I made this in October and didn’t want to post the script for a few months after it was finished. And now is the time. Link to the final product is in the title. Enjoy.
A Half-Remembered Dream
by Joshua James
INT. MICAH’S HOUSE – BDEROOM – DAY <>
Micah sits alone ina messy bedroom. His eyes are open but he isn’t looking at anything.
INT. MICAH’S HOUSE – DEN – NIGHT ##BLACK AND WHITE SEQUENCE##
Micah crouches over the body of a girl with a pool of blood seeping from the back of her head. He cannot see her face.
MICAH (V.O.): What just happened?
INSERT CUT <>: MICAH GOING THROUGH HIS MONRING ROUTINE, READING, WATCHING TV, DOING HOMEWORK ONLINE.
MICAH (V.O.): Start witht eh basics. Who am I? Im’ Micah Johnson I’m an intellectual. No, I’m a college student. A community college studnet. Okay. You know who you are but who is she?
INSERT CUT <>: MICAH SITTING OUT ON THE PATIO WITH ONE ARM AROUND THE GIRL. SHE RELAXES HER HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER.
MICAH (V.O.): Is she my girlfriend?
INSERT CUT <>: MICAH IS CLEAING BAKING SUPPLIES OFF THE COUNTER AS THE GIRL WASHES DISHES. THEY’RE LAUGHING ABOUT SOMETHING. SHE SPLASHES WATER AT HIM. HE SLAPS HER ARM WITH A SPATULA.
MICAH (V.O.): No. That doesn’t feel right. Maybe she’s a friend. It feels different from taht though. It’s like I’ve know her my whole life.
SHE TURNS HER HEAD TO FACE HIM POISED FOR A COUNTERATTACK. AS SHE TURNS HER FACE IS REVEALED.
MICAH (V.O.): What happened to you, Kathryn?
RAMONE (O.S.): What happened to her? Micah, what happened to your sister?
Micah stands as he sees Ramone walking down the hallway. The young man reaches down to check her vitals.
RAMONE: Talk to me, man. What happened?
MICAH (V.O.): You’re Ramone.
MICAH: That’s what I’m trying to figure out.
RAMONE: Well, part one of the mystery is solved. Your sister’s dead.
Ramone rises to his feet quickly and hits a wall with all his might. He begins to pace.
INSERT CUT <>: RAMONE AND MICAH WATCHING TV, PLAYING VIDEO GAMES, TALKING, ARGUING, HUGGING, WRESTLING.
MICAH (V.O.): I’ve known you more than half my life. You’re family. You care about her as much as i do. Why am I so mad at you then?
INSERT CUT <>: RAMONE, MICAH AND KATHRYN WATCHING TV TOGETHER. RAMONE SAYS SOMETHING TO HER AND SHE LAUGHS AS SHE SLAPS HIS ARM.
MICAH (V.O.): We’re all friends. You’re like a brother to me…
INSERT CUT <>: RAMONE IS LEAVING THE HOUSE. HE GIVES MICAH A QUICK HUG AND ANOTHER TO KATHRYN BUT SHE HANGS ON A FEW SECONDS LONGER. THEY SMILE AT EACH OTHER BEFORE HE LEAVES.
MICAH (V.O.): …and to Kathryn. Aren’t you?
INSERT CUT <>: MICAH AND RAMONE PLAYING A VIDEO GAME.
MICAH: Can you look out for her while you two are up there? Keep her out of trouble.
RAMONE: Of course, man. Whatever you say.
MICAH: Ramone. I mean it, man. It’s her freshman year. She’s the best girl that ever lived but she can’t always see the truth about other people. I need you to keep her safe.
RAMONE: Okay. I understand.
KATHRYN ENTERS THE ROOM WITH A SODA FOR BOTH OF THEM. SHE PLOPS DOWN NEXT TO RAMONE.
Micah looks toward Ramone who has now crouched down next to the girl, cradling her head in his arms.
MICAH: If you told me to protect your sister…
INSERT CUT <>: MICAH WALKING TO HIS ROOM AND HEARING VOICES COMING FROM KATHRYN’S ROOM. THE TWO SIT ON THE FLOOR ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER. SHE TAKES HIS HAND, LEANS OVER AND KISSES HIM.
Ramone turns to see Micah and notices the paperweight in his hand.
MICAH: …what would you do if I decided to kill everything we stood for?
