do it Iater.

Francesca.

You aII right?

Yeah.

What?

What?

We're not doing anything wrong.

Nothing you couIdn't teII your kids.

To ancient evenings and distant music?

He's getting her drunk.
That's what happened.

Maybe he forced himseIf.
That's why she couIdn't teII us.

He did not.

-He's such a nice guy.
-Trying to sIeep with somebody's wife?!

I don't think so.
And that doesn't make you a bad person.

He reminds me of Steve in a way.
Steve's. . .

. . .weak, immoraI and a Iiar,
but stiII a nice guy.

He just shouIdn't be married.

At Ieast not to me.

I'm hungry.
Are you getting hungry?

I had no idea it's that bad, sis.

PIease, don't feeI sorry for me.
Nobody's forcing me to stay.

Why do you?

-Do you mind if I ask you a question?
-No.

Why did you get divorced?

I was never around.

So, why'd I get married?
That's a good question.

I guess I needed a home base.
Roots.

You can kind of get Iost on the road.

So what happened?

I never got Iost.

I was more at home everywhere
than just in one pIace.

Kind of Iike a citizen of the worId.

-Must get IoneIy sometimes.
-No. I never induIge in that.

I've got friends aII over the worId
I can visit from time to time.

Women friends too?

I'm a Ioner, but not a monk.

You reaIIy don't need anyone?

I think I need everyone.

I Iove peopIe.
I'd Iove to meet them aII.

That's the thing about Iowa.

You tend to meet the same
kind of person repeatedIy.

So when Mr. DeIaney has an affair
with the RedfieId woman. . .

. . .the whoIe town wakes up.

There's a Iot of that going around.

It seems to me there's too much of:

. . . ''This is mine''
and ''He or she is mine. ''

There's just too many Iines being drawn.

You know?

Doesn't it scare you though?
Being aIone?

I don't think so.

I think I embrace the mystery.

Do you ever regret it?

-What?
-The divorce, I mean.

No.

Do you ever regret
not having a famiIy?

Not everyone's supposed to have one.

How can you Iive for just what you want?
What about others?

-I Iove other peopIe.
-But no one in particuIar.

-But I Iove them just the same.
-It's not the same.

I know it's not the same. . .

. . .but what you're saying is
it's not as good, it's not normaI.

That's not what I said.

I have a probIem with
this American famiIy ethic. . .

. . .that seems to have hypnotized
the country.

You probabIy think of someone Iike me
as a dispIaced souI. . .

. . .destined to wander the pIanet
with no TV or seIf-cIeaning oven.

Because someone decides to have a
famiIy doesn't mean they're hypnotized.

Never having seen a gazeIIe stampede
doesn't mean I'm asIeep in my Iife.

Want to Ieave your husband?

No. Of course not.

I'm sorry about that.
I apoIogize for that.

What made you ask that?

I thought that's what we were doing.
Asking questions.

We were having a conversation.
But you ask me questions. . .

. . .reading these meanings into them
I must be too simpIe to interpret.

I'm sorry.

I apoIogize.

Roseman Bridge at dawn.

I better be going.

I'm sorry.

I apoIogize.
You must forgive me.

That was a very indiscreet question.
It was. . .

. . .dumb.

I feeI something's been spoiIed.

It was a perfect evening,
just the way it was.

Perfect evening. . .

. . .a nice waIk.

Thank you for the. . .

. . .company and the brandy.

You're a good woman, Francesca.

Keep the brandy forward in the cupboard.
It might work out after a whiIe.

And don't kid yourseIf, Francesca.

You're anything but a simpIe woman.

Johnson's.

Richard, hi.

Everyone settIed in okay?

I said, ''good. ''

Hi, it's Robert Kincaid.

Hi.

Got your note.

W.B. Yeats and aII.

I didn't read it right away
because the Iight was changing.

I had to get my shots.

The Iight was changing.

But I do accept your invitation.
It'll have to be later though.

I'm going to the Holliwell Bridge
and sh**t over there.

After 9, how about that?

Your work's what's important.

I'II make something nice
we can warm up.

Maybe you'd Iike to come aIong with me.

Yes, I wouId Iike that, but I. . . .

I'II drive my pickup and meet you.
AII right?

-All right.
-What time?

How about 6?

Okay.

Great.

-God, it's Lucy RedfieId!
-ApparentIy Mrs. DeIaney caught them.

There's a seat here,
if you'd Iike.

Thank you.

Kind of hot out, isn't it?

Yeah.

Are you ordering anything?

No.

Thanks.
I've changed my mind.

How about this one?

I don't know, I don't
know, I don't know.

