Kristy...
Is the baby warm enough?
We're fine.
Sweetie, don't burn your book.
Maybe we can get some wood.
Wood's expensive.
Words are cheap.
- What are you thinking about?
- Nothing.
My mom and I
got my dad to admit he was rude.
Do you want to come in?
He went to bed.
He wasn't entirely wrong, you know.
If you weren't working,
we'd be broke.
So I am working and we're not.
But you're married to a child.
I've got a job
and I don't even know what I do.
- So what should you do?
- The question is, what can I do?
Sweetheart, you have
a BA in Romance Languages.
- What was your minor?
- Elizabethan Poetry.
Well, what skills do you have?
OK... Let's see.
Jefferson Briggs.
- Call you Jeff?
- It's Jake.
Or Jeff.
Says here you worked for
a Japanese advertising agency.
Netsu.
- Netsu?
- Netsu.
Well, Netsu is one
of our foreign subsidiaries.
Hey, we own that.
There are thousands
of advertising agencies
and you chose one we own.
That was a bad call.
You're full of crap, aren't you?
Yeah.
After this Netsu thing,
I got curious,
so I checked out
the rest of your rйsumй.
And, aside from
your social security number...
...there isn't one piece of information
in there that is true.
You have set new standards
for lying in the job market.
There's no question you can write. And
coming here with a whopper like this...
You must want to work pretty bad.
I need to work.
- Can you make something of yourself?
- I think I can.
How do you feel about slave wages?
- Slave wages are fine.
- How do you feel about alcoholics?
I like alcoholics?
I got the job.
We celebrated with Chinese food.
And Kristy bought me two suits,
six ties and a commuter rail pass.
I was being paid to write.
Not novels, ads. People
were taking notice of my ability.
There was something fresh in the
way I wrote about disposable diapers.
I was meeting my obligations
to the life we were making.
There was finally
a future in my future.
So why did I feel
like the world was closing in on me?
Now I had a real job and
Kristy was moving up in her company,
we could buy a three-bedroom
mortgage with two baths.
My mother offered
to buy us a couch.
I don't know
why you turned her down.
Two reasons.
First, she wanted to pick it
and therefore make sure
I decorate the house to her taste.
Second, if she bought one, she'd want
to come over all the time and admire it.
- Would that be so terrible?
- Let's not fight.
- Who's fighting?
- You're getting ready.
- No. You made the nasty remark.
- Not nasty, true.
What did she say
when she came here?
That they liked the place.
- To you. And to me?
- I don't remember.
"It's amazing how little
your housing dollar buys today."
Kristy, she was merely stating
a simple economic fact.
Every time family comes up, we fight,
so why don't we drop it?
Well, I can handle it. You can't.
That's what's bothering you.
We'll have our own family.
Your family and mine don't matter.
Well, I would like
to have my family over once.
They were over once.
They'll be over again.
Nothing you say will change the fact
they are my flesh and blood.
If they're your flesh and blood,
what am I?
You're my wife,
not my flesh and blood.
Why not move in with them, then?
You share flesh and blood. With me,
it's just gold bands and bath towels.
- That's not what I meant.
- They're your flesh and blood. I'm not.
- I'm just the asshole who married you.
- Do you mean that?
- No.
- This is ridiculous.
Very.
I'll see you later.
You didn't put the end table
on the end of anything.
The job, the house, the furniture,
the fights, those were symptoms.
The disease was growing up
and it was happening
faster than I'd imagined possible.
I'd thought I might be the mythical
immortal one, the true Peter Pan.
I was sorely mistaken.
We can't afford this.
Goodbye.
I'll miss