Lockbox

Pull over the van!

I'm sorry.

Okay, guys.

I understand what you're feeling.

We don't need to go where we're going, okay?

Just pull the van over and we'll talk.

It feels so good right now.

I just need you to listen, okay?

I just need you to fucking listen to me! I...!

I'm so sorry.

I don't want to go see the boy!

I don't want to see the fucking boy!

I don't want to see the boy!

Not the boy! Not the boy!

Not the boy!

Not the boy!

Not the--

My name is Ellen Hershbergen

and I will tell you all that happened

in hopes that it will never happen again.

My mother died in February.

She had been battling Alzheimer's.

I had been all kinds of things before that.

A modestly successful fashion designer.

The author of a children's book about peas.

Then I became a caretaker.

Now, I wasn't even that.

So all I could do is reinvent myself and start over.

Morning.

I'm father John Dore.

-Nice to meet you. -Lovely to meet you, too.

Your call was a godsend.

I've been needing a hand,

but I don't have the budget to hire

someone full time.

I used to volunteer at my church in Buffalo,

so I thought it might help me find my footing here.

And why Pontiac? How did we get so lucky?

Uh, more chance than luck.

I had this weird feeling

I could fit here, be myself again.

You know, we could pull together a yard sale,

raise some money, fix the pews.

I'm actually pretty good at that.

Yes.

All right. It's worth a shot.

Yes.

Donna. Hi.

Ellen, how's the new town treating you?

Oh, uh.

It's good.

Quiet. Not tripping over boxes anymore.

It suits me.

I'm glad. Buffalo will miss you.

You needed a new start.

Yeah. Thanks, Donna. I really did.

Hey, do you remember our Cousin Winthrop?

Babysat for him every Thursday.

Ate his weight in spaghetti.

Of course I remember him.

He's been staying with us for a while

but Dan wants him gone.

Not enough space in the house.

Right.

Good news is he's got a job at a sheet metal plant

not too far from Pontiac, actually.

Starts in the spring--

You don't even have to finish. I would be happy to have him.

Really? That would be amazing.

Of course.

He's been bouncing around family for years.

Like a ball with no air in it.

Just know Winthrop is a little different.

He has some PTSD stuff

from his time in the army.

But he's a good guy.

All right, well, we'll figure it out.

I think it might do me some good to have someone around.

Thank you, Ellen. Okay, bye.

All right. Bye, Donna.

Winthrop?

Cousin Helen?

It's been a long time.

Only about 30 years.

Is that all you have?

That's all I need.

All right.

I appreciate you taking me in for a while.

Thank you.

Glad for the company.

It's really good to see you.

This is it.

Let me show you your room.

You like it?

Look. That's us.

Thank you.

Okay.

I had never seen anyone inhale

spaghetti and meatballs like you did.

You remember?

It was almost scary.

I still do.

I was sorry to hear about your mom.

Mm.

Thanks.

I remember her always laughing, telling jokes.

Mm.

She was a good cook, like you.

Mm. Thanks.

She was.

She had a laugh that could fill the whole house.

Then your parents... nothing about that was fair.

Let's get you some more.

Would it be okay if I take a bath?

Mm. Of course.

Oh!

Winthrop?

Winthrop?

Hm.

I don't believe I ever met your uncle Ray.

Your father's younger brother, right?

I'm sorry. I don't want to talk about that.

Sure.

I find it hard to reckon what people do to one another.

No, you don't have to think about any of that here.

Something's on your mind.

Wanna share?

It's my cousin... Winthrop.

He's staying with me, and...

I'm not sorry I took him in, but he's been through a lot.

Fought in Afghanistan.

He doesn't sleep.

Walks all night.

Locks himself in the bathroom for hours.

Eye contact is a struggle.

And I just keep wondering if he should be with someone

who can handle real PTSD.

Someone who doesn't just sit outside the bathroom door

hoping he'll come out.

Sometimes that's enough.

Someone waiting outside the door.

Huh?

That's what I told myself with my mom.

I stayed in case...

she came back out just for a minute.

She never did.

I can't let that happen to Winthrop.

I failed him once, and I won't do it again.

Ellen...

you did more for her than most people ever get.

Now you're doing the same for Winthrop.

Oh.

I'm sorry, I didn't hear you pull up.

Vahna.

Oh, hi. I am... I am Ellen.

Oh, wow.

You had a lot of work done here in such a short amount of time.

Well, it's good to have someone helping you.

It rains a lot here,

so everything just gets really overgrown.

I've been living here for about a year now

and I will warn you, it is quiet.

There's really like nothing to do at all.

The closest bar

that doesn't have a bowling alley attached to it

is actually all the way up in Buffalo.

Um, I don't drive or bowl, but it's all good.

Mhm. Mhm. Want one?

-Oh, no. Thanks. -I have more

I'm good. I know, thank you. They look delicious though.

-Yeah. -Crispy.

I've been having migraines sort of general all over

aches and pains like every joint is on fire.

But they got a pill for that.

They got a pill for everything. A pill for this,

a pill for that. Pill for the fucking pills.

I actually moved here

because I was going to take some college classes.

You know, Genesee College. -Yeah, yeah.

- Just up. - Yeah.

Poetry.

Oh.

I did get involved with the... teacher.

Grace, whose...

a bitch and dumped me out of a blue.

And just kind of...

You feel used, you know,

you just want back everything they took from you.

I'm trying to track her down.

I'll find her.

Is that your husband?

Oh, no. That's, uh, my cousin Winthrop.

Hmm.

You need a hand?

I've killed a few weeds in my day.

Honestly. No, you don't need to.

-You sure? -Yeah. No, I--

Your ice cream is probably melted.

No. That's fine.

I can just put it in your fridge.