Ramone sets Kathryn donw slowly and begins to rise.
RAMONE: Micah, you don’t want to start this. I don’t to finish it.
INSERT CUT ##BLACK AND WHITE SEQUENCE##: MICAH WALKING TO HIS ROOM AND HEARING VOICES COMING FROM KATHRYN’S ROOM. RAMONE TOUCHES HER FACE. SHE TURNS AWAYS.
KATHRYN: No. This doesn’t feel right.
RAMONE LEANS OVER AND KISSES HER.
MICAH (V.O.): How can I trust you with my life if I can’t trust you with hers?
INSERT CUT <>: KATHRYN SITS AT THE TV WITH MICAH.
KATHRYN: There’s something I have to tell you. I’m dating Ramone.
HE DOESN’T REACT. HIS EYES NEVER LEAVE THE TELEVISION. SHE WAITS AND FINALLY LEAVES.
INSERT CUT ##BLACK AND WHITE SEQUENCE##: KATHRYN AND RAMONE TLAKING IN THE DEN.
KATHYRN: He hates this. I knew this would happen.
RAMONE: That’s okay. We don’t need his approval.
KATHRYN: But I don’t want him to hate me.
RAMONE: That’s alright.
RAMONE GRABS HER AND TRIES TO KISS HER. SHE RESISTS
KATHRYN: No, Ramone. Stop.
RAMONE: It’s alright. Just let me-
HE TRIES TO KISS HER AGAIN; GRABBING HER STRONG, TRYING HARDER TO PRESSURE IT.
KATHRYN: No. Stop it, Ramone. I mean it. Stop. Stop!
SHE SLAPS HIM AND RAMONE IMMEDIATELY SHOVES HER BACK. SHE STUMBLES AND FALLS, THE BACK OF HER HEAD LANDING ON THE HARD SURFACE. RAMONE SEES THIS AND BEGINS BACKING AWAY.
MICAH (V.O.): Traitor.
Micah lunges at Ramone who redirects him away from teh girl. They fight for a few brief moments with Ramone fending off the barrage from his old friend until he finds an opening to get control of him and pin him down.
RAMONE: What is wrong with you, man?!
MICAH: You killed my sister. What do you think is wrong with me? You took me away her innocence. Everything that made her special is gone. Every bit of faith I had in you is gone. Everything I stood for is gone. You betrayed me. I might as well make sure it stays that way.
RAMONE: You think I killed her? Why would I ever kill her? I loved your sister.
INSERT CUT <>: KATHRYN TAKING HOLD OF RAMONE’S HAND FOR THE FIRST TIME, LISTENING TO HER TALK, READING CHILDREN’S BOOKS TOGETHER, HOLDING HER AS SHE CRIES, COLORING WITH HER.
RAMONE (V.O): She’s always had a special palce in my heart. You guys have always been like a family to me but Kathryn was always a different part. My other half and that held true through the laugher, the tears, the arguments. Wtih everything that has ever been, the way I’ve felt has always been teh same. I could never hurt her.
Ramone takes his paperweight and throws it to the side.
RAMONE: At least not the way you could.
MICAH (V.O.): Clarity.
INSERT CUT <>: THE GROUP PREPARES FOR A PICNIC, KATHYRN SHOWS OFF HER NEW DRESS TO RAMONE AS MICAH FINISHES PUTTING SNAKCS INTO THE COOLER. RAMONE SMILES AND SAYS SOMETHING TO HER. SHE KISSES HIM. MICAH LEAVES THE ROOM. KATHRYN FOLLOWS.
KATHRYN: What’s so wrong with us? Can’t we all be happy? The three of us together.
SHE WAITS FOR AN ANSWER BUT IT DOESN’T COME.
MICAH (V.O.): The things we don’t say, sometimes are the most damaging.
KATHRYN WALKS BACK TO THE KITCHEN. RAMONE IS BRINGING THINGS OUT TO THE CAR WHEN SHE WALKS BACK IN THE ROOM.
KATHRYN: I think I’d rather stay in today. I’m tired.
LATER THAT NIGHT, MICAH IS WORKING AT THE COMPUER. HE PICKS UP A PAPERWEIGHT AS HE IS LOOKING THROUGH A BUNCH OF JUNK FOR SOMETHING. KATHRYN WALKS TO THE FRONT AND STARTS TO WALK BACK UPON SEEING HIM BUT TURNS AROUND AGAIN.
