Manuscript (9 pages)

FADE IN:


EXT. FRONT YARD OF OLD HOUSE – DAY.

The following is viewed through one hand-held camera, the
“eyes” of an individual never seen, referred to as “we”.
There is no point-of-view except through these “eyes”.

“We” sit on a rickety, creaky porch swing, which very
slightly moves back and forth - and look around the porch
of this abandoned, two-story, wood-framed house. The
screen door hangs off a hinge. There are broken boards
on the porch. The pillars are rotting.

Now “we” look at the overgrown yard flanked by the
skeleton of a short wood fence.

In front of this homestead, which sits in the middle
of nowhere, runs a dirt road.

After a while, a dusty sports car, older model, pulls up.
Stops. A YOUNG MAN, rangy, easy on the eyes, emerges
from the driver’s door. He walks to the front of the
vehicle, stops, looks up at the house, then around at the
yard, and finally walks through the space that once held
a gate.

He takes in the broken screen door, kicks a rock in his
path, then lets his gaze settle on the porch.

He looks at the porch swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Hey! You’re here! You’re really
             here! I didn’t think you could be!
             I wished – I hoped you’d be, but –

The young man comes up on the porch and sits at the other
end of the swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Actually, I came looking for you.
             Knowing it was hopeless – but you’re
             here. So, how’s it goin’? You like
             your new place?
                  (listens)
             Me, too. I guess. I mean,
             dormitories are dormitories, ya know.
                  (after some
                  thought, almost
                  bites his lip
                  trying not to
                  say it)
             Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t go to
             your funeral...I couldn’t face it.
             Couldn’t let go of you. Why’d you
             have to go then? Why didn’t you
             stay longer? Years longer?

The young man rises from the swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Sorry, I didn’t come here to ask
             you that. I just wanted to see you
             again, you know. Talk to you.
             I need to talk to you, Pappy.

He turns, faces the yard, the world.

                           YOUNG MAN
             I hate it out there. No, damn it,
             I don’t hate it. I love it. I’m
             cool. It’s cool. I love it. But
             I hate – I hate...
                  (turns back to
                  the swing)
             It’s not enough! It’s just not
             enough.

He sits down on the porch, facing the swing, his back
against a pillar.

                           YOUNG MAN
             I thought it would be more, you
             know. I mean, I thought it would
             mean more. – I’m on the dean’s
             list. And got some professors who
             think I’m
                  (smiles)             
             like you used to say, “the cat’s
             pajamas”. Whatever the hell that
             means. I was an officer in my
             fraternity the first year, and
             this year I’m president! Movin’
             in the frat house next month. I’m
             doin’ it! I mean, it was in no
             time. I’m doing it, see. The
             grades. The – well, you know –
             I’m popular. Big man on campus.

He stands, paces around on the porch.

                           YOUNG MAN
             You knew it would be like this.
             For me. Didn’t you. Damn. I was
             scared.
                  (listens)
             Why was it so easy? I mean, it
             wasn’t easy, but it was – so – easy.
             Is this all there is?! Because if
             it is, it’s not enough.

The young man takes a deep breath, finally sits on the
steps. “We” rise from the swing, slowly, go to the steps
and sit to the left of him.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Pappy, I’m telling you – I mean
             I’m askin’ you – what’s enough? I
             want more. I want – more!
                  (studies his
                  grandfather’s
                  “face”)
             You knew this was gonna happen.
             It was like getting that go-cart
             everybody said don’t bother with.
             Mom said “no way!” and Dad said he
             wasn’t messing with it. But I wanted
             it. Bad. And there was all that
             trouble of tryin’ to keep it goin’.
             But we did it. You did it. And then
             I went round and round the yard. In
             circles – and it wasn’t enough. You
             knew that’s the way it would be. But
             you didn’t say anything. – You let
             me find out for myself.

The young man rises from the steps, walks around in the
yard, staying close, then gets to the point.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Listen. This is important. I drove
             fifty miles hoping somehow to talk to
             you about this. It’s real important.
             To me, anyway.

He stops. This is so hard to say. He turns, almost
makes a circle, then faces the steps again.

                           YOUNG MAN
             I want to quit. I want out. I don’t
             want – I don’t want to do it anymore.
             Go to class. Work. Go to class. Work.
             Never sleep enough. Never have enough
             time for – for anything. Just keep goin’.
             You know I can do it – I can keep going,
             Pappy, but why am I doing this? – You
             didn’t do this. Lots of people didn’t.
             Don’t. Why am I doing this?!

He sits on the steps again, this time to the left of his
grandfather.

                           YOUNG MAN
             It feels good when I stop and look at
             it. Look what I’ve done. I’m cool.
             I’m the man – and I’m bored.

He rises again, standing at the bottom of the steps,
facing the house.

                           YOUNG MAN
             I got this dream. Well, this – idea.
             It’s got nothing to do with – with my
             major. With business. Or management.
             Law. Any of the – the “right” majors.
             And if I go for it, well, then I’m
             nobody. I mean, I’m scared. Like
             I’m gonna piss away everything. – But
             I hate what I’m doing! Talk to me,
             Pappy!

“We” get to our feet, stand on the porch. The young man
looks up and he listens.

