The Lost Weekend

Why don't you make some coffee, Wick? Strong, three cups.
Look, Helen.
Do yourself a favor. Go on, clear out.
Because I've got a rival? Because you're in love with this?
You don't know me, Don.
I'm going to fight and fight and fight.
Bend down.
All right.
That was three years ago, Nat.
That's a long time to keep fighting, to keep believing.
She knows she's clutching a razor blade but she won't let go.
Three years of it.
And what? How does it come out?
I don't know. Haven't figured that far.
Want me to tell ya?
One day your guy gets wise to himself and gets back that gun.
Or, if he's only got a buck then, he goes up
to the Empire State Building, way up on top and then...

or he can do it for a nickel, in a subway under a train.
You think so, Nat?
What if Helen is right, and this guy sits down...
and turns out something good... but good...
and that pulls him up and snaps him out of it?

This guy? Not from where I sit.
Oh, shut up, Nat. I'm going to do it.
I'm going to do it now. It's all there. You heard it.

Yes, Mr. Birnam.
That's why I didn't go away on that weekend, see,
so I can be alone up there and sit down at my typewriter.

This time I'm going to do it, Nat. I'm going to do it.
- Maybe you will.
- Thank you, Nat.

- Am I all paid up?
- Yes, Mr. Birnam.

Goodbye, Nat.
I'm going home. This time I've got it. I'm going to write.
Good luck to you.
THE BOTTLE A Novel by Don Birnam
To Helen - With All My Love