The Conversation
written by Francis Ford Coppola
Amy: Does something special happen between us on your birthday?
(He pours out two glasses of wine)
Harry: Like what?
Amy: Something personal.
Harry: What?
Amy: Like, umm, telling me about yourself. Your secrets?
(She smiles)
Harry: I don't have any secrets.
Amy: I'm your secret. (she points at herself) You do have secrets, Harry? I know you do. Sometimes you come over here and you don't tell me. Once I saw you up by the staircase, hiding and watching for a whole hour. (Harry's suddenly embarrassed) You think you're gonna catch me at something, you know? I know when you come over. I can always tell. You have a certain way of opening up the door. You know, first the key goes in real quiet, and then the door comes open real fast, just like you think you're gonna catch me at something. Sometimes I even think you're listening to me when I'm talking on the telephone.
Harry: What are you talking about?
Amy: I don't know. I just feel it. Really, I do.
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Meredith: I want to hear all about you. Where are you from?
Harry: New York.
Meredith: (flirtatiously) I used to live in New York. At first, I worked as a receptionist and then I got promoted to secretary and then I was promoted to gal-Friday and special assistant to the Boss. Then I married him. Do you live far from here? Harry?
(Harry wanders away, into the darkness of the warehouse. No one speaks for a long time)
Harry: Are you still married?
Meredith: Oh, I don't know. Probably. Why then, maybe I am. The last thing I heard, he was trying to scrape up enough money to buy another hardware store. And I ended up out here in San Francisco - unemployed - which is the entire story of my life up until tonight. (Nervously, Harry looks away as she comes closer to him) You don't like me very much, do you? You don't want to talk to me or anything.
Harry: I didn't say that.
Meredith: Something is on your mind. I wish you'd tell me. I do, I wish that, I wish that you'd feel that you could talk to me and, and that we could be friends, I mean, aside from all of this junk.
(A long pause)
Harry: If you were a girl who waited for someone...
Meredith: You can trust me.
Harry: ...and you never really knew when he was gonna come to see you. You just lived in a room alone and you knew nothing about him. And if you loved him and were patient with him, and even though he didn't dare ever tell you anything about himself personally, even though he may have loved you, would you..would you, would you go back to him?
Meredith: How would I know - how would I know that he loved me?
Harry: You'd have no way of knowing.