 This is the first time I've been out to dinner since I've done that. This is a confrontation. This is not out to dinner. I mean, the guys, you know, they got me out of pizza, the fire fire, and poker, but I'm a quiet guy. You seem to think we can have tea, and I can dry my coat in your shower, and we can have dinner, and that's it. I don't know what I seem to think. I came all the way here for an explanation for... Closure? I hate that word. No! In a restaurant? I don't want closure. I want the room to be, what is it, open, cauterized. It has to be clean, so it can heal. You want it healed? I don't want closure. I don't want pop attitude to my life. I don't want self-help solutions to this thing that happened to me. It happened to me. Nothing fits well. I mean deep down physical, mental, soulful love. We were best friends, along with everything else. I lost my best friend. We've known each other since middle school. There was a calm about him, and he, even then, that I don't... He seemed to miraculously get through the shoals of team food. We really have read too many women, the pimples, the awkwardness. And he had grace, even then. Christ! That's another one they keep throwing at us. Grace, you're the philosopher. I just read. Unlife? Is that lame or what? No. Actually, that's good. Even when he enlisted, and that was love of country, a kind of textbook love of America. Irrational, but that was him. He had a handle on it. No fumbling, no hangover from the night before, no running away from something. Pure. He was pure. I wonder if he has a handle on death. You keep telling me what I think. He snored sometimes and smelled up the bathroom, those days. But I can't think of one thing he did that was truly mean or cruel or not in keeping with who he was. Do you know what I'm talking about? Does it matter? I'm the enemy. I never said... I'm the one, one of the ones who fired the round. Took that perfect man, that grace, down. Do you care what I think? I don't know. The whole thing is completely thought. You know, I haven't confronted you the way I have made you collapse, cry, grovel, all those good things I imagine. You want me to cry? I want you to feel what I feel. No. No. That's mine. You can't have it. But I want you to feel something. You were one of the ones who fired the round and you say it was such... like it was target practice. Like it didn't matter. It mattered. You say that and I don't feel it. You just said you didn't want me to feel your feelings. Maybe I don't want you to take mine. What's it like to kill a man? Maybe. Kill a man. Not just some nameless entity and enemy, a friend. So you say. Is this where I'm supposed to break down? Tears of sobs show my phone inside? Control. The wind can be out there. We were in a canyon. They were anywhere. And there were echoes. And you're scared when you shoot. When you're scared, that's what you're supposed to do. You're trying to shoot when you're scared. There's a burning in your stomach. Acid in your stomach. And lungs in any movement. Any movement you didn't expect. That's an enemy. And we shot him at the same time. At the same time. They proved it in the investigation. And Mark would be shot. And Matt was there. He wasn't supposed to be. You know all this. I've never heard it. Allowed. That moment. That's cold. It doesn't matter. Do you have a hotel versus a hotel? You want to come back to my hotel? God, no. You're... You don't have to be insulting. Anyway, it's the... I don't know. What am I supposed to do now? I have a man who may or may not have murdered my husband. You want to hit me? Could I hurt you? Probably not. You're such a tough guy. You're bigger than me. I stay in shape. Don't brag about it. Why don't you? You can do anything you want to me. Again with the steak. Come on. I just... I mean, you can't do anything to me that I haven't already done to myself. Actually, I think that is my hotel. You said that moment. That second. It wasn't even a decision. It was a reflex knee jerk. If it was a mistake, I could maybe live with it or kill myself, but I did nothing wrong. At least the way I was trained, what they said. Nobody blamed me. Tell me. Tell you. I did what I was supposed to do. It still turned into shit. What do you make of that? Official reports, autopsy, they'll never give me. Classified. You know, how many times I've heard that and I'm sorry and condolences. He gave his life, dot, dot, dot. And I don't mean it's insincere. It's sincere. They'd rather it didn't happen. They'd rather they didn't have to take my calls. Refuse me. But it's an embarrassment to them. An embarrassment. If I cry, if I don't cry. The