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Dreamsongs. Volume II Page 12


  CLOSE ON MEGAN

  staring out the car window, she SEES the Vet, follows him with her eyes until they turn a corner.

  TIME CUT TO

  EXT.—MCDOWELL HOUSE—EVENING

  Denise pulls up and parks the Volvo in the driveway, behind Jeff’s modest Datsun. The house is a two-story suburban tract home; pleasant, respectable, in a decent neighborhood, but nothing too large or expensive. A comfortable middle-class sort of house.

  CUT TO

  INT.—KITCHEN

  Denise & Megan enter, to find Jeff tossing a salad. A small TV set sits on the counter, and Jeff watches the news from the corner of his eye. The newscaster is reading a story about El Salvador. An open bottle of wine and half-empty glass are close at hand. Jeff turns when they enter.

  JEFF

  Roast beef, baked potatoes, tossed salad, and wine.

  (kisses Megan)

  Except for you. You get milk.

  (to Denise)

  So how does that sound?

  DENISE

  Like paradise regained.

  (to Megan)

  Go wash up, honey.

  Megan rushes off upstairs.

  DENISE

  So what’s wrong?

  JEFF

  Wrong? What makes you think something’s wrong?

  Denise gives him a rueful smile, picks up the wine bottle, sloshes it thoughtfully.

  DENISE

  Clues, Sherlock. The last time you served wine was the day your car got banged up in the school lot. What is it this time?

  Jeff looks as though he’s going to deny it, then stops, shrugs. She knows him too well.

  JEFF

  This morning in class, a student asked me where I was during Vietnam.

  (beat, grimace)

  I told him I was in school.

  DENISE

  You were. I remember it distinctly. I was there with you, remember?

  JEFF

  I left out the part about the school being in Canada.

  DENISE

  It’s none of his business anyway.

  JEFF

  That’s what I said. I just feel…

  (beat, hesitant)

  I don’t know. Guilty. Like I did something wrong. Dumb, huh?

  He opens the oven, pokes at the roast with a long fork.

  JEFF

  Well, it didn’t moo. I think it’s done.

  CUT TO

  INT.—DINING ROOM

  Denise is filling bowls of salad as Jeff carries the roast out on a platter. Megan has not yet reappeared. Denise goes to the stairs to call.

  DENISE

  Megan! Come on down, Hon, dinner’s ready.

  A beat, then a DOOR CLOSES upstairs and Megan comes down. Denise takes her by the hand, frowns.

  DENISE

  Megan, you didn’t wash up.

  MEGAN

  The man was upstairs, Mommy. He talked to me.

  DENISE

  (put upon)

  Honestly. Come on, let’s get you scrubbed up for dinner.

  We TRACK with them as they go up the stairs and into the bathroom. Kneeling, Denise takes a facecloth and begins to wash a dirty spot off of Megan’s face.

  DENISE

  Honey, it’s okay to play pretend, but you shouldn’t try to blame someone else when you forget to do something.

  MEGAN

  It’s not pretend, Mommy.

  DENISE

  There, that’s a little better.

  She puts down the washcloth, looks at Megan’s reflection in the mirror, smiles. We move in TIGHT on the mirror as Denise’s eyes rise. Behind them, the open bathroom door is reflected, and outside in the hallway, sitting in his wheelchair, is the Vet. Denise spins around, and off her shocked reaction we

  CUT TO

  DINING ROOM

  Jeff grabs a baked potato, winces as it burns his fingers, tosses it onto a plate, and then reacts as we HEAR Denise scream O.S. He’s up like a shot, running for the stairs.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  on the staircase, as he almost runs into Denise coming down.

  JEFF

  What’s wrong?

  DENISE

  (frantic)

  Where is he? Did he come past you?

  JEFF

  (confused)

  What? Come past me? Who?

  DENISE

  The man in the wheelchair.

  (impatient, off Jeff’s confusion)

  He was there, in the mirror…I mean, he was in the hall, but I saw him in the mirror, and then…he must have come by you!

  JEFF

  (baffled)

  A man in a wheelchair?

  He takes Denise by the shoulders, tries to calm her down.

  JEFF

  (continued)

  I think I would have noticed a man in a wheelchair, honey. Besides, how the hell could anyone get a chair down these stairs?

  Denise gapes at the narrow steps, realizes that Jeff is right. But she knows she saw the Vet; she’s totally lost.

  DENISE

  He was there, I tell you. If he didn’t come down—

  (whirls, scared he’s still up there)

  Megan appears at the top of the stairs, calm, unafraid.

  MEGAN

  He’s gone, Mommy.

  Denise wraps her in a tight hug.

  MEGAN

  Don’t be scared, Mommy. He’s a nice man.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  as he watches wife and daughter embrace.

  JEFF

  There is no way anyone could have gotten out of this house.

  What the hell is going on here?

  (starts up stairs)

  Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.

  JEFF’S POINT OF VIEW

  As he moves upstairs, down the carpeted hall, slamming open doors, peering into the rooms, finding nothing. Bathroom, linen closet, Megan’s room, the master bedroom and bath; all empty.

