RAE: No, you can't make me go!
CLARE: Get dressed. RAE: No!
CLARE: Now! RAE: No!
CLARE: Just put it on!
Oh, my God! You're acting like such a fucking--
Frankie, uh--
Rae! God-- God-- God damn it!
DANNY: It's a little early for all the screaming, isn't it?
RAE: We need a tranquilizer gun. The kind for large animals.
Rae, I swear to God, I'm--
Could you tell our daughter that she's going to school?
Rae, you're going to school.
I'm not going to school because she ruined school!
I hate it there. Everyone's horrible. And it's all your fault.
Why is everything in this family my fault?
Because you fuck everything up!
Do not speak to me like that!
Don't talk to me like that!
DANNY: Okay, okay, enough. Enough, all right?
Rae, you're going to school. Go get dressed.
- Thank you! - Fine. Fine! Okay.
Then I'm gonna transfer to Douglass.
No, you're not. Douglass sucks.
Okay. I went to Douglass, all right?
Yeah, you're the one who told me that it sucks.
Wow. Well, white feminism strikes again!
Sorry, what exactly is so wrong
about a predominantly Black public high school, Mom?
We chose St. Anne's
because we wanted you to go to a good college.
I don't care about college!
I'm not even going to college!
- DANNY: Whoa, Rae! - Wait, whoa!
What are you saying right now?
Nobody's listening to me!
Yes, I am listening to you.
That's why I just said, "What are you saying?"
If you don't let me transfer, then I'm going to drop out!
[yelling] That's enough! You're not dropping out.
You're late. Go get dressed.
This is done.
- Hey. - Don't touch me!
Hey!
Listen to me.
You are finishing high school, and then you are going to go to college
because that is what you are going to do.
Okay?
Mm-hmm? Well, Dad, he didn't finish college.
And he regrets it.
What? Neither did you.
[sighs]
RAE: What?
- You dropped out of college. - No.
Just get your fucking backpack and get dressed for school now.
Go!
RAE: [scoffs] Oh, my God.
DANNY: [softly] I'm sorry.
Hey.
Thank you! Jesus!
[Clare sighs]
Okay.
What is this?
DANNY: I know you don't think you'll walk away.
Bring your ass back here, Rae!
[Rae sighs]
♪ Where Is My Mind by Pixies playing ♪
What the hell is this?
A nose mug. I made it in Ceramics.
Why would you make this?
Because-- I was gonna give it to you for Mother's Day.
♪ Try this trick and spin it, yeah ♪
♪ Your head will collapse ♪
♪ But there's nothing in it ♪
♪ And you'll ask yourself ♪
♪ Where is my mind? ♪
BOY: 'Sup.
What?
You look really familiar.
[continues playing on headphones] ♪ Way out in the water ♪
♪ See it swimming ♪
Did we bang at a Dead show or something?
♪ I was swimm-- ♪ [turns off Walkman]
I'd rather die than go to a Dead show.
MAN: All right, everyone. Welcome to Advanced World Fiction.
I know that the final quarter can be a little bit of a drag,
but over the next nine weeks,
we're gonna be having some good ol' literary fun.
We're gonna be reading The Nose by Gogol,
The Autumn of the Patriarch by Márquez,
and a number of stories by Guy de Maupassant.
So, you do anything cool over spring break?
Climbed Machu Picchu.
[door slams shut] FRANKIE: Oh, boy.
What happened?
I'm not going back.
I'm done with school.
People are mean and horrible and... mean!
People can be. It's true.
But you love school.
And how will you be the next Eudora Welty without it?
Well, maybe I'll just be a waitress like you.
I don't think you have the patience to handle the lunch rush.
Hey.
You can't let the worst things that happen to you
stop you from getting what you want.
And if you do,
that is nobody's fault but yours.
CLARE: Sorry.
S-- Sorry.
- BOY: Hey-- Hey! - What?
- Hey. - What?
You, uh, you forgot this.