five stages of grief. Denial. It didn't really happen. I'm going to wake up. It'll all be a bad dream. Yes. Anger. Oh, yes. Dinner. Did you go through any of this crap? No bargaining. I thought. Think. Thought. Then if I got all the information I would know and bury him. But it's never enough. There's always one more piece of information I need. One more photo, one more map, one more. Would you like some wine? vodka. I started imagining their conversations when I called. Jesus. Mrs. Post is on the line again. You take her. I can't handle her anymore. She's nuts. What if we gave her the Purple Heart? Will that make her go away? A congressional medal of honor? A Nobel Prize? I was just surprised. Nobody likes a nudge. Nobody likes somebody who just won't go away. I'm not sure I ever got bargaining down. Not again that, but if you want something. No, that's fine. Then there's depression. Depressing to even think about it. Acceptance? Never. Escalus said, you know Escalus? Intimately. Said, the first casualty in war is truth. I thought you wrote romance novels. Women's books, I said. But I had to get the truth. Here you are. And here I am, and you save maybe. You like pasta? That's about the only thing I can make. Yeah, sure. Are you being unimpressed by my struggle? What do you want me to say? That you struggle too, perhaps? Should I wear a black arm and rip my pocket? You know, I want suffering. I want you on your knees, at my feet, sobbing, self-inflicted wounds, suicidal thoughts. No, a test. I'm allergic to shellfish. Chicken with sausage? How many men have you killed? Aside from Matt. Maybe. We'll count him out. How many? Ten? Or the ten? Less than ten? Don't know exactly. No notches on your belt, not such a killer? It's more confusing than you think. But you've killed at least one. Definitely. Yes. I guess. But what does it get you? Get me? You want to humiliate me? Convert me to Jesus? I'm saying you killed one man. You could have killed Matt. Anyone could kill anyone. You think so? Matt killed. I killed. We all killed. That's what we're there for. And then, some of us got killed in the process. Some didn't. What were you getting at? It's my job to find out what happened to him. My responsibility and my job. What did you do before you got this job? I'm a travel agent. What travel agents were being phased out by the internet? Everything with people is being phased out except war. What do you want me to say? What do you want to say? I could tell you the truth or what you want to hear. Tell me what you feel like telling me. We already know the truth by way of efforts. I love the guy. Matt, I mean. That's not something I've said. You love the guys you're with in your platoon. If you're going to survive, it's not because of God or because the enemy is a bad shot or because this is the United States Army and we're right. But because of the guys around you. They're your armor. More than the body armor that you wear. They're everything to you. Guys are really up. Like more sessions. Not because they're crazy or want to shoot more people but because on this side, they don't have those. You can't have those guys in the same sense. Don't have their team squad around them. And is that why you became a firefighter? To have a team? Maybe. Mark, John. We had a joke. Where's Luke? Where the fuck is Luke? Kind of a code. That was smart. Funny. We wasn't afraid of affection. You know, you could trust him. I lived with him for a year, close as you want to get with any person. I knew him better than I knew anyone my whole life. You think I could deliberately kill him? Stranger things happen. I'm talking about killing, not in movies or in stories. You were homie close to him. He was my husband. For the same time, I knew him less. I knew him, loved him longer. Oh, let's get into a pissing contest. As if a woman could ever know a man could get it. If I made you mad, you'd tell me things. Yeah, well, that's sometimes how it works. It's true. We married before we went away, but we were planning to anyway. We were best friends. Soulmate. Why is all of this life reduced down to catchphrases, overused tablets, is everything in an advertising gimmick even creepy? Who's your best friend? I'm still looking. Is there a bestfriendmatch.com? I'm scared of people. Why? I think there's a reason not to be. The subject was, did you or did you not kill Matt accidentally and take him deliberate off the table? Do you like garlic? Sure. People don't. Do you drink too much? They say you don't know you probably do. I mean, I don't know. I shot two of us. Mark and me fired at the same time, exact same time. Same