The Big C (2010) s01e03 Episode Script

Previously on The Big C I don't get why I'm not living in my own house.
We need therapy.
Therapy doesn't sound like a good time to me.
I'm gonna keep on seeing her, even if I have to do it alone.
These are some tips on how to talk to loved ones, a lot of people find it very difficult.
You're not going to soccer camp this summer.
Wait, what? You're going to be real popular this summer.
I have no idea who I'm gonna be this summer.
Crap.
Well, hello.
I'm not talking to you.
I need my socks, and my razor.
If I'm gonna be forced to live with my sister instead of in my own house because my wife suddenly wants to be alone, then the least I can have is my socks.
Angela says you're holding me emotionally hostage.
- Who's Angela? - My shrink.
Used to be our shrink, remember? Why would you? You were only there for five minutes.
Well, tell Angela she's kind of a bitch.
Makes two of you.
Hey! I bought that! For me, for my birthday, when you gave a shit about us.
Call me when you give a shit again.
Thomas? Come on, Tom.
Come on, here we go.
Here we go.
Good boy.
Good boy.
Oh, yeah.
Go on.
You should watch your dog.
He was on my porch.
You should watch your husband.
Evel Knievel there almost took out my mailbox.
What's going on over there? - He losing his marbles? - Like I said, watch your dog.
Adam! Adam.
Hey, Adam, Adam.
I have a surprise for you.
Is Dad moving back in? No.
No, he's not, not right now.
- Yeah, well, then I'm going to Brent's.
- Adam, I know you hate my guts right now.
I get it.
But since you're stuck with me, we might as well make the best of it.
Look.
Look! Look! Do you remember this? Do you remember how we rode it for soft-serve every day that one summer? Yeah, I was 10.
Why don't we take it out for another spin? Take it out on the road, really open her up, chillax? - What do you say? - No way.
I can't ride it myself.
Then you shouldn't have kicked Dad out of the house, 'cause you're high if you think I'm riding that with you.
I'd rather die.
- Don't say that.
- Yeah, well, you shouldn't say "chillax.
" It's gay.
Don't use "gay" like that.
Hey.
You shouldn't sit out in the sun like that.
All right, while I give kudos for the green transport, you shouldn't ride that alone.
It's pathetic.
How about you take a bike ride with me for soft-serve? Me and my middle-aged sister riding a tandem bike for all the world to see.
I don't know what could be more embarrassing.
I do know.
Could we sport matching Tyrolean hats while we do it? You wear baggies for shoes, Sean.
You are so not allowed to say I'm embarrassing.
- Bike with your offspring.
- I can't.
- He hates me.
- And this is surprising to you? I am perfectly likeable.
Come on, Cathy, wake up and smell your $10 latte.
A barrel of laughs you are not.
You're a closed system, shut down! - That's why you were so constipated as a kid.
- You're an asshole.
I'm surprised you know what one looks like since you didn't take a shit through most of high school.
For your information, people like me, and I have plenty of friends.
Yeah? Is that why you're trying to get me to go "doublies" with you? You are disinvited for soft-serve! Well Enjoy your swirly chemicals! That was good! That was great.
Thank you.
I'm sorry.
I'm interrupting.
No, no, please.
I'm Sheila.
- Cathy.
- Welcome, Cathy.
How you doing? We're glad you're joining us.
Why don't you tell us a little about you? Well, I'm Cathy Jamison.
I'm 42.
I have a husband and a child, neither of whom are speaking to me.
So, there you go.
Cathy, do you have cancer? Wow, really buried the lead there.
Yes.
Yes, I do.
Melanoma, stage four.
Well, since you came alone, why don't you partner with Leon there? Just pull up a chair.
Sorry.
Leukaemia, stage two.
Well, good for you for coming, Cathy.
As we say, cancer is a gift.
It allows you to speak up in your life and say, "Hey, life, this is what I want.
" But before you speak up, you have to find your voice, right, Mitchell? Right.