I haven't bought a dress
for myseIf in so Iong.

I'm just buying a dress.
It's not for a speciaI occasion.

I'm just shopping for
a new dress is aII.

That might work.

And if he's stiII mad, teII him
you married him out of pity.

That aIways works for me.

Hi, it's Robert.

Listen, I'm running a IittIe Iate.
But I'II stiII. . .

...be there.

I don't want this
to sound the wrong way. . .

. . .but I wonder
if this is a good idea.

I had lunch in town.

And I crossed paths
with that RedfieId woman.

I guess you got the whoIe story.

The cashier at the grocery store
was most generous.

He's running for town crier next year.

I know more about the Delaney affair
than I knew about my marriage.

If it's going to be a probIem for you
to see me tonight, don't do so.

I'm not too bright
about peopIe's reactions.

I wouldn 't want you to be put
in a compromising situation.

Yeah, I understand.

That's very kind of you
to think of that.

Robert?

I want to come.

Okay? So I'II meet you at the bridge
Iike we pIanned. . .

. . .and don't worry about the rest.

I'm not.

AII right.
I'II see you then.

Okay.

BeautifuI here.

Make yourseIf at home.
I have to knock off a few shots.

Look at the butterfIy.

Got you!

Come on.

No, don't take my picture.

Go ahead, give me a pose.

One of those French modeI Iooks.

-I can't.
-Like Gina LoIIobrigida.

Can I heIp?

No, I've got everything under controI.

I'm just going to go. . .

. . .cIean myseIf up a bit.
I'm going to take a bath.

What happens if I set the tabIe?

That's fine. Sure.
Good.

WouId you Iike a beer. . .

. . .for your bath?

Yeah.

That's nice.

Dinner wiII be ready. . .

. . .in haIf an hour.

I realized that he had been
here just a few minutes before.

I was lying where the water
had run down his body...

...and I found that intensely erotic.

Almost everything
about Robert Kincaid...

...had begun to seem erotic to me.

What's wrong?

You Iook stunning.
If you don't mind me saying so.

Make-them-run-around-the-bIock-
howIing-in-agony stunning.

Hi, Madge.

No, I was just. . .

. . .fixing something to eat.

No, what?

Yeah, I heard about him.

I hear he's some kind of
photographer or something.

Hippie? No.

Is that what a hippie Iooks Iike?

I was just going to step into a bath
when you caIIed, so maybe. . . .

They don't get back tiII Friday.

Maybe I'II caII you then, okay?

If you want me to stop, teII me now.

No one's asking you to.

''He toId me he wouIdn't apoIogize
for what was going to happen. ''

What's the matter?

I'm going to get some air.

Take me somepIace.

Right now. Take me somepIace. . .

. . .that you've been.

SomepIace on the other side
of the worId.

How about ItaIy?

Yeah.

How about Bari?

Yeah.

TeII me about that time. . .

. . .you got off the train.

You know the station.

You know the IittIe restaurant
with the striped awning. . .

. . .serves arrancino.

Arancino.

And zeppoli .
I know that pIace.

I had coffee there.

Did you sit. . .

. . .by the doorway
or near the front of the church?

I was near the church.

I know, I sat there once.

I sat there once. . .

. . .on a day Iike this.
It was very hot and. . .

. . .I'd been shopping and I had
aII these packages around my feet.

I had to keep moving them.

Then what?

You make me forget my story.

Lucky me.

I had thoughts about him...

...I hardly knew what to do with.

And he read every one.

Whatever I felt.

Whatever I wanted,
he gave himself up to.

And in that moment...

...everything I knew
to be true about myself, was gone.

I was acting like another woman...

... yet I was more myself
than ever before.

We decided to spend Wednesday
away from Winterset...

...away from Madison County.

Away from pastures and bridges
and people too familiar...

...and reminders too painful.

We let the day take us
where it wanted.

Is that India?
It's beautifuI.

Look at this one.

Look at their expressions.
BeautifuI.

As if the camera isn't on them.

They're not photographs,
they're stories.

You shouId pubIish these,
have your own coIIection.

Nobody'd buy it.

Why do you say that?

6 pubIishers have toId me so.

No big deaI.

Whatever it is. . .

. . .that makes an artist
Iook Iike one to the worId. . .

. . .is just a feature I don't have.

Maybe you have to
convince yourseIf first.

Maybe.

Maybe you have to ask yourseIf
why it's an obsession.

What's that?

I had this the other night,
after you Ieft.

It was made for me in Assisi.

I got it for my 7th birthday.

''Francesca. ''

Keep it.

A musician friend of Robert's
told him of a place off the interstate.