                           YOUNG MAN
                  (finally)
             Well, I need, I guess – a couple of
             years, maybe. To try it out. Then
             I can go back to college if it – if
             I, well, fail.
                  (listens)
             Yeah, I know. Most people don’t go
             back. Even if they plan to. And,
             besides, I don’t want to put myself
             in a position where I’ll probably
             fail. I’ve worked so hard to get
             where I am. And I don’t think I
             can succeed at this other, as
             easily. And if I quit school, it’s
             like losing my – identity! Cause
             if I’m not a college student who’s
             got a job as a waiter – well, then
             I’m – I’m just a waiter. A good one.
             But I’d just be – a waiter. Me!
                  (listens)
             Yeah. I work for one of the best
             in town. Good tips.

“We” turn from the young man, face the swing and make our
way back to it, slowly. Then sit. The young man, still
in the yard, walks over to the porch edge by the pillar
near the swing. He sits on the edge of the porch.

                           YOUNG MAN
             When you were my age, you already had
`             to – kill people. And people
             tried to kill you. Ha! I think I
             got problems! You went to war at
             sixteen, Pappy. You must’ve turned
             sixty the first week. I got it so
             much better than you, but I still got
             a problem. And I guess it’s one you,
             well, you can’t know what I’m talkin’
             about.
                  (listens)
             But you know me. That’s true. You
             do know me.
                  (listens again)
             You’re proud of me?
                  (listens, then
                  squirms a bit)
             Well, I haven’t quit yet. I’m just –
                  (listens)
             Yeah! Questioning.

The young man listens again and what he hears makes him
stand again, in the yard, very interested.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Okay. I’m listening.
                  (and does so)
             No, I don’t mind working. You
             know I don’t.
                  (listens)
             No. I don’t mind classes. I
             like some of them. It’s not that!

He jumps up on the porch and sits on the other side of
the swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             It’s the music. See. It – it – it’s
             all I can think about. All I want
             to think about! I’d work as hard for
             it! But I’m not working for it now! I’m
             working for all this other stuff. But the
             music’s this thing to look forward to.
             If I do the rest - the work. The going
             and going to class. And a bit of sleep.
             And the – all the “have-to’s”, every day,
             all day, it’s still there. Waiting for
             me. At the end of the day. Well, at
             the end of the day and half the night.
             But why do I have to wait ‘til the end
             of the day!

He bolts up from the swing, almost slams his fist into
the pillar. He pulls himself together, turns back to
face the swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             I know. I know. I gotta make a
             living. And all that. I know! But
             I’m not doing just that! I gotta do
             that and the classes and and and and –
             and then, when I should be sleeping –
             then I get to the music.
                  (leans back,
                  listens)
             Oh. You know. My kind of music.
                  (listens)
             Nah. That’s good stuff, ‘though and
             you know it. Your kind, I mean. It’s
             got melody. And lyrics that stick in
             your mind, kinda haunt ya. – You
             wouldn’t like my kind of music. I mean,
             it’s got rhythm all right. A beat. A
             serious beat. And a lot of words.
             Tough poetry. The words, Pappy – they
             go and they flow and they keep going
             and they – they run through my head.
             I need more time for the words.
                  (he slides down
                  the pillar, sits
                  with his back to
                  it, listens)
             Not next summer! Not just in the
             summer! I don’t want to wait for the
             summer! Or just the weekend! I
             don’t want it to be last thing I do!
             Only after work! Only after class!
             Only after makin’ the money and all
             the other shit! I don’t want to
             stash it away like – like some
             girlfriend I’m ashamed of, somebody
             I don’t want to be seen with, some –
             something I gotta hide!

He stands again, restless, walks around the porch. Looks
back at the swing, listens.

                           YOUNG MAN
             What kind of deal?
                  (listens)
             Sure. Spell it out.
                  (listens)
             Just one more semester? Then that’s
             it?

He goes to the swing, sits.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Oh, just one more semester – and
             then decide? – I might be able
             to do that...
                  (listens)
             And change my minor? Yeah, yeah,
             that might work. – I could lose
             some of my credits. But I might
             not. – And I might learn
             something! I mean, not just make
             the grade, but, learn something!

He rises again, excited, thinks about it, turns back.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Is that what you want, Pappy?
                  (listens)
             I knew you’d say that. But what if
             I don’t know what I want! Okay,
             okay, I know what I want – but I
             don’t know what to do! Tell me what
             to do!
                  (shakes his head
                  dismayed but
                  half smiling)
             Right. I’ll do the right thing.

“We” rise from the swing.

                           YOUNG MAN
             You gotta go, don’t you. They got
             some kind of free pass thing there
             or what? I didn’t really think
             you could get away, come here.
                  (listens)
             That’s how it is!? I mean, this
             place won’t always be here and I
             gotta make the drive, but –
                  (listens)
             I don’t? You sure about this?
                  (listens)
             So, what? I just, like, call your
             name?
                  (listens)
             You sure?!

He is a happy guy. Starts off the porch, partly walking
backwards.

                           YOUNG MAN
             Well, come on! You gotta see this
             keyboard I’m looking at.

“We” start down the steps with the young man.

                           YOUNG MAN
             See, I can mix the –


                                                   FADE OUT:


                 © 2000, Darlene Bridge Lofgren