Okay. Thank you.
Do you wanna go get a drink or something?
We went to junior high together, Eric.
And you terrorized me. So, yeah, no.
JESS: You-- You can't get high in here. I mean, this is our home.
[exhales]
- It's, uh-- - What's wrong?
[softly] Your brother.
He says he's not going back to school.
And...
he-- he says he's not going back home.
[indistinct chatter on TV]
CLARE: Okay, you can't do that in here.
What do you mean you're not going back to school?
Your narc husband say that?
Oh, Jesus!
[door slams shut]
[sighs]
You don't need to go back to school tomorrow,
but you do need to go back.
Um, we just buried Mom three days ago, so...
excuse me for not giving a shit about high school right now.
I haven't been in a month anyway.
Mom would want you to graduate.
She'd want both of us to.
Well, Mom's not fucking here.
CLARE: Mom!
Mom! Mom!
What is it? What's wrong? What's wrong?
- No. - Yes.
Yeah. Yes. Yes.
[both exclaiming, laughing]
Lucas, your sister got in!
CLARE: Mom, you don't have to do this.
We're not little kids anymore.
You are the first person in this family to go to college.
Of course, that calls for a fancy-lady dinner.
Your drinks, Mademoiselle, Monsieur.
Mom, how are we gonna pay for all this
when we can't even afford real Kool-Aid?
That's what loans are for, dumbass.
And grants and scholarships.
And you got some of those too.
I wanna hear the letter again.
[Frankie laughs]
LUCAS: "Dear Claire, congratulations.
I'm honored to share this news with you."
Blah, blah, blah, I guess we'll accept you.
Oh, did you see this thing at the bottom?
"Parents of students may enroll in classes for no additional charge."
Wait, what?
For free?
I've always wanted to go to college.
Okay, but you're not gonna go with me.
No. No.
- No. - No.
No.
CLARE: Okay.
Do you remember the rules?
- We don't know each other. - Yes.
- And if you see me-- - I ignore you.
Except if I talk to you fir--
Like, if I talk to you first, then you can talk to me.
But if not, your gaze shall not--
Just stop looking at me. Stop staring at me.
Okay. Okay. Yes. Yes.
Your gaze shall not linger on me.
Yes, Your Highness.
You're a stranger to me.
Okay. Strangers. It's a deal.
- Seriously. - Yeah.
Right now-- You can be my mom right now.
- I love you, Mom. - I love you.
♪
Excuse me?
Mom?
- Oh! - Jesus! Fuck!
ERIC: [chuckling] Pierce.
Have you se-- Have you seen a woman? Like-- Like, mom-aged?
Woman like mom-aged? Uh... no. No.
Hey, so "terrorized."
Yeah, that's-- that's a-- It's a bit overdramatic, don't you think?
What?
You said I terrorized you in junior high.
Yeah. Yeah, Eric, you did. You made my life a living hell.
[softly] Yeah, it was--
Not that I...
knew what hell was. Um...
I have a paper to write.
Hey then, then fuck your paper!
Fuck you!
Is that what you want?
♪ Connection by Elastica playing ♪
♪ Riding on any wave ♪
♪ That is the luck you crave ♪
♪ They don't believe it now ♪
♪ They just think it's stupid ♪
♪
[knock on door]
I might need the bottle.
Sure. You'll have to pry it from your brother's underage hands first.
Have you read this story called The Nose?
- JESS: No. - Mm.
It-- It's about this guy whose nose walks away from his face.
It's like-- I just-- How am I supposed to write five pages on this crap?
Come on, didn't you just finish a 20-page paper last week
about the s-- sublime... subversiveness of something?
This just is different, so. JESS: No.
One more month,
then you are free. Hm?
A college graduate. Hm.
Yeah.
Magna cum laude.
[softly] How's that?
Does that feel good?
[whispering] Stop.
- [louder] Stop. Stop! - I'm s-- sorry. Sorry.