KATHRYN: You know, I can’t be without you. I’m not that strong. I need you. I’ll always need you but I need Ramone to.
MICAH: Shut up.
KATHRYN: I love him, Micah.
I finished writing this like an hour ago just so I wouldn’t get to rusty with my script writing, or my directing while we’re on break from “Ghosts”. This is a rough draft so there are some typos and I’d be incredibly thankful for any constructive criticism I could get from you guys. Here’s hoping there’s not a Youtube comment argument on here.
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
There is an ambient nature surrounding this day. The sun shines through an overcast sky and into a boy’s living room. He is dressed in an ordinary t-shirt and jeans with his hair a mess. He gazes blankly out into the distance.
MOM(O.S.): Alex, would you like to go to the store for me?
There is a momentary pause before Alex turns his head and says quite plainly…
EXT. GROCERY STORE PARKING LOT – DAY
Alex pulls into a nearly empty parking lot, blasting “She” by Green Day on his radio. He finds a space near the cart return station, a GIRL dressed in a red polo sits on the rail next to it, drinking something out of a Styrofoam cup.
He is in the process of pulling in when he notices a stray cart in his spot. The girl signals for him to hang on as she rises and moves it out of the way and puts it in its place.
Alex pulls in, turns down the radio and turns off the car. He gathers all of his things before stepping out of the car. He notices the girl again as he locks it.
ALEX: Thanks for that.
GIRL: No problem. I was just getting off my break anyway.
ALEX: Ah, I see. So you were just trying to enjoy what little time you have to yourself in these hard days. Forgive me for this disrupting.
The girl nods awkwardly before taking a sip of her drink and starting on her way back to the store. Alex notices the label on the cup.
ALEX: So you like smoothies?
They continue walking for a time without speaking a word to each other. Eventually they reach the door and are about to walk in when Alex says…
ALEX: Hey. I almost forgot to ask while I’ve got you here. Could you help me find the frozen dinners?
GIRL: Oh, they’re easy to find. Just walk to the frozen foods section and there’ll be a big sign for frozen dinners.
Alex laughs half-heartedly as he attempts to suppress his embarrassments.
ALEX: Could you be a little more specific? I don’t come here often and, frankly, this place is a bit of a maze.
GIRL: (Under her breath) You’re such a liar.
ALEX: Excuse me?
GIRL: I see you here every Saturday in that kick-ass car. You always to try to look as casual as possible so you’re not all that noticeable but I always seem to catch you out of the corner of my eye, never to far from my register. You buy a DVD, a Lean Cuisine, and two books. And no matter how long line is or how many of them are out of order you always go to my self-check out center.
ALEX: Is there a point to all of your observations?
GIRL: You’re stalking me.
GIRL: Essentially, yes.
ALEX: Well, from everything I just heard I could say the same thing about you.
She looks away from her, entirely tense she has a noticeably difficult time coming up with a response.
ALEX: Listen. It’s cool if you don’t want to talk to me. There are just sometimes when you regularly see someone who seems… interesting. And you can’t help but want to know them. I just figured this time I’d take the chance. I’ll just go if you don’t want me here.
Alex starts back towards his car with a look of slight defeat in his eyes.
Alex turns around.
GIRL: You can’t just leave without the stuff you came for. I’ll take you to wherever this time. Okay?
ALEX: (approaching) Should I be suspicious? That was an strangely rapid change of opinion.
GIRL: No, it wasn’t. It’s like you said, I’ve been looking out for you too.
ALEX: Thank God. That was just a shot in the dark.
She giggles. He smiles.
As the two of them start on their way as the conversation continues; eyes brightening, life springing into them.
ALEX: So what is your name, anyway?
GIRL: You’re an awfully lazy stalker. My name tag says Delilah.
ALEX: Wow. That names almost as pretty as you are.
DELILAH: (laughing) Oh my God. So cliché.
ALEX: I try.
DELILAH: Try harder.
ALEX: Alright, alright. No need to be so picky…
The pair continue talking. As they enter the store their voices start to fade with the scene. They are left with a glimmer of hope.
I wrote this script almost a year ago thinking it would be a good way to get in some practice with directing actors, and filming lengthy dramatic sequences. Plus it seemed like good fucking idea. Unfortunately, it looks like it may never be produced do to my lack of 10 to twenty friends willing to sit around for nearly an hour pretending to be a crowd. So I figured I’d just share the script with you people. Enjoy.
