Charlie: You gotta watch your back too much in places like that. Don’t know who to trust, who not to. ‘Cause ain’t nobody got a heart in cities like that.
Kari: Ain’t that everywhere?
Charlie: As long as you’re next to family, there’s always heart, whether you like ’em or not.
Mikey: Is there a scar?
Oona: There will be. You scarred me.
Mikey: But in a good way.
Oona: In a good way.
Imogene Cochran: So, um, was that your husband leaving the house this morning?
Anora Fleece: Uh, yeah. He works at a rubber factory outside of Tulsa.
Imogene Cochran: Rubber. As in condoms?
Anora Fleece: Oh, uh, no. They make inner tubes, pool linings, that kind of thing.
Imogene Cochran: Made of rubber.
Anora Fleece: Oh, yeah.
Imogene Cochran: Huh. Interesting, I guess.
Anora Fleece: Not really.
Imogene Cochran: Nah, I was just being polite.
Anora Fleece: Uh, what does your husband do?
Imogene Cochran: He don’t do nothing, he dead.
Anora Fleece: Oh. Must be nice.
Imogene Cochran: Mmm-hmm.
Gitti: You’re so afraid of committing to something. Maybe that’s idealistic, but it’s not very brave either. I don’t mean just your work. I mean everything, you don’t even notice it. You can’t take 14 days for one decision. Or endlessly consider inviting two people to dinner. That’s total standstill. You’re so depressingly intent on not letting anything restrict you or distract you from your ideals. Sure, theoretically you’re free to go anywhere you want, but then you really have to do it. It’s always, “Should I do this or that, no this, no that. . . ” Then you don’t do any of it! Because you’re attached to your studio, bikes and books, like people are to their children. Then you show off your independence, forcing Phillip to tell you how much he misses his freedom because of his family. But what you don’t see and he probably doesn’t admit, is how nice it is to come home to where his children are sleeping. He’s free to leave the apartment again, but maybe he’d just like to lie in bed with his girlfriend. Why not take a risk? If it doesn’t work out, so what?