Author's Note: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially you Jenny Beckman. Bitch.
Narrator: If Tom had learned anything... it was that you can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that's all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence... Tom had finally learned, there are no miracles. There's no such thing as fate, nothing is meant to be. He knew, he was sure of it now.
Narrator: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Tom Hansen of Margate, New Jersey, grew up believing that he'd never truly be happy until the day he met "the one." This belief stemmed from early exposure to sad British pop music and a total misreading of the movie 'The Graduate.' The girl, Summer Finn of Shinnecock, Michigan, did not share this belief. Since the
disintegration of her parent's marriage she'd only loved two things. The first was her long dark hair. The second was how easily she could cut it off and not feel a thing. Tom meets Summer on January 8th. He knows almost immediately she is who he has been searching for. This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story.
Tom: Yeah, uh, this is... And Rhoda, no disrespect, but um, this is total shit.
McKenzie: Tom!
Tom: "Go for it" "You can do it"? That's not inspirational, that's suicidal. If pickles goes for it right there, that's a dead cat. These are lies. We're liars. Think about it. Why do people buy these things? It's not 'cause they wanna say
how they feel. People buy cards 'cause they can't say how they feel or they're afraid too. We provide the service that lets them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America. At least let them speak for themselves! Right? I mean, look! What-What is this? What does it say? "Congratulations on your new baby." Right? How 'bout, "Congratulations on your new baby. Guess
that's it for hanging out. Nice knowing you."
Vance: Sit down, Hansen.
Tom: How bout this one, with all the pretty hearts on the front? I think I know where this ones going. Yep! "Happy Valentines Day, sweetheart. I love you." That sweet? Ain't love grand? This is exactly what I'm talking about. What does that even mean, "love"? Do you know? Do you?
Anybody?
McKenzie: Tom...
Tom: If somebody gave me this card, Mr. Vance, I would eat it. It's these cards, and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame for all the lies and the heartache, everything. We're responsible. *I'm responsible.* I think we do a bad thing here. People should be able to say how they feel, how they really feel, not you
know, some words that some stranger put in their mouths. Words like "love"... that don't mean anything. Sorry, I'm sorry. I, uh... I quit. I'm... There's enough bullshit in the world without my help.
Narrator: Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin and they end with no lasting memory made in between. Most days have no impact on the course of a life.
Tom: It's these cards and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame for all lies and the heartache, everything.
Summer: Well, you know, I guess it's 'cause I was sitting in a deli and reading Dorian Gray and a guy comes up to me and asks me about it and... now he's my husband.
Tom: Yeah. And... So?
Summer: So, what if I'd gone to the movies? What if I had gone somewhere else for lunch? What if I'd gotten there 10 minutes later? It was, it was
meant to be. And... I just kept thinking... Tom was right.
Tom: No.
Summer: Yeah, I did.
[laughs]
Summer: I did. It just wasn't me that you were right about.
Tom: You don't want to be named as anybody's girlfriend, and now you're someone's wife?
Tom: Look, we don't have to put a label on it. That's fine. I get it. But, you know, I just... I need some consistency.
Summer: I know.
Tom: I need to know that you're not gonna wake up in the morning and feel differently.
Summer: And I can't give you that. Nobody can.
Summer: [Tom is listening to headphones in an elevator with Summer. She notices the music] I love the Smiths.
Tom: Sorry?
Summer: I said I love the Smiths.
Summer: [they stare at each other for a moment] You... You have good taste in music.
Tom: [repeating after her] You... like the
Smiths?
Summer: [singing] To die by your side, such a heavenly way to die.
[speaking]
Summer: I love em.
Tom: [elevator stops, Summer leaves while Tom remains dumbfounded] Holy shit.