Girl Most Likely

There's no place like home.

There's no place like home.

There's no place like home.

I'm sorry, I just...

This isn't working for me.

What is it now, Imogene?

Okay.

I don't know about you, Ms. Rossi,

but there's not a chance in hell that I'd go back

to some crap-farm in Kansas.

After seeing all that Oz has to offer.

I mean, it makes zero sense.

- You guys are with me on this, right? - Mmm-mmm.

That is the way this story ends.

It's a classic!

It's also a little provincial, if you ask me.

I didn't.

Can I at least suggest a more appropriate line?

No! You will do the lines as written

or I am giving the lead to Stacy!

There's no place like home.

Home is really fabulous!

Home is where the heart is!

Blah... Blah... Blah.

Joe, I need a taxi.

No problem.

This is Peter. Leave a message.

Hi, it's me again.

You never came home, so I assume we're meeting there?

Uh, I hope you're okay.

Call me.

This is Peter. Leave a message.

Hey, it's me.

If you get there first, would you wait outside?

I'd really like to walk in together.

Oh, by the way, I just passed the place

where you held my hand for the first time.

Call me, please.

Call me.

Shit.

This is Peter. Leave a message.

Okay, I just got here,

and I'm walking in. Are you here?

I'm here. I'm putting my phone on vibrate.

So just text me so I can find you. I'm here. Bye.

- Hi. Imogene Duncan. - Mmm-hmm.

Two years ago, a young man from Newark

broke into the Whitney Museum by smashing a window with a brick.

He wanted to look at the pictures.

The crime committed that night had nothing to do with breaking windows,

or living in New Jersey.

It had to do with denying a child.

Hey, where were you?

I was stuck on a call.

And that's why the Where The Art ls Foundation was created,

so that no child ever has to break a window again.

You know, the idea just sort of came to me,

when James and I were on our honeymoon.

And I realized that I want to be more than just a wife,

and an author, and an interior designer.

I know, I've been thinking the same thing.

You know, it's been weighing on me.

But are you even married?

Oh. Mostly. Basically.

We live together, and we've talked about it.

Peter's family is Dutch.

Yeah, and they're a very progressive people.

You know, they believe in a spiritual union, where your souls are bound.

That's what he said to me, which is very romantic.

It's like how gay people used to get married.

Oh, Austen and I are starting a charity for that.

For gay people?

His younger sister is a lesbian,

and we just really wanted to get involved.

- Wonderful! - Wow!

I didn't realize she was a lesbian.

I knew she was a lesbian.

I mean, I went to Spence.

Oh, I heard Andover had a lot of them, too.

Yeah, I know.

Isn't that where you went to school, Imogene?

Andover? No, that was Peter.

So, where did you...

She's from New Jersey.

Oh.

I love that sculpture

of Abe Lincoln.

That is phenomenal...

He's got a little smirk.

What's he thinking?

I'm stuffed.

They really went all out tonight. It was so fun.

You know, tonight really made me contemplate how lucky we are.

And all the beauty that we just take for granted.

You know, all the museums, the park.

The 100-year-old buildings.

- The trees... - Imogene,

I should move out.

What?

I've already started looking at apartments.

- What are you talking about? - Look,

I can help you with rent for a couple months

until you figure out what to do.

You're serious? Peter!

You said our souls were bound. You said that.

I told people that you said that!

This isn't about souls, all right?

This is about whether two people really go together.

Imogene? Libby wants to see you in her office.

Right away.

Is that your family?

Oh! Yeah. That's the gang.

- The Vineyard? - Every summer since I was born.

What about your family?

Um... I grew up in the Atlantic City area, near the beach, so...

Then every day was like summer, right?

No, every day was not like summer.

Every day was like being impaled with a blunt, wooden object,

over and over again.

Anyway, I called you in here

because I had a chance to read over your blurbs.

And, um, yeah, see, I can't turn these in to Dan.

- Why not? - Well...

First off, because you called Dames At Sea,

"An insignificant, if not irritating,

"amalgam of lackluster performances and sitcom one-liners."

Have you seen it? Because that's putting it very nicely.

It won the Tony.

And, you know, frankly, we don't care whether you think it's good or bad.

You're not a reviewer.

No, see, your job is just to describe

the play in five sentences or less

and make it sound interesting.

Perhaps you weren't aware

that I won the Hollingsworth fellowship for playwriting

or that New York Magazine put me

on their list of playwrights to watch?

I was not aware. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.

You're welcome.

Okay.

Well, we certainly don't want to stand in

the way of your burgeoning writing career.

So, uh...

Yeah.

What does "yeah" mean?

Yeah.

You can go.

This is Peter.

I know I'm not supposed to call you during work hours,

but I lost my job at the magazine.

And I'm just...

I'm having a really tough time right now.

And I know it's not your problem, but...

I was just thinking maybe

you could come over and just lay with me for a little bit?

Imogene, I...

- I'm working. - I know, I just...

I don't really trust myself to be alone right now.

What? What do you mean?

I mean I'm afraid if you don't come over I might

do something to myself.

Imogene.

Or maybe I already have.

What did you do?

Just, Peter...

If you love me just say you'll come over. Please?

All right.

Farewell, world.

My life is but a brief flickering in the darkness.

Too faint to light a room.

And much too soon does the flame burn out.

As the winds of suffering have extinguished my light,

heaven welcomes me with her open embrace.

Imogene?

Hello?

Are you in here?

Imogene, you left your door open.

There's also a sign on it. I think your landlord is upset with you.

Imogene, I just stopped by to pick up

those Cartier earrings that I lent you.

Imogene.

Oh, my God.

Hello? Imogene?

Imogene, can you hear me?

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Oh, my God, Imogene.

Hello. Dad?

Daddy, it's Dara.

Oh, my God, Dad.

Imogene is dead!

No, no. She's just dead.

I don't know how to check!

Imogene.

Imogene.

Oh, my gosh!

Cheers.

And the Tony Award for Best Play goes to...

Imogene Duncan!