nanosecond, same song. Yes, I know I killed Matt. Sometimes it gets like that in action. The thought, not even the thought, the impulse flies between two people, like electrons. There's like one, so the entry wound. Matt's head was ripped off. There's no way they can tell from the reports. Which they tried to deny me. But you think I haven't thought about this past a year and a half? You think you're asking me the final Jeopardy question? I don't know. That sounds, I know, like a dodge, like a bullshit. Like I'm trying to deny, in denial, that's a favorite word. But the only thing I'm in denial about really is that there can be something so important, so essential, that is unknown. How can it be? But it is. Is that the table? Did you talk to him about it? Mark? They wouldn't let me. We understand each other. Like electrons? Some things you talk about without actually talking to them. Can there be two sexes? Could there be a third that actually makes sense? We knew. I can't explain it. There's some kind of a silent communion between us. Sometimes between us. It's an attraction. Not sex, but a kind of... Telepathy? Telepathy, man. No, thanks. You know, I just think, if that happened, you'd have some inner voice that told you the truth. I wish. You wish you knew? You knew you'd kill him? Yes. Now? Because then I'd have something to be forgiven for. And I'd find that forgiveness by, you know, the Dalai Lama, priest, shaman, whatever, and it would be gone. But it can't be gone if you're never happy. If you have to live with it, then you get it. Aren't you afraid, alone, with a killer? Wasn't that a little naive of you? But also like a movie, and this was a movie, you were so lucky, to leave yourself alone with a vicious killer of your husband. I know what you're about. You think, you think if you just clear up this one tiny detail, like who blew off your husband's head, you can take that, you can read that fuck in the riot act, take him to court. But wait, you can't take him to criminal because he was doing his duty, serving his country. He's a decorated veteran. But civil war, maybe, maybe that's an option. Probably any lawyer in his right mind would turn you down. So let's just take him to personal court, your personal court, and make his life miserable, destroy any piece that he's been able to achieve, which isn't any in case you're interested, run his ass into the ground, make sure he never forgets, never retreats into that manhole, that man's manhole of not talking about it, bumping knuckles, watching the game, getting drunk, talking pussy, making sure he never has a chance to duck it, allude to responsibility for having murdered a man in cold blood, a 29-year-old, bang, in cold fucking blood, who didn't deserve it, of all the men that day, did not deserve that, who didn't even have the chance to say his prayers if he wanted to. Isn't that what you're about? Isn't that what you just... Doesn't spoil dinner. There's so much trouble in napkins and... That's exactly what I was thinking in some alternate universe of my mind, behind door number three or something. I've played this thing out so many times. I knew what you looked like, good-looking, like that sort of thing. I imagined I could more or less torture you so you would never sleep again, never forget him or me. And I had the court thing, too. Only I won. You broke down on the stand, confessed I was poised, avoided gloating, interviewed by the press, Oprah, right to my story, I had the movie all cast. You were raped in jail, too, in the showers, repeatedly, by Bull, Long John, and Neil. I ran out of good names. Bull makes you his bitch. You forget out? Three years, good behavior, but you've gone over to the criminal avenue. Bull's influence. You dealt drugs. Which means doing drugs. Stealing from your suppliers. Connections. Right. And they came after me, and I played it with them. I have a bronze star that killed me anyway. Butchered me. This is my fantasy. Sorry. That's something like that, yes. So did I? Bring it all back. I mean, is my presence here, and the other day, any kind of reminder? Reminder? Of what happened. Matt, that day, your responsibility, your doubt, if you doubt, of anything. Sure. Till you knocked on the door, I completely erased it. It was, what, a suppressed memory. Didn't exist. I didn't, I don't know where I was those years, you know, but suddenly my driver's license said I was 31, and how did that happen? Yeah. I'm so glad you showed up. Thank you. I refuse to believe that you are more hurt than I am. Is that what you think I'm saying? Are you, isn't this really just a dick-measuring context after all? Let's