A place, Robert assured me,
no one I knew would see us.

Thank you.

Cheers.

What were you Iike as a young man?

TroubIe.

-Why?
-I just wondered.

Why were you troubIe?

I had a temper.

What were your mother and father Iike?

I don't know if I can do this.

What?

Try to cram in a whoIe Iifetime
between now and Friday.

For all we know

We may never meet again

Before you go

Make this moment sweet again

We won 't say good night

Until the last note

I'll hold out my hand

And my heart will be in it

For all we know

This may only be a dream

-Where'd you go?
-Bar in town.

Did you caII Betty?

Maybe you shouId.

I found out who Lucy DeIaney is.

Remember the DeIaneys
from HiIIcrest Road?

Yeah, but I thought she died.

He remarried.
Lucy RedfieId.

ApparentIy, they were having an affair
for years.

The first Mrs. DeIaney
was a bit of a stiff.

You mean. . .

. . .she didn't Iike sex?

Mom couId have heIped.

Oh, boy!

I've resented not Iiving the wiId Iife
in some pIace Iike Paris.

I couId have moved back to Iowa.

Are you drunk?

Not yet.

Want to get out of here?

I think I better.

I'II take the keys.

I'm driving.

I've never cheated on Betty.
Not once we were married, I mean.

-Did you want to?
-OnIy about a thousand times.

What do I do now?

What's good enough for Mom
is good enough for me?

What gets me. . .

. . .is I'm in my forties.

I've been in this crummy marriage
for over 20 years. . .

. . .because that's what I was taught.
You stick things out.

I don't recaII when he made Iove to me
so intenseIy. . .

. . .that he sent me to Africa.

FrankIy, I don't think he ever did.

Now I find out that in between
bake saIes, my mother was Anais Nin.

What about me?

I feeI reaIIy weird.

Like she cheated on me, not Dad.
Isn't that sick?

When you're the onIy son
you sort of feeI. . .

. . .Iike the prince of the kingdom.
In your mind, you think. . .

. . .your mother shouIdn't want sex,
because she has you.

You're right, that is sick.

If she was so unhappy,
why didn't she Ieave?

Can I. . .

. . .read it now?

Did I miss anything important?

She just took him to her room.

Dad's room?

AII right, you can skip that part.
Let's just start. . .

. . .here.

''Robert Iay asIeep in the bed.

I was up aII night that night.

What happens tomorrow?

He wiII Ieave
and everything new and unknown. . .

. . .that had become so famiIiar. . . ''

... would be gone.

Did you sIeep weII?

Thanks.

Good.

-More coffee?
-Sure.

I hope you don't mind my asking,
but I feeI I shouId.

What?

These women friends of yours
aII over the worId, how does it work?

Do you see some of them again,
or do you forget others?

Or do you write to some of them
now and then?

-How do you manage it?
-What do you mean?

I just need to know the procedure,
so I don't upset your routine.

Want some jam?

What are you taIking about?
There's no routine.

Is that what you think this is?

WeII, what is this?

Is it up to me?

You're married with no intent
to Ieave your husband.

To do what?

Go off with someone who needs everyone,
but no one in particuIar?

What wouId be the point?
Pass the butter, pIease.

I was honest with you.

Yes. AbsoIuteIy!

You have this habit of not needing,
and that's very hard to break.

In that case, why sIeep?
You don't need rest.

Why eat?
You don't need food.

What're you doing?

I'm not cut out to be a worId citizen. . .

. . .who experiences
everything and nothing.

How do you know
what I experience?

I know you.

What can this possibIy mean
to someone who doesn't need meaning. . .

. . .who just goes with the mystery,
pretending he's not scared to death?

Let's stop this right now!

After you Ieave,
I'II have to sit here aII my Iife. . .

. . .and wonder what happened to me,
if anything.

I'II have to wonder if you're in some
housewife's kitchen in Romania. . .

. . .teIIing her of your worId of good
friends, incIuding me in that group.

What shouId I say?

I don't want you to say anything.
I don't need you to say anything.

I want you to stop this now.

Fine.

More eggs? Or shaII we f*ck
on the IinoIeum one Iast time?

-I won't apoIogize for who I am.
-No one asked you to.

-I won't feeI Iike I did anything wrong.
-You won't feeI, period!

You've carved yourseIf a part
in the worId as a voyeur. . .

. . .a hermit, a Iover
when you feeI Iike it.

The rest of us are supposed to feeI
gratefuI for this. . . . Go to heII!

It isn't human not to be IoneIy
and afraid!

You're a hypocrite and a phony!

I don't want to need you.

Why?

Because I can't have you.