So, let's do a mirroring exercise.
I want you to listen to your partner and tell them what you think they're feeling.
Okay.
I'll go.
This morning I was thinking how great it was when Carl brought me my cappuccino in bed, how lucky I am to have him, and how kind he has been to me since I got sick, and it's just really opened us up as a couple.
You're supposed to mirror me.
Shit, sorry.
Well, okay.
- You seem happy? - Yes.
I am.
I'm happy.
Cancer's made me happy.
That's ironic.
Okay, now, you go.
I don't really know what to say.
You seem anxious? The truth is, I haven't told anyone that I'm sick.
I mean, besides this roomful of strangers.
So, I think that's why I'm here, just to try and Just to try it out.
I don't think anyone I know could handle it.
You seem really sad.
Actually, Leon, you seem sad.
Yes.
Thank you for validating that.
I am sad for you.
You shouldn't go through this alone.
Everyone needs a friend.
Just buck up, Leon.
I'm fine, really.
No, I'm happy, just like you.
You know, I'm gonna I'm gonna go.
What? Adam! Scrambled eggs! This is for you, friend.
Nutrition is very important to your fight.
How did you people find me? Well, it wasn't easy, I'll tell you that.
There are three Cathy Jamisons in the phone book.
I have plenty of food, but thank you very much.
You don't have a choice in the matter.
We are gonna care about you, even if you don't care about yourself.
We're Team Cathy.
I don't need a team.
I have plenty of people, my own people.
Sorry.
You're stuck with us.
Have a positive and light-filled day.
I made breakfast.
Not hungry.
Sean! Sean! I want you to come for dinner tomorrow.
I have a big casserole that is most likely organic, and not tasty.
You're lousy with the invites these days.
What gives? Last time I was at your house was Christmas, and even then, Paulie made me sit at the fucking kiddie table.
Paul won't be there.
Things are gonna change, Sean.
You are my people, and I want my people to eat bad casserole with me.
Hey, sexy.
Hi! Sexy? Come here.
Hi! I'm Cathy.
- I'm Daphne.
- Daphne's my lady.
Really? You don't bathe, and yet you have a lady? It allows me to stew in my own maleness.
It's like catnip to women.
Am I interrupting something? - Jesus, no.
- God, no.
- I'm Sean's sister.
- Sean never said he had a sister.
What, you lied about me? I'm your people.
I brought you lunch, day-old sushi.
They were gonna toss it.
Daphne works at Whole Foods.
She also reads auras.
Sean's coming to my house for dinner tomorrow night.
You should come, too, Daphne.
I would love to get to know any girl who would date my homeless brother.
Awesome.
I don't eat anything with eyes.
Awesome.
Jesus.
Come on, Thomas.
Come on.
You're taking the vase now? No.
These are for you.
I don't know which end is up, Cathy.
You won't tell me how you feel, and Angela tells me how I should feel.
But all I feel is like a flip-flopping mess of a man.
I miss you next to me.
I haven't slept all night because of my apnea.
And you know I stop breathing And if someone's not there to flip me over, I could die.
And my sister's useless.
She goes out line dancing and drinking every night with other divorcees, and I really need you! So you don't die in your sleep? We get each other.
We know all the ins and outs, we have each other's backs.
You roll me over, I bring in the groceries.
You left those on the porch, which, by the way, could be a sign of early Alzheimer's.
See? We do need each other.
And you're welcome.
I can't talk about this right now.
I need to return Marlene's dog.
I'm gonna win you back, Cathy.
I wish you wouldn't right now.
Marlene? - Do you ever knock? - No.
Neither does your dog.
He was in my bed this morning.
He's clearly lonely.
- He was in your bed? - Yes.
He was licking me all over.
So, how about you pay him some attention and get a good fence? Sorry if it put you out.
Thank you.
And you may want to wash wherever he licked.
Thomas likes to eat his own poop.
- I can't.
I can't.
