Friday, July 8, 2016

The Saddest of All Blues



(Pseudo-Screenplay Format)
Characters:
·         SEAN, Agent/Publicist for Jim the Novelist.
·         JIM, Novelist

Scene:
Modern times.
Two men in the office of the private home of Jim the novelist/writer. Cups of coffee by each. Jim sits in the swivel chair by his desk but it is turned away from the computer on the counter and toward Sean who is sitting in an overstuffed easy chair. Sean’s head is a few inches below Jim’s.
Bookshelves, natural light from windows which show the suburban yard outside.

SEAN:
"You have to start somewhere, you know?"

JIM:
"Yes. I'm aware of that. But it's not that simple. To just reduce this whole thing to, um, um, writing. There's more to it than just words. It's, its--"

SEAN:
"I understand it's very emotional, or I mean you're-- You are feeling a great deal of, you're overwhelmed about all this. I think everyone will understand."

JIM:
"It's like someone coming up to you and saying that the planet you live on is some kind of TV set with another world on the outside. Like, um, I don't know, like that movie, The Truman Show or maybe The Matrix. You understand?"


SEAN:
"I understand what you're saying. Yes. So then, now you need to start to tell other people, so they understand."

JIM:
"Maybe it's too soon. Maybe I need more time, to understand this myself. To put more perspective on it."

SEAN:
"Jim, I'm your manager and you asked me to help and I'm telling you. I think understanding this will take a lifetime and that understanding will probably change with time, again and again. I might be wrong, but that's the way I see it."

JIM:
"I feel so raw about it still. It's only been two months, right?"

SEAN:
"But he's been dead for a year, Jim."

(A pause.)

JIM:
"That was just his body."

(Another pause, while Sean considered what he said.)

JIM: (again)
"This changes everything! It changes everything for me. I thought I was mourning my father, I thought I knew that. But look at that now."

SEAN:
"Well, he was still your father, Right?"

JIM:
"He wasn't the father I had in my mind, the one I grew up with. You must know. The picture you have of your father when you're little, growing up. It's more than a picture, it occupies a space in your mind right next to where you keep the moon and the stars and the trees. Everything else gets placed in spots above that, or below it, however you look at it. It's an un-questioned position that defines where the other things in your world belong. It's almost the same with your mother."

(Sean thinks and looks at the ground.)

SEAN:
"Maybe that was where your father was. Not mine. Mine was much different, still is. My mother felt like that to me. My brothers and sister felt like that, but not my father."

JIM:
"Really? See, that's hard for me for take in. I mean, that seems like a weird thing for me to say now, given the situation but, I'm trying to process this as an adult and that's a disadvantage. As a child, I took things at face value."

SEAN:
"Well the face value of my father, when I was a kid, was scary. My brother and sister taught me to keep a low profile when he was around. I saw him, drunk. smacking my brother and sister. I heard him yelling at my mom that dinner wasn't ready and she was a lousy bitch. I learned early who the enemy was and what that world was like. The best day of my young life was the day he was crushed in that car."

(Silence hung in the air and pressed upon them both.)

JIM:
"I'm sorry. You'd said things before that made me wonder about you home life, but I didn't know. I'm sorry, Sean."
SEAN:
"Hey, I didn't mean to get into all that shit. It has nothing to do with your situation."
(another pause here)

SEAN: (again)
"At least, as far as I know. Maybe you can use it in a piece though, huh? It was pretty intense. I really don't mind talking about it all that much. You know, I've dealt with it. Many times over."
(pause)

SEAN: (again)
"I guess I still am, huh?"

JIM:
"Yeah, it's like you said. It goes on for the rest of your life. In a way, I guess I should feel lucky I was able to spend 36 years believing in a happy childhood. It's like believing in Santa Claus, I got to spend a few extra years there in "La La Land.” Looking back, all those memories make me shiver."