(The scene is one of Mr. Cross’ drama classes. The students appear to be bored as yet another one of their classmates is performing a monologue. The student is clearly acting their best but not doing a very good job despite this. Mr. Cross is one of the few watching this respectfully.)
STUDENT: (Trying to be as fully emotional as possible) …so…uh… Rick, he went outside to face them, “bang bang,” got show dead. (He attempts to well up tears but all he can manage is to scrunch up his face a little bit.) He was my best friend and I lost him to gang violence. (The boy returns to his normal state, believing he did fine.) That’s it.
CROSS: (Clapping politely) That was good, Jorge. (All applaud routinely, giving no trace of emotion except utter apathy and boredom. Roy, however, simply laughs in amusement at what was just presented. Mr. Cross makes a note of something in his gradebook, sets his pencil down and looks across the class.)
CROSS: So, let’s take a look at what he could have done better.
ROY: Everything. (The students react in various ways, many laughing. Mr. Cross is not amused.)
CROSS: Do you care to elaborate, Roy?
ROY: Sure. His emotions seemed fake, the emphasis he placed on a lot of lines were out of synch with the character and he was over-acting.
CROSS: Well, that settles it. You’re up next.
(Roy looks up, shocked. After a few seconds, he rises reluctantly and takes a chair to the stage. He sits down and looks to his classmates with fear in his eyes. Cross urges the boy to go on. Roy looks back to the crowd for a moment before closing his eyes. When he opens them the fear is gone. He is in into character. The monologue begins. At first a lot of comic delivery is presented but there comes a point when the audience realizes that they are viewing a very complex dramatic piece.)
ROY: We met in October about a year ago. I didn’t really talk to him all that much in the first few months. He was an odd looking fella. The dude had some really scruffy brown hair, funny arms. He was really tall for his age. Like 6’3” at fourteen years old and he wasn’t proportioned well at all. Lanky arms and legs with this broad torso. I don’t mean to sound shallow but I just didn’t want anything to do with him at the time. When we got our first class together in January, we really hit it off though. The guy’s name was Alex. We had so many things in common. Still loving the Power Rangers. We were into the classic animes of the ‘90s like Cowboy Bebop and Outlaw Stars and indie films like Donnie Darko and Brick. Alex would always do the craziest things though. He had these catch phrases laced with innuendo, like “Supersize me!” and “Black snakes make white girls scream.” There were these times when he’d run down the hall and start to slide on his belly but he’d always land on his hip and limp for the rest of the day. Alex would swear never to do it again. A week later he was back at it… What happened to him? He was a magician; vanishing without a trace… Okay. There was this situation with a couple of girls at a dance. He liked them both but he only ended up dating one. You can imagine how it made the other feel. Alex was a real idiot for being so nice and leading that other girl on the way he did with all the notes they had me transferring and those private talks in the hallway. I thought it was definitely the strangest thing he ever did. Stranger was what happened after that… At lunch one day, the eighth grade dean came and took Alex to the office. My other friends and I thought nothing of it ‘cause he’d skipped a lot of classes. Later I asked the dude what it was about. There was a drained looked in his eyes, like a rodent paralyzed and ready to be swallowed. That girl who he’d rejected and continued to be so kind to have disappeared. She had become a ghost, not there but her hand having an affect on us all. The next day, Alex’s eyes were more shocked than before. He’d been told that the girl’s mother still hadn’t seen her. Then he told me something he told no one else… She’d said to him that if she didn’t show up to school the next day she was dead. That she’d killed herself. My friend. He’didn’t take her seriously at all. Who could blame him with all the emo kids today that talk about this shit nonstop? I couldn’t. But when he disappeared, I had to worry. I was so afraid that this happy go-lucky guy had finished himself off too. I got to be really depressed for a few weeks and then he shot an e-mail my way. All that had been weighing my soul down seemed to drop as I was able to write to this guy and tell him how scared and angry and happy he’d made me… You could tell something was different though. As we increased the length of our conversations his lack of hope and overwhelming amount of sorrow became more apparent. The things he’d say had become so dark that I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him how much he scared me and that if he kept talking like that we were just… done. The last message he sent to me said, “Signing out…” We never spoke again. I moved on with my life thinking I wouldn’t care about it after a month or two. Well, I’d stopped caring… about everything. It was alright by me. I became the class slacker that I’d always wanted to be. Nobody else seemed to enjoy the change as much as I did so they sent me here. (He begins to laugh hysterically as he speaks, his voice gradually intensifying.) You wanna know the screwy thing? We never did find out what happened to the girl. Nobody did.
