Modern Love

- -

Mr. Hughes, will you get up on the table for me?

- No, no. - Would you do it for a lolly?

Good. Hold that very gently.

- Okay. - There you go.

- How's John? - He's grand, thanks. Yeah.

- Oh. Spiked. - Ooh.

Well, only joking.

Yeah?

Dr. Curran, I have a mom on the phone

with a four-year-old with a temperature.

I know it's late. I said I'd check, just in case.

Well, why me?

You're the only one still here.

I could put it off till the morning.

I'm sure it's not serious. It's not that high.

- Well, how high is it? - Hold on.

Thirty-nine.

Send her in.

Here's a script

for antibiotics, just for the peace of mind for the weekend.

Only use them if you can't keep his temperature down

- with paracetamol, okay? - Okay.

And I'm around. Just call me if you're worried.

You have my home number. Goodbye, little chicken.

- Night, Lorraine. - Good night, Dr. Curran.

Oh.

Oh. Oh, no. Come on, girl.

Not now. Please.

Fuck my life.

We need to stop seeing each other like this.

I can't stop calling you.

And I can't stop picking up.

I've got you on speed dial.

Well, it serves you right for owning a 30-year-old sports car

and only driving it when it tickles your fancy.

These cars want to be driven, Dr. Curran.

Well, I only take it out when the weather's nice.

- I mean, the roof leaks. - Pull the bonnet.

How's your mom, Jerry?

Oh, you know. Same old.

- The new place is nice for her. - Ah.

Send her my best.

Tell her I'll drop by this weekend to see her.

Your visits mean a lot to her.

I like seeing her.

- So what do you think? -

I hate to break it to you, Doctor. Your car is dying.

No. She just needs some TLC.

She's 40 years old. You know, she's younger than me.

You.

Yeah, in human years, maybe, but in car years,

she's too young to be truly classic,

and she's too old to be practical.

She's just having a midlife crisis.

I'm gonna give her some Xanax.

So, unfortunately, this car needs to make its final journey

- to the scrap heap. - Never.

You can really bring these things back to life.

Yeah, and go completely broke in the meantime.

You know, the best two days you have

with a vintage car are the day you buy it

and the day you sell it.

Everything in between is just a heartache.

You need to give up on her, Doctor.

She's not one of your patients.

Oh, let me see if I have another fan belt.

Oh, it feels so good out on the road...

That's the truth.

I do.

- -

Woo-hoo! I'm back!

- Hi, Mom! - Where are you?

- In the sitting room. - Oh.

Did you draw a picture of Daddy like I asked?

Yes, and I drew you and the house, too.

- Did you give him big ears? - Yes, I did.

Good. Let me see.

Aw. I love that one the best.

That's you picking an apple off the tree for salads.

- Oh, you're like Eve. - Apple for salads.

- Eve. You're like Eve. - No.

- Well done in your amazing painting! - Oh, painting.

Here's to the cake, here's to the painting.

To Melissa, the artiste.

Let's just see how I get on

with his parents first, shall we?

Oh, yeah. Sure.

How's my sister?

Well, she's destroying the kitchen

"making a cake."

Hi, sis.

Hey, baby sis.

Send me a letter.

I'll send you some cake.

What kind of cake?

Okay, got to run. Me and Connor are going for drinks.

Write me. I love you.

Oh, I love you.

And, oh, I want to hear more about him.

- - Would-would you...? Oh.

All right.

Gym membership,

gone. We hit the streets.

- Done. - Which brings me to...

- The Stag. - Oh, well, there's no expense

there 'cause I hardly ever use it.

Honey, I've seen your credit card receipts.

You've spent 1,200 this year alone

on breakdowns and parts.

Well, what are you doing going through my credit card receipts?

You gave them to me to do our taxes?

- You're welcome, by the way. - Yeah. Thanks.

Well, what about your boat?

You know you could get a couple grand for that.

Okay. Fine.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh, come on. Come on.

Oh, no, not again. Please?

Please? Please?

God... damn it.

I'm changing my number until you get rid of this thing.

Hello?

Yeah.

Excuse me.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm selling it for five grand.

Sure. Well, we're around all weekend if you want to drop by.

Yeah?

Okay, I'll text you the details.

Thanks. Bye.

Maybe found a buyer for the car.

Another one? Great.

You could have sold that car five times by now.

- Coffee? - Yup.

The brakes are slow,

so you're alert, predicting things before they happen.

The steering's rack-and-pinion, the bushings are pretty worn,

so it's basically like driving a go-cart.

I mean, you'd need to get that fixed,

if you do buy it, but, you know, you probably won't.

Well, you certainly know your stuff, for a lady.

Yeah, well, you'll need to get your blood pressure checked

'cause these cars were designed for a much younger man.

Apologies.

Now, it's just that my wife and my daughters have zero interest.

Whereas my son and I,

we'll tinker all afternoon, every Sunday.

My husband taught me everything I know about this car.

All right. He's a... he's an enthusiast, too?

- Him? No. My first husband. - Oh.

He bought this car when he was a student.

He saved every penny, worked two jobs through college.

He made sure I understood it before he'd let me near it.

- Or anyone. -

I mean, if you were to come down to 4,700, we could have a deal.

- What do you think? - Really?

Look, are you sure you want to sell this car?

Yeah.

What's this heap of old iron doing here?

- Old iron? - I'll give you ten buck for it.

Don't be daft. This was once a great car.

Is that a bit like the man buying your car, Mommy?

Oh, no, honey. That's the mean junkyard man.

The man buying the car is actually pretty nice.

Oh, thank God.

You're selling your guys' Prius?

Oh, no. Um...

No, I'm actually thinking about selling the Stag.