SEAN:
"Maybe. Maybe it's better than never believing in Santa Claus. I don't know. It's hard to argue either way. I guess it depends on how it all ends."

JIM:
"Or if it all ends. How long can you carry something like this? When you get to be an old man, like in your 60's or 70's, do you think it gets easier? Do you think you it gradually takes up less space in your soul? Is there a truce to look forward to, or at least a cease-fire, when you get older?"

SEAN:
"I don't know. You know when I was in my teens, it really ate me up. I did all sorts of crazy shit that worried my mom to death. I couldn't see past my own -- I guess hatred. I couldn't see that my mom was really wanting to believe that her kids would be OK. That she'd managed to protect some vital part of us from the abuse. I'm sure that some part of her still does. But now she can't even remember my name on a good day."

JIM:
"That sucks, Sean."

SEAN:
"Yeah, I know. I tell myself all the time that it sucks. It's like she's already dead but I still get to visit her body. You know I love to just sit in the chair next to her, as long as she's peaceful. When she starts ranting, I have to leave. I can't stand to watch that too long. But she's slipping pretty fast so her body will follow her pretty soon, I'm sure of it."

JIM:
"You know, it might help if you wrote some of this down too. It might help you work out some of the shit-hand you've been dealt."

SEAN:
"I'll get right on that." (Smiles.) "Except I can't write for shit. That could be a problem. I get to the store and can't make sense of the list I wrote. For Christ sake, Jim." (Laugh.) "I tell you what, let's deal with your mess first and then, if we're still here, we'll write my story. Deal?"

JIM:
"How about the other way around? Yours first?"

SEAN:
"No deal. The publisher wants your story and is willing to pay big. It only makes sense to tackle your story first and then, like I said, we can re-evaluate things after that. It's a lot of money Jim, and you are a writer."

JIM:
"I know, but novels, Sean, novels. This is different."

SEAN:
"Don't worry. If you get it down, you know there'll be editors to help clean it up and make it work. You know that."

JIM:
"I told my brother, Ryan, about the deal and he's all for it. He doesn't know what to make of the whole thing either. He sent me all the pictures he had of us together, me and him, my mom and -- dad. I've been looking through them for the last few days. Honestly, it raises more questions than it answers. At least to me."

SEAN:
"OK, but remember, you write the part about your family as it appeared your whole life, the other guy, Bruner, he writes the bad part, about your dad's other life. That's his job, he's done true crime stories before, and he's good at it. Best-Seller good. A regular McGinnis or Capote. We're lucky there. He's got the contacts, the resources. FBI, state police, coroners, psychologists, forensics, anthropologists, university level specialists. It's gonna be right up there."

JIM:
"Yeah, I've read some of his stuff. He takes you there. I'm not sure I want to read about my father that way. The broad strokes were bad enough. Bruner takes you downtown with it, downtown to Chinatown." (Nervous laugh.)

SEAN:
"If it works out, maybe you don't have to read it. Well maybe that's not true. I don't know. But for now, you just focus on the part you grew up with. We'll work the rest out. You know it's time to start. You won't have to write anything after this, if you don't want."

JIM:
"Even if I do want. I'll always be known as His Son."

SEAN:
"Yeah." (as a croak) "Well, that's what pseudonyms are for, right?"

JIM:
"I guess."

SEAN:
"It's important, Jim. It is! Everybody wants to know what happened. A lot of families want to know what happened to their kids. It's painful to think about, but it's true. They want to know about, what kind of – person -- your father was. What might have made him do these things? And I'll tell you something you already know, the other books are already starting to hit the market, but you're the only one in the position to write about him. You and Bruner, together you'll get it right and the rest will be speculation. Like the Kennedy assassination or Jack the Ripper, this is just the beginning of a legend. A sick legend, but a legend."

(A long pause.)

JIM:
(Big sigh.) OK. Why don't you get out of here and I'll get started on the story of his last victims?"


* * *

No comments:

Post a Comment