What difference does that make?

Don't you see?

Robert, don't you see?
I just have to know the truth.

I have to know the truth,
because if I don't, I'II go crazy.

So just teII me, either way.

I can't act Iike this is enough
because it has to be.

And I can't pretend not
to feeI what I feeI. . .

. . .because it's over tomorrow.

If I've done anything. . .

. . .to make you think that. . .

. . .what we have between us
is nothing new for me. . .

. . .is just some routine. . .

. . .then I do apoIogize.

What makes it different?

When I think. . .

. . .of why I make pictures. . .

. . .the onIy reason
I can come up with. . . .

It just seems
that I've been making my way here.

Seems right now,
that aII I've done in my Iife. . .

. . .was making my way here to you.

And if I think about
Ieaving here tomorrow. . .

. . .without you. . . .

Don't Iet go.

My God, what are we going to do?

Where's your truck?

It's out behind the barn.
I'II go. . .

. . .upstairs.

-Hi, Madge.
-I made some brown betty.

Sent FIoyd and the boy to town.
I said. . .

. . . ''I'm visiting my girIfriends
for the afternoon. ''

He said, ''Who wiII make Iunch?''
I said. . .

. . . ''I'm taking a sick day.
Eat at the diner. ''

Isn't that hiIarious?
He didn't dare raise an eyebrow.

I don't even want to teII you
how Iate he was out.

Sorry 2 days passed before I came by.
With the boy home, time escapes me.

Have you heard from Richard?
God, it's hot.

Yes. It's hot.

Come with me.

Come away with me.

Care for a beer?

No.

You're not coming with me, are you?

No matter how many times
I turn it over in my mind. . .

. . .it doesn't seem Iike the right thing.

For who?

For anyone.

They'II never be abIe
to Iive through the taIk.

And Richard. . . .

Richard wiII never be abIe
to get his arms around this.

It wiII break him in haIf.
He doesn't deserve that.

He's never hurt anyone
in his whoIe Iife.

He can move on.
PeopIe move.

His famiIy has had this farm
for over 1 00 years.

He doesn't know how
to Iive anywhere eIse.

And my kids. . . .

They're practicaIIy grown.
You said they hardIy taIk to you.

Yeah, they don't say much.

But CaroIyn is onIy 1 6.

She's about to find out
about aII of this for herseIf.

She's going to faII in Iove. . .

. . .and she'II try to
buiId a Iife with someone.

If I Ieave. . .

. . .what does that say to her?

What about us?

You have to know. . .

. . .deep down. . .

. . .the minute we Ieave here,
everything wiII change.

Yeah, it couId. . . .
It couId get better.

No matter how much distance we put
between ourseIves and this house. . .

. . .I carry it with me.

I feeI it every minute
we're together.

And I wiII start to bIame Ioving you
for how much it hurts.

And then, even these. . .

. . .even these 4. . .

. . .beautifuI days wiII seem just Iike
something sordid and a mistake.

Do you think that what happened with us
just happens to anyone?

What we feeI for each other?

We're hardIy. . .

. . .hardIy 2 separate peopIe now.

Some peopIe search aII their Iife
and never find this.

Others don't even think it exists.

You're going to teII me. . . .

You're going to teII me this
is the right thing to do? Giving it up?

We are the choices
that we have made, Robert.

You don't understand.

Don't you see?

Nobody understands when
a woman makes a choice. . .

. . .to marry and have chiIdren. . .

. . .in one way, her Iife begins,
but in another way, it stops.

You buiId a Iife of detaiIs. . .

. . .and you just stop
and stay steady. . .

. . .so that your chiIdren can move.
And when they Ieave. . .

. . .they take your Iife of detaiIs
with them.

You're expected to move on,
but you don't remember what moved you. . .

. . .because no one's asked you
in so Iong, not even yourseIf.

But you never think. . . .

You never think Iove Iike this
wiII happen to you.

But now that you have it. . .?

Now I want to keep it forever.

I want to Iove you the way I do now
for the rest of my Iife. . .

. . .but if we Ieave. . .

. . .we Iose it.

And I can't make
an entire Iife disappear. . .

. . .to start a new one.

AII I can do is
try to hoId on to us. . .

. . .somewhere inside of me.

You have to heIp me.

Don't Iose us.

Don't throw us away.

Maybe you feeI this way.
Maybe you don't.

Maybe it's because
you're in this house.

Maybe tomorrow, when they come back,
you'II feeI differentIy.

-Don't you think that's possibIe?
-I don't know.

Look, I'm going to be here
a few more days.

We can taIk Iater.
We don't have to decide now.

Robert, don't!
Don't do this.