  ANGLE ON JEFF

  Standing in his bedroom, looking angry, disgusted. He starts back out into the hall, takes a few steps…and stops dead outside the bathroom. He drops to one knee, reaches out.

  CLOSE ON CARPET

  As Jeff traces the clear, unmistakable track of a wheelchair tire in the thick shag carpet.

  JEFF

  What the…

  SMASH CUT TO

  CLOSE ON MUDDY GROUND

  Matching shot, the motion of Jeff’s fingers CONTINUOUS from the last shot, but now the carpet is mud, the tracks are footprints, and Jeff’s sleeve is an army uniform.

  EXT.—JUNGLE TRAIL—DAY—JEFF’S POINT OF VIEW

  Jeff looks up from the footprints. It’s a jungle trail in Vietnam, narrow, overgrown, thick foliage all around. A black grunt stands a few feet away: a kid, no more than nineteen, his uniform dirty, a crude bandage wrapped around a head wound and soaked with blood. He’s holding an M-16.

  GRUNT

  Hey, man, what’s wrong?

  JEFF

  As he staggers to his feet. It’s Vietnam, he’s in cammies, an M-16 slung over his shoulder. He can’t believe any of it. He gapes—at himself, the trees, the gun, at everything.

  GRUNT

  (disgusted, scared)

  Don’t freak on me, Spaceman. I need you, man.

  Jeff backs away from him, shaking his head.

  JEFF

  No. No way. This can’t be—

  He backs hard into a tree, stumbles. He’s lost. When the grunt approaches, Jeff shrinks away from him.

  JEFF

  Stay away from me!

  GRUNT

  (confused)

  What the hell’s wrong? It’s me, man!

  He grabs Jeff by the shoulders, shakes him as Jeff struggles.

  GRUNT

  Cut it out, man. It’s me! Hey, Spaceman, it’s only me.

  CLOSE ON JEFF

  as the grunt shakes him.

  GRUNT (O.S.)

  It’s me, man. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me…

 
; Off Jeff’s SCREAM, we

  SMASH CUT TO

  INT.—HALLWAY

  Where Denise has a hysterical Jeff by the shoulders, shaking him, shouting at him.

  DENISE

  …it’s me, Jeff. It’s only me! It’s me!

  Jeff suddenly realizes that he’s back, wrenches free, staggers back away from her, panting.

  JEFF

  I…I…where…my God, what happened to me?

  DENISE

  I heard you yelling. When I came up, you were on the floor. It was like you were terrified of me.

  JEFF

  It wasn’t you!

  (beat, confused)

  I mean…I don’t…Denise, I was…here, and then suddenly I wasn’t…I was in Nam!

  (beat, continues off Denise’s worried look)

  I know. It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

  DENISE

  (timidly)

  Maybe…I don’t know…maybe you had some kind of…flashback or something?

  JEFF

  How the hell can you flash back to a place you’ve never been?

  DENISE

  Jeff, I’m scared.

  Jeff takes her in his arms.

  JEFF

  You’re not the only one.

  DISSOLVE TO

  INT.—BEDROOM—LATE THAT NIGHT

  Dinner’s been reheated and eaten, Megan’s been put to bed, but Jeff is still shaken. Denise, in pajamas, sits up in bed, pillows propped up against the headboard bookcase. Jeff, still dressed, stands by the window, looking out, his back to her.

  JEFF

  (dully)

  I have to go away.

  DENISE

  Go away? You’re talking crazy, Jeff.

  JEFF

  (turns to face her)

  Crazy? Tell me what’s crazy! A man in a wheelchair who leaves tracks in my carpet and vanishes into thin air, that’s crazy. One moment I’m in Megan’s room and the next I’m in some hut in Nam, that’s crazy. But it’s happening, all of it’s happening.

  (beat, then earnestly)

  Denise, don’t you see? It’s happening on account of me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m the cause of it.

  DENISE

  You haven’t done anything—

  JEFF

  (interrupts)

  No? I can think of something I did. I was drafted, Denise. I chose Canada instead. And now…

  (beat, confused)

  …now it’s catching up with me, somehow. Maybe Nam was my fate, maybe I was supposed to die there. Maybe this legless ghost is the guy who went instead of me, or someone who died because I wasn’t there.

  He turns away again, stares back out the window.

  DENISE

  That’s your guilt talking, not you. And for what? You said no to a dirty little undeclared war. You helped to stop the war, damn it. You know that.

  JEFF

  All I know is that I’ve got to leave. If I go, maybe you and Megan will be safe.

  Denise gets up from bed, walks over to the window, puts her arms around Jeff, hugs him. He does not turn.

  DENISE

  Jeff, please. Whatever is happening, we can face it together.

  CLOSE ON JEFF

  Worried, but softening. He doesn’t want to go, not really.

  JEFF

  Maybe you’re right.

  He turns toward her, to kiss her.