- You're almost there.
All right, all right, my cooch is getting sore.
Just don't think about that.
Think about how great you're gonna feel when you go down a dress size.
Who the fuck wears dresses? I want you to come to my place for dinner tonight.
Why? Because I like you, Andrea.
Let me check my book.
No, thank you.
You don't have to be mean about it.
This better not be like one of those Blind Side fantasies, where the uptight white bitch tries to save a black kid.
I'm not trying to save you, Andrea.
I just don't want you to drop dead before you graduate.
Way to dream small, Mrs Jamison.
- Holy middle-Americana! - No, thank you.
What are those, tiny hot dogs? You white folks eat some crazy-ass food.
It's pigs in a blanket.
You can have one.
Just don't have three.
You know how they make the "pig" part, Andrea? They take all the leftover pieces of fat and mucus from their bloody slaughterhouses, and add some pig shit and sometimes some cow skin Ground-up bone, and then they wrap the whole thing in a parasite-laden intestine.
Oh, my God! I love it when we finish each other's sentences.
Too bad it's a sentence nobody wants to hear.
This is weird.
Can I go home now? Yeah, can I? - Where's Adam? - He refuses to come out of his room.
And you know what? I've given up.
He can do whatever he wants.
Mom, leave me alone! Your mother made a goddamn meal for you and it might be shitty and made with intestines, but she did it, and now she's catching all the shit for it.
So, you get your skinny ass downstairs because everybody else is old and freaking me the fuck out! Now! You have to concentrate really hard.
And you almost stop looking at someone to see it.
- Sounds like bullshit to me.
- Careful, Andrea.
With that attitude, your aura might be all grey and yucky.
Actually, yours is pink, kind of sparkly.
No shit! - I've got a girlie aura.
- Yeah, well, keep your girlie aura out of my potatoes, please.
You're funny.
Gross.
Sick people sometimes look grey, or cloudy white.
Anybody want any more casserole? - Pass.
- No.
- Put that back.
- Still working on this.
- Sean! - What? What? Jesus! You did the chair thing.
I hate it when you do the chair thing.
I don't even know what you're talking about! Jeez! - Sean! - This is just too easy.
Stop it! Stop fighting! Fighting really upsets me.
Then it's a good thing you didn't grow up with Sean as a brother.
And you wonder why I left you off my family tree.
You, I would keep.
Cool! Baby, I'm sorry.
- Come here.
- You are so damn cute.
Give me a kiss.
All right, that is grosser than this.
But please, have some.
- No, I won't have some.
- Doesn't that look delicious? - It's purple.
- Look at this.
- Who doesn't want to eat purple? - You don't.
I had a really nice time, Cathy.
I'd like you to have this.
It's for healing.
For you and Sean, and your broken relationship.
Good night, John-Boy.
Come on, we got a big walk ahead of us.
- Just too nice of an evening to drive.
- Hey, why don't you take the bike? It works better with two people.
Really? What, did you fuck with the brakes? Just take the bike, Sean.
You have a dog? No.
I have a stalker.
Hey, I'll pay you 10 bucks if you walk him around the block.
Take Adam with you, too, but I'm not paying extra for that.
Maybe she's going through the change.
When that happened to my grandma, she started acting real strange, crying in church all the time.
I just want my life to be normal.
Yeah, and I want to meet Usher.
You think that's gonna happen? Hey! What the hell are you doing? That coloured girl is trying to steal my Thomas! What did you call me, old lady? - I'm not scared of you.
I got a rifle.
- To shoot coloured people with? I'd shoot anybody who won't get off my lawn, so back the hell up.
Pop off, bitch.
Holy shit! Hey! Hey! Andrea, stop it! - Marlene, are you okay? - Do you know this coloured girl? - Fuck you.
- Okay, all right, Andrea, back to the house.
Adam, back to the house! I am so sorry, Marlene.
Told you to watch your dog.
Is that her? Hey! Cathy! Hi.
