As Good As It Gets

Melvin Udall is your misanthropic, obsessive-compulsive neighbor—the kind of man who washes his hands with a new soap bar each time and won’t step on a crack. But beneath his abrasive exterior, something fragile stirs. When forced to care for a dog, then a broken artist, and finally confront his feelings for the only woman who tolerates him, his rigid world begins to crack. Can he change?

As Good As It Gets

Melvin Udall is your misanthropic, obsessive-compulsive neighbor—the kind of man who washes his hands with a new soap bar each time and won’t step on a crack. But beneath his abrasive exterior, something fragile stirs. When forced to care for a dog, then a broken artist, and finally confront his feelings for the only woman who tolerates him, his rigid world begins to crack. Can he change?

I wake up at 6:03 a.m., not 6:02, not 6:04. The clock must read 6:03 exactly before I rise. Today, like every day, I use a fresh soap bar for each hand, dry with a paper towel, and avoid the cracks in the hallway as I descend to the diner. Carol is there, pouring coffee with that quiet strength she has. She’s the only one who doesn’t flinch when I snap at her.

But today is different. Spencer’s asthma worsened last night. I see the exhaustion in her eyes. She tells me she has to transfer to a Brooklyn shift. My stomach tightens. No. Not acceptable.

Later, I stand outside her apartment, holding a check for $25,000—enough to cover Spencer’s home care. 'Come back,' I say. 'This is the price.'

She stares at me, stunned. 'I’ll never sleep with you, Melvin. Don’t think this means anything like that.'

I hand her the check. 'Of course not. You’re the one who made it personal.'

She doesn’t understand. I don’t either. But I know I can’t eat breakfast without her.