Listen, Roslyn, I've been thinking.
After what I just heard, you were not thinking.
Come on, come on. This is serious. This is our lives, not some dress rehearsal. I'm tired of being some slave. I spent my whole life watching my mother cook and clean, never leave the house, never leave the valley. She died looking a hundred. She was only 45. She started out just like us - love in Hollywood High. Next thing you know, there's no money, no love, nothing. She raised all of us. So what? She broke her ass like a Mexican maid, and maybe every two weeks, she'd scrape together a few pennies for a hair set and wash, reading her Hollywood magazines for her high on Hollywood boulevard next to the studios. Big deal.
You're having an affair, aren't you?
We have to live before we die. We're kids playing mothers to kids... and that includes our so-called husbands.