(The boy continues to laugh, gradually falling into a silent sob, almost inaudible but the tears visible. Roy’s eyes close for a moment and when they have opened he’s broken character. The boy looks up at his classmates frightened at what their reactions might be. At first the crowd is speechless but soon they begin a massive applause. A timid smile spreads across Roy’s face. He looks to Mr. Cross who claps with a proud grin on his face and the boy knows that he has done well.)
Another product of my English class. No offense meant to either gender.
For more than seventeen years, I’ve been around women and I’ve yet to understand how their minds work. From daycare on I never could comprehend the origins of their fascinations with clothes, jewelry, and make-up. However, the subject that has managed to keep me particularly curious through the years has been their uncontrollable fascination with men, rivaling and possibly surpassing the one which men hold for women.
To some degree I can understand this bewitched state of mind; their have been times when I myself was taken aback by the elegance of what I believe to be the fairer of the two sexes. Still, while I have been tempted to begin pursuit based solely upon that factor I have yet to be drawn in fully by such intoxication. For a long period, I could not bring myself to understand what it was that drew the women I knew in so easily that somehow managed to elude me all of these years.
It stemmed from something girls I’d known for years had continuously said when I commented on my dissatisfaction with their choices in men. “You don’t know what it’s like when you like someone that much.” They were right; I had no idea what it was like. In most cases, I was in lust with a woman so I never went farther than a couple of brief conversations leading me to realize how dull she actually was. It was a very different experience for my friends though. I’d heard of or known many guys who had perfected the alluring qualities necessary to catch and keep kind-hearted naïve girls. At a time in which I was far younger, I had aspired to be like one of those guys. I was born with sufficiently good looks, could easily enough hide my insecurities with a charming smile and pre-existing witty dialogue, and at such a young age I didn’t need much money to pass for a reasonably classy person.
Yet, as time went on and I began to see the emotional impact that such actions could have on others, I no longer desired to be that way. As many girls as I had met who were quite content in a serious relationship, there were at least five others who had been in many unsuccessful ones and continued to boldly say to any younger girl they wished to mentor, “You will never find a really nice guy.” With all of the selfish men I had seen in the world, I was beginning to further understand their point of view and see the origin of that catchy phrase, “Gay, straight, or taken.” However, just as I had so many times before, I found another flaw in the argument.
I’ve looked around myself numerous times in the past years trying to examine why I wasn’t taken. In more recent times, many women had considered that I was the type of guy who was very nice, handsome, and considerate. I’d already resolved with myself that I would never be unfaithful to the woman I was with under any circumstances, having seen the other end of such break-ups constantly with the women I cared about. With all of this in mind, was I not worthy of being one of those taken? Thinking more extensively about all the nice single guys I knew, I had to wonder if they were not worthy either?
As time continues, I cannot bring myself to believe that women (or at least the women I know) are foolish. In many cases, they’ve made far wiser decisions than I or any other male I’ve met would have made. Certainly, if they are intelligent enough solve problems in the relationships of their friends, they are intelligent enough to solve their own. These days, I’m beginning to think that it isn’t the women who are at fault with the choices they make in these situations, for we are all deceptible to the impact emotions have on our judgment. The answer lies in the men. In reality, as men we are not nice enough, handsome enough or considerate enough. It may even be that we are too nice and considerate, and despite all their complaints, women actually want a guy who isn’t always going to be there for them. In the eyes of women, the good guys aren’t always good guys, the bad guys aren’t always bad guys, and nice guys are rarely the right guy. The truth of the matter is that the “ideal man” is only as good as we think he is.
There are certain topics in this world that individuals attempt to steer away from as often as possible. One such topic is religion, an issue that many find unsuitable for conversations in the workplace do to its heavy social influence and tendency to raise tempers. The same goes for politics which has different subject matter but not-so-coincidentally producees similar results.
