01x03 - Friend Quest

[bunniefuu]

[keys clacking]

- I'm obsessed with facts.

Others tend to avoid 'em.

In my 50-plus days
of isolation,

I've had nothing but time

for falling down
countless Internet wormholes,

learning statistics and facts

about everything
from human lying habits

to all things cancer.

Who would have guessed
it would all lead me here?

Do you notice anything off
on her page?

- Besides you creeping
all over it?

Come on, I'm gonna be late.

- No, there's no mention
of cancer anywhere.

- Just because cancer
infects your body

doesn't mean it has to infect
your social media presence.

- She has created a fake alibi.

She has people, you know,
telling her,

"Good luck in New York
with your modeling."

I don't--I don't get it.
- [scoffs]

- Whoa, guys, check this out.

"This dope hotel in SoHo
has me feeling all--"

who the hell is Gigi Hadid?

- She seems pathological.
- She's hot.

[knocking on door]

- Do you think she heard us?
- Yes.

- Okay.
- Oh, my God.

- Oh, what up, my clan?

- Dude, Cam, what's up?

- Permission to enter
the bald eagle's nest.

- Access granted, my friend.

Good to see you.
- Good to see you too.

- Don't forget to wash up
there, Mr. Man Bun.

- That's right, safety first.

- Bec, I'm gonna grab the car.

- Okay.
- No worries here.

Never been sick a day
in my whole life.

- Yeah, except the old, uh,
terminal cancer thing.

Other than that, you're good.

- I mean, if you want
to get technical.

How's my Helga doing?

- Helga? Who's Helga?

- Some weird character
he's made up in his mind

about my anonymous German
bone marrow donor.

- Helga, she's a jolly
busty fraulein

with beer steins
and lederhosen.

- [laughs]
You're so hilarious.

- Don't you have to be
somewhere?

- What?
- You're late?

- Yeah. Oh, my God, yeah.

- Hasta la vista.

- Hasta la vista, Cam.

[exhales]

- [laughs]

Okay, what--
what brings you by?

- So get this.

There's this place in
Costa Rica called Playa Grande.

It means "big player."

- Except it doesn't,
because "playa" means beach.

- No, no, no, Google it, man.

I'll show you.
Dude, who's the jailbait?

- That's, uh--
that's a girl named Mia.

She moved in over there, so...

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

- Just moved in next door?

- You said it was Playa Grande?

- Yeah, it means--
hmm, big beach.

- Weird, huh?

- That's disappointing,
honestly.

- Yeah.
- Big player sounds better.

- It does.
- It really does, doesn't it?

- It really does.
- Yeah.

- [vomiting]

- It's okay.

- [breathing shakily]

- The ice chips,
I'm telling you.

- I'm fine.

- Come on, let's lay down.
Come on.

[soft music]

*

- What's up with the guy
next door?

- [chuckles]

After he calmed you down
last night,

I'm calling him
the Mia whisperer.

[laughs]
His name is Zac.

- He's stuck in that room?

- Poor guy will have been
isolated for...

[scoffs] 100 days
by the time it's over.

- 100 days?

I would k*ll myself.

What does he do
to keep from losing his mind?

- He learns things.

Guy knows more about cancer
and medicine than most nurses.

Hell, probably
more than most doctors.

- And he gets visitors?

- Family and approved visitors
only.

You know, if you want me
to call your mom...

It won't be a problem.

- I already feel like
I'm dying,

and you're making it worse,

so can you please just leave?

*

[door closes]

[sighs]

[gasping]

[vomiting]

[groans]

- A guy like me dreams about
waves like these my whole life.

- Yeah.

Man, what's going on?

Did you find something new
with you or what?

- [chuckles] Busted.

Um...I relapsed.

- What?

- Yeah, I got a monster
brain tumor.

I'm thinking about
calling him Randy.

You know, you're cancer free
for two years,

and then...

all of a sudden
in walks Randy, you know?

Anyway, Dr. Liddell told me

that he has some nano thing

that he can try on me.

- Well, that's--
that's good news, man.

That's really good news.

- Yeah, but it's a, um--
it's a high-risk operation,

so if we're gonna do it,
then we got to do it now.

- And if you do
the surgery now,

you're gonna miss
your Costa Rica trip.

- Bingo.

- So why me, man?
Like, why'd you come to ask me?

- [exhales]

You're the straightest
sh**ter I know.

With all your facts,
numbers, and figures,

nobody knows as much as you do.

- Well, not exactly.

Uh, yeah, working in
a reasonable margin of error,

kind of exactly.

I've memorized the numbers
for pretty much

every cancer at every stage,

and where people lie,
numbers don't.

If you're a woman over 50

with neuroendocrine
colon cancer stage three,

your chance of survival
is about 42%,

which means that you've likely
got about a year left.

If you're a male
over the age of 70

with stage 1A
pancreatic cancer,

there's a 14% chance
that you're not toast.

If you're a young woman

with stage 1A osteosarcoma
of the leg,

you've basically won
the cancer lottery.

[people cheering]

Congratulations.

And if you're me, a young guy

with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma
stage 4B,

not so lucky.

I'm looking at
basically even odds.

The numbers aren't
your friends,

which is why when
someone says...

- I need you to level with me.

- It's a lot harder
than it sounds.

So the surgery, it's--

they want to extract
the tumor?

- Yeah.

I guess it's, um--
it's hard to reach,

and not that they're
gonna say it in...

these words, but, uh,

they're worried it's just
gonna come back again.

- Yeah.

- [sniffles]

So that's the dilemma.
[chuckles]

Heavy, I know,

but, um...

I got to know what you think.

- What I think is, you should
spend your final months

off the coast of Costa Rica
with your best friends.