I just--
- Sorry. - No. Just--
[door closes]
♪ somber music playing ♪
[phone chimes]
[raccoon chittering on video]
♪ somber music continues ♪
Okay. So... what are we to make
of what Gogol is trying to say with this story?
And literary critics have been divided a century over this.
[softly] Probably 'cause it's bullshit.
What was that?
Oh, man. [clears throat]
Nothing. Nothing.
No.
No, you said it was bullshit.
Why?
Some guy's nose walks off his face one day
and goes out, has a rager,
and we're expected to-- to believe that this thing that is impossible,
that it's actually supposed to mean something? Um...
Well, some would say that it's an allegory
for male sexual impotence
or divine immaculate conception.
But perhaps it's just inviting us
to consider what it would be like if the impossible became possible.
I'm just sad that we haven't moved beyond literature
by misogynistic male authors
that can't write about anything except allegories for their broken dicks.
Like, this-- this entire semester, we've only read one-- one female author!
Well, you didn't have any problem
writing a really fairly wonderful piece about Márquez.
Márquez is different than Gogol!
Then, I look forward to having you articulate the differences
between Márquez and Gogol on your paper,
which is required for you to graduate, so.
That's class. Uh, thank you, everyone.
Claire, if you want a little extra time--
We all understand that this is a difficult time.
I don't.
[indistinct chatter on TV]
So this is how you spend your life? LUCAS: Shhh.
Oh, you just made me miss what Monica said.
Um, she was in a coma last week,
but they think that she's gonna beat her breast cancer.
Good for her.
...and vomiting and waking up having your hair on the pillow next to you...
That's a stupid fucking cancer-hero narrative.
Like... [scoffs]
Mom died 'cause she didn't wanna live badly enough?
I like the show.
...just keep going on this whole process...
Do you ever think about why, out of all the people in the world,
Mom had to die while everyone else just gets to live?
Yeah.
It makes me hate everyone.
And everything.
You wanna get wasted?
♪ Supernova by Liz Phair playing ♪
Fuck!
- Can we get another one? - Oh.
- You all right? - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
♪ I have looked all over the place ♪
♪ But you have got... ♪
He's my brother. Who do you think is older?
I think she looks older, but I look more mature.
What does that even mean?
♪ Your eyelashes sparkle like gilded grass ♪
♪ And your lips are sweet and slippery ♪
♪ Like a cherub's bare wet ass ♪
♪ 'Cause you're a human supernova... ♪
- Clare? Come on. - What the fuck?
Oh, my God. Sorry.
What the fuck? LUCAS: What?
Come on.
Ow!
What the fuck?
Claire, you're--
you're married, and then, now you're just a lesbian or something?
I'm not anything, Lucas. I'm whatever the fuck I want to be.
Oh, does Jess know that?
Okay, I'm a terrible person!
Okay?
I cheated on Jess.
She was a chick.
Jess doesn't even have to know about it.
No.
I'm not talking about her.
What?
Do you remember Joel?
[urinating] At the funeral home?
Yeah, he and I...
Before Mom's funeral.
- He and you what? - We boned.
And then a few weeks ago, I did the same thing with...
this guy who used to bully me in junior high.
He's a Deadhead now.
What the fuck?
Uh, Eric-- Eric Olsen. Do you remember him?
We did it in the back of his Bronco.
Jesus Christ! Who are you?
You're like Carly on General Hospital. She fucks everybody.
I can't be good without her.
♪
[indistinct chatter]
Um... Um, I'll catch up with you guys later.
- Okay.
- Bye. - Bye.
- Good morning! - [gasps] Oh, dear God!
- I brought you some coffee. - Yeah.
It doesn't make up for it.
You feel good?
- You're gonna kill finals. - Okay.
- Did you sleep here? - Early test. Too far to drive.
Okay. Go, go, go. Gotta study.
- Okay. Good luck. - Okay.
- I love you. - I love you too.
- Bye. - Bye.