Strangely, when I think of small issues that rarely come up in some form of conversation among my peers, these are the only two that come to mind. This, however, doesn’t mean that we’re constantly discussing issues of racism, world hunger and LGBT rights. In fact, more often than not we’re cracking jokes about them – and I’m okay with that on most levels. But when it comes time to discuss a natural part of our lives and we can barely say the word without giggling or shutting down out of discomfort or genuinely finding it funny, there really is a problem. There’s no way I can’t say it.
It’s something we need to be capable of talking about without laughing or numbing up at the thought of. At this stage in our lives things like friendship, individuality, freedom of speech, boys, girls and all that other jazz start seem more and more intense and are amplified to the extreme level. Our parents and teachers along with most other adutls are starting to badger us with speeches about birth control, STD’s and the trials of unplanned pregnancies. “Don’t forget to use a condom, son.” “Honey. Abstinence is the best birth control.” Worse still they could be telling us nothing about it (Just to clarify, “pulling out” doesn’t work).
Knowing the facts about sex is incredibly important. Without that knowledge the teen pregnancy rate would be substantially hired and STD’s would spread like wildfires. However, I feel that when it comes down to us attempting to speak honestly about this topic the focus becomes incredibly uneven. From what I’ve heard as a teenager walking throughout my high school, it is quite rare to find people talking about sex on a level other than that of the stereotypical hormonally overwhelmed adolescent. And I truthfully feel, that it isn’t at all healthy.
Recently, I awoke from what to me was a rather unsettling dream. A rather graphic sexual image of young woman I had hardly known and had barely thought about recently wouldn’t seem to remove itself from my mind. It was a topic I felt I like I couldn’t discuss with anyone I knew, not even my closest friends. When I finally brought myself to tell somebody something about it I was relieved to find that I wasn’t judged and my mind was freed from the image but not from its subtext. I soon came to realize that what truthfully bothered me was on more of an emotional level of not knowing what significance this girl holds for me and even know, I barely feel capable of saying anything to anybody.
Now I realize that sex itself is not to difficult of a subject for us to tackle. When can joke about, talk about it’s mechanics and shoot some bullshit about how great this “fine ass hoe” I was with was all we want but that’s all the easy stuff. There is a different between talking about intercourse or fucking, and sex because when you’re talking about the former two everything is guarded in some way whether it be the science of it or the artificial nature of the things that you’re saying. However, when you’re really talking about sex, or at least when I am, you’ve made yourself completely vulnerable by exposing yourself intellectually, emotionally and in any other way you can think. And in discussing our own experience (or inexperience) in these matters we aren’t just discovering more about sex and it’s connotations but more importantly ourselves. Which brings me to the point of this post.
I have a challenge for you.
During this time of adolescence, we are deep into one of the most emotionally challenging parts of our lives and on a daily basis we are either having a nuclear meltdown or gearing up for yet another one. We need to know that we aren’t alone in what we are going through. It is crucial that we are understood as more than the hormonally challenged subjects of Hollywood films.
For this reason, Dream Weaver Productions is launching a special project for teenagers specifically. Using the testimony of you wonderful people here at This Space Intentionally Left Blank, I would like to express on film the impact that sex has on people our age. If you want your voice to be heard, you can either post a comment below or send a personal message to me or A. To achieve the most honest expression of the human experience possible all submissions will be anonymous. No one will be judged no matter what they say so please be as open as you can here. You may talk about anything you would like whether it be losing your virginity, not losing your virginity, relationships, etc. If you have any questions e-mail me or leave a comment.
Any assistance in putting this project forward is greatly appreciated. Let’s try and start something.
Well, since Microsoft Word is fucking with me write now and decided that it doesn’t want to work with me today. Therefore, I’ll be posting a couple of things on here today. One being the results of a pretty personal journal entry from last night and the other being written on the spot as the rough draft for my English essay.
Seems fitting. You people do deserve my raw being so here it comes.
Sunday September 13, 2009 10:40pm
I forgot to write something yesterday. Normally, I’d just write twice the amount I was supposed to today but that doesn’t apply if I don’t know how much I would’ve written.
I wrote a script on Friday though. I got the idea and typed it up pretty quickly. Problem is I left it on dad’s computer without copying it. I remember it well though. The concept stemmed from Lady N, like a lot of things do. I imagined her telling me that she’d come back for just a bit and that she wanted to see me.