I think you should surf
the most epic waves

like a man
with nothing to lose

and ride that open sea
into the summer

that never ends. I think--

- Zac?

- I think you should
have the surgery.

*

- So you think I got a shot?

*

- Absolutely, the--
the numbers don't lie.

- Yes!

[smooches]

That's what
I'm talking about!

Dude, when I get
all Frankensteined

and put back together,

I'm taking you out
on the board, all right?

It's just gonna be me,
you, a thousand waves,

and a dozen cervezas,

and of course,
a couple pretty girls, right?

'Cause that's how we roll.

- Sounds good.

- I got to go tell Lidell,
but...

Thank you, Helga.

*

- Now I understand
why people lie,

why they say what makes
them more comfortable.

*

Because it gives you hope,

and hope looks good on you.

*

[computer chimes]

*

She knows my name.

Of course she knows my name.
She added me on Facebook.

Um...

Yeah.

[gentle knocking on wall]

[chuckles]

[laughs]

[inhales, exhales deeply]

- What, dude?

Delivery for Miss Phillips.

- I'm going to k*ll Evan.

Um...
[keys clacking]

- What?

*

- [exhales deeply]

[straining]

What's wrong...
- With me?

*

[crashing,
Mia grunts in pain]

- [crying]

- sh*t.

- [crying]

- sh*t, Mia.
Jesus.

Jesus, come here, come here,
come here, come here.

Look at me.
Look at me. Look at me.

- I can't even put on makeup.
My hands are, like, defective.

- Honey, you just had
chemo, okay?

Che-mo.

These are the effects
of the pre-drugs.

They'll pass in a few hours.

- I don't have a few hours!
He's here right now.

- Who?

What--the Legend-Teigen
love child?

- I need to get ready, I
need to put on my makeup--

- No, no, no, no, no--no, no,
no, no, no, no, no...

- I need to get dressed!

- You need to chill.
- [crying]

- He's here for you,
not your mascara.

The people who really love you
will be by your side

whether you're healthy
or sick or better or worse

and all the crap in between.

Mia, and sometimes it takes
getting stuck in here

for people to realize how loved
they truly are.

- [sniffles]

[sighs]

I don't want to see him.

*

Okay.

[exhales]

*

- Wish me luck.
- Good luck.

*

- [sighs]

*

[exhales deeply]

Uh, hi, I'm--I'm here
to see Mia Phillips.

Rhys McCann?

- Take a seat.

It'll be a minute.

- Okay.

- On second thought,

first impressions
are everything.

- [chuckles]

[soft pop music]

*

- Miss Phillips
will see you now.

- Oh, okay.

*

- [laughing]

It's about time you showed up.

- What's up, babe?

- [clears throat]

- Hmm, who dressed you?

- Oh, I actually ran into Chloe
at the mall.

- Hmm.
- She picked it out with me.

You like it?

- I hate it.
- Okay.

- But I missed you,
so you get a free pass.

[muffled]
God, I love your hair.

[faint voices from other room]

Rhys, stop.

[giggling]

I kind of think we should talk.

- Talking is overrated.

- So homegirl has a visitor,
the douchebag boyfriend,

and I...

what the hell
are you doing, perv?

- I'm trying to listen.
You have a better idea?

- Um, no.

Here, step aside, stalker.

- Um, we can't really do this
in a hospital.

- Why?

Do you see any hidden cameras?

[moans]

- I just--
- What?

- I feel like I'm being
watched or something.

- Do you understand
what they're saying?

- All I hear is, like,
Charlie Brown's parents.

- Come on, just--
- Just ki--

- Just give it a second, okay?

I, uh...

[exhales sharply]

- Okay, so what did you
want to talk about?

- You know, you just don't
really seem sick at all.

- Yeah, I'm, like, totally not.

It's barely even cancer.

You should see some
of the people in here.

- Um, that guy next door?

He--he looks like
Humpty Dumpty, so...

- That's Zac.

- Are you guys friends
or something?

- No, ew, are you kidding?

Gross.

I heard you won your game.
- Yeah.

- But Chloe told me,
so there's a 50/50 chance

that you actually lost.

- What do you mean?

- Look,
I love the girl to death,

but if you gave her a penny
for her thoughts,

you'd get change, right?
- Mia, stop.

Come on.
- What?

Wh--what?

Are you seriously getting mad?

- No, it's--it's just,
she's your friend,

and--and anyways, we did win.

- Well, you haven't said
how I look.

Hmm?

- You--you really do
look amazing.

- Well, then kiss me.

- Oh, oh, um, yeah, this
probably wasn't your best idea.

[bed whirring]

- My mom, she's--she's been
a demon about curfew lately,

and, um...

- What? But you just--

- Yeah, I know, and, um, I'll
come visit again soon, okay?

- Rhys?
- Yeah?

- I love you.

- Uh, me--me too.

[door closes]

- [sighs]

[soft music]

*

[sighs]

*

[phone ringing]

*

[upbeat music]

*

- [laughs]

- [laughing]

[phone chiming]

[sighs]

[phone chiming]

Helga, that was
the lamest joke ever.

- It's Zac, and I'm sorry
to disappoint.

So was that your boyfriend
or...

- That...

was a piece of sh*t.

I think he's dating Chloe.

- Who's Chloe?

- Another piece of sh*t.

- Sounds like you
really know your sh*t.

- [laughs]

- Why didn't you pick up
the first time?

- I don't know. Look at you.

Look at me.

- What?

Bald is totally on trend.
Ask anyone.

[chuckles]

Well, thanks
for cheering me up, Helga.

Dream about me.

*

- Like I could dream about
anything else.