I don't want to say goodbye now.

We don't have to make that decision.

Maybe you'II change your mind.

Maybe we'II see each other
and you'II change your mind.

If that happens
you have to decide. . .

. . .because I can't.

I'II onIy say this once.

I've never said it before.

But this kind of certainty
comes just once in a Iifetime.

Look!

-You got it.
-I couIdn't seII him.

I know.
I knew you wouId win.

-Good girI. Proud of you.
-Thanks.

-Hi, Mom.
-Hi, darIing.

-Did you eat?
-Yeah. I ate.

Hey, there.
How you doing?

It didn't take you too Iong to get here.

-We had fun.
-Are you hungry?

I got something for you.

The fair was great.

You all came home.

And, with you...

...my life of details.

A day or 2 passed,
and with each thought of him...

...a task would present itself
like a lifesaver...

...pulling me further away
from those 4 days.

I was grateful.

I felt safe.

Put me out of my misery.
I can 't stand the suspense.

I'm not talking about you.

I know I'm a goner.
I can 't stand the suspense. sh**t.

I don 't even need a blindfold.

Condemned man 's dinner.
Chicken, peas, watermelon.

-Do you want anything speciaI?
-How about that brown sugar meat Ioaf?

For a moment,
I didn 't know where I was.

And for a split second, I thought
that he didn 't really want me.

That it was easy to walk away.

Robert leaned over as if to get
something from the glove box.

8 days ago, he'd done that...

...and his arm had
brushed across my leg.

A week ago I'd been in Des Moines,
buying a new dress.

That truck's a Iong way from home.

Washington State.

I'II bet it's that photographer
they taIked about at the café.

What's he waiting for?

Come on!

Oh, no!

The words were inside of me.

''I was wrong, Robert, to stay,
but I can 't go.

Let me tell you again
why I can 't go.

Tell me again why I should go. ''

I heard his voice coming back to me:

''This kind of certainty comes
once in a lifetime. ''

What's wrong, Franny?

WiII you pIease teII me what's wrong?

I just need a minute.

Dad, you bought the wrong feed!

I was grateful for the
silence that night.

I realized
love won 't obey our expectations.

Its mystery is pure and absolute.

What Robert and I had...

...could not continue
if we were together.

And what Richard and I shared
would vanish if we were apart.

But how I wanted to share this!

How would our lives have changed
if I had?

Could anyone else have seen
the beauty of it?

I'm Francesca Johnson.

And I. . . .

I feeI awfuI that I haven't visited
sooner. Is it a bad time?

Am I interrupting anything?
Is it too Iate?

No, not at aII.

We became inseparable,
Lucy and I.

The funny thing is, I didn't teII her
about Robert untiI years Iater.

But for some reason,
being with her. . .

. . .somehow made me feeI. . .

. . .it was safe to think about him. . .

. . .to continue Ioving him.

This town Ioved taIking
about the two of us, but we didn't care.

And neither did your father.

It's time.

Is better?

Is better.

Franny.

I just want to say. . .

. . .I know you had your own dreams.

I'm sorry I couIdn't give them to you.

I Iove you so very much.

After your father died,
I tried to get in touch with Robert...

...but he had left National Geographic.

No one seemed to know where he was.

My only connections to him
were the places we'd been that day.

And so, each year on my birthday...

...I'd revisit them.

Then one day,
I received a letter from his attorney...

... with a package.

There has not been a day since
that I have not thought of him.

When he said that we were no longer
2 people, he was right.

Bound together as tightly as
2 people can be.

If it hadn 't been for him...

...I could not have lasted on the farm
all those years.

Remember my dress you wanted, Carolyn?

The one you said I never wore?

I know I was silly...

...but it was like you wanted
to wear my wedding dress to the movies.

After reading all this...

...I hope you can now
understand my burial request.

It was not the ravings
of some mad old lady.

I gave my life to my family.

I wish to give Robert
what is left of me.

Hey, Dad.

Can I taIk to you?

You've been gone aII night.
Do I have the right to ask where?

Do I make you happy, Betty?

Because I want to.

More than anything.

Hi, Steve. It's me.

Good.

You?

Listen, we have to taIk.

How about now?

I've decided to stay here for a whiIe.

I don't know how Iong.

No, I'm not angry, Steve.

I'm not.

I'm not angry at aII.

I gave Lucy his photography book.

If you're interested, take a look.

If my words still leave
some things unclear...

...perhaps his pictures can illuminate.

After all,
that's what an artist does best.

I love you both...

... with all my heart.

Do what you have to
to be happy in this life.

There is so much beauty.

Go well, my children.