There was such an awkward tension between the two of us when we met each other from across a couch. We talked for a bit and I envisioned the two of us touching hands for the first time ever and a very awkward first kiss. But it would be only a dream. In reality we’d just talk about nothing really except the usual nonsense; how much we missed each other, our seemingly endless virginity, and make a lot of truly juvenile jokes.
I know so much about getting a date but so little about true relationships.
I want to capture these emotions on film but I need an audience. I don’t want this to be another nothing lost across the endless interwebs. It needs a home in people’s hearts and minds.
I have to start building up my reputation again. Maybe it’s like Sam Raimi said: “Write something everyday and make a movie every weekend.”
My past always seems to have a way of finding me wherever I am. In the past three months I had been contacted by three people from my middle school days, most of whom I hadn’t been all that fond of in the first place and didn’t seem to be to fond of me either. Another was a kid I’d been friends with in summer camp seven years prior; he was just starting high school while I was getting ready to begin my senior year. The one that’s always stood out to me though was from someone I constantly heard from but hadn’t seen in close to four years.
The night I got the call wasn’t unlike any other I’d spent that summer. The blinds were kept shut for free of any mysterious voyeurs or werewolves that might be interested in devouring me. The lights in the den weren’t all that special other than their inability to properly illuminate the room which always seemed to have an orange tint. For some reason or another, I was typing something incredibly simple or possibly complex but I seemed to feel nothing towards the subject.
Out of the air, my cell phone rang jolting me back onto the physical plain. Without a thought I answered it with my playfully spiteful, “What?!”
My heart immediately flew away in an almost blissful nostalgia as I heard the most distinctively honest voice in my world speak. Time always seems to freeze at these moments, almost as if it knows this is one to remember. Like this is one of the defining moments in my young life.
I hesitated. “Aasha?”
“Hey, Josh. How’s it going?”
I got to my feet as calmly as I could manage. I felt a certain exhilaration and fear. We weren’t supposed to be speaking like this. We weren’t supposed to be speaking at all.
“You know, the same old nonsense I’m usually into. Theatre, movies, writing and all that other crap teenagers are supposed to be getting into. Minus the sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.”
She laughed. My heart fluttered. I hadn’t heard that laugh in so long. It was like listening to a child experiencing pure joy. She didn’t seem to be apprehensive in any way.
“How about you? It must be night over there if you’re calling me,” I said trying to get an answer to my question in the most indirect way possible.
Again she shocked me, saying nonchalantly, “I’m pretty sure it is night up there but it is here too. Don’t worry my parents aren’t anywhere near me right now. If you’d believe it they let me come down here all on my own.”
If this had been a cartoon my jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. Could what she was suggesting have been possible at all? I had to ask but I didn’t need to.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m… I’m back in town. It’s a college visit thing. They decided that since I’d been such a good girl this past year that I was mature enough to leave New Hampshire on my own.” There was silence for a short moment as it seemed she had as much trouble mustering up the courage to say what she had to as I had believing it. “I’m not here for much longer. Less than two days actually. I’m supposed to spend some time with Nabhi and Amerah tomorrow afternoon, I’ve got the tour through most of Friday and I’m leaving that night. I was just… wondering if you wanted to see me or something like in the morning if you can.”
I was experiencing a momentary lapse of reason. I couldn’t seem to form an answer for what felt like minutes. I eventually managed to get out what I knew I wanted to say.
“Great.” She sounded almost sad when she said this. “Should we meet in the old spot on the curb outside the school?”
“Yeah,” I answered. I remembered this place well. When we weren’t talking about nothing on the floor by the gym, we weren’t talking about nothing out there in front of everybody else while we waited for the buses to arrive. Even though we were connected we were always afraid to get to close.
When the conversation ended I couldn’t help but think about the events to come. Two hopelessly romantic teens sitting on a loan curb with nothing but air between them. The pair of us would talk for sometime over the things we’d missed in each other’s lives, about how our pictures couldn’t portray how much we’d transformed over these past years, and the regret of never taking advantage of the time we had together. And through natural course of things we’d draw close once again but without the same insecurities of yesterday. Maybe different ones.
When time came we talked of many of these same things but it didn’t play out like a dream. This was not tryst. No one came together. No new connections were to be made but I couldn’t help feeling that something had been resolved. Possibly, it could’ve been the fulfillment of an unkept promise or the comfort of reuniting with an old friend. I just remember feeling certain that even if we never dated again Aasha would always remain my best friend.