perhaps I could borrow a...
a coat under the circumstances.
Sure. How about my raincoat?
Funny, that we should wind up
after all these years just as we met,
- I with your raincoat...
- And I with your leopard coat.
I always got the best of the bargain.
Goodbye, Helen.
What are you looking for?
Well I thought perhaps,
maybe you might have something for my hair.
- Would you care to wear my black derby?
- Any old thing, any old scarf.
All right.
Here you are.
Thank you.
So long.
Do you know Don, there was still some whiskey left
in the bottle after I cleaned up last night.
Was there?
- Wouldn't you like to know where I put it?
- Nope.
- Don't you want a drink, Don?
- No.
Here it is, right here. Why don't you have one. Just one.
What are you up to?
Nothing.
I'm just ashamed of the way I talked to you,
like a narrow-minded, insensitive,
small- town teetotaller.
I told you, I don't feel like a drink. Not now.
Come on, Don. Just one.
I'll have one with you. I'm in no hurry.
This is my easy day at the office.
Look Helen, there are a few things
I want to put in order before Wick comes.
- Let me stay please.
- No.
I don't want to sound rude but,
I'm afraid you'll have to leave now.
Here Don.
You're very sweet.
Goodbye.
Don't let me bend for nothing.
You need this, Don. Drink it. I want you to drink it.
I'll get you some more. I'll get you all you want.
What kind of talk is that?
It's just that I'd rather have you drunk than dead.
Who wants to be dead?
Stop lying to me.
Give it to me.
All right. Now go!
No fuss, please. No calling the neighbors.
It won't do any good, I promise you.
I won't. You've made up your mind.
But could you tell me why? Why?
Because it's best all around, for everybody.
For you, for Wick, for me.
- But that's not true. We love you, Wick and I.
- All right. Then for me.
Selfish again.
That's a sad final word, Don.
Look at it this way, Helen. This business is just a formality.
Don Birnam is dead already.
- He died over this weekend.
- Did he? What did he die of?
Of a lot of things.
Of alcohol, of moral anemia, of fear, of shame, of D.T.'s.
Oh, that Don Birnam. And now you want to kill the other one.
What other?
There were two Dons. You told me so yourself.
Don the drunk and Don the writer.
Let's not go back to a fancy figure of speech.
There's only one Don, he's through.
Don.
I'm all right, I have enough strength left...
I know you have. I can see it.
Don't waste it on pulling a trigger, Don.
No, let me get it over with or do you want me to give you
another one of my promises that I never keep?
I don't want you to give me your promise,
I don't want you to give your promise to anybody but Don Birnam.
It's too late. I wouldn't know how to start.
The only way to start is to stop.
There is no cure besides just stopping.
- Can't be done.
- Other people have stopped.
People with a purpose, with something to do.
You've got talent and ambition.
Talent. Ambition. That's dead long ago.
That's drowned.
That's drifting around
with a bloated belly on a lake of alcohol.
No it isn't. You still have it.
Quit trying to stall me Helen. It's too late.
There's no more writing left in me,
it's gone. What do you expect, a miracle?
Yes,
Yes, yes! If I could just make you...
- Who is it?
- It's me, Mr. Birnam.
- What is it, Nat?
- I got somethin' for you, Mr. Birnam.
- I hope I ain't intrudin.
- What is it?
You know when you had that accident?
Afterward I found this floatin' around on the Nile.
She writes pretty good. I oiled her up a little.
And I didn't oil her up so you can hock her.
- I'll take it, Nat.
- Hello, Miss.
Thank you, Nat.
How are all them lilacs in Ohio?
Well Don, here it is. What do you say now?
- Say about what?
- This.
Someone, somewhere, sent it back.
Why? Because he means you to stay alive,
because he wants you to write.
I didn't ask for a big miracle.
Write! With these hands?
And a brain that's all