- Don't do that again. - Bye. [chuckles]
♪ somber music playing ♪
[music playing on Walkman]
♪
Clare?
Oh, I'm-- I'm sorry. Just-- Shhh.
Well, where were you?
- At the library. - Oh, really?
Ow!
Fuck!
I was trying to... finish that paper.
- Yeah? - You know, the one that I have to g-- graduate,
and I just can't fucking start it.
[sighs] Are you drunk?
What?
Were you trying to write it drunk?
All writers drink.
It's called...
lubrication.
I'm just following in a grand literary tradition.
Lucas was wasted too.
He came home a couple of hours ago and he puked all over the bathroom.
Yuck. Sorry.
[exhales deeply]
No. He's in high school, Clare.
He's a kid.
Someone has to look after him.
Yeah, he needs his mom.
We need our mom.
♪
♪ Paper roses, paper roses ♪
♪ Oh, how real they seem... ♪
Mom?
♪ But they're only... ♪
Mom?
Mom!
Hi, honey.
You know what to do.
Mom, no.
It'll be so quick.
[gasps]
[panting]
CLARE: What does it mean to heal?
To move on?
To let go?
What does it mean when the worst thing that could happen
actually happens?
And it stops you cold in your tracks?
My mother died on a Monday during spring break of our senior year.
Mine and hers.
After her funeral, I immediately went back to school
because she begged me to.
To prove her life mattered,
I became determined to blow up the life I'd begun to build,
the life my mother had wanted for me.
I failed to get my diploma
because I didn't complete a five-page paper on a short story
about a man who woke up one day and couldn't find his nose.
I couldn't bring myself to do it
because I thought the story was preposterous and incomprehensible.
ERIC: I saw what they're doing for your mom.
I'm so sorry.
I had no idea.
Thanks.
Yeah.
CLARE: There was no subtext.
It was simply a story about what it was about...
- Uh, thanks-- Yeah. - Yeah.
Okay.
CLARE: ...the absurd and arbitrary nature of disappearance...
Finally, in memory of a gifted student
who left this world far too soon.
CLARE: ...our hungry ache to resurrect what was lost,
and the bald truth that the impossible can become possible
faster than anyone dreams.
We posthumously honor Francis "Frankie" Pierce
with a Bachelor of Arts degree in History.
CLARE: My mother was alive and healthy.
And yet, seven weeks later, she was dead.
Impossible.
I had gone to college,
and my mother had gone to college with me.
Impossible.
I'd earned straight A's,
and yet, I didn't graduate.
But my dead mother did.
Impossible too.
Sometimes a story is not about anything except precisely what it is about.
Sometimes you wake up and find that you actually have lost your nose.
And you have to figure out how you're gonna live without it.
WOMAN: Congratulations, Class of 1995!
[students cheering]
CLARE: As my mother once said,
"You can't let the worst thing that happened to you stop you.
"If you do,
it's nobody's fault but your own."
Okay, Rae. Rae?
I am calling you Rae, okay?
If you don't wanna do this,
what do you want to do?
I just-- Can we just go home?
Please?
[Rae sniffling]
Okay.
Really?
I want so much for you,
but you're not gonna get any of it if you don't want it for yourself.
[exhales]
Healing is a small and ordinary thing.
[sighs]
And it's one thing and one thing only.
It's doing the impossible thing
every single day.
♪ I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers playing ♪
♪ Somewhere in Germany but I can't place it ♪
♪ Man, I hate this part of Texas ♪
♪ Close my eyes, fantasize ♪
♪ Three clicks and I'm home ♪
♪ When I get back, I'll lay around ♪
♪ Then I'll get up and lay back down ♪
♪ Romanticize a quiet life ♪
♪ There's no place like my room ♪
♪ But you had to go ♪
♪ I know, I know, I know ♪
♪ Like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore ♪
♪ Not even the burnouts are out here anymore ♪
♪ And you had to go ♪
♪ I know, I know, I know ♪