Did you get the groceries? I did, thank you.
Again, unnecessary.
Team Cathy missed you at group.
- We did.
- You know, I'm not sure groups are really for me.
I think I'm more the suffering-in-silence kind of gal.
Are you smoking? Wow.
Cathy.
Look, I'm dying, people.
You got to let me have my simple pleasures.
You're not dying.
You're killing yourself.
Potato, potahto.
You can't just give in.
Yeah, when life gives you lemons, squeeze out a smile.
Are you kidding me here? I don't know you people.
I didn't ask for you to take me on as your pet project, and I sure as hell don't need to be judged by you.
And in case no one's told you, cancer's not a gift.
Cancer is not "a passport to a better life.
" Cancer is the reason I'm not gonna have my life! I'm not gonna watch my son get married.
I'm not gonna see my grandchildren.
So, excuse me for not squeezing out a smile.
You know, we walk around with this greyness inside of us, and you want to pretend that we're bright and shiny and full of possibilities? Well, count me out, because cancer sucks! Put that on your goddamn inspirational poster! Anger is not good for you, Cathy.
Actually, Sheila, anger is excellent for me.
Sharing with people is vital.
We get sick alone.
- We heal together.
- No.
We get sick alone, we live alone and we die alone.
But don't you want someone in your corner when that happens? - Look familiar? - Yes.
This used to be my living room.
Spring break, Fort Lauderdale, your senior year.
Oh, my gosh.
Imagine the overwhelming scent of Coppertone, you with a sunburn across your adorable cheeks, and me with some semblance of a two-pack.
Catherine Elizabeth Tolkey.
The moment I saw you at the student union, putting up posters for the "Spring Fling," I knew I loved you.
I loved the way you put up your posters really neatly with your staple gun, and I loved the way you laughed when you realised they were upside down.
Keep in mind I'm 25 here.
I've got newer, hipper material, but I'm trying to stay historically accurate.
I loved that underneath that shell of a curmudgeon lay the heart of a girl, who loved to dance and fling, both of which you did quite well, three times in one night, if memory serves.
You're the yin to my yang, the ping to my pong, the normal to my crazy.
Let's be us forever, ad infinitum.
I want us to grow to be old, incontinent idiots together.
Marry me, Cathy.
- Paul.
- You said yes, by the way.
- I know I did.
- So say "yes" again now.
- I'm not that normal girl any more.
- It's okay.
I lost my two-pack.
But you're still kind of that guy, the guy who dumps sand into my living room, and doesn't wonder, "Who's gonna clean up the mess?" Fine.
I'll clean up the sand.
Jesus, Cathy, way to ruin the moment.
You used to love the guy who did silly shit like this.
You married the guy who did silly shit like this! I know.
I just Things have changed for me.
I've changed, and I don't know if you can, and I don't know if I have a right to ask you to.
I'm sorry if my personality's become such a burden to you.
- Paul, that's not - You know, it's ironic, because the girl that I married, that kind, sweet, funny, smart girl, the girl who loved me, I wish she'd stuck around.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God, Thomas.
Thomas.
Marlene! It's okay.
It's okay.
It's all right.
Marlene! - Marlene.
- What the hell happened? I am so, so sorry.
I didn't see him.
He's been showing up.
He's been following me around.
What kind of cancer is it? What? No, he doesn't have cancer.
He has a broken leg, which I'm paying for, I promise.
No.
What kind of cancer do you have? Dogs can smell it, you know? That's why he won't leave you alone.
He followed my husband around the last year he was alive.
Colon cancer.
That dog had his head halfway up Eddie's ass for months.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Cancer is a motherfucker.
Some people say it's a gift.
Tell that to my husband when he was crapping through a tube.
You got a nice house.
Thanks.
You know you can't hate black people, right? I don't.
I just need to get angry sometimes.
I know what you mean.
Thanks for listening, Marlene.
It doesn't make us friends or anything.
Yeah, I know.