talk about religion or some other safe topic. I'll spare you 11 more. Shit happens. We move on. What bilge? It's a lie. A lie we tell ourselves to cope, to get up tomorrow, but it's there inside like a tape word that eats, and eats away till there's nothing left. Do you think I haven't tried to move on? Now I signed up for a dating service. Went out a couple of times, not even creeps. That would have been easy. Nice guys. Freaking boards. Perfect for me. A perfect fit. The minute we met, middle school, we clicked. We laughed, laughed about everything. Like we were two pieces that locked together for the first two pieces of a thousand piece puzzles that all the other pieces were built around. How do you replace that? I loved looking at his face. I tried to find some flaw in him and I couldn't. He thought of everyone else first. Health, old ladies with their shopping carts for Christ's sake. Volunteered at the animal shelter, gave blood the whole deal, and you killed that. Maybe. Maybe. But maybe is close. Close enough to be close for comfort. Do you feel anything? Does it? Does anything? I can't read you. I can't see you. Does anything stay with you? Do you forget the burning buildings the minute you leave them? Do you forget the man you killed a minute they're not in front of you? And you just go on making dinner and you don't think we're going to sit down there? Sit down like nice white people and eat, do you? Is that even a place for him? Going to eat with us. The three of us. A priest son, a manage. Is it finally sinking in a little MSL then women? I read that. I know what you're getting into. A rape? Don't worry. Knock me around. Is that what you want? I want you to feel something. I feel plenty. I want you to say that you did it. You killed Matt. You remember. I remember shooting him. I don't know if it was my round. I don't believe you. You're just doing this to yourself. What did he look like? I remember. Your bosom friend blood shooting out of his neck? I remember. What did you do? Nothing. It was over. It was over. Another day at the office. There guy. Our guy. What you are trained to do. Will you stop this? What difference? That's the hand that pulled the trigger. The M249 saw you did it. God damn it. You did it. What the fuck? Is it Hitchcock movie? Do you have a first aid kit? I'm bleeding. It's a stab wound. Of course it's bad. What did I expect from the stalker? I'm just fucking nuts. There's stuff in the bathroom. I'm nothing. Do that. Honest. Or I would have done it sooner. That's the part of my heart. The chest. I mean it doesn't contain my heart. Here. If I say yes, you'll think I'm a wimp. If I say no, you'll think I have no feelings. Your first aid training? None. I usually fainted beside the flood. Not just my blood. I know about you, but I'm starving. It was insane. Insane. Two days ago, I didn't even know you. You were a fucking picture above his bulk now. You bitch, you stabbed me. Is there salad dressing? He talked about you, but he never said you were fucking playing misty for me. I don't know what came over me, ranch or vinaigrette. Show me your letters. Talk about what you meant to him, not just a wife. His best friend, partnership. The best thing a marriage can do. It was all loving you and missing you and wanting to get back to you. I'm going to cry. Imagine my surprise when he asked if he could blow me. You think I'm making love, but I'm not. And not just once. Many times. You want to know my big regret, what I think about the thing. I cannot remember why I did it. I refused him every time. I love the guy who sucked in my dick. Shut up. It's really something I can program. Shut up! Being a man, I guess. That never happened. Even though they do say guys get the best blowjobs. You're just trying to hurt me. It's not like it wasn't going on around us. Because I hurt you. I just couldn't. I'm just going to do. After the third or fourth time, he asked me, I said no gently. I wasn't being mean or redneck about it. I thought about it and I started thinking. It's just one person giving another some pleasure. So I was real close. I was almost there, but I couldn't. Something stopped me. I just knew I couldn't make him happy. Once wouldn't be enough. He'd want more and more of it. He'd want me to come in his mouth and then he'd want me in his ass. Yes, ma'am! I'm not that smart. Can I go now? Can I not just see your face again? Laughing at me. You couldn't even stab me right. It was pretty good. I bet it's already healed. I have good coagulation. Just trying to get me in bed to make the coagulation complete. That's not quite the reason. But I hate you. Probably.