  SMASH CUT TO

  INT.—BROTHEL—NIGHT

  Jeff completes the turn to find himself standing in the bedroom of a brothel in Saigon, a young Vietnamese prostitute standing there with her arms around him, waiting for his kiss. The light flooding through the window is red, garish. Jeff CRIES OUT and thrusts the prostitute away roughly. She stumbles and falls.

  JEFF

  No, no! Not again.

  He backpedals, and runs from the room wildly as the woman gets back to her feet.

  CUT TO

  EXT.—MCDOWELL HOUSE—NIGHT

  As Jeff’s Datsun revs up, backs out of the driveway, and screams off down the street, Denise comes running out of the house, a bathrobe flapping around her legs, shouting for him to stop.

  DENISE

  Jeff! Jeff! Wait!

  The car screeches around a corner and Denise stands there, shaking, slumped in despair.

  TIME CUT TO

  INT.—DENISE’S OFFICE—THE NEXT DAY

  A busy Legal Aid office. Denise is a staff attorney, with a private glass-walled cubicle. She’s working on some briefs, although it’s clear from her face that she’s depressed, unhappy, worried. When her com line BUZZES, Denise lifts the phone.

  DENISE

  Yes, Susan.

  SUSAN

  (O.S.)

  Your husband’s on five.

  DENISE

  Thanks.

  (pushes phone button, eager)

  Jeff? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried.

  We HEAR Jeff’s voice over the phone. It has a hoarse, raspy tone; he sounds strained, uncertain.

  JEFF (O.S.)

  Denise? Is it you?

  DENISE

  Of course it’s me. Where are you? Are you all right? You sound strange.

  JEFF (O.S.)

  Strange?

  (beat)

  I…I’m fine, Denny. How are you?

  DENISE

  Denny? You haven’t called me Denny since high school. Jeff, what’s the matter?

  JEFF

  I just…need to see you, Denny. Just for a little while. I’m at home, Denny. I need to see you.

  DENISE

  I’ll be right there.

  She HEARS the click as the phone is hung up. She rises, hurriedly stuffs her briefcase, heads through the door into the outer office, where she pauses by the receptionist’s desk.

  DENISE

  Susan, I’m going home for the afternoon. Ask Fred to cover for me.

  SUSAN

  Sure. I hope nothing’s wrong.

  Denise nods grimly, and exits.

  CUT TO

  INT.—DENISE’S CAR

  She has a worried look on her face as she drives home.

  CUT TO

  LEGAL AID OFFICE

  The outer office. Susan has just hung up the phone as Jeff comes through the outer door, haggard and unshaven, wearing the same clothes we saw him in the night before. Susan’s obviously surprised to see him.

  JEFF

  (weary, abashed)

  Hi, Susan. Denise in?

  SUSAN

  She went home about five minutes ago. Right after you called.

  JEFF

  Right after…I called? I never called.

  SUSAN

  Of course you did. I put you through myself not ten minutes ago. I ought to know your voice by now.

  JEFF

  (stares, with dawning apprehension and fear)

  My God!

  He turns and runs from the office.

  CUT TO

  EXT.—MCDOWELL HOUSE—DAY

  as Denise’s car pulls up. She walks to the kitchen door.

  INT.—KITCHEN

  as Denise enters.

  DENISE

  (calls loudly)

  Jeff? I’m home.

  There’s no answer. Denise frowns. We TRACK with her as she walks through the kitchen and into the living room.

  DENISE

  Jeff? Are you there?

  Silence for a long beat, and then, from upstairs, comes Jeff’s voice…except that it’s not quite his voice, it’s a little harsher somehow, with a bitter edge to it, a rasp. And it’s weak, a bit faint, as if talking was an effort.

  VET

  Denny? I…I’m here, Denny.

  Denise moves upstairs, down the hall.

  DENISE

  Jeff?

  VET

  Here. Back here.

  The voice is coming from the bedroom. Denise enters. The drapes are pulled tight, the room is very dark.

  DENISE

  Honey?

&nbs
p; Silence. She crosses the room, pulls back the drapes, and as daylight floods the bedroom, the door SLAMS, Denise whirls.

  DENISE’S POINT OF VIEW—WHAT SHE SEES

  The Vet, legless, in fatigues, sits in his wheelchair, blocking the only exit from the room. We HOLD on him for a long beat, and for the first time we see that he is Jeff McDowell. A gaunt, hollow-cheeked Jeff McDowell, his scraggly beard doing little to disguise obvious ill-health. His speech patterns are rougher, cruder; this Jeff has been educated by Vietnam and VA hospitals, not colleges and universities. His eyes are deeply sunken; he looks at her like a starving man staring at a feast.

  BACK TO THE SCENE

  Denise is terrified for a beat, and then she recognizes him.

  DENISE

  (scared whisper)

  Jeff?

  The Vet smiles a tremulous, tentative smile. He looks almost as scared as she does.

  VET

  They call me Spaceman. I got the name in Nam, on account of the movies I liked.

  (beat)

  You’re looking good, Denny. Even better than you did back…back when we were together.

  She backs away, shaking her head.